At the Temple
After dinner, the children returned to their cottages—some to rest, others to whisper and laugh beneath the soft lantern light. But for the young prince, peace was a stranger. All around him, eyes followed—unseen yet unmistakably present, observing his every step, guarding and judging alike.
He felt them in the air, like invisible sentinels cloaked in silence. But he chose to ignore it, pretending they were nothing more than loyal shadows assigned to protect him.
Xerxez and Matheros made their way toward the temple. Inside, the vast hall shimmered with dim golden light reflected off the polished marble. There, seated in the center upon a round mat, was Teacher Devein—legs crossed, motionless, as though carved from stone. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, and before him lay an ancient tome spread open across the floor, its pages faintly glowing with a breath of fading enchantment.
"Come in," Devein's voice echoed softly. His eyes never opened, yet his tone struck with perfect awareness. "Sit before me."
The boys glanced at each other, exchanging a quiet laugh. Their footsteps were light as feathers, careful not to disturb the tranquil stillness of the temple.
But the teacher's words had caught them before they even reached the center.
"How did he know we were here… without even looking?" Matheros whispered, his voice tinged with awe.
"Maybe…" Xerxez murmured, his gaze fixed on the serene old man, "…he's a foresseer."
They sat down before the teacher, their eyes instantly drawn to the open pages of the ancient tome. The letters shimmered like living fireflies, rearranging themselves into new phrases with every blink. Images shifted and breathed upon the parchment—mountains moved, stars twirled in miniature skies, and rivers of light streamed between the words.
"Whoa… this is fantastic!" Matheros blurted out, eyes wide with wonder.
"Ch! Shhhh…" Teacher Devein hushed him gently without breaking his meditative posture. His voice carried calm authority, like ripples across still water.
"Do what I am doing," he murmured, eyes still closed. "Close your eyes… listen to the voice of your heart, and follow the light that appears within your mind."
Matheros tilted his head slightly. "So, this is like our lesson this morning?"
"More like it," Devein replied quietly. "But tonight's teaching is different from what any other master would show you. Now—follow me. Both of you, hold my hands."
"Sure, okay!" the boys answered in unison, excitement barely contained.
Silence filled the temple once more. The air grew thick with unseen energy. Slowly, a faint glow began to radiate from their joined hands, threads of light weaving between them like living veins of spirit.
Xerxez felt his heartbeat slow—then rise, powerful and synchronized with something vast and ancient. The warmth of Teacher Devein's hand pulsed with a rhythm not his own, and a strange current surged through his veins, whispering in a language of pure energy.
Their breathing deepened. Matheros trembled slightly, feeling the air hum around them. The light in their minds began as small sparks, then bloomed—gentle but pure, like dawn rising behind their eyelids.
Teacher Devein's voice drifted into their consciousness, distant yet clear:
"Let your soul remember what your flesh has forgotten…"
Xerxez gasped softly. "I feel… something—an energy, powerful and vast… like a guardian spirit empowering my soul."
"Now… think about a flame," Devein instructed softly, his voice calm yet commanding. His eyes remained closed, unmoved, as though his spirit alone spoke. "Feel the energy that grows in your palm. Do not force it—let it breathe through you."
The two boys obeyed, their brows furrowed in concentration. Their palms faced upward, trembling slightly as they focused their will. The air around them thickened, humming faintly with invisible resonance.
Then—spark.
Tiny lights flickered between their fingers like newborn fireflies. The warmth swelled, and soon a faint flame danced above their hands, glowing against the dim temple light.
Matheros gasped, his eyes reflecting the glow. His flame burned with a cool, ethereal hue—blue, shimmering like water under moonlight.
"Whoa… this is incredible!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing softly through the marble hall. "I can actually see it—it's real flame!"
Beside him, Xerxez's breath caught as small motes of light drifted from his palms, spiraling upward into the air. "Me too! I can see light—floating like stars!" he said, his tone rippling with wonder.
Teacher Devein's lips curved slightly, almost into a smile, though his eyes never opened. "Good… your inner elements have begun to awaken. What you see is not fire—nor water—but the essence that defines you. Remember this feeling, for it will guide you when darkness comes."
The boys looked at their hands again, their hearts pounding—not from fear, but from awe. For the first time, they could see the unseen world breathing through them.
"Tomorrow night, at the same hour," Devein said, rising slowly from his posture, his calm voice echoing faintly within the temple walls. "Both of you must return here to continue your training."
"Yes, Teacher," Xerxez replied with a small bow, gratitude lighting his eyes. "I'm… happy. At least now we both know how to form a flame — even just a small awakening."
Matheros grinned, his tone light and teasing. "Yeah! My classmates are going to be shocked when they see this. Heh… they'll be jealous for sure."
