The Forest of the Soft Whispers was aptly named, though none who entered its depths ever found comfort in the moniker. Every sound—the rustling of leaves, the creak of ancient branches, the faint hoot of unseen owls—carried an uncanny resonance, as though the forest itself sought to whisper secrets to intruders. Travelers who dared venture too far often spoke of phantom voices and fleeting shadows that danced at the edges of perception. All returned with uneasy hearts.

  Lehara moved through this labyrinth of living giants with practiced ease. She barely glanced at the trees, whose twisted trunks reached skyward as if clawing for sunlight that barely filtered through the dense canopy. Every step was deliberate, her crimson robes trailing behind her, brushing against the moss-covered ground like blood spilled upon an ancient battlefield. The air was thick and heavy, charged with an unnatural energy that prickled against her skin.

  Ahead, her destination loomed—a stone dais set in a clearing where the ancient forest reluctantly gave way. The dais was partially overgrown, its edges softened by moss and creeping vines. But the runes carved into its surface remained sharp and unyielding, their lines etched with a precision that defied time. Though dormant for centuries, the runes still pulsed faintly, as if sensing the approach of someone who could awaken their slumbering power.

  At the base of the dais, a man knelt in silence. Bound at the wrists and ankles, his mouth gagged, his eyes wide with terror. Tessar Vale—once a royal scribe, known for his obsession with forbidden lore. Now, he was merely fuel for the flame.

  Lehara ascended the dais. The sigils beneath her feet thrummed in recognition, their dim glow intensifying. She knelt at the center and began to chant, the words of the ancient draconic tongue flowing like molten silver from her lips. The runes flared from amber to a venomous purple, leeching warmth from the air.

  Behind her, a small gathering of cloaked figures knelt in silent reverence. Each wore a simple crimson robe, their hoods drawn low to obscure their faces. They were her most loyal followers, bound to her by fear, ambition, or both.

  The unnatural wind stirred again, stronger this time. It swept through the clearing, carrying with it the faint scent of sulfur and decay. The cloaked figures shuddered but remained silent, their devotion keeping them rooted in place.

  Balvek – the most trusted lieutenant of Lehara – had his broad shoulders hunched as though the weight of the ritual pressed down on him more than the others. His dark eyes flickered with a mixture of reverence and unease as he watched Lehara weave her spell.

  “Mistress,” he murmured, “the portal’s energy grows volatile. The offering—is he worhty?”

  Lehara’s golden gaze snapped to him. “He preserved knowledge long forgotten. He will now fuel the birth of ruin.”

  Balvek bowed his head and stepped aside.

  With a final invocation, Lehara rose. Her hand moved in a sweeping gesture, calling on ancient energies. She drew a dagger from her robes—ceremonial, cruel, obsidian-edged. Without hesitation, she slit Tessar’s throat. His body convulsed, blood pooling across the dais. As it reached the sigils, the runes blazed to life.

  Reality buckled.

  A jagged rift tore open in the air before the dais. Unstable energy crackled at its edges, and through it, a swirling void appeared, seething with shifting shadows and whispering screams. The first of the demons emerged, clawing his way into the world with a silent terror that gave way to more. And more. They were small, twisted creatures, their limbs unnaturally long and their eyes glowing with a sickly green light. Their jagged horns and razor-sharp claws caught the faint light of the portal, glinting ominously as they scuttled forward.

  Behind them came the commanders.

  Three towering figures stepped through the rift, their forms radiating an aura of dread that made the air itself feel heavy. The first carried a massive blade wreathed in black flames, its edges crackling with dark energy. The second wielded twin axes, their surfaces slick with a corrosive ichor that hissed and bubbled as it dripped onto the ground. The third was silent and unarmed, but its very presence was oppressive, its gaze enough to send the cloaked figures recoiling in terror.

  Lehara watched them emerge, a satisfied smile on her lips. The portal pulsed with dark light. The Veil of Equilibrium had been cracked, and chaos now seeped through. The incursion had begun—one of many scattered across Xael. Carefully timed. Carefully placed.

