CHAPTER 122: STANDING WITH TALL FEET

Kelvin’s arm was too weak to lift far, but he nodded gratefully, his voice was hoarse but warm as he thanked the boy, the rune was a small but meaningful addition to his arsenal.

A group of shadow tamers, their robes were glowing with dark runes, gifted Lyra a vial of gloomstalker essence, their eyes were wide with awe at her shadow cage that had pinned riftprimals, and she smiled, her gauntlet flickering as she thanked them, her side wound was aching her but her spirit was lifted by their respect.

Darius received a soulstream gem from a rival tamer, a gruff boy who muttered about Rhoam’s strength in crushing titans, and Darius tossed his soulstone with a pained grin, his concussion was easing but still nagging, his voice was steady as he thanked the boy.

The gifts, though small, were a reminder of the Sanctum’s gratitude, each one strengthened the trio’s resolve, their beasts were reacting with soft hisses, screeches, and growls, their scars were healing alongside their tamers’ wounds.

The trio’s injuries limited their responses, but their resolve shone through, their voices were steady despite the pain that lingered in their bodies.

Kelvin clutched the codex, its runes were dim but heavy with meaning, whispering to Xerion about their next steps, the serpent’s warmth was a constant anchor.

Lyra adjusted her gauntlet, its glow was steadier as her wounds healed, murmuring to Salaris about honoring her sister, the raptor’s talons gleamed in the golden light.

Darius tossed his soulstone, its light was brighter as his headaches faded, joking with Rhoam about crushing their next challenge, the panther’s growl was a promise of strength.

The students’ visits, though exhausting, was a balm to their trauma, their bonds with their beasts deepening with each interaction, the infirmary’s golden light was a beacon of hope in their slow recovery.

One quiet evening, as the infirmary’s runes glowed softly, casting gentle shadows across the chamber, Master Mealin entered, his huge form was a commanding presence despite the warmth in his weathered face, his boots echoed on the stone floor.

His robes, were etched with faded drake runes, rustled as he approached Kelvin’s cot, his eyes gleamed with pride, a faint smile that softened his stern features.

The old instructor, who had seen potential in the boy from and enrolled him in the Sanctum, stood tall, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke.

"You have made me proud, Kelvin," he said, clasping Kelvin’s bandaged shoulder gently, mindful of the stitches beneath, his touch was firm but warm.

"You ended the Veil, faced the Sovereign, and proved your strength beyond what I ever imagined. When you came to me, I saw a boy with fire in his eyes but doubt in his heart, I knew you would rise.

Your father would be proud, but you have forged your own path, one that will echo through the Sanctum for generations."

Kelvin’s throat tightened, tears were welling as he gripped the cot, Xerion’s warmth pulsed through their bond, the serpent’s amber eyes were fixed on Mealin, his hiss was soft but resonant.

Master Mealin sat beside Kelvin, his presence was a steady anchor, and he shared stories of his own beast-taming days, his voice was low and rich with memory.

He spoke of his bond with his now-retired drake, Cinder, a fierce companion who had faced rogue wyrms and shadow beasts in battles that had scarred the land long before Kelvin’s time.

"Cinder taught me to never back down, to face the darkness head-on," Mealin said, his eyes felt distant but warm, "just as Xerion has taught you.

Your fire lance in the Rift, the way you stood against Veyra and Torin—it’s what tamers are made of. Keep waxing strong, Kelvin. Honor your father by building a future he had admire, a Sanctum that stands tall because of you."

He pulled a rune-etched amulet from his robes, its surface were glowing with drake essence, the metal was warm to the touch, its runes pulsed with a faint, fiery light.

"This will bolster your bond with Xerion, guide you through what is to come," he said, pressing it into Kelvin’s hand, his eyes were firm but kind.

Kelvin clutched the amulet, its warmth was steadying his trembling fingers, his voice broke as he thanked Mealin, the mentor-student bond a lifeline through his guilt and pain, the weight of his father’s memory easing under Mealin’s words.

Mealin turned to Lyra and Darius, his voice was warm but brief. "Lyra, your courage in the Rift was unmatched, weaving shadows under Veyra’s gaze.

Honor your sister by continuing to fight, by showing the world what strength looks like." Lyra nodded, her gauntlet flaring softly, Salaris’s screech a quiet affirmation, her green eyes gleaming with resolve despite the ache in her side.

"Darius, your determination burned brighter than any flame, your soulstone shattered the Veil’s remnants. Rebuild what was lost, make Ironholt proud," Mealin said, and Darius grinned, tossing his soulstone, Rhoam’s growl echoed his resolve, his hazel eyes were bright despite the lingering pain.

But Mealin’s focus returned to Kelvin, underscoring their deep connection, his parting words was a quiet encouragement: "The Sanctum needs tamers like you, Kelvin. Lead them, guide them and keep going."

As Mealin departed, Kelvin clutched the amulet, tears streamed down his face, his resolve became hardened, Xerion’s hiss was a soft promise of strength that echoed through the chamber.

Weeks passed, the trio’s wounds healed, though scars remained faint, with jagged lines across Kelvin’s chest, shoulder, arm, and thigh, a map of the Primordial Rift’s brutality.

He regained mobility in his arm, flexing it cautiously as he sat up, the stitches were no longer pulling, though Veyra’s visions lingered in quiet moments, the cloaked figure’s shadow was a faint whisper in his mind.

Lyra walked without a limp, her thigh wound was a faint scar, her gauntlet glowed steadily as she moved, Salaris’s feathers were shimmering with restored vitality, the raptor’s talons were sharp and ready.

Darius’s headaches faded, his vision was clear, his soulstone was brighter as he tossed it, Rhoam’s plates gleamed despite their cracks, the panther’s bulk was unyielding.