Devein's eyes opened slightly, his calm gaze turning firm. "Enough boasting over such a small step. You sound like a hunter proud of catching a shadow. Do not let arrogance dull your growth — it's not a good path to walk."
Matheros scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "I just wanted to prove to them that Thallerion kids aren't hopeless. They've been talking — saying we're too dull to awaken our flames."
"Let them talk," Devein replied, his tone soft but unwavering. "Do not waste energy proving them wrong. Instead, show them through your strength — not with pride, but with purpose. Inspire them, don't compete with them."
A brief silence followed, broken only by the flicker of the candlelight. Then Xerxez, who had been staring at the ancient tome, spoke quietly.
"Teacher Devein… this book — is it magic? The letters, they were… moving, and glowing. Why?"
Devein drew a slow, steady breath, his expression calm yet reverent. "This book… is known as the Book of Orion." He paused, letting the name linger in the air like an echo of ancient power. "Or rather… this is a copy of it. The elders once poured fragments of their spirit energy into each page, binding their knowledge to its form. Every letter you see is alive — breathing with the remnants of their essence. But even so… the copy is incomplete."
"Whoa…" Matheros breathed, his eyes glimmering with awe as he gazed at the glowing tome. "That's… amazing. They created it with their spirit energy?"
Devein nodded. "Yes. What you see before you is not ink and parchment — it is the crystallized wisdom of souls who transcended mortality."
Xerxez leaned forward, curiosity sharpening his tone. "If this is just a copy… then where's the original?"
Devein's lips curved into a faint, approving smile. "A good question, young prince." His voice grew low, almost a whisper carried by memory. "When Orion's Chosen One — the last bearer of divine flame — perished, the original book vanished without a trace. Some say it was reclaimed by Orion himself… others believe it sleeps somewhere beneath the roots of the world."
He rested a hand on the tome, and its pages quivered faintly, glowing like breath beneath his fingers. "The disciples who survived tried to recreate it. They succeeded — partially. But many passages were beyond mortal comprehension. Some words refused to be written. Some formulas defied understanding, and even our greatest mathematicians remain baffled to this day. The symbols… the hieroglyphs… they twist and change when read."
He looked up at them, eyes calm but heavy with meaning. "So, this copy holds only fragments — the simplest teachings. What you performed tonight was one of those fragments. But the deeper truths of the Book of Orion…" His gaze fell to the tome again. "…those remain locked away, waiting for the next soul worthy enough to awaken them."
"To be honest," Devein said softly, exhaling a calm breath, "even I am uncertain about the true nature of this book. Its meanings shift each time I read it. But through years of meditation and trial, I discovered one truth — one hidden between its lines."
The faint light from the tome reflected in his eyes as he continued, voice low and deliberate. "Spirit energy can awaken another spirit energy. It's not something you can learn through words or symbols — it must be shared. When I transfuse my spirit energy into another, their inner light stirs, like a sleeping flame being touched by dawn. That… is the essence of what this book taught me."
Xerxez and Matheros exchanged awed glances.
"Wow… you're amazing, Teacher Devein!" Matheros said, his voice bursting with admiration. "You discovered that on your own?"
Devein smiled faintly, shaking his head. "No, not amazing — just persistent. But listen carefully… no one else in Wendlock knows about this. The elders believe the book is merely symbolic, a relic of the past." He looked at them with quiet seriousness. "Let's keep this between us — just the three of us."
Both boys straightened, nodding solemnly.
"Promise," Xerxez said.
"Yeah, we won't tell a soul," Matheros added, pressing a hand to his chest.
Devein closed the tome gently, and the glow of the pages dimmed until only the flicker of candlelight remained. "Good," he said softly. "Some knowledge isn't ready for the world. It must choose its time — and its bearers."
****
Meanwhile, beyond the Wendlock barrier…
Something slithered through the night air — a forked tongue, tasting the unseen. The air itself trembled with faint distortion as several dark shapes prowled along the invisible boundary, their scales glinting beneath the moonlight like shards of obsidian.
The lizardkin flock moved restlessly, their breaths hissing through the mist. They pressed their faces close to the air, tongues flicking, tasting for the faint pulse of spirit energy that marked the barrier's hidden edge.
"Master," one of the scouts rasped, its voice guttural and low, "we can taste something nearby… but we can't pinpoint the barrier's exact location. Still—my kin are prowling in every direction. We'll find it soon."
A deep, rumbling chuckle came from the shadows behind them. The Lacertian Master stepped forward — tall, sinewy, his scales a deep bronze that caught the faint glow of the moon. His eyes were narrow slits, yellow and sharp, gleaming with an eclipse-shaped iris that pulsed faintly as he spoke.
