Infinite Eclipse Origin, Volume 01 - The Mysterious Spirit

Chapters

Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Part 03 – Instinctive fear - Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part 04 – The Wingless - Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part 05 – Astral magic - Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Prologue
Part 01 – The mysterious spirit - Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Part 02 – Masha’s first mission - Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Seated beside her bed, Aren gazed tenderly upon his eight-cycle-old daughter, seemingly lost in peaceful slumber. The room was bathed in dim light, the soft hum of magical devices filling the air with their ethereal glow, displaying intricate data on crystalline screens scattered about. When it came to medicinal sorcery, the Akasa Care Center rivaled the finest hospitals in Saburia.

With a gentle yet melancholic smile, Aren reached out to delicately brush a stray strand of hair from his daughter's face. He then summoned forth an old notebook, its pages weathered with time, and began to leaf through its contents. "I reckon you'd fancy hearing your favorite tale, sweetheart. The one about how I came to meet your sister."

Every event of his life was meticulously chronicled within those pages, a testament to his fear of forgetting. The sound of paper rustling filled the room as he flipped through his manuscript, passing by tales from his days as High-Priest to the tender words of his departed wife.

"Ah, here it is…thirteen cycles ago," he murmured wistfully. "The day I crossed paths with Aqasha."

Aren's voice was a gentle murmur as if he were imparting a cherished secret meant only for her ears. "Amidst my sorrow," he began, "fate cast me into a moment that altered the course of everything. Deep within the forest, I stumbled upon a young alicorn, Aqasha, wounded and trembling. With no children of my own at the time, I felt the hoof of destiny beckoning me to become her Protector, her healer."

His gaze shifted to the still figure nestled upon the bed, his heart weighed down by a swell of emotion. "Weeks passed as I tended to her," he continued, "and gradually, her wary eyes softened, seeing in me, I believe, a fatherly presence, a guardian."

Pausing to recall the night that solidified their bond, he spoke softly. "I had intended to set her free once she had healed," he confessed. "But then one night, as she battled a particularly harrowing nightmare, her small wing reached out, touching me as she uttered a heart-melting 'Dad' in her half-conscious state. In that moment, I knew I could never leave her side."

In the telling of Aqasha's evolution into a formidable Flame Priestess, Aren's voice swelled with paternal pride. "She grew into everything I never knew I yearned for," he murmured, his words a hushed admission amidst the tapestry of his memories. "A beacon in the shadow of my grief. Yet, I must confess…she developed a boldness, an assertiveness that oft proved challenging."

Silence enveloped him, a shroud of remembrance veiling those days when his life's intricacies wove themselves into complex patterns. Once more, he bared his soul to the prospect of love, encountering a mesmerizing alicorn amidst the bustling marketplace. A spark ignited, birthing a romance that briefly illuminated the darkness of his existence. But this new chapter bore its own trials. Aqasha, ever watchful from afar, cloaked herself in indifference, concealing layers of trauma and anguish beneath her stoic veneer.

To Aren, Aqasha was more than a ward; she was his lifeline in a tempest of sorrow. Her presence breathed purpose into his days, steering him away from the abyss of despair. With a soft chuckle, he roused himself from reverie. "Apologies, Lilas…your old dad's wearied," he confessed. "Anyway, a few cycles later, the union with my newfound love blessed us with a child. You, darling."

He paused, casting a tender gaze upon his daughter's serene form, her breaths slow and steady in the embrace of sleep. Uncertain if she heard, yet lacking the fortitude to voice the next chapter of their tale. Though Lilas's arrival heralded joy, it was tinged with the bitter taste of sorrow as her fragile health cast a shadow over their happiness. And then, as if fate relished its cruel jest, his wife vanished without a trace, leaving Aren to navigate the treacherous waters of single fatherhood.

"Aqasha often tended to you whilst I discharged my duties as High-Priest," he continued, his voice a whisper. "Despite her moods, she harbored an affection for you as deep as your own."

Aren sealed his notebook with a flick of magic, stowing it within a worn bag slung over his shoulder. "Time for me to depart, my dear," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I'll return with a fresh tale on my next visit. Aqasha's role in the upcoming Festival of Sorority demands my presence, and I must ensure she doesn't stir up trouble when she meets the queen," he confessed, a nervous chuckle betraying his apprehension.

Drawing near his slumbering daughter, Aren pressed a gentle kiss upon her forehead, his gaze filled with a poignant longing. "May you awaken soon, my sweet child," he whispered, a wistful smile playing upon his lips.

With quiet hoofsteps, Aren left the chamber and made his way through the hallowed halls of the care center. En route to his departure, he encountered a nurse engrossed in her duties, poring over documents. Her eyes lifted in recognition, offering a respectful bow.

"High-Priest, a pleasure to see you," she greeted warmly. "I assume you just read some stories to Lilas?"

"Indeed," Aren replied wearily, though a smile graced his fatigued features. "Any news on her condition, by chance?"

The nurse couldn't help but notice the weight that burdened Aren, a heaviness not easily shrugged off. It clung to him like a shadow, aging him beyond his thirty-seven cycles. With a sympathetic smile, she delivered the familiar refrain.

"I'm afraid not, High-Priest," she murmured softly. "Her coma persists, though her condition remains stable for the time being."

"I understand," he replied, his smile masking the sorrow etched in his eyes. "Thank you for your diligence. I am forever indebted to you for caring for my daughter."

The nurse's response was swift and earnest. "No, High-Priest, it is our duty as healers. And we are grateful for all you do for Ardenia and our queen."

Aren offered a light chuckle, extending a wing in farewell, expressing his gratitude once more before making his way toward the exit of the building.

Leaving the care center behind, Aren found himself amidst the bustling streets of the capital. His journey led him to a humble food stall, its warm welcome painting a rare smile on his wearied visage. “Welcome, High-Priest. What would you like to eat, oh revered one?” the vendor greeted, reverence and warmth lacing their words.

“Hello, blessed are you. May Ardenu shine her face upon you. I’ll have the chef's suggestion, please,” Aren replied, his voice a mere whisper against the cacophony of the city. As he settled down to eat, his troubled spirit was not lost on the stall owners. In their own way, they sought to distract him, to offer solace to a soul who had traversed the depths of alicorn suffering.

Sketch n°12

The air around them thrummed with the energy of impending celebrations. The Festival of Sorority, a time-honored event marking the alliance of Ardenia and Luxia, happening between the night of the last day of the third month of flames and the morning of the first day of the first month of light, was fast approaching. The streets were alive with preparations, the air electric with excitement. This cycle, the honor of hosting fell to Ardenia, and the capital, Akasa, was a whirlwind of activity and anticipation.

As Aren dined, conversations swirled around him. “High-Priest, will Aqasha grace the festival with her presence?” inquired an eager voice. Aren, his mind a maze of fogged memories, could not recall his last conversation on the matter. “Considering her role, I sure hope so,” he offered, a flicker of uncertainty in his tone. “You never know with those kids.”

“I thought Aqasha was twenty-three cycles old?”

“To me, she remains forever a child. My child,” he added with a nervous chuckle, a father's eternal perspective.

The compassion in the eyes of those around him was palpable, their smiles tinged with pity. Here was the High-Priest, an alicorn of immense spiritual stature yet besieged by personal turmoil.

Having finished his meal, Aren paid and departed with a respectful nod. Unbeknownst to him, Aqasha, adept at masking her excitement, was fervently looking forward to the festival. She was to star in the ceremonial play as Ardenu, a role of great significance, the tale woven around the mythical peace forged between Ardenia and Luxia.

As Aren left the food stall, his path led him to the Sacred Castle of Akasa, the heart of his spiritual duties. His thoughts, a tumultuous sea of concern and prayer, were for his daughter, still lost in the depths of her coma. As he approached the castle, lost in his thoughts, an unexpected encounter awaited him, a familiar face that promised to alter the course of his day.

In the shadow of the Sacred Castle of Akasa stood Ayzat, the Second Paladin of Equestera. Despite his lack of wings—a peculiarity that set him apart in a realm where such appendages were as common as the stones that paved the streets—Ayzat commanded respect and admiration throughout the seven kingdoms. His twenty-five cycles of life, brief as they might seem, were densely packed with deeds and valor that rivaled the sagas of the oldest Protectors. His rapid ascent through the ranks was the stuff of legend, a testament to his unmatched skill and indomitable spirit.

On this particular eve, as twilight cast long shadows and the air was filled with the scent of impending rain, Ayzat conversed earnestly with a younger Luxian alicorn outside the imposing gates of the castle. The alicorn, a delicate creature with eyes like moonlit pools and wings that shimmered with an ethereal glow, had been chosen to portray Luxoah in the impending Festival of Sorority. Seeking guidance from Ayzat, she hovered near him, her wings fluttering with barely concealed excitement as she absorbed his counsel. Ayzat, in turn, reassured her with a gentle, affirming tone, instilling in her the confidence befitting Luxoah herself.

As Ayzat imparted his knowledge, the Luxian alicorn hung onto his every word, her gaze filled with unmistakable admiration and awe. His words, flowing like a stream of honey, captivated her entirely, and her smiles were unbidden, spontaneous. To her, Ayzat was more than a Protector; he was a paragon, an ideal made flesh.

Their exchange, however, was abruptly curtailed by the arrival of Aren, Ayzat's longtime comrade. The alicorn's demeanor shifted palpably, her previous ease giving way to visible discomfort. Feeling the sanctity of her time with Ayzat encroached upon, she hastily excused herself, feigning illness and accepting Ayzat's offer to rest at his quarters.

Aren, with eyes that bore the weight of unspoken tales, greeted Ayzat warmly, "Hello, old friend. Good to see you." Ayzat, sensing the layers of unvoiced struggles in Aren's greeting, responded in kind, "Good to see you too, Aren. How are the girls?"

Aren's reply came on a heavy sigh, laden with worry. "Are you heading toward the Castle?" he asked, a veiled urgency in his tone.

"Yes, my friend. Let’s walk together," Ayzat replied, his voice a blend of comradery and solemnity.

They proceeded briskly, Aren's steps betraying his need for haste. "I must be there quickly, so we have to walk fast. Aqasha has to see the Queen of Flames," he explained, his words laced with an underlying anxiety.

Ayzat, matching Aren's pace, inquired, "Is that why you’re so burdened?"

Another heavy sigh escaped Aren as if each breath bore the weight of his troubles. "Aqasha is really worrying me, Ayzat. Her behavior seems to only get worse and more unpredictable, and now she has to see the queen. I don’t want her in that meeting without me," he confessed, his voice a mix of fatherly concern and fear.

The wind picked up, swirling around them, making Ayzat's cloak dance like wild flames behind him, adding a dramatic, almost otherworldly aura to his figure. He responded to Aren's concerns with the wisdom that seemed beyond his cycles, "You need to let her exhaust whatever it is she’s feeling at the moment. It’s a bit of overcompensation because she’s had a particularly tough childhood."

Aren, his face a canvas of mixed emotions, admitted, "I tried to make her life easier, but she just never seemed to warm up to me."

"But it’s more complicated than that," he continued, his voice carrying a tone of understanding and empathy. "I know she had it rough before I found her that day, but I assumed she would be better relating with me now."

"It’s a combination of her personality and her experiences. I think you should only be worried if she made a complete change within a short time," Ayzat advised, his insight cutting through the complexities of alicorn nature and its traumas.

"And then, her sister’s been in a coma for a while, too. It’s too much for me to handle," Aren confided, the strain evident in his voice.

Ayzat stopped Aren briefly, meeting his gaze with a steadiness that belied his youth. "You need to give her time and space, my friend."

As they resumed their walk toward the castle, Aren, moved by the depth of Ayzat's understanding, muttered a prayer of gratitude for such a friend. In Ayzat's words, there lay a wisdom that seemed incongruent with his age, a testament to the extraordinary nature of the young Paladin who stood leagues above others of his time.

Sketch n°13

Chapter 07

Within the timeworn walls of the Guild Inn at Aemna, Masha, the fledgling alicorn, found herself embroiled in the mundane yet essential rites of passage toward becoming a Protector. She had envisioned her journey across Equestera as one filled with adventure and mystique, yet the reality of administrative procedures loomed heavily before her. She was unprepared for the tedium of paperwork and the rigors of bureaucracy that lay on the path to her dreams.

The mountain of documentation that lay sprawled before her was a dull contrast to the vibrant tales of heroism she yearned to create. Her ennui reached its peak in a yawn so sonorous that it drew the attention of the Fulmenian overseeing the process. His quizzical gaze, sharp as a hawk's, briefly pierced the monotony of the room, a silent reprimand for her lack of decorum.

In the periphery, Leyla, Masha's mother, adorned in a clever disguise that masked her true identity, observed with a mix of amusement and pride. She stood aloof, yet her eyes sparkled with maternal pride, seeing her daughter on the cusp of becoming a Protector. To the untrained eye, Leyla was naught but a common parent, a bystander in the grand tapestry of the Guild. But beneath her facade, she was a maelstrom of emotion, her pride in her daughter battling the frustration and boredom mirrored in Masha's eyes.

While Masha grappled with the registration process, Leyla wandered, her footsteps light, her eyes curious. She approached the mission board in the Inn’s reception area, her interest piqued by the myriad of quests and updates that crisscrossed the lands of Equestera. Despite her elevated status, Leyla found herself longing for the simpler days, the smaller missions that now seemed beyond her reach as a Paladin.