  As the last of the demons emerged from the rift, Lehara reached into her robes and withdrew a shimmering crystal. Its surface glowed faintly, etched with shifting runes that pulsed in rhythm with the energy of the portal. She whispered an incantation, and the crystal flared to life, revealing the image of Sarox, one of the Demon Princes.

  Sarox lounged on his throne of blackened bones, his crimson skin glowing like molten lava and his piercing, ember-like eyes fixed on Lehara. Horns curled from his head like the gnarled roots of an ancient, wicked tree, and his jagged smile exuded both amusement and menace.

  “Lehara,” he rumbled. “The Veil shudders. My legions now march in earnest.”

  Lehara inclined her head. “As planned. The commanders are unleashed. Not only here but all across the planet.”

  Sarox leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “And the artifacts?”

  “We are close. Soon, all seven will be within our grasp.”

  Sarox’s grin widened. “Yes. Seven ancient relics. Seven vessels. Seven keys. And just one lock. The Titan.”

  Lehara’s left eyebrow rose, but she added nothing.

  “You serve him well, dragonkin. Too bad you’re not of Darkblood. You would have served me even better.”

  “Perhaps,” Lehara replied with acid in her words. “Or perhaps you should know your place, demon, and keep your twisted suggestions to yourself. The Titan won’t like it if you ever obstruct his plans.”

  “Oh, so feisty. I love it! Just so you know, you’re my favorite from your little band of rebels… But tell me, little dragonkin, do you know that we both need each other? Otherwise, this alliance would have been dust a long time ago.”

  Lehara just pierced him with her gaze but did not reply.

  “Regardless. The artifacts will soon be within my reach. And a new stage of our plan will begin.”

  Lehara tilted her head. “The Crucible.”

  Sarox nodded. “The Essence Crucible awaits activation. But it is incomplete.”

  He waved his hand. The vision shifted. She saw a churning obsidian machine, its pipes coiling like veins, spewing violet steam. Above it floated a hollow socket—a place where something sacred once fit.

  “It is built,” he growled, “and now it waits. Not for a soul. But for something far greater.”

  Lehara narrowed her eyes. “Quintessence.”

  Sarox nodded. “The Crucible cannot break the Titan’s chains until it is suffused with that primal force. The energy that birthed the Multiverse. The law before law. And that Essence… can only be accessed at one place.”

  The images shifted again.

  “A nexus between worlds,” Sarox continued, “where all Four Realms intersect. Where the boundaries thin and resonance becomes reality. Anchor Xael’s tether there, and I shall tear the Veil open and drink deep the Essence that binds it.”

  “And the resistance?”

  “They will come… If they even know what to look for,” Sarox said with cruel confidence. “By the time they clean all my legions from their world, the Crucible will be done. So let them try.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  He leaned forward.

  “You, Lehara, will lead the anchoring. Castus will accompany you. And the others will march on the secondary nodes.”

  Her golden eyes shimmered. “And when the Quintessence is drawn… the chains?”

  “Will melt. And the Titan will walk again.”

  The crystal dimmed. Sarox was gone.

  Lehara turned to Balvek. “Let’s go. We will let the others spill into the nearby realms. Confusion is our ally.”

  They disappeared into the forest, their crimson robes vanishing into the shadows like blood absorbed by dark waters. She moved with the most purpose, her mind already turning to the next phase of her plan. Sarox’s mention of the other worlds lingered in her thoughts, a thread she could not ignore.

  As she walked, the distant sounds of the Revelation Festival reached her ears once more. The laughter and music seemed almost mocking, a reminder of the fragile peace she had just shattered. But Lehara felt no guilt, no hesitation. The people of Xael would soon understand that balance was a fleeting illusion, and power demanded sacrifice.

  Behind her, the rift remained—a festering wound upon the world. Demons poured through in a relentless tide, their screeches and roars filling the clearing with a cacophony of chaos. The commanders stood watch, their presence a grim harbinger of the devastation to come.