"Good," he hissed, his voice curling like smoke. "If we discover their den, we shall feast upon the Wendlock dwellers. Their flesh is said to be steeped in pure spirit energy—rich, potent."
He raised his clawed hand, letting the moonlight glint along its edge. "With their essence, we will evolve. Our forms will transcend this fragile shell and become something greater… something vast—like a mountain given breath."
The flock hissed in unison, their eyes glimmering with hunger and devotion. The air grew heavy with their excitement, rippling faintly where their presence pressed against the unseen barrier.
The scout lowered its head, tongue flicking nervously as it spoke. "Master… there is something else. One of our kin was wounded — by a weapon they called an electric dagger. They said… it belonged to a child. The Prince of Thallerion."
A deep rumble echoed through the air — not quite a growl, not quite laughter, but something in between. The towering figure seated upon the black stone throne leaned forward, his scales glinting like molten bronze under the dim blue firelight.
"What?" his voice boomed, edged with disbelief and rising fury. "Thallerion's prince? How could that whelp possess such a weapon?"
He rose to his full height, massive and dreadful. His eyes blazed with the hue of a dying sun — yellow and slit by the eclipse-shaped pupil that marked his kind. Around him, lesser lizardkin shrank back, trembling beneath the weight of his aura.
"The prince of Thallerion… interesting," he murmured, his voice dropping into a dark amusement. "That kingdom lies in ruin already. Moonatoria has besieged its borders, and the Ursa Nation—those wretched beasts who walk as men—tear through its armies. The world above devours itself."
The scout dared to look up. "Master Armageddon," it said quietly, reverently, "shall we move toward the Wendlock next?"
The creature turned, his tail cutting through the air like a whip. His presence was vast—ancient and terrible. This was Armageddon, the headmaster of the Thavizarus Clan, the Great Lizard who brings disaster.
"Not yet," he hissed, a cruel smile twisting across his jagged maw. "Let them grow comfortable in their illusions of safety. The storm will come soon enough. And when it does…" His claws clenched, crackling faintly with dark energy. "…we shall feast upon kings and gods alike."
"But if the prince is trapped behind their barrier," Armageddon rumbled, voice like rolling boulders, "then this is an opportunity. We must devour spirit—gather it until our essence is full. Only then can the prophecy be forged for our clan: one among us will grow beyond measure, a colossus of scale and stone." He raised his head, eyes glittering with savage hunger. "Imagine it—towering like a mountain. Who would dare stand against a titan of our blood? Kings would bow, armies would fracture beneath our weight. It will be glorious."
A feverish murmur swept through the gathered flock. Scales rippled, claws dug into the loam, and low hisses of anticipation filled the night. Each throat swallowed hard at the thought of power so absolute it erased fear itself.
"Now move!" Armageddon snapped, claws slashing the air. "Find their hiding place. Break the barrier—shatter it like an egg—and bring me the spirit within."
The lizards answered with a unified roar, a sound that scraped the sky and set the earth trembling. They scattered into the darkness, tongues flicking, senses sharpened to a razor edge—hunting, prowling, certain that the dawn would belong to their masters.
All who listens to him was hunger and dreaming with what he imagined too. " Now go back to work, search and find the barrier and destroy it like an egg!" They growl and screeching on the ground.
***
Midnight at the Wendlock Barrier
The Wendlock dwellers lay wrapped in silence, the cold night pressing against their cottages like a slow, ghostly tide. Only the faint crackle of lanterns and the whisper of wind through the trees kept the stillness company.
Then—rustle.
A faint disturbance rippled through the night. Beyond the invisible barrier, something crawled—scales sliding against earth, tongues flicking through the frost.
From the watchtower, two midnight sentinels scanned the fog-draped woods. Their eyes gleamed with wary focus as the sound persisted, soft but deliberate.
"How…" one of them muttered under his breath, his voice tense, "…how did a lizardkin find the barrier? It's crafted with ancient camouflage, unreadable even to bloodlines gifted with sensory traits. They shouldn't see it, let alone sense it."
The second watcher leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the faint shimmer of movement beyond the veil. "They've grown obsessed with us," he murmured. "It's because of the Orion bloodline. Our spirit essence grants power—when they consume it, they evolve, gaining new forms, new strength. To them, our blood is food… sacred food."
The first watcher clenched his fists, his breath sharp. "If that's true, then the elders' sealing ritual is weakening. If the Thavizarus clan breaches this barrier, Wendlock will fall. We've seen what happens to those they catch—their bodies drained, their souls hollowed out, their blood turned to dust."
He swallowed hard, voice trembling. "Just like rotten fruit left to dry in the sun."
The forest trembled again—this time, closer. The watchers gripped their weapons, the faint pulse of the barrier glowing blue for the first time in decades.
Something was coming.