Her gaze swept across the board, scrutinizing the array of missions and the ranks deemed suitable for each. Her attention was particularly captured by the requests emanating from the kingdom of the Queen of Flames. Time was of the essence; lingering too long would risk her exposure. Utilizing her levitation magic with the subtlety of a whisper, Leyla secreted away one of the requests, a clandestine act that rekindled the thrill of her earlier days as a Protector.

Upon returning to her watchful post, Leyla's eyes were met with a sight that swelled her heart with immeasurable pride. Masha, her daughter, now adorned the Protector insignia, which she had infused with her magic. It transformed into a solid necklace, gracefully encircling her neck. The Quartz rank, etched boldly upon it, was a symbol of her first step in the Guild's hierarchy. Masha's smile radiated pure elation, a reflection of her mother’s pride.

The Quartz rank, while the lowest in the hierarchy, marked the beginning of a Protector's journey in the Guild. Ascending through the ranks—Jasper, Amethyst, and Opal, followed by the specialized ranks of Ruby, Sapphire, and Emerald for Bounty Hunter, Harmonizer, and Weapon Master, respectively—was a path paved with successful missions, notable achievements, and groundbreaking research. The pinnacle of this hierarchy was the Paladin rank, a title bestowed not by the Guild but by the Primordial Pantheon themselves. Additionally, the revered title of "Examiner" was awarded to Protectors—at least Opal-ranked— deemed worthy, granting them the authority to judge and test new recruits.

As Leyla gazed upon Masha, she couldn't help but envision the path that lay ahead for her daughter, a journey fraught with challenges and triumphs, leading her through the esteemed ranks of the Protectors Guild. The road to Paladin, though arduous and seldom tread, now beckoned to Masha, a new chapter in her saga ready to unfold under the watchful eyes of the Primordial Pantheon.

"Mom! I've made it into the Guild! I can finally start lessons and do missions on my own," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious in the busy hallways.

Leyla, her eyes deep and thoughtful, replied in a tone laced with mystery, "Well, looks like we've got to change our plans a bit."

Masha's eyes, once sparkling with anticipation, clouded over with uncertainty and fear. "You're pulling me out of the Guild?" she asked, her voice trembling, as fragile as a leaf caught in a storm.

"No, Masha. It's actually the exact opposite,” she reassured her daughter, putting a gentle wing on her back. “Your first mission is happening, but you're going with me," Leyla announced, her words slicing through the tension like a sharp knife.

Masha, her voice quivering with a mixture of disbelief and excitement, replied, "I'm going to assist you on a mission? For my first one?"

Leyla corrected her with a glint of pride in her eyes, "No, it's the other way around. You're leading, and I'll be there to support you."

In Masha's eyes, the dark clouds of doubt scattered, chased away by a resplendent burst of joyous revelation. It took all the strength she possessed, every fiber of restraint woven into her being, not to leap into the air, her exhilaration a bird longing for the freedom of the open sky. Leyla, her keen eyes observing the tempest of emotion within her daughter, allowed the ghost of a sly, knowing smile to cross her lips. She then strode with purpose toward the receptionist, the mission request clutched in her paw like a decree from the gods.

"Hey there. We'd like to take this mission request, please," Leyla stated, her tone firm and commanding.

Leyla's guise was as flawless as the moon on a cloudless night, yet Neri, the receptionist of the Inn, whose trust was hard-won and harder kept, saw through the veil. Over countless cycles, a bond forged in mutual respect and understanding had grown between them. Neri, with the sharpness of a seasoned scribe, recognized Leyla's many faces. With a subtle nod, a silent oath passed between them. Leyla ushered Masha away from the gathering throng and prying eyes of the front desk.

In the cozy corner of the Guild Inn, bathed in the warm glow of flickering torchlight, Masha and Leyla huddled over the mission request, their silhouettes casting soft shadows against the wooden table.

"Mom, why are we going after aggressive fire spirits? Is this mission really as straightforward as it seems?" Masha's voice carried a hint of uncertainty as she studied the parchment, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Leyla, her figure poised and graceful, leaned in closer to examine the document, her blue eyes narrowing in thought. "It seems like there's nothing more to it, doesn't it?" Her voice, tinged with wisdom earned through countless missions, held a note of caution, suggesting hidden complexities beneath the surface.

Masha, her ears twitching with curiosity, shifted in her seat, her gaze flickering between Leyla and the mission details. "Yeah."

Sensing her daughter's confusion, Leyla gently placed a paw on Masha's shoulder, offering silent reassurance. "And that's exactly what's bothering me," she murmured, her tone low but firm. With a subtle gesture, she guided Masha away from the bustling crowd to a quieter alcove in the inn, where they could speak without interruption.

Once they were settled in their secluded corner, Leyla continued, her voice a soothing melody in the tranquil atmosphere. "It reminds me of my first mission as a Paladin. What seemed normal turned dangerous because the spirits were hiding their true nature."

Masha's eyes widened with realization as she absorbed her mother's words, a newfound understanding dawning in her expression. "So you think these ones are hiding something too?"

"I think they might be. Either way, it's a good situation for us," Leyla replied, her confidence unwavering even in the face of uncertainty.

Masha nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing with possibilities. "How so?"

"If it's a straightforward mission, you get valuable practice," Leyla explained, her gaze unwavering as she met Masha's eyes.

"And if it's not?" Masha pressed, her curiosity now fully engaged.

A playful glint danced in Leyla's eyes as she leaned back in her seat, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Then, you'll see me in action."

Masha raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Leyla chuckled softly at her daughter's response, a fondness evident in her expression as she watched Masha's playful demeanor.

"More seriously," Leyla added, her tone softening, "it means we'll face a spirit together on your very first mission." Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of the challenge ahead, her pride in Masha's abilities shining through.

The thought of such an encounter filled Masha with a mixture of exultation and trepidation, a tapestry of emotions rich and complex. Leyla, her gaze piercing the veil of her daughter's inner storm, inquired with a mother's concern, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Mom," Masha replied, her gaze defiant yet haunted by the specters of uncertainty.

"That's not true," Leyla pressed gently, her voice a balm.

A sigh, deep and revealing, escaped Masha's lips as her inner defenses crumbled beneath her mother's all-seeing gaze. "I'm thrilled about us going on a mission together, but I'm scared too. If the spirit is really powerful, I might not be much help. I don't want to mess up our first mission together."

Leyla's smile, warm as the summer sun, conveyed understanding and unshakeable confidence. Masha's maturity, her willingness to face her limitations, these were the very values the Protectors cherished—the courage to recognize when a quest might surpass one's reach.

Seeking to allay her daughter's fears, Leyla stepped closer, draping a comforting wing over Masha's upper leg.

"Masha, you won't slow me down. I have faith in you, even if the Protectors don't fully see it yet."

"They don't?" Masha's voice trembled slightly, a note of vulnerability surfacing.

Leyla's eyes held an unshakeable belief. "What I mean is, you are destined for greatness beyond their current comprehension. The Quartz rank is but a stepping stone for you, Masha. I see in you a potential that outshines their expectations," she affirmed, her conviction unwavering.

Hearing these words of unwavering support and belief from her mother, Masha felt a surge of strength and confidence. Emotions cascading within her, she stepped forward into the embrace of her mother, finding solace in the warmth and fortitude it provided.

After a moment, Masha stepped back, her expression still thoughtful. Leyla, sensing the need for a lighter topic, said, "There's something else you need to do before your first mission."

Masha looked up. "Really? What's that?"

"You have to buy me a beer. It's a Guild tradition," Leyla declared with a playful twinkle in her eye.

The prospect of sharing a beer with her mother, a gesture symbolizing a new level of camaraderie and mutual respect, brought a renewed light to Masha's face. It was a threshold they were about to cross together, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their shared journey.

Under the golden glow of lamplight, Masha’s heart pounded with an anticipatory rhythm, mirroring the lively cadence of the bustling tavern. The establishment, known as the Golden Claw, resonated with a cacophony of voices, the clinking of tankards, and the warm, earthy aroma of ale and roasting mana meats. Masha, her spirit buoyant, followed her mother, Leyla, into this haven of camaraderie and tales untold, her eyes wide with the wonder of a first experience.

Leyla, whose eyes scanned the crowded room with the wariness of a seasoned warrior, allowed Masha the lead. The young Fulmenian, filled with an eagerness bordering on reverence, strode toward the tavern’s heart, intent on securing a table for them. The allure of beer, a drink so often spoken of in her household with a fond nostalgia, beckoned her with its mysterious allure. Its taste, she imagined, would be a rite of passage, a gateway into the world of adulthood and its myriad complexities.

As Masha navigated the maze of patrons, a curious creature intercepted her path. A snake, wrought from light as pure and incandescent as dawn's first rays, undulated in the air before her. Its eyes, vast and imbued with an innocence, captivated her with their ethereal beauty. The snake's translucence made it seem as if it were a living, breathing piece of the very essence of Luxia, the realm of light.

This luminous serpent, however, seemed far more interested in Leyla, circling her with a curious and unnerving interest. Leyla’s visage, always calm and composed, now betrayed a hint of concern. The delicate enchantment of her disguise could be threatened by such unforeseen attention, risking exposure in a place where anonymity was her shield.

Their predicament was soon alleviated by the arrival of a young Luxian, her demeanor a whirlwind of panic and apologies. “I am so, so sorry. Momo, get back here now!” she exclaimed as the luminous snake, evidently named Momo, obeyed with a quaint, almost musical sound. The Luxian, with her fur as blue as the purest sky and eyes looking like sapphire, turned to Masha and Leyla. “Again, I am so sorry about this. Momo tends to be drawn to those who radiate intrigue.”

Masha, finding humor in the situation, chuckled lightly. “It’s alright. No harm was caused.” The Luxian’s smile was a beam of pure joy, though it faltered slightly when her gaze met Leyla’s, sensing an aura of power so profound it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m Yua, from Luxia. It’s lovely to meet you,” the Luxian offered, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

Sketch n°14

“I’m Masha, and this is my mother. Are you a new Protector as well?” Masha inquired, her own eyes reflecting the curiosity that had sparked in her heart.

Yua, her demeanor shifting from anxious to proud, replied, “Oh no, I’m Jasper-ranked.” As she spoke, her fur seemed to glow with an inner light, a testament to her rank and the power she wielded.

“Do you want to join us at our table? We could get to know each other,” Yua proposed, her excitement palpable. Masha, sharing in the enthusiasm of potential camaraderie, glanced toward her mother, who offered a subtle, amused nod. Leyla's silent approval was all Masha needed.

“Okay, why not? Let’s go,” Masha agreed, her voice laced with anticipation. As they made their way, Momo, now calmer, coiled gently around Yua, a silent sentinel of light.

As they approached the table, a Ventaian known as Kolibry offered a reserved welcome. His appearance, evocative of the elusive northern alicorns, exuded a quiet dignity. Masha, unacquainted with Ventainian customs, watched Kolibry with a mixture of interest and reverence. His speech, soft and melodic, contained extra syllables that gave it a lyrical quality. These distinctive sounds of the Ventaian language made for a fluid dialogue, in sharp contrast to the abrupt, coarse cadence of the Fulmenian speech.

Kolibry, aware of Masha's intrigued gaze yet timid in the company of a female, offered a shy smile. “Is this your first encounter with a Ventaian?” he inquired, his tone a harmonious blend of foreign but soothing notes, masking his unease with a polite inquisitiveness.

Yua, eager to atone for Momo’s intrusion, offered to buy them drinks, a gesture Leyla accepted with a nod of approval. As Yua departed to fulfill her self-appointed task, Kolibry and Masha engaged in a lively exchange—mostly on Masha’s side, their conversation bridging the gap between Quartz and Jasper-ranked.

“Quartz doesn’t suit you”, Kolibry remarked, his words causing Masha to furrow her brow in confusion, a questioning gaze fixed upon him.

When the beers arrived, Masha’s initial taste was met with a grimace so profound it elicited laughter from her companions, Yua’s laughter ringing the loudest. “How do you all enjoy this stuff? It tastes so terrible,” Masha exclaimed, her face twisted in disbelief.

“Trust me, it’ll grow on you,” Leyla reassured, her confidence unshaken.

The hours waned as they conversed, the bonds of newfound friendship weaving a comfortable tapestry around them, the Ventaian being a bit more at ease with the two Fulmenians. However, Leyla, ever vigilant, knew that their journey had purpose beyond these walls. Reluctantly, she signaled their departure. “We have to be on our way now. There’s a mission ahead of us,” her voice carried the weight of duty and responsibility.

As they prepared to leave, Yua interjected with a proposal, her excitement undeniable. “Wait! Why don’t we travel together? We’re heading to Ardenia too. My sister is playing Queen Luxoah in the Festival of Sorority, and I’m so excited to see her perform.”

Leyla’s gaze shifted to Masha, allowing her the choice. Masha, her smile broad and bright, eagerly accepted. “I don’t see why not. It should be fun!”

As they departed, Leyla couldn't help but smile to herself, a silent acknowledgment that the path of a Protector was indeed Masha's destiny.

Sketch n°15

Chapter 08

In the land where the sun kissed the earth with its fiery embrace, there resided Ardenu, the Queen of Flames, a sovereign whose mere presence commanded awe and reverence. Her regality was an unspoken decree, an aura that radiated with the power of a thousand suns. The queen's visage was a majestic tapestry woven with the threads of royalty and the essence of a magic ancient and powerful. To gaze upon her was to witness the embodiment of flame and eminence, and in that sight, subjects found their knees bending instinctively, driven by the primal urge to honor the majesty before them.

