CHAPTER 121: DEEP WOUND.....

Kelvin struggled to move his arm, the stitches were pulling with every attempt, Veyra’s visions crept into his quiet moments, though Xerion’s coiling form beside him kept the nightmares at bay, the serpent’s warmth was a constant reminder of their shared strength.

He lay awake at night, staring at the codex, its runes were dim but heavy with meaning, his fingers traced Mealin’s amulet, its drake essence was a faint pulse of hope.

Lyra’s thigh wound limited her mobility, forcing her to lean on the cot’s edge to sit up, her sister’s ghost lingered in her dreams, but Salaris’s vigilant perch steadied her, the raptor’s talons was gleaming as a reminder of their shared determination, her gauntlet flickering with each painful movement.

Darius’s concussion caused relentless headaches, his vision blurring with every shift, the flames of his village haunting him, but Rhoam’s silent guard, his plates clinking softly, anchored him through the pain, his soulstone glowing faintly as he tossed it in his trembling hand.

The healers monitored their progress with meticulous care, adjusting salves and rune-threads, their voices were calm but firm, urging rest and patience, their hands were steady as they checked stitches and applied fresh bandages.

The trio found solace in sharing stories of their battles, their voices were low but growing stronger as they recounted their journey through the Veil’s domains.

Kelvin spoke of Xerion’s fiery vortex in the Primordial Rift, the serpent’s flames pierced the altar’s core with a precision that had turned the tide, his pride in their bond were shining through despite the pain in his chest.

He described the moment they faced the Sovereign, its red eyes blazing, and how Xerion’s warmth had grounded him, his voice was hoarse but steady as he recounted their unity.

Lyra recalled Salaris’s talon strikes, the raptor’s precision that saved her from the riftprimals’ relentless assault, her voice was thick with gratitude as she stroked her beast’s feathers, her side wound ached but her spirit was lifted by the memory.

She spoke of weaving shadow cages that were under Veyra’s visions, her gauntlet flared despite her wounds, Salaris’s screeches was a lifeline through the chaos.

Darius described Rhoam’s charges, the panther’s iron bulk crushed titans and riftprimals, his grin was weak but genuine as he tossed his soulstone, the gem caught the infirmary’s golden light, his headaches eased as he recounted Rhoam’s unyielding strength.

Their laughter, though filled with pained, was a step towards healing, their tears was a release of the trauma that had scarred them as deeply as their wounds, each story was a thread weaving their unity tighter.

The beasts listened intently, Xerion’s hiss was soft, Salaris’s screech was quiet, Rhoam’s growl low and their bonds were deepened with every shared memory, their scars was a shared testament to their survival.

Weeks into their recovery, the Sanctum Council, led by Master Elara, entered the infirmary, their robes glowed with high runes, their presence was commanding yet warm, their footsteps were echoing off the stone floor.

The chamber was filled with students and masters, their murmurs hushed as Elara stepped forward, her voice was filled with authority, her silver hair gleamed under the sigils’ light.

She announced a formal ceremony to honor the Tide’s Crest, presenting them with Veilbane Medals that were forged from riftprimal scales and psychic cores, their surfaces shimmered with violet and gold, which were symbols of their triumph over the Veil’s origin.

The medals were heavy, etched with runes that pulsed with the Sanctum’s gratitude, their weight was a tangible reminder of the trio’s sacrifice.

Elara recounted their journey with reverence, her words painted a vivid tapestry of their courage and unity, through the Shattered Peaks’ brutal beasts, where Kelvin’s fire lances had burned through wyrms; the Verdant Hollow’s labyrinthine traps, where Lyra’s shadow cages had outmaneuvered griffons.

The Iron Fens’ psychic assaults, where Darius’s soulstone blasts had shattered bogstalkers; the Riftspire’s spectral onslaught, where their unity had defied wraiths; the Abyssal Caldera’s molten chaos, where their beasts had endured searing flames.....

The Sanctum’s betrayal-fueled battles, where their resolve had overcome Torin’s schemes; the Veilheart’s riftborn army, where their synergy had crushed riftlords; the Abyss Core’s colossi, where their strength had prevailed; and the Primordial Rift’s final stand, where their unity had destroyed the Sovereign’s core.

Kelvin, propped up on his cot, his arm was still weak from the stitches, he accepted his medal with a trembling hand, his chest wound was painful but his heart was swelling with pride, the weight of the medal grounding him.

Xerion’s amber eyes gleamed as a healer etched an honor rune onto his scales, the serpent’s hiss was soft but proud, his scarred form was radiant in the golden light.

Lyra, leaned on her cot, her thigh wound was limiting her movement, she took her medal with a defiant nod, her eyes were fierce despite the pain, Salaris’s feathers shimmered as an honor rune was etched onto her stand, the raptor’s screech was a quiet affirmation of their triumph.

Darius, his vision was clearer but his head was still aching, grinned as he clutched his medal, his shoulder wound stings but his spirit was unbroken, Rhoam’s plates gleaming as an honor rune was carved into them, the panther’s growl was a low rumble of triumph that echoed through the chamber.

The students’ applause thundered off the rune-etched walls, with a wave of sound that drowned out the trio’s pain for a moment, their beasts basked in the recognition and their bonds pulsed stronger than ever, a flame that had burned through the Veil’s shadow.

Students flooded the infirmary in the days that followed, offering gifts of healing runes, beast essences, and psychic-infused talismans, their admiration were overwhelming but uplifting.

A young tamer, who was barely fifteen, with wide eyes and a nervous stammer, presented Kelvin with a fire rune etched with wyrm essence, his voice trembling as he spoke of Kelvin’s battles in the Primordial Rift, the fire lance that had pierced the Sovereign’s core.