The sky cracked open.
Above the Valley of Ryn, the vessel—no longer a distant gleam, but a force of impossible origin and intent. Silver-plated, sharp-edged, and humming with eerie precision, it swept over the lake like a blade through silk, its underside mirrored with pulsing lights.
Villagers screamed. Children pointed skyward. Elders fell to their knees.
From the far ridge, Belligarde ran like fire had swallowed the mountain behind her. Her boots slammed stone, her cloak snapping wildly in the rising wind as she reached the edge of the inner ridge.
It's connected. The weapon. The ship. The glyphs. All of it.
Her hand tightened around the still-glowing relic. It pulsed with the same azure hue as the vessel's undercarriage. She didn't know how—but she felt it. The same purpose. The same technology.
At the lake's edge, Chief Maelhan stood frozen. Around him, villagers shouted, eyes wide as the flying craft circled the central waters, its engines emitting a low, mournful thrum. Then it turned—elegantly, deliberately—toward the cliffs on the valley's far end.
Toward Alfazar's den.
Maelhan's lips barely moved. "It begins…"
"What is it, Chief?" someone called.
He didn't answer. He stepped back. And then, without a word, he turned and fled towards the Long Hall.
Elder Talyri reached Fen and Lira's home just as the ground began to shake.
She slammed the door open. "Is she here? Nerissa!"
The girl was huddled between her parents, pale and trembling, her fingers twitching.
"She feels it," Lira said softly, brushing hair from Nerissa's sweat-streaked brow. "Alfazar."
Talyri nodded grimly. "It's begun."
Then—silence.
So profound it pressed against the ears.
And then, as if the world inhaled in horror—
They came.
The vessel had landed beyond the lake, near the cave. Its hull hissed open, steam rolling across the blackened soil as a platoon of armored figures marched forth. Each bore the same weapon as Belligarde's—sleek and glowing faintly. Their armor was seamless, matte silver, etched with faint runes.
At their center, four figures carried a device unlike any other. A large, glowing crystal shard pulsed in its middle, held in place by coiled, spiraling wires that crackled softly with energy.
They moved like a single mind—toward the dragon's den.
And then—
A roar.
From deep within the mountain, Alfazar's fury unfurled. It was not sound, but an emotion—pain, rage, sorrow, confusion—all at once. Fire blazed from the cavern mouth, and villagers watching from across the lake screamed in awe and terror.
At the village's edge, riders on long-legged, bipedal lizards tore through the trees. Clad in dark cloaks and leather armor, the scouts bore no tribal markings—only the swift efficiency of those long trained in covert war.
Their leader dismounted at Maelhan's door. "Do you have the tablets?"
Maelhan nodded, jaw clenched. "They were relocated during the meeting. While the panic spread."
He gestured toward the old healer's house—a narrow, unassuming hut buried beneath. "They're hidden there. Take what you need. Before your distraction fails."
The scout's eyes narrowed. "It is not merely a distraction."
Then he vanished into the mist.
Maelhan stood alone. Hands trembling. Stomach churning. A gnawing thought in his chest:
What have I done?
Alfazar's rage became a storm.
The ground buckled.
From the dragon's den, a shockwave erupted—not sound, but a presence. It tore through stone and air, a visible ripple of force that shook the very sky. The cavern walls split and spat dust; the force tore across the lake, rising waves high enough to breach the banks. Giant silver-scaled fish breached the surface in panic, the water boiling as it rolled toward the village.
The wave hit.
Huts along the shoreline shattered. Wooden stilts cracked like matchsticks. Tents and thatched roofs were ripped from the ground and flung into the trees. People screamed. The gong sounded in frantic alarm.
And then—silence again.
Back at their home, Fen gripped Nerissa tightly in his arms. Her skin was clammy. Her lips pale.
"She's still breathing," he said. "Still awake."
But her eyes were distant. As if looking through a veil only she could see.
Then—a deep rumble.
From the ridge, Belligarde appeared.
Running. Leaping over broken stone, cloak tattered by wind.
Behind her—
A landslide.
Red rock. Boulders the size of huts. Dust like stormclouds rolling after her.
She didn't look back. Her eyes only forward—toward her sister. Toward her niece.
The villagers below saw it coming.
Fen ran to the door, saw the red thunder approach, and yelled, "We have to GO!"
Talyri was already running—but not away. She turned toward the Circle of Teaching, sprinting toward the stone archive below it.
She never saw that the tablets were gone.
Maelhan stood atop the plaza, watching the village begin to die.
The outer curve had already been swallowed. Dust billowed. Screams echoed. He turned. And ran.
He did not look back.
Fen ran, clutching Nerissa against his chest, Lira close behind. The ground cracked behind them, dust filling their lungs. The roar of falling stone drowned out thought.
And then—
From the side, a massive boulder rolled from the slope above, gathering speed like a demon unleashed.
Lira saw it first.
"Fen—!" she shouted
He turned.
She pushed. Hard.
He fell forward—Nerissa still in his arms.
Time slowed.
He saw her eyes. The tears. The final, wordless goodbye.
In Lira's mind, she thought of Nerissa. Of the way her daughter's fingers had once curled around her own. The way she'd laughed under ringlight.
She thought of Fen, the man she loved, the one who had never stopped reaching for her hand in the dark.
She thought of Belligarde—her sister, wild and brave, always the sword and shield for their quiet, broken spaces.
Let them be together again. Let them live. Let them remember her only in joy.
The boulder struck.
A sound like the ground itself gasping.
It didn't stop. It dragged her. Bones shattered. Her body thrown like a broken reed.
When it finally settled, dust curling around them, Fen turned in the choking silence.
He saw only the blood trailing where his wife had stood, and his scream joined the sounds of a valley dying.