Ardenu, in her resplendent isolation, was an enigma to all but those who served in her inner sanctum. Her fur, a vibrant tapestry of oranges and whites, mirrored the colors of the eternal flames she governed. Around her delicate hooves, white tips flickered like ethereal flames, a spectral dance of light and shadow. Her tail, a fluid extension of her fiery being, was a mesmerizing blend of white and light orange, ever-changing and as unpredictable as fire itself.

A vision of wonder and danger, Ardenu's wings were living infernos. No mortal dared approach too closely lest they be consumed by the searing heat that radiated from her very essence. It was this very reason, the unpredictable nature of her fiery wings, that restricted her court to the most resilient of alicorns—those not of Ardenian blood were perilously susceptible to the fierce blaze she was the incarnation of. The Ardenians, however, bore a natural immunity to her scorching aura, a gift of their lineage.

Adorning her majestic form was a cloak of deepest red, its fabric almost indistinguishable from her fur. Adornments of green and patterns resembling white flame danced along its edges, a testament to her dominion over fire. Suspended gracefully from her horn, a fire pearl glowed softly, a symbol of her power and her burden: her artifact.

The queen’s mane, a dazzling mix of bright orange, white, and streaks of yellow, was a constant reminder of the dangerous beauty inherent in flames. Every aspect of her, from her regal attire to the very fur that graced her body, proclaimed her a living embodiment of fire.

It was fitting then that her abode mirrored her splendor. The Temple of Ardenu was not merely a structure; it was a testament to the power of flame. Upon entering, one was immediately engulfed by an aura, not of spirituality but of awe and intimidation. Flames danced perpetually from the ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light over the lavish decor. Tables, resplendent in their opulence, shimmered like metal heated to the point of malleability, untouchable by anyone but Ardenu herself.

Her throne was an artifact of purest gold, embodying all the qualities of the most revered of materials in Equestera. It was more than a seat; it was a symbol of unyielding power and unmatched splendor.

Into this realm stepped Aqasha, heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The queen had summoned her, an honor bestowed upon few. Aqasha was to play Ardenu in the Festival of Sorority, a role that both terrified and thrilled her.

As she entered the throne room, a hush fell over her spirit. The room, vast and empty, seemed to transform before her eyes. It was no longer simply a throne room; it felt like a sacred temple, a space where the mundane dared not tread. Rumors of another temple dedicated to the Queen of Flames had reached Aqasha's ears, behind herself a Flame Priestess, yet the realization that she now stood in such a hallowed hall left her breathless.

Her reverie was shattered by a burst of intense light, startling the Ardenian, who instinctively took a few steps back.

The room was engulfed in a blaze that defied nature, a fire that left no scar on the stone floors. From the heart of the flame emerged the queen, a vision of power and majesty. She moved with the grace of the ages to her throne, settling upon it as though it were a part of her very being.

Sketch n°16

At that moment, Aqasha understood. The members of the Primordial Pantheon were more than mere royalty; they were deities in their own right. The power emanating from Ardenu left her speechless, her eyes wide and unblinking, captivated by the spectacle before her.

It was Ardenu who broke the silence, her voice a melody of warmth and authority. “Aqasha. I see what Aren sees in you. You truly are a special one.”

The words filled Aqasha with a blend of worry and pride. Aren's opinions of her had reached the queen’s ears, a thought that unsettled as much as it honored her. Bowing deeply, she responded with a voice tinged with reverence. “Thank you, my queen.”

“No ordinary alicorn could endure the intensity of my gaze, let alone remain poised. I am intrigued by your fortitude. Others have faltered under my scrutiny, kneeling and bowing, overwhelmed by the essence of the Queen of Flames.” Ardenu's words were both an acknowledgment and a challenge, a recognition of Aqasha's unique strength.

“Thank you, my queen.” Aqasha's response was a whisper, barely audible in the grandeur of the throne room.

“You have a future of limitless potential in Ardenia. Perhaps as a Paladin or even a High-Priestess, akin to your father,” Ardenu mused, her gaze piercing yet not unkind.

“Adoptive father, my queen,” Aqasha corrected gently, a subtle reminder of her own journey.

Ardenu’s expression softened, a rare glimpse of empathy flashing across her fiery countenance. “I know your path with Aren has not been without its thorns, but trust in his love and dedication, my child.” Her words, though spoken with the authority of a queen, carried the weight of a maternal counsel.

Aqasha absorbed the queen's words, their impact more profound than she had anticipated. Doubt mingled with gratitude in her heart, but in the presence of Ardenu, she dared not let her rebellious spirit surface.

“It is time we discuss the reason for your summoning,” Ardenu intoned, shifting the air with the gravity of her words. Aqasha braced herself, her anxiety momentarily forgotten, replaced by an eagerness to understand the task ahead.

A sense of pride swelled within Aqasha, carefully concealed behind a veil of humility. The queen proceeded to speak of Ardenian traditions, the weight of history in her words. She spoke of their culture, the decisions that shaped their kingdom, imparting wisdom that Aqasha absorbed with the thirst of a parched land for rain. Then the topic turned to the Festival of Sorority, and Aqasha, curiosity piqued, raised a wing to signify a question.

“You granted the sword to Luxoah?” she inquired, her voice a mixture of awe and curiosity.

“Yes, I did, just before my ascension,” replied Ardenu, a distant look in her eyes as if she were revisiting a time long past.

“Your ascension, my queen?” Aqasha's query was tinged with an unintentional familiarity, a breach of decorum she quickly regretted as Ardenu’s wings flared in response.

Ardenu's reaction was swift, yet she composed herself almost instantly, opting to indulge the boldness of the question. “Yes, my ascension. There was a time, Aqasha, when I was not unlike you, an alicorn with a destiny far greater than she could imagine. Every member of the Primordial Pantheon has walked such a path.”

Aqasha’s mind reeled at the revelation. The gods they revered, once as mortal as she? The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

In the vast and echoing chambers of Ardenu’s sanctum, a place where the whispers of the ancients seemed to murmur in every shadow, Aqasha stood, her heart a cauldron of tumultuous thoughts. The words she had just heard from Ardenu, whispered in tones both majestic and cryptic, clung to her like ivy, stubborn and pervasive.

Aqasha had grown under the weight of legends, nursed on tales of the Primordial Pantheon, deities who had always seemed more myth than flesh. She had believed them born of prophecy and ensorcelled cradles, marked by the stars to ascend when the celestial dance deemed it so. Yet now, Ardenu, with a voice that seemed to weave the very air into a tapestry of half-truths and riddles, had unraveled it with a casual flick of her tongue.

A hush filled the chamber as Ardenu’s gaze turned inward, her eyes distant as though traversing the mists of time itself. “Alas,” she began, her voice a mere whisper, as if fearing to disturb the slumbering secrets of the past, “the sands of time obscure much. The specifics of those ancient days elude even me.” The flicker of a flame in her eyes betrayed a deeper tumult, a storm raging beneath a calm surface.

“But what of the Festival of Sorority, my queen?” Aqasha ventured once more, her words tiptoeing into the silence. This time, there was a shift, a spark of interest that ignited in Ardenu’s ageless eyes, replacing the ire Aqasha had half-expected to summon.

The queen’s lips parted, a gesture that seemed to coax the very walls to lean in, eager for the secrets they might spill. But as she delved into the reservoirs of her memory, there was a palpable struggle, a wrestling with shadows and echoes that refused to take form. “I recall but fragments, shards of memory. The scrolls in the library, they bear witness to those times, yet even their words are but ghosts, dancing on the edge of truth and myth.”

Doubt, like a creeping vine, began to twine around Aqasha’s thoughts. Ardenu’s evasiveness, the carefully measured cadence of her speech—it whispered of hidden depths, of truths cloaked in the garb of forgetfulness. Could it be that the Queen of Flames sought to shroud something more, a secret too potent for the uninitiated?

Yet, the weight of reverence and the sheer magnitude of Ardenu’s presence quelled the growing tempest of skepticism in Aqasha’s heart. “And the play, my queen? Am I to proceed with its portrayal?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Ardenu’s gaze was penetrating, as if she sought to glean the very essence of Aqasha’s soul. “Yes, proceed. May the flames of understanding guide your portrayal.” The queen’s dismissal was a gentle breeze, but it carried the weight of a tempest.

Aqasha turned, stepping out from the throne room, a realm where air and flame danced in a lover's embrace. The chill of the outside world was a sharp contrast, a kiss of reality upon her fevered brow. The throne room, she now realized, was a furnace of subtleties and insinuations, a crucible where truths were forged and reshaped.

As she made her way down the marbled halls, the echoes of her steps a lonely symphony, Aqasha’s mind churned like the tempestuous sea. The revelation that the gods of the Primordial Pantheon were once as mortal as she, it was a truth that gnawed at the foundations of her beliefs. It was a secret, she surmised, borne of necessity. In a world where divinity was the currency of reverence, the admission of once-mortal origins would be a crack in the immaculate façade of godhood.

Pride, she realized, was the fulcrum upon which the Pantheon balanced their divinity. To reveal their mortal past would be to strip the mystique that shrouded them, to tear the veil that separated the divine from the mundane. It was a matter of perception, a carefully orchestrated dance between truth and the image they sought to uphold.

As she walked through the castle, her mind still wrestling with her audience with the queen, she came across Aren and Ayzat at the entrance.

Aren’s eyes were filled with concern. “Aqasha, are you alright?” he asked, his voice a mixture of worry and curiosity.

Aqasha offered a terse nod, her thoughts too tumultuous to form coherent words. “Yes, Father,” she said, the word father carrying a weight that neither of them missed.

With a final glance at her adoptive father and Ayzat, whose laughter rang in her ears, Aqasha took to the skies. Her mind, much like the ever-changing flames of Ardenu, was ablaze with possibilities and uncertainties. The path to understanding and power was fraught with secrets and truths, as unpredictable and elusive as the flames that defined the Queen of Flames herself.

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Author's Note

I'm not available tomorrow, so I decided to release this chapter a day before - enjoy!

Part 03 – Instinctive fear - Chapter 09

In the heart of Pythonia stood the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn, a monumental testament to alicorn civilization's prowess. A mosaic of architectural wonders hinted at untold tales and mysteries. More than a seat of learning, it merged history with splendor.

Within its ancient corridors, knowledge thrived in tomes and scrolls, whispering tales of epochs past. Accommodations ranged from humble scholar rooms to royal suites, all-embracing luxury and elegance.

As Raybarn and young Feyn approached the renowned institution, anticipation brewed, their minds already filled with the obligatory mystical tales of the Academy’s creation, Python’s spell. Soft echoes accompanied their steps on the marbled floors, signaling the journey of discovery ahead. Upon arrival, custodians offered separate rooms, honoring Raybarn's status. However, Feyn, resolute in his attachment to his father, insisted on sharing one of the Academy's grand suites.

Raybarn, mindful of the sanctity, and Feyn, respectful of tradition, refrained from trivializing the sacred space. Their suite, with a grand door flanked by vast windows, comprised mirrored wings housing beds, desks, and lamps for nocturnal endeavors.

For Feyn, the suite surpassed dreams spun by his mother's tales. Nestled in the Academy's heart, it offered both seclusion and a commanding view. To soil such sanctity with ordinary deeds felt sacrilegious. Raybarn, mindful of the Academy's aura, and Feyn, eager not to disappoint, tempered their actions.

The suite, meticulously crafted, featured a grand door flanked by vast windows inviting sunlight and whispers from outside. Two wings mirrored each other, each adorned with opulent furnishings—a bed, a desk, and a lamp.

In a gesture of magnanimity, Raybarn allowed Feyn the honor of first choice. Without much thought, the young alicorn chose the right wing, unwittingly positioning himself closer to the very pulse of the Academy—the classrooms and experimental chambers.

After settling in, Feyn, driven by curiosity, approached the windows. From this vantage point, the Academy grounds sprawled below, teeming with life. The alicorns appeared as mere ants in the grand scale of things, igniting Feyn's sense of adventure.

In the vast chambers of the AAA, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Raybarn cast a tender gaze upon his son. The room, adorned with ancient tapestries, hummed with the promise of knowledge.

Feyn, on the brink of his scholarly journey, relaxed on luxurious bedding, a stark departure from their humble home. Raybarn, by the window, closed his eyes, silently seeking blessings from ancient deities for their future endeavors.

As Raybarn's prayer came to a close, Feyn, ever the inquisitive spirit, eagerly broke the hush that had befallen the room. He bombarded his father with a barrage of questions about the Academy, his voice echoing a deep-seated yearning to understand the purpose behind the venerable institution.

“Dad, what is the true aim of the Academy?” Feyn's voice pierced the quiet, his eyes alight with curiosity.

Raybarn turned to face his son, a faint smile playing upon his lips. “The Academy, my son, is far more than a mere sanctuary for Protectors. It is a crucible of knowledge, where the works of great mages and scholars of yore lie in wait for eager minds.”

Feyn nodded, absorbing his father’s words like a parched land welcomes rain. “So, the Protectors merely benefit from what was already created for all?”

“Precisely,” Raybarn affirmed. “The Academy was not forged with a sole purpose in mind. Its halls and libraries are a trove of wisdom, accessible to all who seek to delve into the mysteries of magic and beyond.”