  The Veil of Equilibrium had been breached, and with it, the first threads of chaos began to unravel. And then it didn’t take long for them to reach the clearing in which the Revelation Festival was supposed to be held. That’s where it all began…

  *****

  The clearing, which moments ago bustled with cheerful activity, was now gripped by the icy hand of terror. The villagers scrambled to follow Aluvar’s command, dragging wagons and barrels into rough defensive lines. Children were hurriedly shepherded into the center of the barricade, their frightened cries muffled by the cacophony of shouted orders and hurried footsteps.

  Aluvar and Raela moved together, a practiced pair despite their differences. Her gleaming sword shimmered with latent energy, while Aluvar's matching blade pulsed faintly with a verdant hue. Both their weapons were extensions of their will, augmented by their supernatural powers. As Dragonkin, their golden and green eyes glowed faintly in the gathering twilight, a testament to the strength coursing through their veins.

  The first wave of demons burst from the tree line like a flood unleashed. Small, twisted forms with grotesque, elongated limbs scrambled forward, their glowing green eyes burning with malevolent hunger. They moved with unnerving speed, their clawed hands tearing at the ground as they closed in.

  Aluvar grinned, his golden eyes alight with the thrill of combat. “Here comes the welcoming committee,” he said, spinning his sword in a graceful arc. “Shall we dance?”

  Raela didn’t respond with words. Her sword was already flashing through the air, cleaving the first demon in two. She moved with precision, every swing calculated to maximize efficiency. With a flick of her free hand, she sent a burst of telekinetic force slamming into a cluster of demons, scattering them like leaves in the wind. “Focus, Aluvar!” she barked, even as she decapitated another demon with a fluid twist of her wrist.

  “Always focused,” he replied, dodging a leaping demon with feline grace. With a gesture, he conjured a swirling sphere of green energy and hurled it into the fray. The blast consumed three demons in a flash of verdant light. “You worry too much.”

  The villagers huddled behind the barricades, armed with improvised weapons—pitchforks, hammers, and even pots. A few braver souls took up bows, their hands shaking as they notched arrows and let them fly. Some found their marks, while others struck only trees or dirt.

  The demons came in unrelenting waves. For every one that fell, two more seemed to emerge from the shadowy forest. Their screeches filled the air, mingling with the cries of the terrified villagers.

  Aluvar and Raela fought back-to-back, their movements a harmonious blend of swordplay and supernatural prowess. Aluvar’s blade carved through flesh and bone with precision, while his telekinetic strikes hurled demons into the air or pinned them against trees. Raela’s sword carved arcs of silver light through the oncoming horde, and her fiery blasts incinerated demons before they could close the distance.

  “We can’t hold them all!” Raela shouted, her voice strained but steady.

  “Not yet,” Aluvar replied, grinning despite the chaos. He spun, slicing through another demon, then pointed toward a group of villagers trying to load a pair of crossbows. “But they might help.”

  Raela glanced toward the villagers and nodded. “Cover me!”

  Aluvar stepped into the gap she left, his sword dancing as he intercepted the demons lunging for her. “Go on, then! I’ll keep your adoring fans entertained.”

  Raela sprinted toward the makeshift barricade, shouting commands. “Crossbows to the front! Fire at will!” Her voice cut through the chaos, and the villagers rallied under her leadership. Bolts began to fly, thinning the swarm of smaller demons.

  “Now we’re talking!” Aluvar called, dispatching another demon with a flourish.

  Then, the ground shook.

  A deep, guttural roar erupted from the forest, silencing even the screeching of the lesser demons. The shadows at the tree line seemed to deepen, and the air grew heavy with malice. Slowly, the towering figure of one of the commanders emerged from the darkness.

  It was the demon with twin axes. Standing over six meters tall, its hulking form was covered in armor-like scales that shimmered with an oily sheen. Its glowing red eyes swept the clearing, and its jagged teeth parted in a snarl that sent a chill through everyone present. Black ichor dripped from its axes, sizzling as it struck the ground.

  “Raela,” Aluvar called, his voice calm but firm. “This one’s ours.”

