The heat of the Scorching Badlands had grown intolerable, but it was nothing compared to the oppressive weight pressing on their minds. James stumbled over loose volcanic rock, clutching his head as a psychic whisper slithered through his thoughts. It wasn’t words, not exactly—just a sensation of hunger, anger, and overwhelming presence. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to focus on the path ahead.
Kael growled low in his throat, his amber eyes flickering as he darted ahead, scanning the jagged terrain. "Something’s watching us," he said, his claws twitching. "I can feel it."
Sylvia’s wings flared slightly, casting a dim glow over the group. She wiped sweat from her brow, her ethereal composure cracking under the strain. "It’s not something—it’s him. The source. The beast." Her voice wavered, the psychic pressure weighing on her as heavily as the others.
Thrain grumbled, his hammer slung over his shoulder as he trudged forward. "Beast or not, we’ve come too far to turn back now. Let’s find it and get this over with."
James hesitated, his hand drifting to the seismic scanner strapped to his wrist. The device beeped erratically, the readings fluctuating wildly. "The cocoon… it’s destabilizing. Whatever’s inside, it’s waking up."
Kael shot him a sharp glance. "Then we’d better hurry before it decides to eat us alive."
They pressed on, the volcanic ground beneath their feet trembling intermittently. The air was thick with ash, and strange shapes danced in the corners of their vision—hallucinations brought on by the psychic energy emanating from the cocoon. Sylvia dispelled a flickering shadow with a pulse of light, but her movements were slower, her usual grace dulled by exhaustion.
It was James who first noticed the faint shimmer in the air ahead. "Wait—something’s wrong."
The group halted, their tension palpable. Kael sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling. "It smells like… spirits."
A low chuckle echoed through the air, chilling them to the bone. Elyndor stepped out from behind a jagged outcropping, his once-pristine robes tattered and stained with blood. His emerald eyes burned with feverish intensity, and his staff crackled with residual energy.
"Did you miss me?" he said, his voice venomous.
"Elyndor!"
+
Kael lunged forward, claws bared, but Sylvia raised a hand, stopping him. "Elyndor," she said, her tone steady despite the anger simmering beneath. "What are you doing here?"
Elyndor sneered. "What I should have done from the start. Your weakness—your sentimentality—has blinded you to the truth. That beast is the key to everything, and I will control it."
James stepped forward, his voice unsteady but resolute. "You can’t control something like that, Elyndor. It’s too powerful."
Elyndor’s laugh was hollow and bitter. "Of course you’d think that, human. You’ve never understood the scope of what’s at stake. The elven empire doesn’t need alliances—it needs dominance. And with the power of a god-beast under our control, we will reshape this world."
Kael growled, his fur bristling. "You’ve lost your damned mind."
Sylvia took a step closer, her wings glowing faintly. "Elyndor, this isn’t you. You’ve always fought for balance, for the good of the realms. Don’t let this madness consume you."
Elyndor’s expression twisted with rage. "Balance? There is no balance! Only strength and weakness. You should understand that by now, Angel."
The air grew heavier as Elyndor raised his staff, green energy crackling along its length. The runes circling his feet pulsed ominously, casting eerie shadows on the jagged volcanic rocks around them. His emerald eyes gleamed with a manic intensity, his once-pristine features twisted by the weight of his obsession.
Sylvia stepped forward, her wings casting a faint golden glow over the scene. Her tone was calm but edged with desperation. "Elyndor, this isn’t you. You’ve always fought for balance, for the good of the realms. Why are you doing this?"
Elyndor barked out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You still cling to those pretty lies, don’t you? Balance, harmony… they’re nothing but a veil for weakness. The elven empire doesn’t need peace. It needs power. My father sees that truth, and I carry his will."
Kael snarled, his claws flexing. "Your father? What’s he got to do with this? Isn’t he just some noble?"
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Elyndor’s lips curled into a sneer. "My father is no mere noble. He is the High Duke of our empire, the brother to the king himself. And while the king buries his head in treaties and diplomacy, my father has been preparing for the real threat—the chaos festering in this world."