Intrigued, Feyn pressed further, “Do the Virtusians, with their renowned might, also seek knowledge here?”

To answer, Raybarn gestured toward the window. Together, they gazed down upon the courtyard where dark-hued alicorns, unmistakably Virtusians, entered through the grand gates. “Observe them. Contrary to popular belief, some Virtusians have come to value the might of the mind over muscle.”

Feyn's eyes followed the figures below, a new understanding dawning within him. “Is knowledge superior to strength, Dad?”

Raybarn walked to his desk, his steps echoing in the spacious chamber. “My son, one is not inherently superior to the other. In the dance of destiny, both intellect and strength must be partners. As a Protector, you must harness both.”

“So, I must also train in combat?” Feyn said, his voice carrying trepidation.

Raybarn nodded solemnly. “Just as I did, and just as your mother does, though her path as a Weapon Master differs from yours.”

Feyn's next question was tinged with a blend of awe and aspiration. “Will I be able to fight like Mom?”

Raybarn chuckled, a sound that filled the room with warmth. “Your mother is an exceptional Protector, chosen as a Paladin for her prowess. But you, my son, are destined to be a Harmoniser. Your path will be different but no less remarkable.”

Their conversation strengthened their bond, weaving respect, understanding, and shared goals. Raybarn, an arcane arts devotee, saw in Feyn a kindred spirit of research and magic, nurturing their connection with encouraging words.

As twilight fell, Raybarn pledged to show Feyn the halls of study. Excitement surged within Feyn, leading him to embrace his father in gratitude. Yet, the weight of their mission loomed—studying a mysterious spirit. Together, they prepared for a journey of discovery within the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn.

As Raybarn and Feyn stepped through the oak door of their chamber, the cold stone floors of the corridor whispered under their paws, leading them toward the grand library of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn. The sun, now a mere smudge of orange and crimson, bled its last rays through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows that danced upon the ancient stones.

On this evening, Raybarn had arranged a council with Naegissa and Nerath, two of the youngest yet most illustrious academicians within these hallowed walls. The spirit that troubled the Academy, an enigma wrapped in a riddle, required the keenest of minds, and Raybarn, a seasoned researcher, knew the value of collaboration in the face of such mysteries.

As father and son ventured forth from the sanctity of the main building, Raybarn, a renowned figure within the confines of the AAA, drew the attention of scholars and acolytes alike. They flocked to him, like moths to a flame, eager for a mere glimpse or a word from the esteemed Raybarn. Feyn, walking in his father's considerable shadow, couldn't help but marvel, his lips curving into a suppressed smile, at the rockstar-like status his father held in these scholarly realms.

Despite the urgency of their quest, Raybarn, ever the benevolent mentor, paused to exchange pleasantries with as many of these fervent admirers as time would allow. Books were thrust into his paws, tomes and scrolls seeking the blessing of his signature. With grace and a patient smile, Raybarn obliged, though regretfully informing the gathering crowd of his pressing commitments.

As they moved away from the throng, the suppressed chuckles of Feyn burst forth, a melody of amusement that soon found harmony with Raybarn’s own hearty laughter. “It appears you’re a star, Dad,” Feyn quipped, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“And so I am,” he jested back, “Raybarn the Famous, indeed.” Their laughter echoed down the stone corridor, a rare moment of levity in a world often too somber.

Upon reaching the solemn doors of the library, Raybarn turned to Feyn, his demeanor shifting to one of solemnity. “We enter the bastion of silence and study. What is our first rule?”

“No speaking,” Feyn replied dutifully, his voice hushed in reverence to the unspoken laws of this sacred place.

“Good. Remember, we are to meet with Naegissa and Nerath, scholars of great repute. Stay close and comport yourself with dignity,” Raybarn instructed, his voice a soft yet commanding echo in the hallowed hallway.

“Yes, Dad.” Feyn nodded, his heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

As the massive doors of the library creaked open, a wave of awe washed over Feyn. The lobby was a sanctum designed with an austerity that spoke of deep reverence for knowledge.

The colors of the walls, muted yet not bleak, held a subdued elegance, complemented by torches that cast a gentle glow, their flames tamed to respect the sanctity of the space.

Within the lobby, walls displayed artifacts of dark allure, relics of ancient magic. At its center stood an intricately detailed marble statue of Python, Queen of Arcane. Her seven magical artifacts encircled her, directing paths to the library's sections, symbolizing Python's guidance in their scholarly endeavors.

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They chose the portal of Storm, which teleported them inside a secluded chamber, a sanctum where the greatest minds of the Academy delved into their Arcane research. It was here that Naegissa, often shrouded in an aura of aloofness, spent her days, her demeanor as cold and impenetrable as the ancient tomes she studied. Her counterpart, Nerath, though equally brilliant, was less tethered to the library, her pursuits often leading her beyond the confines of stone walls.

Together, father and son proceeded, each step a stride deeper into the heart of Arcane wisdom, where secrets of the universe waited, whispered between the lines of ancient texts and in the hushed conversations of the Academy’s most revered scholars.

In the hallowed halls of the Academy, where the whispers of knowledge echoed through corridors steeped in history, Naegissa was a solitary figure of enigmatic brilliance. Many believed her intelligence stemmed from her extensive solitude, surrounded by ancient tomes rather than the company of fellow alicorns. Yet, this was merely the surface of her profound intellect, a gift bestowed at birth and matched by only a rare few, Nerath among them. It was this kinship of minds that had intertwined their fates, drawing them together in a bond of scholarly pursuit.

Raybarn and his son Feyn ventured through the Storm section of the grand library, a testament to centuries of accumulated wisdom. For Feyn, every corner of this vast repository of knowledge was a revelation, leaving him awestruck. As they approached the special room, Nerath greeted them with a knowing smile.

“Welcome, Raybarn,” she said, her eyes shifting to the younger companion. “And how do you find our library, Feyn?”

Feyn glanced toward his father, seeking a silent affirmation before replying. “It's like stepping into a world of endless wonder. I hope to explore more, perhaps the books, after our mission.” Nerath’s expression softened, pleasantly surprised. Turning to Raybarn, she remarked, “You have raised a true seeker of knowledge.” Then, with a conspiratorial grin, she leaned toward Feyn, whispering, “Fear not, I shall ensure you witness the heart of our collection.”

Their steps led them to Naegissa, who sat ensconced in her studies, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Her detachment was not out of disdain but a deep immersion in her scholarly pursuits. As they approached, she lifted her gaze, her demeanor unchanging despite the presence of Raybarn, a titan among academicians whose works she had studied extensively.

“Naegissa,” Nerath introduced, “I bring Raybarn, as you know, and his son Feyn, a budding mind in our midst.” Naegissa offered a nod, her expression unreadable, as Raybarn stepped forward. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Naegissa. Your reputation precedes you. My son, Feyn, is here to assist in our endeavors. He may not be an academician yet, but his brilliance is undeniable.”

Naegissa’s gaze flickered briefly, a silent storm of emotion hidden behind her stoic façade as she reflected on her own lost opportunities for parental pride. Noticing the subtle shift in Naegissa’s demeanor, Nerath quickly redirected the conversation to their primary task. “Let’s delve into the matter at hoof,” she said, guiding them into a more in-depth discussion.

As Nerath shared her findings on the mysterious spirit, the group listened intently. “Its magic was not aberrant per se, but there was an unusual signature, subtle yet unmistakable,” she explained. Raybarn absorbed every word, pondering the implications, while Feyn, driven by a sudden impulse, interjected with a question that displayed his burgeoning intellect. “Was the capture of this spirit challenging? The nature of its confinement might hint at its strength.”

Raybarn looked at his son with a mix of surprise and pride. Naegissa observed silently, perhaps internally acknowledging Feyn’s boldness. Nerath nodded in approval. “Indeed, the capture was arduous. Many Protectors vanished in pursuit, highlighting the spirit’s formidable nature…”

The air was heavy with the scent of old books and the undercurrent of secrets untold. Shadows danced along the walls, playing hide and seek with the flickering candlelight.

Naegissa, her voice seldom heard yet carrying the weight of ominous portents, broke the silence. “The strangest part for me was that the report of the Protectors mentioned a crippling presence emanating from a third party,” she interjected, her tone unexpectedly calm yet imbued with an unsettling depth. Feyn felt a shiver snake down his spine, the notion of another powerful alicorn manipulating this specter casting a dark, foreboding cloud over their fates.

Raybarn, however, stood as unyielding as a granite statue, his visage betraying no emotion. Yet beneath that stoic exterior, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, analyzing, strategizing, seeking solutions in the midst of uncertainty.

Naegissa’s intervention was chilling in its own right, her voice echoing in the chamber for the first time, calm and detached yet hiding layers of depth. It was a voice that could unsettle the most stalwart soul, making the bravest quake at its cold, intimidating timbre.

Raybarn, seasoned by countless cycles of scholarly pursuit, spoke next. “This case is singularly unique. Never in all my cycles as a researcher have I encountered anything quite like this. Yet, it fills me with deep concern.” His voice, rich with experience, resonated through the hall, and Feyn clung to each word, sensing the gravity of their predicament.

“What worries you, Raybarn?” Nerath inquired, tilting her head to the side, her ears twitching.

“It’s the unknowns,” Raybarn replied, his tone grave. “In any investigation, the unknowns are the most troubling aspect.”

“You’re right,” came the agreement. “What shall we do?”

Raybarn pondered before responding, “The best course is to witness it ourselves. Shall we visit the spirit’s holding?”

Nerath glanced toward Naegissa, who remained as nonchalant as ever. Receiving no objection, Nerath nodded in assent.

“We should go there,” she agreed. “It might provide better insight.” With a shared understanding, they rose, each lost in thought, and made their way toward the secure laboratory. Nerath led the way, with Raybarn and Feyn following and Naegissa trailing behind, a silent specter in their midst.

In the library, Nerath was momentarily detained by an administrative alicorn, her apologetic glance fleeting toward her companions waiting in the lobby. During this pause, Naegissa, ever enigmatic, saw an opportunity. She sought to test Raybarn and Feyn's recall of the information provided by Nerath.

“Raybarn,” she began, “could you summarize Nerath’s briefing? It’s crucial we’re aligned in understanding.”

Raybarn, sensing something beneath her query, attempted to comply yet found himself grappling with an unnerving blankness in his memory. He struggled to piece together the conversation, a sense of disquiet growing within him. Feyn, too, mirrored his father's confusion, a faint fear flickering in his eyes.

Naegissa observed their disarray, a shadow of satisfaction crossing her features. Before the situation could escalate, Nerath returned, and they resumed their journey toward the laboratory.

Approaching the laboratory, Naegissa abruptly halted, announcing her need to attend to urgent matters. Nerath, caught off guard, turned to inquire, but Naegissa had vanished like a wraith.

Nerath, turning to her Fulmenian guests, offered an apologetic look. “I’m sorry for the disruption. Please, don’t mind her. There's nothing amiss here.”

Raybarn, who had quietly observed Naegissa’s peculiar behavior since their arrival, chose to remain silent. He understood the importance of tactful observation, wary of causing unintended ripples in unfamiliar waters.

The trio watched in silence as Naegissa disappeared, an awkward tension enveloping them. Nerath, recognizing the need for clarity in collaboration, decided it was time to unveil the truth about Naegissa.

Just outside the laboratory, Nerath unveiled the tapestry of Naegissa's troubled past. “You must understand, Naegissa has been besieged by personal tragedies. Both her parents were Protectors who never returned from a mission to capture a rogue spirit. Her life has been shadowed by this loss.”

In that revelation, Naegissa’s image transformed in the eyes of Raybarn and Feyn. No longer the aloof academician, she emerged as a figure marred by deep-seated grief. Nerath implored them to see beyond Naegissa's exterior to understand her inner turmoil and genuine emotions.

“It's fine,” came the understanding reply. “We hope for her well-being. Let us proceed inside.”

As they entered the laboratory, Feyn cast a lingering glance in the direction Naegissa had vanished. Despite his father's acceptance, doubts clouded his mind, though he knew there was little he could do but follow.

Chapter 10

In the shadowed realm of her chamber, Naegissa dwelt amidst darkness as profound and inscrutable as her own enigmatic presence. Her quarters, a sanctum of obscurity, bore no witness to the sun’s embrace, for the curtains that shrouded her windows were as dark and impenetrable as the night itself. These heavy drapes, wrought from fabric thick and lightless, swallowed all glimmers of the outside world, plunging the room into a perpetual twilight.

Within this haven of shadows, the furnishings were sparse, echoing the austere and unfathomable nature of their mistress. Garments, meticulously arranged, hid in closets, free from the chaos of the ordinary world. No tomes lay scattered, no lamps cast their warm, inviting glow; the room was a tableau of order and restraint. When Nerath first stepped into this realm of shadow and silence, she felt a shiver of unease, for the room was naught but a void, a hollow echo of the alicorn who resided within.

Further sealing herself from the outer cacophony, Naegissa had woven around her walls an intricate spell of sound cancellation, an invisible shield ensuring the sanctity of her silence. Here, in this cloister of tranquility, her thoughts could soar unfettered, untroubled by the mundane distractions of the world beyond.