  The commander let out another roar, and the smaller demons surged forward with renewed ferocity, as if emboldened by its presence. It raised one of its axes and pointed it toward the barricade. Instantly, a sickly green mist began to seep from the blade, spreading across the ground like a living thing.

  “Fall back!” Raela shouted. “Get away from the mist!”

  The villagers scrambled to obey, dragging the wounded and the children further back. The mist reached the barricade, and the wood began to warp and rot, collapsing under its own weight. Aluvar and Raela stood firm, holding the line as the villagers retreated.

  Raela grinned, her sword glowing brighter as she flexed her shoulders. “Finally,” she said, her voice tinged with anticipation. “You ready to show this thing why they call us Dragonkin?”

  Aluvar smirked, his own blade humming with energy. “Been ready since the first scream,” he replied. “Let’s make it regret stepping out of its hole.”

  Without hesitation, they began to transform. Raela’s armor seemed to melt away, replaced by shimmering orange scales that covered her entire body. Her form grew, stretching and twisting until a massive orange dragon stood where she had been. Aluvar’s transformation was equally breathtaking. His green scales gleamed in the dappled sunlight, and his wings unfurled with a snap that sent a gust of wind through the clearing.

  Even in dragon form, their powers remained. Aluvar’s telepathic voice reached Raela. "We hit him together—every angle, every opening."

  Raela’s voice came back, steady and fierce. "No holding back."

  The two dragons let out deafening roars, their combined presence driving the smaller demons back for a moment. The commander, however, was unfazed. It stepped forward, its axes raised, and let out a roar of its own—a challenge.

  Raela, now in her dragon form, snarled and launched herself at the commander. Her claws raked across its chest, leaving deep gouges in its armor-like scales. The demon staggered but retaliated with a swing of its axes, one blade narrowly missing her neck while the other glanced off her shoulder.

  Aluvar darted in from the side, his green form a blur of motion. His tail whipped around, striking the demon’s legs and knocking it off balance. He followed up with a blast of cold breath, the icy wind freezing the demon’s chest. As it reeled, he telekinetically tore a tree from the ground and hurled it at the creature, knocking it back several steps.

  The commander roared in pain and fury, swinging its axes wildly. One struck Aluvar’s wing, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt of pain. Raela roared in response, her jaws closing around the demon’s arm. With a mighty shake, she ripped the limb free, sending one of the axes flying.

  The demon howled, black ichor spraying from the wound. It staggered but refused to fall. Raising its remaining axe, it charged Raela, its eyes blazing with unholy light.

  Raela braced herself, her orange form radiating defiance. Aluvar, still recovering, growled and launched himself back into the fray. Together, the two dragons moved with deadly precision. Raela lunged forward, claws ripping through the demon’s remaining weapon and tearing it free from its grasp. Aluvar circled behind it, his icy breath freezing its legs in place. The commander roared in desperation, but its movements were slowed, the frost spreading upward and immobilizing its hulking form.

  "Now, Raela!" Aluvar’s voice rang in her mind.

  With a deafening roar, Raela reared back and unleashed a torrent of fire that consumed the demon. The flames, brilliant and all-encompassing, melted the frost and engulfed the creature in a maelstrom of destruction. The demon writhed and screamed as its body collapsed inward, reduced to ash under the combined might of the Dragonkin.

  The clearing grew quiet save for the crackling of lingering flames. The remaining smaller demons, sensing the fall of their commander, scattered back into the forest, their screeches fading into the distance.

  Raela and Aluvar stood side by side, their dragon forms towering over the clearing. The villagers cautiously peeked out from their hiding places, their expressions a mixture of awe and relief.

  Just as the tension began to ebb, a distant sound reached their ears—low, guttural growls carried on the wind. Aluvar’s green eyes narrowed, and he turned his head toward the village of Himnar.

  "Something’s not right," he said, his voice heavy with unease.

  Raela nodded, her golden gaze fixed in the same direction. "We’re not done yet."

  Together, the two dragons leaped into the air, their wings beating with powerful strokes as they soared toward the village, ready to face whatever new threat awaited them.