He thrust his staff downward, the runes flaring brighter. The ground trembled beneath their feet as a faint psychic hum vibrated through the air. "That beast," he spat, motioning toward the direction of the cocoon, "is the key to ending that chaos. Its power could bring every race, every realm to heel. No more conflict, no more disorder—just a single, unshakable rule under elven dominion."
Sylvia’s expression hardened, her voice sharp. "You think enslaving a creature like that will bring peace? It will destroy everything—and you with it."
Elyndor glared at her, his tone dripping with disdain. "You know nothing of what we’ve discovered. The rune I carry, the Rune of Submission, is not just some artifact. It is a relic of the Titans, a tool capable of binding even the mightiest beings to one’s will. With it, my father has already begun his conquest."
The group exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of his words sinking in.
Thrain growled, gripping his hammer tightly. "That explains why we can’t reach home, doesn’t it? You lot have started a bloody war."
Elyndor’s laugh was laced with venom. "A war that’s already being won. My father’s forces have silenced your kingdoms, your teachers. The Avatars are scattered, forced to defend their lands. And the Rune of Submission? It can break even demi-gods. Your so-called mentors will fall before it."
James’s heart sank as Elyndor’s words connected the dots. The failed Communication Runestones. The strange silence from their Avatars. The suffocating tension in the air. This wasn’t just some mission gone awry—this was the first domino in a war that could reshape the world.
"And you plan to use that same rune," Sylvia said, her voice quiet but filled with horror, "to control the beast?"
Elyndor smiled coldly. "Control it? I will become its master. With the sacrifice of a middle-tier spirit, I will seal the ritual, bend its will, and direct its power to crush our enemies—starting with you."
Kael stepped forward, baring his fangs. "You think we’ll just stand here and let you? You’re out of your damn mind."
Elyndor raised his free hand, green energy swirling around his fingers. "You have no choice. This is destiny—my destiny. And as much as I’d enjoy cutting you all down myself, I only need to wake it. The beast will do the rest."
As the argument escalated, James’s eyes darted to Elyndor’s head. For a moment, he thought the light was playing tricks on him, but then he saw it—a faint, pulsating shadow writhing just behind Elyndor’s ear. Squinting, James made out the distinct shape of a small, chitinous creature burrowed partially into Elyndor’s skull.
A mind-bug.
James’s stomach churned. He’d read about them—parasitic creatures that latched onto hosts, feeding on their thoughts and amplifying their darkest impulses. They didn’t control directly but twisted their victims’ desires, pushing them to destructive extremes.
"Wait," James said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Elyndor, listen to me. You’re not thinking clearly. That thing on your head—it’s controlling you."
Elyndor’s glare snapped to him, his expression twisting with fury. "You dare to insult my mind? My purpose? I act on my will alone, human."
James stepped forward cautiously, hands raised. "No, you’re not. Look—I know you. You’re disciplined, logical. This madness? It’s not you. That bug is warping your thoughts. Fight it."
Kael’s nose twitched, and his eyes widened in recognition. "He’s right. I can smell it now—something parasitic. That thing’s feeding on you, Elyndor."
Sylvia’s wings flared, her light intensifying as she peered closer. "James is telling the truth. I can sense the distortion in your aura. That creature is poisoning your mind."
For a brief moment, Elyndor hesitated. His hand wavered, and a flicker of doubt crossed his face. But the mind-bug twitched, its tendrils tightening their hold. Elyndor winced, his free hand clutching his head as his expression twisted in pain.
"Lies," he hissed, his voice ragged. "You’ll say anything to stop me."
James took another step forward, desperation in his voice. "Elyndor, you don’t have to do this. Let us help you—please."
But the bug pulsed again, and Elyndor screamed, the sound raw and guttural. When he looked up, his eyes glowed with an unnatural green light. "Enough! If you won’t stand aside, then you’ll die with the rest."
The runes at his feet flared violently, and the ground trembled as the ritual circle expanded. The psychic hum from the cocoon grew sharper, the air around them charged with volatile energy. James’s scanner beeped wildly, the readings flashing red.
Sylvia drew her weapon, her voice tight with urgency. "We don’t have much time. If he finishes that ritual—"
"Then we’re done for," Thrain growled, stepping into a defensive stance. "Let’s end this madness before it’s too late."
Elyndor raised his staff, his voice echoing with power. "You can’t stop what’s already begun."