For an academician such as Naegissa, whose days were often cloaked in the unremarkable, the allure of her darkened sanctuary was irresistible. Whenever the winds of fate brought events of note, she would retreat into this secluded chamber, away from prying eyes and inquisitive minds. She knew well the whispers that might arise should others learn of her predilection for the dark—insidious murmurs of black magic, of sinister forces lurking within her soul. Yet such idle gossip mattered little to her; her focus lay solely in her scholarly pursuits within the august halls of the AAA. To fulfill her lofty ambitions, she must navigate the intricate web of relations amongst her fellow researchers, a task ill-suited to one shrouded in infamy and suspicion.

Thus, after her enigmatic encounter with Nerath, Raybarn, and Feyn, Naegissa sought the solace of her chamber, a place to ponder and replenish her spirit. A peculiar exhilaration had gripped her when she perceived the bewilderment in Raybarn and Feyn, their memories of the conversation slipping away like sand on hooves. It was a victory, however small, and it stirred within her a need for reflection.

As she crossed the threshold into her domain, a profound sigh escaped her lips, the sound lost in the enveloping darkness. She drifted like a phantom to her barren desk, the starkness of the room a mirror to her own inner turmoil. To any who dared to gaze beyond her façade, it was evident that Naegissa was an alicorn burdened with unseen sorrows, her mind a labyrinth of unspoken thoughts and concealed pains. Yet she remained a fortress, her walls impenetrable, save to one—Nerath.

Nerath, whose insight pierced the veils of pretense, had drawn close to Naegissa not by force but by understanding. Their friendship, forged over countless cycles, was a testament to Nerath’s discernment, an unspoken bond that transcended mere words.

With a heart laden with unvoiced griefs, Naegissa turned away from the bleakness of her desk and approached the curtains, standing before them in silent contemplation. The weight of her thoughts was a tangible presence, yet her mind wandered not to any specific memory or concern. Then, turning back, she uttered a soft invocation, her voice a whisper in the gloom.

“Come, Black Mist.”

At her summons, a curious object materialized—a box of enigmatic origin and design. Its appearance was unassuming, yet in Naegissa’s haunted gaze, one could glimpse a profound connection, a link to secrets untold and burdens unbearable. The box, a simple music box imbued with magic, seemed to hold within it the essence of Equestera’s hidden truths.

Black Mist’s intricate construction bore the weight of a thousand hidden secrets, each more harrowing than the last. Hewn from an indescribable material, darker than the blackest void and etched with patterns reminiscent of forgotten nightmares, it beckoned those who dared to gaze upon it. Stark against the abyssal background, a plate of eerie luminescence showcased writhing, serpentine forms intertwined in an unholy dance. These forms appeared to not be just mere depictions but restless spirits, bound eternally to the box, trapped in an endless waltz of torment.

Upon its surface, illuminated by an eerie otherworldly glow, crystalline formations thrust upward, resembling the grotesque limbs of long-deceased phantoms, clawing their way out, yearning for freedom from their imprisoned state. They shimmered with a spectral light, casting an otherworldly radiance that seemed to pulse with life or perhaps with the anguished souls ensnared within. And, to the side, gears and apparatus of an indeterminable origin could be glimpsed. Roundels, decorated with symbols alien to even the most erudite scholars, emitted a cerulean glow.

Sketch n°19

She activated her Soul Weapon, and the room filled with a melody—eerie, unsettling, a tune that spoke of ancient mysteries and forgotten lore. But the music’s haunting cadence was short-lived, for another sound, a presence unseen yet palpable, began to encroach upon the melody of the Black Mist. The music box’s spectral tune waned, not from any failing of the box itself but from the intrusion of this other, enigmatic sound.

It was within this hush that Naegissa discerned soft, haunting murmurs rushing toward her like the tendrils of an unseen force. While most alicorns would've been thrown into a state of panicked disarray at such sinister emanations, Naegissa's countenance remained unmoved. The cycles had familiarized her with these spectral whispers, and the expression she wore was one of exasperation, not trepidation.

Initially, the whispers felt like gentle gusts from far-off lands, but as they grew in intensity, they seemed to draw nearer, wrapping around her like a shroud. This relentless auditory torment had once been an enigma to her, the voices without a source. But tonight, something shifted. There was a palpable essence, a shadowy presence lurking in the penumbra that danced just beyond her keen perception. She cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder, seeking the elusive shadow, yet found nothing. The room's deep gloom might have obscured it, or perhaps the phantom had chosen to remain concealed.

With a sigh reminiscent of the winds over the barren moors of northern Ventia, she ventured into her adjoining lavatory, a sanctuary from the world's darkness. Attempting to ignite the luminary within yielded no result. Try as she might, the sconce remained dark, hinting at the influence of some otherworldly power. Unperturbed, Naegissa invoked an age-old incantation, summoning a magical orb that bathed the room in its soft, ethereal glow.

Approaching the sink, crowned with an ornate mirror framed in silver, she spread her wings, drawing forth water from the enchanted tap. She doused her visage, each droplet shimmering like a star in the night sky. Though her demeanor was serene, her right eye, the window to her very soul, bore the weight of her life experience. The alicorns held their reflections in sacred reverence, believing it to be the truest manifestation of their essence. As droplets cascaded down her gleaming fur and her mane retained its silken smoothness, she beheld an image in the mirror.

At first, it appeared familiar, yet a closer examination revealed a face that, though eerily similar, was not her own. An unsettling realization washed over her: to see another in one's reflection was a harbinger of possession, a sign that malevolent forces sought to claim the very heart of an alicorn. But, deep down, she knew what it was.

In the dimly lit bathroom, Naegissa's gaze remained fixed on the mirror's reflection, searching for understanding amidst the enigma. But the visage that stared back lacked the horn, the emblem of pride for all alicorns. A wave of puzzlement washed over her, for never had she known an alicorn to be devoid of its horn; at worst, it bore a stump, a scar of battles long past.

Continuing her scrutinous examination, she noted the absence of nostrils, an oddity that confounded her. Breathing, the essence of life itself, was dependent upon those very nostrils. Yet this image before her seemed to defy the very fabric of her understanding.

And then, in the eerie silence of the lavatory, the reflection morphed into a nightmarish visage. An uncanny grin stretched across its face, revealing a sinister set of teeth that were alien to any alicorn lineage. Like the daggers wielded by the fiercest of warriors, the fangs at the edges measured an imposing seven centimeters, each gleaming with malevolent intent.

The once familiar face began a grotesque transformation. Its eyes, which had moments before resembled Naegissa’s own, gave way to what seemed to be the menacing claws of nightmarish beasts. However, upon closer study, the fearsome appendages were forged from crystalline shards reminiscent of the darkest obsidian.

Drawn in by morbid curiosity, Naegissa's face hovered closer to the mirror, only to recoil in horror as the monstrous figure unleashed a scream that echoed the anguish of ages. The shrillness of it struck her to the core, compelling her to shield her delicate ears with the vast expanse of her wings lest the chilling cry rupture them. Each second felt like an eternity, and she clenched her eyes shut, desperately wishing to escape the torturous sound.

Braving herself to once again gaze into the mirror, she was met with another unsettling sight. The creature's eyes, forged of obsidian crystal, now oozed an inky blackness. The very sight of it sent shivers down her spine, for even she knew what it was, the sight was still horrifying. Hastily, she examined her own being, sighing in relief upon finding herself untainted by the ominous ichor.

Yet, the creature's harrowing mien remained unchanged. The eerie grin persisted, each tooth standing as a testament to its predatory nature. But its wailing betrayed another narrative, one that Naegissa couldn't quite decipher. Was it a cry of agony or a tool to unhinge her? Regardless, externally, she remained as stoic as ever, her visage revealing none of the tumult within.

However, even with all her encounters with the grotesque and unknown, this entity's relentless cries and sinister aura began to fray her patience. Just when she thought the worst had passed, the unsettling whispers returned, adding to her growing vexation. Her eye narrowed, a flash of inspiration breaking through the darkness that surrounded her.

She fixed her piercing gaze on the reflection, her thoughts swirling like a maelstrom. "Why does her memory endure? Both Raybarn and Feyn have been stripped of theirs; what makes her so resistant?" The murmurs grew louder, insistent, pressing into her very soul as though the universe itself were answering her queries. There was a flicker of comprehension, a dawning realization on her face. Amidst the cacophony, a certain clarity emerged from the whispers, revealing truths that set her heart racing.

Collecting herself, she strode with determination from the cold tiles of the bathroom to the dark yet warmer wooden embrace of her chamber. Retrieving a pitcher of water, she returned, taking deliberate sips, never allowing her gaze to waver from the grotesque figure still trapped within the glass.

Yet another chorus of murmurs began, distinct from the earlier ones. The original whispers were like distant winds, shapeless and meandering. But the revelations about Nerath came in clear, well-defined words as if whispered by an old sage directly into her ear.

Having quenched her thirst, she drew closer to the mirror, her eyes aflame with resolve. "Begone from me," she commanded, her voice strained, the weight of the confrontation evident in her tone. Her plea was desperate, yearning for respite from the relentless torment.

The hushed voices crescendoed, threatening to overwhelm her, but then, as swiftly as they had come, fell into silence. The gruesome reflection vanished, leaving behind only her own familiar visage. Her surroundings came back into focus, the oppressive shadows lifting.

She made her way to the study, the candlelight glinting off her sweat-matted fur. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the evening's events. With a wry smile, she pondered on its implications.

Pulling open a drawer sealed with an intricate magical ward, she retrieved an ancient tome. To any other alicorn, the book's mere existence would be an enigma, for it bore the weight of eons, its pages yellowed with time. Flipping it open to a well-worn section filled with her own meticulous notes, she took a feathered quill, dipped it in ink, and began to record the night's events.

Sketch n°20

Chapter 11

The labyrinthine chambers of the laboratory were, without surprise, a marvel of Pythonian architecture as much as everything else in the Academy. Stone walls, which had been caressed by centuries of time, soared upward, culminating in a vast, vaulted ceiling painted with intricate frescoes of Equestera's ancient legends. Here and there, shimmering crystals hung from the ceiling, their soft luminescence offering a gentle illumination, like stars suspended in a twilight sky.

Raybarn had spun tales of these cavernous halls to Feyn on countless winter nights, but mere stories were a pale shadow of the staggering grandeur that now enveloped the young alicorn. As Raybarn and Nerath confidently navigated the maze, their paws and hooves echoing softly against the aged stone floor, they appeared like seasoned explorers treading familiar ground. Feyn, on the other hand, felt like an interloper in a sacred realm, his senses awash with wonder.

As they delved deeper, the trio was cloaked by an invisible mantle of unease. It was as if the very air grew denser, saturated with the distilled essence of countless Arcane experiments. Nerath, a beacon of strength amidst the overwhelming aura, voiced the shared discomfort. "The spiritual energies we harness are not always dormant. The barriers can suppress, but not completely negate their restlessness." Her words, imbued with wisdom, seemed to echo through time, reflecting the accumulated knowledge of generations.

The sprawling laboratory was a microcosm of Equestera itself. Various sections bore the mark of distinct architectural styles, representing the diverse regions of their land. An arched doorway adorned with intricate carvings of dancing flames led to the section dedicated to fire elemental studies. Elsewhere, a serene alcove, surrounded by cascading waterfalls, beckoned those who sought knowledge of the water realms.

The tables, ancient and robust, bore scars from countless experiments. Each was an altar to curiosity, strewn with scrolls, quills, vials, and Arcane instruments that hummed softly. The bespoke lighting conditions for each academician painted a tapestry of moods across the lab. From the gentle glow of candlelight to the bright luminescence of magic-infused lanterns, the chamber shimmered in a dance of shadows and light.

Lost in their fervent discussion, Raybarn and Nerath remained oblivious to Feyn's absence until Raybarn’s instincts prompted a backward glance. Spotting his son's silhouette, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby crystal cluster, relief washed over him. The boy’s eyes, wide and shimmering, were trying to capture every detail, every nuance of the vast edifice.

The true beauty of the Academy's laboratory lies in its inclusivity. Alicorns from rugged Ventaian mountains, scholarly Luxian plains, and mystical Saburian deserts worked side by side, bound by their insatiable thirst for knowledge. The sight of a Virtusian warrior, usually seen being Weapon Masters, delicately handling a quill and scroll was a testament to the lab's transformative aura. Here, in this crucible of learning, boundaries melted away, and a shared purpose forged an unbreakable bond among all.

So, in the shadowed alcoves of the laboratory, a tapestry of unity woven by various alicorn researchers was undeniably evident. Every corner whispered tales of diverse kingdoms coming together, binding by the sacred art of discovery. The candlelit corners bore no signs of enmity between researchers of different ancestries, a fascinating observation that Feyn had keenly made in his brief survey.

As his cerulean eyes darted about, soaking in the grandeur and the purpose that lay within these stone walls, he caught the intent gazes of Raybarn and Nerath. Feeling a tug of urgency, Feyn’s paws hastened, echoing through the hallways as he rejoined his companions. His heart raced, the weight of exhilaration making it near impossible to retain his composure. Nerath, with a knowing twinkle in her eyes, addressed the young Fulmenian's palpable excitement.

“Ah, Feyn," she began, her voice as smooth as the evening breeze, "I, too, was once ensnared by the wonder that this place exudes. With every dusk and dawn, the enchantment will become a familiar friend.” Feyn’s responding grin was one of incredulity; the very idea of becoming inured to this marvel seemed fantastical. Raybarn, ever the wise elder, offered a gentle chuckle, beckoning both with a nod to tread alongside him, ensuring Feyn did not lag this time.

