CHAPTER 80: THE OUTBURST OF THE VEIL 2

Kelvin’s pulse quickened, his hand tightening on his staff. The Iron Crags, a jagged, storm-swept range of peaks and chasms.were notorious in Sanctum lore, a place where even seasoned tamers tread lightly.

"What kind of aberrations?" he asked, his voice was steady despite the unease coiling in his gut.

Torin gestured to a rune-projected image that flickered into the air which was a grotesque creature with multiple limbs, its body was a twisted amalgamation of beast and nightmare and its eyes glowed with malevolent hunger, its maw dripped with black ichor.

"Hybrids," Torin said. "They are attacking trade routes and threatening the northern villages. You will go, investigate, and close the rift. The Sanctum’s monitoring system will track you, but extraction is not guaranteed."

Lyra stepped forward, her voice was calm but probing. "Is there an anchor-like in the grove?"

Torin nodded, his expression was grim as he said. "Likely, but the Crags are treacherous unstable cliffs, storms laced with dark energy, and terrain that shifts underfoot. Be cautious."

Darius cracked his knuckles, a grin spread across his face, though his eyes was a betrayed flicker of nerves. "This sounds like our kind of fun. Let’s do this."

They were dismissed to prepare, the weight of the mission that settled over them like a storm cloud. Back in the courtyard, they gathered their gear.

Kelvin checked his staff, its fire runes pulsed with energy, while Xerion coiled around him, his scales glinted like a molten metal, his amber eyes scanned the horizon.

Lyra inscribed new shadow runes, her fingers deft as she wove patterns to enhance Salaris’s agility, her bond with the raptor was a seamless dance of shadow and instinct.

Darius packed extra soulstones, their green glow casted eerie shadows across his armor, while Rhoam rumbled, his iron plates that clinked with eager anticipation.

As they worked, a familiar figure slunk toward them. Zack, their perennial rival with his dark cloak swirling in the morning breeze.

Vyris, his serpent beast, coiled around his arm, its obsidian scales glinted like polished stone, its eyes narrowed at Xerion.

"Off to save the world again?" Zack sneered with his voice dripping with venom. "Be careful, Crest. The Crags don’t forgive mistakes."

Darius bristled, his hand twitched towards a soulstone and said to him. "Keep talking, Riven. I will let Rhoam use you as a chew toy."

Kelvin placed a hand on Darius’s shoulder, his voice was calm but firm. "Ignore him. We have got bigger things to deal with."

Zack’s smirk widened, his eyes glinted with something more than mockery, a knowing edge that sent a chill down Kelvin’s spine.

"Oh, I am sure you will manage," Riven said, his tone syrupy. "Just don’t cry for help when it all falls apart." He turned on his heel with Vyris hissing softly as they retreated into the crowd.

Lyra watched him go, her eyes narrowing. "He knows something," she murmured, with her fingers tightening around her gauntlet. "He is too smug, like he’s waiting for us to fail."

Kelvin nodded, with an unease that prickled his spine. "We will keep an eye out. Let’s move." The journey to the Iron Crags began at noon, the path wind through rolling hills that was dusted with autumn’s first frost.

The trio moved in silence at first, their beasts were setting a steady pace, Xerion slithered ahead, his scales scraping softly against the rocky trail, his flames casting a warm glow that pushed back the gathering dusk.

Salaris darted through the shadows, her feathers blended with the terrain; Rhoam anchored their rear, his heavy tread was a drumbeat of resolve.

As they climbed into the foothills, the landscape grew rugged, the hills gave way to jagged outcrops and narrow paths that hugged sheer cliffs.

The air turned colder and carried the sharp tang of stone and ozone, a prelude to the storms that haunted the Crags.

Lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating twisted spires and deep chasms, the sky rolled with dark clouds that seemed to pulse with unnatural energy.

The ground beneath their feet grew unstable, loose shale while sliding with each step, forcing them to move with care.

"This place feels like the grove, but worse," Kelvin said, his voice was barely audible over the rising wind. He gripped his staff tighter, the runes glowed as he drew on Xerion’s warmth to steady himself.

Lyra nodded, her runes pulsing as she scanned the cliffs. "The rift is close. I can feel it’s dark energy, like a heartbeat." Darius tossed a soulstone, catching it with a grin. "Good. I’m itching to blast something."

They camped that night in a shallow cave carved into a cliffside, the wind howled outside like a chorus of angry spirits. Kelvin ignited a fire with Xerion’s breath, the serpent’s flames casted a dancing shadows on the rough stone walls, their heat was a welcome reprieve from the cold.

They ate sparingly, their supplies was limited to dried meat and hard bread, and shared stories to ease the tension that clung to them like the damp air.

Darius leaned back against Rhoam’s warm bulk, his grin softened as he spoke. "Back in my village, we used to tell stories about the Crags, ghosts of old tamers, trapped in the storms which scared me silly as a kid."

Lyra raised an eyebrow, her lips twitched. "You were scared? Hard to imagine." "Hey, I was eight," Darius protested, tossing a pebble at her. "What about you? Got any spooky stories from your city days?"

Lyra’s expression softened with her gaze that was at a distant. "My sister used to tell me about the Veil, back when we were kids.

She said it wasn’t just a rift, it was alive, watching us, waiting for a crack to slip through. I thought she was just trying to scare me, but now..." She trailed off, her hand brushed the journal in her pack.

Kelvin listened, his heart was heavy. "My dad told me about Xerion," he said, his voice was quiet. "The End-Tyrant, one of the First Beasts. Born when the soulstream was young, he fought in the Great Rift War, burned through entire armies of darkspawn.

They said that he ended a rift single-handedly, sealed it with his flames. When he chose me, I was terrified I had let him down."

Xerion’s head lifted, his amber eyes was locked onto Kelvin’s with a low hiss that vibrated the air. The serpent’s scales glowed brighter, as if it was affirming their bond, and Kelvin felt a surge of warmth with their connection a steady flame against the cold.

"You haven’t let him down," Lyra said with a firm voice. "None of us have. We are stronger together."

Darius nodded, his grin returned. "Yeah, the Crest is unstoppable. Rift or no rift." The night passed fitfully, the storm’s howls mingled with their restless dreams.

Kelvin woke to visions of wraiths and shadows, Xerion’s warmth grounded him as he shook off the images. The morning brought a gray, turbulent sky, the Crags loomed darker, their peaks jagged against the horizon.

They pressed on, the path growing steeper, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and decay, a malevolent hum vibrated beneath their feet.