His eyes widen slowly as he stares at the being on the plains, at the way the air bows around it, at the pressure that feels less like power and more like authority.
"…No," Hecrad whispers.
Kevom grits his teeth, forcing himself upright. "My lord…?"
Hecrad doesn't answer at first.
His lips move soundlessly, words forming from memory.
In the kingdom's earliest days… before borders were fixed… before crowns were secure…
His vision overlaps with the past.
A painted illustration in faded ink, an enormous winged beast wreathed in calamity. Cities burning. Armies erased. A single line written in red.
The Calamity That Walked the Sky.
Hecrad swallows hard.
"This beast…" he says hoarsely, voice barely audible even with amplification runes still active. "…It can't be."
Kevom turns to him, alarm flashing across his face. "You recognize it?"
Hecrad nods slowly, dread settling deep in his bones.
"I've read about it," he says. "In an old book. One that most people think is a myth."