Their path took a deliberate detour, a legacy of the earliest minds of the AAA. Designed with purpose, it led to a peculiar prison tube, conceived to house enigmatic spirits, subjects of research and wonder. Placed deliberately in the laboratory’s heart, the walkway enveloped it in a semicircular embrace, allowing every academician to ponder its mysteries whenever they deemed fit.

Upon reaching the spirit's forefront, the trio, although disconcerted, felt a bolstered sense of resilience. Nerath's shield, coupled with their growing familiarity with the spectral ambiance, fortified them. As they poised to discuss, Raybarn's voice broke the anticipatory silence, his assertion puzzling both Feyn and Nerath.

“In all my winters, this aura…it's reminiscent, if not identical, of the nuances we've felt from the Primordial Pantheon," Raybarn mused, his tone thick with thought. Nerath, her brow furrowed, and Feyn, in sudden enlightenment, tried to decipher the implications of Raybarn's revelation.

Nerath began, her voice tremulous with implications, “Raybarn, are you insinuating…?” he hastily interjected, dispelling any misconstrued notions. His aim was not to indict the Pantheon but to highlight the semblance in the aura they currently perceived.

Feyn, ever astute, chimed in with a hypothesis, “Either a Royal Alicorn is at play here, or we stand before an astral magic variant yet to be deciphered.” Both elder alicorns nodded in acknowledgment, Raybarn's eyes gleaming with pride for his progeny.

“Though the signature of the Pantheon eludes this aura, there's an undeniable tether to what the Protectors sensed during the spirit's capture,” Raybarn added, each word weighed with decades of expertise. Nerath, with her usual grace, concurred though she was acutely aware that much remained to be unveiled.

Determined to unravel the mysteries that lay before them, she declared, “We must pore over every parchment, every recorded observation regarding this spirit." Despite Nerath's commanding position within the laboratory, it was clear that in the presence of Raybarn’s profound wisdom, hierarchies blurred. His intellect was a beacon, and Nerath, in her wisdom, chose to let it shine brightest for the greater good.

In the heart of the vast laboratory, with its high ceilings and walls etched with ancient symbols, Nerath gracefully glided over to one of the intricately crafted research tables, exchanging a few hushed words with an Ardenian alicorn who had the bearing of a scholar immersed in a riddle of magic. She then came back, cradling an ornate tablet, illuminated with segments showcasing all the knowledge the assembly of learned alicorns had unraveled in their brief yet intense study.

The central revelation, and quite an unsettling one at that, was that the Arcane signature that the spirit emanated was an enigma alien to even the most seasoned of their researchers. This aligned disturbingly with what Raybarn had postulated, leaving a bitter realization that despite their efforts, they stood almost where they had begun.

Raybarn and Nerath, brows furrowed, were engrossed in a deep analysis of the additional findings displayed on the tablet, the tip of their wings occasionally grazing the illuminated glyphs. Feyn, on the other hand, felt an inexplicable tug, pulling him toward the vicinity of the spirit's confinement. Between them lay a shimmering magical barrier, a safeguard designed to prevent any overly adventurous alicorn from nearing the spirit, a creature of unknown intent.

Yet, as if drawn by some intangible force, Feyn's paws moved on their own, the barrier growing ever closer, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the spirit. It lay dormant, but the allure it radiated was almost hypnotic. The young alicorn felt his control slip, inching toward the entity he was expressly warned to steer clear of. And then, like a cold wind on a silent night, whispers began to dance around him. Distant yet piercingly clear, they echoed around the chamber, unintelligible murmurs of lost souls.

Trying to shake the ghostly chorus, Feyn began to reclaim his agency, fighting back the trance, when an overwhelming sensation of another being swept over him, like a shadow closing in from behind. Heart pounding, he spun around, half expecting to confront another alicorn, but to his horror, the space behind him lay empty.

Casting his eyes forward once more, the chilling realization dawned upon him: a shadowy specter was in his midst, a form intangible yet so palpably present. Then, just on the periphery of his vision, rapid, flitting movements caught his attention—shadowy wraiths zipping past. The haunting whispers grew louder, mirroring the erratic dance of these eerie apparitions. Desperation welled up in Feyn as he searched for the source, but to no avail.

Hoping to seek solace in the presence of others, he scanned the room, only to find the scholars, including his father and Nerath, engrossed in their own deliberations, oblivious to his ordeal. The phantasmal shadows persisted, darting every few seconds, amplifying Feyn's burgeoning dread. An icy terror gripped him, rendering him immobile, his eyes skittering to the corners, tracking the ever-elusive specters.

Under the dim amber glow of the lanterns that adorned the stone walls of the research chamber, Raybarn’s sharp eyes momentarily left the enigmatic tablet to dart toward his son. An immediate sense of disquiet settled over his chiseled features, and in his voice, rich with both authority and fatherly concern, he called, “Feyn! Son, what bothers you?”

Sketch n°21

Nerath, with her astute observational skills, was quick to follow Raybarn’s gaze. A breath caught in her throat when she discerned Feyn’s precarious proximity to the spirit's confinements. She swiftly intervened, her voice firm yet lined with worry, “Feyn! Distance yourself from that cage. Now!”

With a great struggle, as if he were pulling against some invisible tether, Feyn began to retreat slowly. Though he felt a lack of complete control over his own body, his gaze remained fixated on the spirit's alluring essence, ensnaring him in its grasp as whispers invaded his mind like parasitic tendrils. So engrossed was he that he failed to notice the tail of his voluminous lab coat, causing him to stumble and nearly topple sideways.

Without delay, Raybarn closed the distance, placing a protective paw upon his son’s shoulder, his voice laden with urgent curiosity, “What befell you, Feyn? Speak. Every detail.”

Between trembles, Feyn began to recount the eerie whispers, the intangible shadows, the unnerving sensation of being watched, and the inescapable pull of the spirit's presence. Each revelation weighed heavier upon Raybarn’s heart as he began to connect unseen dots in his mind.

Deep in thought, Raybarn's brows knitted together. He had encountered fragments of such phenomena in the past, but never had they manifested in such sinister unison. In the realm of magic, his intuition whispered that remaining within the confines of the laboratory would be unwise. “Nerath,” he began with a resolve, “it might be prudent for us to vacate this chamber.”

Nerath, ever the voice of reason, nodded in agreement, "Prioritize Feyn’s safety, Raybarn. Return in due time, and I shall keep you apprised of our findings.”

A question, nagging at the back of Raybarn's mind, surfaced, “The Protector who subdued this spirit—have we gleaned insights from them?”

A hint of surprise crossed Nerath’s face. “It was not a single Protector, but three,” she corrected, “and each lies spent, recuperating from the tumultuous confrontation.”

Raybarn’s confusion was palpable. Nerath's tone was laced with conviction, certain she had shared this earlier. The lack of remembrance perplexed both of them, leaving an unsettling sensation in the air. A brief exchange later, it became clear that the information gap wasn't merely Raybarn’s oversight, for Feyn, too, shared his father’s lack of knowledge.

Nerath’s deep sigh was a testament to the growing complexity of the situation. She relayed the whereabouts of the leading Protector, suggesting that the firsthand account might provide the clarity they sought. Determinedly, Raybarn and Feyn decided to embark on this new lead come dawn.

As they took their leave from the laboratory, Nerath's farewell carried a mix of warmth and trepidation. The stone doorway closed behind them, leaving her amidst the ever-burning lanterns, contemplating the enigma of forgotten information and hoping that the solution was simpler than the labyrinthine questions that now beset them.

Chapter 12

Throughout the expansive lands of Equestera, a timeless whisper persisted, asserting that each kingdom mirrored its sovereign. Alykarn, Pythonia's capital, exemplified diversity, blending elements from all realms under the inclusive rule of Queen Python. Artisans from each kingdom contributed to its grand edifices, preserving their homeland's essence.

In Alykarn, every street and alley showcased architecture reflecting at least two of Equestera's kingdoms, ensuring every traveler experienced the realm's cultural tapestry. Alicornified, Alykarn resembled a wise elder, embracing all with open hooves and a knowing smile, offering sanctuary to every alicorn, where echoes of their homeland resounded warmly at every turn.

Under the golden dawn's embrace, Raybarn and Feyn treaded Alykarn's winding streets, bound for the famed Guild Inn. Feyn, distant in gaze and faltering in step, carried remnants of a nightmarish vision haunting his slumber—a forsaken laboratory's eerie shadows. Despite waking in dread, he kept silent, sparing his father the weight of his haunting memories.

Raybarn, with the wisdom of age and the keen observation of a Protector, recognized the fatigue shadowing his son's steps. Adjusting his stride, he offered Feyn a silent, comforting presence.

As they ventured further, the diverse tapestry of Alykarn unfolded before them. Alicorns from every corner of Equestera crossed their path. Among these myriad faces, Feyn discerned many bearing the insignia of the Arcanic Academy. This emblem, he realized, was perhaps the thread weaving this diverse populace together.

To Feyn's silent observation, many scholars, luminaries, and academicians acknowledged Raybarn with reverence, a tribute to his monumental contributions to the Academy. Each nod, each gesture further fueled Feyn’s resolve to walk in his father's footsteps.

In a quiet alcove, away from the cacophony, Raybarn turned to Feyn, his voice soft yet laden with anticipation, "Do you remember our discourse in our quarters in the Academy?"

Feyn, caught in a maelstrom of memories, replied hesitantly, "What words do you speak of, Dad?"

"The mantle of the Protector," Raybarn prodded gently, hoping to ignite Feyn’s memory. But the shadows of uncertainty lingered. With a sigh, Raybarn continued, "Before fully joining the Academy, certain rites must be observed. Recall them for me."

Feyn, searching the recesses of his mind, responded with a trace of confidence returning, "First, I must find an examiner and then obtain the Protector’s license."

Raybarn nodded, pride evident in his gaze. "Precisely. Given our pursuits, it might be prudent to enroll you in the Alykarn Guild Inn forthwith."

The prospect filled Feyn with a myriad of emotions. The pride of joining, juxtaposed with the anxiety of immediate enrollment. But trusting in his father's wisdom, he acquiesced, "Alright, I agree with that, Dad."

Raybarn's smile was warm, yet behind Feyn's mirrored smile lay a tumult of emotions, a sacrifice of personal desires at the altar of duty and legacy.

In Alykarn's vast streets, the city's layout resonated with history. Two grand plazas stood as its jewels, each housing structure embodying Equestera's essence. The first, shadowed by towering walls, held the revered Arcanic Academy. The second, equally mesmerizing, hosted the Guild Inn. Though not polar opposites, their distance required traversing the city's heart, akin to a pilgrimage.

Locals, with a touch of endearment and reverence, dubbed the square guarding the Guild Inn as the Protector Square. Such was its stature and the tales that surrounded it.

As Raybarn and Feyn journeyed, time seemed to stretch, each cobblestone and whisper carrying echoes of the past. Finally, they reached the towering gates of Protector Square, a sight that left Feyn in awe. The gates, dark as midnight, shone with intricate gold embellishments, adding grandeur to the scene.

As the massive doors creaked open, a world unfolded before them. Alykarn's courtyard bustled with alicorns from all corners of Equestera. While Guild Inns elsewhere housed alicorns regardless of origin, Alykarn's diversity surpassed all, creating a melting pot of cultures.

Watching seasoned Protectors traverse the vast expanse, indulging in discussions and even some friendly duels, Feyn felt a tumult of emotions. Initially apprehensive about the prospect of joining the Inn, observing the camaraderie made the notion more palatable.

While structures might vary, Raybarn noted a comforting familiarity in the aura that permeated every Guild Inn. The Alykarn Inn, despite its vastness, evoked memories of the one in distant Aemna.

However, the seasoned alicorn swiftly recalibrated his focus. Their mission beckoned. Nudging his son, who was visibly enamored by the spectacle, Raybarn intoned, "Time is of the essence, Feyn. Let us proceed."

Winding their way through the myriad of alicorns, they finally reached the grandiose entrance of the Inn. Seeking to hone Feyn's instincts, Raybarn posed a query, "Where, my son, do you reckon we should commence our search?"

After a contemplative pause, Feyn voiced his deductions. Considering the trauma their quarry faced, a learning room seemed an unlikely choice. Furthermore, high-ranking Protectors seldom sought solace in personal quarters within Guild Inns. Given these insights, Feyn surmised, "The lounge, perhaps even the bar."

A hint of pride gleamed in Raybarn's eyes as they navigated toward the lounge. Upon entering, a brief commotion captured their attention. Feyn, unaccustomed to such displays, instinctively sought refuge behind his father. But Raybarn, with a hint of nostalgia, remarked, "It's but a rite of passage, a playful skirmish every alicorn experiences here. Trust me, it's all in good spirits."

Still, Feyn remained skeptical of such 'fun,' given his aversion to combat. Yet, amidst the tumult, an opportunity arose. As the alicorns' attention veered toward the faux-battle, a clear view emerged. And there, sipping his drink, sat an alicorn with a striking silver mane and a scar etching his cheek.

The young Fulmenian whispered his discovery to his father. Their target was in sight, but before they could approach, Raybarn, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Now, you must embark on your own journey. Head to the reception and begin your path as a Protector."

Reluctantly, Feyn acquiesced. Armed with his father's wisdom and the weight of their shared purpose, he took his leave. Raybarn, now alone, ventured deeper into the lounge, his every step echoing with determination and destiny.

***

In the dimly lit chambers of the Alykarn Inn lounge, the very walls seemed to resonate with whispered secrets and unsung tales. Amidst the hazy atmosphere, the gentle hum of quiet conversations, and the distant clink of goblets sat Pyvern. His posture was that of a battle-hardened warrior, yet one who now bore the weight of burdens too heavy to express.

Beside him approached Raybarn. The flickering candlelight lent an ethereal glow to his orange eyes, revealing a depth of intellect and a soul eager for knowledge. "Might I share your company, Pyvern?" Raybarn inquired, his tone respectful yet inquisitive.

The Virtusian responded with a mere nod. The gesture was so delicate it was almost imperceptible. His gaze, however, remained fixated on the intricately designed table on which his drink rested, reflecting the dim light in its amber depths.

The Fulmenian gracefully seated himself opposite Pyvern, the wood of the chair groaning softly beneath him. Clearing his throat, he began, "I am here as an envoy of the esteemed Nerath and as a consultant for the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn. My name is Raybarn, a humble scholar who seeks knowledge. I've been tasked to unravel the enigma surrounding the spirit you sought in the dark woods."

Though Pyvern's face was cast in shadow, the subtle movements of his muscles and the tension in his frame told Raybarn volumes. He bore a haunted visage, one that spoke of sleepless nights and unending torment. Raybarn's heart twinged with sympathy; he had encountered such looks far too often in his long tenure.

With a discreet gesture, Raybarn caught the attention of the Inn's drink attendant. The rapport between them was evident, for, without a word, the attendant set to preparing Raybarn's preferred beverage.

Pyvern's voice emerged, tremulous and weighed down by memories he wished to forget. "The forest…its very air was thick with malevolence. The things I witnessed there have scarred my very soul. Unceasing whispers, sinister shadows flitting just out of sight; they haunt my waking hours."

Raybarn, his interest piqued, prodded gently, "What did you behold in those dark depths? Could you share with me?"

As Pyvern hesitated, the drink arrived, the liquid swirling enticingly within the glass. Yet, as the server retreated, Pyvern's demeanor shifted. His eyes, previously downcast, snapped to Raybarn's, a look of pure terror apparent within them. The dread emanating from him was palpable, chilling Raybarn to his core.

"Sometimes," Pyvern murmured, his voice ragged, "when I gaze upon my own reflection, I don't see myself. Another, more monstrous version of me stares back, a creature of nightmares."

Raybarn's thoughts raced, his mind drawing parallels with tales he had heard from another. The revelation sent shivers down his spine. Was his own kin in danger of suffering the same fate? Yet, a glimmer of hope persisted; he believed in Feyn's resilience.

Pyvern's revelations were not yet at an end. With every word, the atmosphere in the room grew colder, the very air seeming to thicken. He spoke of another entity, a grotesque fusion of dragon and alicorn—much different than the draconic form of Virtusians. A leviathan of unparalleled might, its shadow alone dwarfing the towering spires of the AAA building.

The monstrosity that Pyvern described was unlike any being that had ever been seen or spoken of in the realms. Rising from the very belly of the earth, its presence was as imposing as the ancient mountains themselves.

The beast had the noble visage of an alicorn, its proud head crowned with twisted horns that spiraled upward, reflecting the little light that dared to touch them. Its eyes, however, bore no semblance to the gentle eyes of an alicorn. They were pools of blackness, abyssal and endless, with a fire burning deep within, giving the creature an unsettling, otherworldly gaze.

The body of the creature, however, was the most terrifying aspect of all. Sculpted like a massive winged reptile, it bore scales that shimmered like obsidian, glistening with a sheen that hinted at its impenetrable nature. Its massive, muscular frame pulsed with dark power, every movement sending ripples through the air around it.

Eight gigantic wings, a number unheard of in the natural world, sprouted from its back. These wings were not just instruments of flight but seemed to serve as amplifiers of its malevolent energy. Each wing, larger than any known bird or beast, was veined with blue and purple, giving them an eerie luminescence in the dim light.

But what was most striking about this behemoth were the blue and purple crystals that dotted its body. They were not mere decorations; they pulsed and throbbed, seemingly alive. These crystals appeared to be sources of energy or perhaps even a form of armor. The patches where scales peeked through between the crystals gave the beast an oddly mosaic appearance, with the crystals and scales interlocking in a pattern that seemed both random and deliberate at the same time.

Pyvern said that to stare at this creature was to gaze upon the very embodiment of nightmares. Its majesty and horror were in equal measure. The very ground seemed to tremble in its wake, and the air grew colder, denser, as if the creature was drawing the very life force out of its surroundings.

This was no ordinary monster; it was an enigma, a harbinger of something ancient and foreboding.

Sketch n°22

Drawing a shaky breath, Pyvern added, "There was something else. The beast engaged in whispered conversations with another alicorn, one that exuded an aura of elegance."

Raybarn's investigative instincts flared. "Could you discern any identifying features of this mysterious alicorn?"

With a pained expression, Pyvern responded, "Its fur was the black of a moonless night, adorned with luminescent stripes, though their hue escapes my memory. It was neither clearly male nor female, but an overwhelming sense of cold majesty emanated from it."

The revelations left Raybarn with more questions than answers, and he knew his quest for understanding had only just begun.

In the deep corners of Raybarn's mind, a spark of realization ignited, its flickering flames hinting at a connection. Before he could act upon this newfound understanding, he needed evidence. An image danced in the recesses of his memory—stripes of some ethereal hue. "Were these markings of pristine white or shimmering silver?" he inquired, seeking confirmation.

Pyvern, taken aback by the precision of the question, turned sharply toward Raybarn. His eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and respect, he bobbed his head in a fervent nod. With this affirmation, Raybarn felt the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. But he treaded cautiously, ensuring his countenance betrayed no hint of his surging epiphany.

He proceeded to barrage Pyvern with a series of seemingly random queries, an artful ruse to obfuscate the fact that he had just acquired a pivotal piece of information that might reshape their very investigation.

Pyvern, previously taut as a drawn bowstring, now seemed to relax slightly, gratitude evident in his gaze. He seemed to appreciate that Raybarn, a fellow Protector of their order, was offering a small but significant solace.

Yet, when Raybarn asked if others were privy to Pyvern’s knowledge, the latter's demeanor changed. Pyvern’s eyes darted around suspiciously as though half-expecting to see spectral figures lurking in the shadows. After a tense pause, his gaze settled on Raybarn, and he shook his head solemnly. Raybarn's voice, laced with genuine concern, pressed further, "Why withhold such crucial information? Others might've aided you."

Pyvern's reply was whispered, laden with the weight of a heavy secret. "None would've comprehended, Raybarn. None but you."

Raybarn, as he listened, felt an echo of Pyvern's pain within himself, for he, too, had grappled with unexplainable visions. Yet, with this newfound knowledge dawned the realization that his deepest fears for his offspring could soon become reality, and he would stop at nothing to prevent it.

Seeking a momentary escape, Raybarn hastily finished his beverage, the cool liquid rushing down his throat. He rose, acknowledging Pyvern with a brief nod, "Your words have been enlightening. Perhaps consult the realm's healers. They might offer some solace."

Pyvern's grateful response was tinged with melancholy, "I shall heed your advice."

Raybarn, departing with a forced smile, knew deep within that even the realm's most potent healers might not possess the remedy for Pyvern's affliction.

As Raybarn approached the Guild's entrance, he noticed his son Feyn immersed in bureaucratic intricacies. Joining him, Raybarn exchanged pleasantries with the officer and then turned his attention to Feyn. "All goes well, I trust?"

Feyn, engrossed in paperwork, responded with youthful optimism, "Yes, Dad. You got answer to our questions, I assume?"

Raybarn exhaled deeply, "Indeed, though it has sprouted fresh tendrils of complexity. Pyvern's tales have shed light but have cast deeper shadows elsewhere." However, he carefully withheld the details of the mysterious alicorn, not wanting to burden his son further.

Feyn, perceptive as ever, cast a fleeting yet concerned glance toward Pyvern, sensing the depths of the latter's torment.

By the morrow, a peculiar amnesia seemed to envelop both father and son. Their recollections of the previous day at Alykarn's Guild Inn were reduced to a mere induction ceremony. But Raybarn, with an innate intuition only a seasoned investigator possesses, was consumed by a silent trepidation. While outwardly calm, the maelstrom of information and its inexplicable origins haunted him relentlessly.

In the intricate tapestry of memories, Pyvern's existence faded into obscurity, lost to the annals of time and forgotten by all who once knew him.

Sketch n°23

Part 04 – The Wingless - Chapter 13

In the waning light of an ebbing day, young Masha, with dreams woven of valor and the noble path of the Protector as her inheritance, contemplated her nascent journey. She was of the line of Fulmenia, her heart as fierce as the land itself, but she had scarce imagined that the weft of her destiny would entwine with souls so varied this early in her quest. With the blood of her lineage singing in her veins, she found camaraderie with a Luxian, resplendent in the light, and a Ventaian, coming from snowy mountains—diversity cradling her in its unexpected embrace.

It was Leyla, her mother, who unfurled the map of their undertaking. They were bound for the shrouded realm of Ardenia, a name whispered with reverence and a hint of untamed wilds. Yua, of Luxian grace, and Kolibry, a Ventaian with the depth of night in his gaze, shared this path, their own tales knotted with the same purpose. Masha, whose yearning to traverse the roads of Ardenia with her mother clung to her like morning dew, nonetheless opened the gates of her spirit to forge bonds with these kindred alicorns of youthful vigor.

Leyla, with eyes that had seen the turning of ages and the silent sorrow of farewells, recognized the tapestry of camaraderie enveloping her daughter. And so she stayed her tongue, permitting the journey to entwine them, her silent vigilance a steady beacon. Yet beneath the surface of her calm, there flowed a mother's ceaseless current of concern, poised to become the maelstrom should shadows seek to mar her child's luminance.

Days, adorned with the gold and rubies of dawn and dusk, unfolded on the road to Ardenia. Each eve found Masha’s spirit soaring as the constellations told their ancient stories. The toll upon her frame was but a whisper compared to the symphony of her heart, buoyed by the psychological tapestry of connection and discovery.

As the quartet journeyed, Leyla, with the wisdom of the stars in her eyes, seldom pierced the veil of their youthful exuberance. Her voice, when it joined the melody of their travel, was a chord of mirth or a strain of ancient Paladin wisdom. The secret of her mantle—the revered Third Paladin of Equestera—remained cloaked beneath the skies of their ignorance, and she, a mother not just in flesh but in spirit, deemed it prudent to let that knowledge lie dormant.

Communion was their hearth—sharing sustenance from the bounty of the earth, gathering wood as the sun bowed to the horizon, and finding repose beneath the tapestry of night, woven with dreams and the silent songs of the stars. But Leyla, a sentinel of the old ways, kept her third eye as open as the skies above, wary of tempests hidden in the guise of calm seas.

Their path wound through Fulmenia, where the forests of the north guarded the threshold to Ardenia. Though days had passed under the watchful gaze of the celestial dome, no malevolent spirit had laid claim to their peace. Spirits there were, flitting on the edges of perception, but they sought no quarrel, content in their ethereal sojourns.

Their ease, a fragile bubble in the cauldron of the world, was a testament to youthful innocence. Yet, Leyla, grizzled by the winds of caution, stood ever vigilant. Her gaze cut through the veils of complacency, her mind a fortress against the encroaching night.

Leading this band of nascent warriors were Masha and Yua, their laughter the chorus of the dawn, their steps light upon the earth. Momo, the faithful companion to Yua, perched like a crown upon her brow, a sentinel in his own right. Kolibry, his voice a rare jewel, contributed to the weft of their dialogue, though oft he walked in solitude, save for the times when Momo would weave circles around him in a dance of friendship.

And there, a shadow amongst shadows, Leyla followed—the Paladin whose very breath was an oath, whose silence was a guardian's hymn, who knew that the truest steel was forged in the quietest fires. Her vigilance was an unspoken covenant with the ancients, a promise that not even the silent whisper of danger would pass her by unchallenged.

As they made their way across the sprawling landscapes, with the wind whispering secrets to the grass beneath their paws and hooves, Masha's spirit soared with an unexplainable zest. It was as if she had tapped into some ancient energy that propelled her with increasing vivacity as their journey progressed. She turned her curious gaze to Yua, peppering her with a myriad of questions about the peculiar customs of the Luxians.

"So, what's the deal with the Festival of Sorority? Why do you guys celebrate it?" Masha’s question floated on the breeze, laced with a genuine thirst for knowledge.

Yua’s lips curled into a familiar smile, one that spoke of many such conversations past. “The Festival is pretty much a big party for the bond between Ardenu and Luxoah, and yeah, it’s for Ardenia and Luxia too. It’s just about unity.”

“Really? That’s it?” Masha’s voice conveyed a mixture of disbelief and wonder as she glanced around the dense Fulmenian Woods as if expecting some grand revelation to accompany Yua's words.

Yua nodded, her voice warm with remembrance, a soft glow emanating from her horn casting gentle shadows amidst the foliage, using her telekinesis to play with some leaves. “The two queens, they’ve got this epic bond. I mean, it's tighter than anything you’ve seen. The play during the festival is all about showing that off to everyone.”

“I’ve caught bits and pieces about this play. What’s it actually about?” Masha inquired, her ears twitching with interest as she tuned into Yua's tale.

“It’s a kind of reenactment, you know? It shows the moment they exchange this amazing gift, something that symbolizes their friendship.” Yua answered. Her light coatl, Momo, danced around her, its ethereal form weaving through the air like a streak of light.

“And I guess this whole friendship deal works out well for alicorns from both those places?” Masha's eyes sparkled with curiosity, her tail flicking lightly against the underbrush.

“Absolutely. The bond’s so solid it even changes how we handle our own mess-ups.” Yua's mane shimmered with a faint iridescence, reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above.

“How does that work?” Masha questioned, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration.

“Well, Luxoah and Ardenu decided if an alicorn screws up and it involves both kingdoms, the queen of where the alicorn is from gets to call the shots on the punishment.” Masha’s face scrunched up, clearly not quite getting it. Yua cleared her throat and prepared to simplify her explanation.

“I’m not really hitting the mark, am I? Let’s try this again. Imagine a Luxian gets caught stealing in Ardenia. Normally, the local law would deal with it, right?” Yua's horn pulsed gently, grabbing carefully Momo to place it on her back.

Masha’s head bobbed in agreement, her eyes widening in comprehension.

“But with this agreement, Luxoah steps in to sort out the punishment instead because the troublemaker is one of hers.” Yua's words hung in the air, punctuated by the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

“Wait, what?!” Masha’s surprise was genuine and writ clear on her face, her eyes widening as she processed the implications. From the back of the group, Leyla watched the two with a soft smile, admiring the ease with which her daughter conversed, her own tail swaying gently in agreement with the rhythm of their exchange.

“Enough about Luxia, what’s Fulmenia like? The books I’ve read don't tell me much,” Yua's tone was filled with eager curiosity, her eyes flitting between the towering trees of the Fulmenian Woods, as if searching for clues about this mysterious land.

Masha’s grin spread wide, her ears twitching with excitement as she began to paint a picture of her homeland. “Fulmenia’s like this big family. Sure, we’re a tight bunch, but it’s home, you know?” Her tail swayed gently behind her, brushing against the forest floor with a soft rustle.

“Is that so?” Yua's voice was laced with intrigue, her horn casting a gentle glow that illuminated the path ahead.

“Yeah, and there’s something funny about our king’s High-Priestesses.” Masha leaned in conspiratorially, her feline-like front paws flexing against the ground in anticipation.

“What’s that? And wait…High-Priestesses, on plural?!” Yua's eyes widened in surprise, her familiar, Momo, coiling around her neck as if eager to hear the tale.

“Yes, there are three of them! And neither are Harmonizers—they’re all Weapon Masters.” Yua’s eyes went wide with surprise, and Masha chuckled, enjoying the moment.

“For real?” Yua's voice carried a hint of disbelief, her horn glowing brighter in her excitement.

“Yeah, they’re just a bit older than me, and they’ve got this sneaky, playful side. Lots of pranks when they’re not doing their official stuff.” Masha’s laughter bubbled up like a brook, filling the air with a sense of warmth and camaraderie.

“That’s…different.” Yua's voice held a note of fascination, her tail swishing gently behind her as she processed this newfound knowledge.

“And get this—not all of us Fulmenians are made the same.” Masha's gaze shifted to her own paws as if to emphasize her point. “Look at my paws, front and back. Notice anything?” Yua peered closely, her eyes lighting up as she caught the difference.

“Oh, I see it now!” Yua exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement.

Sketch n°24

“The front ones are what we call ‘felines,’ and the back are ‘canines.’ Means I’m built more for strength than speed. Some others in Fulmenia are the opposite, making them faster.” Masha's words flowed like a gentle stream, carrying with them a sense of pride in her heritage.

Yua was clearly taken with the new knowledge, wondering about her own would-be strengths, her horn flickering with a soft light.

“And that muscle? Is that a Fulmenian thing, too? I thought only the Virtusians were that buff,” Yua asked, a note of playful envy in her voice.

Masha blushed, fumbling for words, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But before she could respond, Leyla’s voice floated forward, tinged with mirth, "Not exactly. That's more about her wanting to be the top Protector—literally. She's a little over the top with it, muscles and all, even more than me!"

"M-Mom!" Masha’s flustered voice followed her tone, a mix of protest and pride. "Need the strength to protect as many alicorns as I can!" Her paws shifted nervously, betraying her embarrassment despite her attempt to maintain composure.

As Masha steered the conversation away from her physique and back to the wonders of Fulmenia, Kolibry eased his pace, drawing abreast with Leyla. She acknowledged his approach with nothing more than a slight nod, keeping her gaze fixed on the path ahead, her expression unreadable—a masterful act of nonchalance as their journey continued.

In the verdant sprawl of the Fulmenian Forest, where the whispers of the ancient trees told tales of eons past, Kolibry struggled with a deeply personal affliction. Each attempt to speak to Leyla was thwarted by an invisible force that clenched around his throat, silencing him. This son of Ventaia lived in a world where females reigned supreme in the skies, their numbers eclipsing those of the males as stars do the moon. It was a battle he fought within, a battle against a phantom fear.

Leyla, who had traversed this path under the guidance of her own mentor, saw the young stallion's struggle. She donned silence like armor, offering him the gift of time, that he might summon the courage to face his inner demons.

Kolibry misread her silence as contempt, imagining her clawed paws raised in impending judgment. Yet these shadows in his mind would not dissuade him from seeking the illumination of dialogue.

When his words finally broke through, they did so with a tremulous uncertainty. "Ma'am," his voice quivered, "Could I ask you something, if that's okay?"

As they walked side by side, Leyla faced him, her expression unreadable, which sent a shiver down his spine. But then, to his surprise, she burst into laughter, a sound that cut through his unease like a ray of sunshine through clouds.

"Don't freak out, kiddo," she said, a playful twinkle in her eye, "I'm not about to pounce on you. Not here, at least." Her wink dissolved the last remnants of his dread, leaving a nervous chuckle in its wake.

Leyla's smile softened. "I'm just messing with you, Kolibry."

"I’m sorry about that," Kolibry mumbled. "I didn’t mean to make it weird…"

Leyla raised an eyebrow and chuckled lightly. "It's fine. I get it, really. Been there myself," she reassured him with a gentle tone.

Kolibry looked briefly at Yua before returning his gaze to Leyla, a mix of admiration and something more lingering in his eyes. "I just…female alicorns have always kind of blown me away, you know?"

"Oh? Do tell," Leyla nudged, tilting her head to the side.

"Well, back in Ventia, I was pretty much surrounded by badass ladies pulling off all sorts of amazing stuff."

Leyla nodded, her intuition sensing more to his story. "So, that's why you signed up for the Protectors? To chase that sort of greatness?"

Kolibry nodded, his eyes holding a silent intensity. Leyla pressed on, sensing his vulnerability.

"Those feats ever scare you? Make you feel a bit…out of your depth?"

He hesitated, the words coming slower, heavier. "Yeah, I mean…seeing all that power, it's quite daunting."

"Hey, no worries," Leyla reassured him, her voice as comforting as a warm blanket. "It's normal to feel that way."

"But there's something about you," Kolibry hastened to add. "You're not like the others."

Just as he spoke, Leyla froze, her wing snapping out to block him. Yua and Masha, oblivious, had moved ahead. They were near the 'Akronoma'—the most poisonous yet benign-looking spirit in the Fulmenian Forest.

This being, resembling a limbless insect with a back crowned by venomous spikes, crawled past them, its presence a silent threat. The Akronoma's poison could be deadly, yet it harbored no aggression; the unfortunate ones were simply those not wary of their surroundings.

Thanks to Leyla's swift action, Kolibry was spared from becoming another of its victims. The Akronoma passed by without incident, and Kolibry looked at Leyla with eyes wide with gratitude. Her quick thinking had saved him, demonstrating again that the tales of female courage he had held in awe were not just stories, but truths he had now witnessed firsthoof.

In the twilight's embrace, with the Fulmenian Forest whispering secrets through the trees, Leyla and Kolibry walked a path of dappled shadows and quiet revelations. The ground beneath them held the stories of ancient spirits while the air carried the weight of unspoken words.

"Thanks, ma’am," Kolibry said, his voice low and tinged with a respect that stretched wide as the canopy above.

Leyla nodded, her gesture slicing through the thick air, a silent acknowledgment rich with meaning.

"You know, ma’am, there's something about you," Kolibry started, his words gaining strength as they floated into the forest's musty air. "It's not the usual thing I feel around other alicorns. It's deeper."

Her smile flickered like the light of a firefly before it disappeared under her inscrutable gaze. "Oh? Go on then, spill it."

Kolibry caught the shift in her demeanor and pushed on. "Your aura—it's different. It's like you're not just another alicorn to me."

Leyla's face remained unreadable as the silence stretched between them like the vast sky. Kolibry couldn't resist filling it. "We're solid, you know. You don't have to keep your guard up with us."

"With us?" Her eyebrow arched, the surprise seeping into her voice for a fleeting moment.

"Yeah, Yua and me. You can drop the act. We're all friends here," Kolibry said, hoping to breach the walls of Leyla's reserve.

For a heartbeat, Leyla paused, shock crossing her features like a shadow over still water. But she recovered swiftly, her steps resuming their steady rhythm. "You're pretty direct for a shy one, aren’t you?” She said. “So what's on your mind, really?"

Kolibry winced. "I didn't mean to overstep…"

"Don't sweat it. But why the big reveal?" Leyla asked, her tone softened with a touch of curiosity.

"Well, we're hitting the border soon, right? There'll be checks…for all of us. Thought it might be better to clear the air before that."

Leyla allowed herself a small, impressed nod. "You're sharp, Kolibry. More than you know."

He blushed lightly. "Thanks, ma’am."

"If I’m correct, you have a gift, right? Something that helps you see more…?"

Kolibry's chest swelled a little with pride. "Yeah, I can sense the magical aura…the vibe of each alicorn. Tells me about their strength."

"Vibe, huh? That's a handy trick. It'll serve you well," Leyla commented, her gaze flicking ahead to where Masha and Yua were lost in their own world of discussion.

She sighed softly and faced Kolibry again. "Guess there's no harm in letting you in on a secret," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm Leyla the Lightning, Third Paladin of Equestera."

Recognition dawned in Kolibry's wide eyes. "That name…it's like a legend where I come from. I never guessed it was you."

"Just Leyla is fine," she said with a smile that was almost tender.

Kolibry hesitated, the awe still clinging to him. "But why keep it under wraps? Just to avoid a crowd?"

"Exactly," Leyla confirmed with a nod.

Kolibry chewed on his lip, his admiration battling his nerves. "Got it…Leyla." Her name felt strange yet thrilling on his tongue, a powerful incantation all its own.

Chapter 14

As dawn kissed the horizon with hues of golden flame and rose, the realm of Akasa stirred with anticipation. The Festival of Sorority loomed near, an event that swathed the very air of Ardenia with expectancy so palpable it was as if one could reach out and weave it into silken tapestries.

Across Akasa, the impending festival stirred every soul, from the humblest hamlets to the grand avenues of Ardenia. Patrons and commoners alike labored fervently, their efforts intertwined in the fabric of preparation. The festival's approach ignited the spirit of Akasa, magnifying its essence tenfold.

In Ardenia and Luxia, pride swelled at the festival's significance, symbolizing their unity and grandeur. The kingdoms engaged in a cherished tradition of friendly competition fostered by queens who reveled in the festivities. Each cycle, this cordial dance exemplified noble friendship.

During the Festival of Sorority, societal barriers dissolved, uniting all in a singular mission for its success. Highborn and commoner, strong and meek, stood as equals, their focus unwavering on the festival's triumph. The wealthy humbled themselves, the strong relinquished their swords, and the mighty shed their mantles, all for the greater good.

Tradition exempted the city's stewards—the royalty and priests—from festival preparations, but Aren, with a heart as vast as Ardenia's skies, couldn't detach himself. Esteemed for his acts of benevolence, he prioritized communal trust above all.

Since his youth, Aren had exemplified altruism, offering aid despite his limitations. His spirit of assistance never waned, earning admiration from elders and peers alike. Ardenu, discerning sovereign of profound wisdom, sought a High-Priest embodying empathy and a desire to uplift others. Aren, with his readiness to serve, matched her ideal.

Aren's ascension to his sacred role marked a pivotal moment. As the celebration commenced, his absence sparked whispers and wonder among the gathered assembly.

Ayzat, loyal as the mountains, sought his friend Aren. He found him amidst ruins, robes dusty as he rebuilt a merchant's stall. Ayzat chuckled, guiding Aren to the waiting queen. Ardenu's laughter welcomed them, her satisfaction evident. She knew Aren was her High-Priest, silencing any doubts. Aren embodied the festival's virtues.

As the sun climbed, alicorns prepared for the festival, noble and common united. Aren, pure as Ardenia's waters, worked among them, duty guiding him beyond his office. Shedding his High-Priest robe, Aren joined the bustling streets, his heart drawn to those in need. He noticed Aqasha, pride dimming her festival spirit.

Aren approached her, donning the mantle not of her adoptive sire but that of the High-Priest, an avatar of Ardenu’s earthly will. Aqasha, though harboring a reluctance that clung to her like morning mist to the forest leaves, bowed to the authority vested in Aren's.

"My child," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his sacred office, "let us walk amongst our kin and lend our strength where it is needed. There is much to be learned in the giving of oneself, a lesson that stands as the very foundation of our Festival."

Aqasha, adorned in the finery of her impending role and the nascent pride it wove about her like a shroud, met his gaze with a cool distance. "Yes, High-Priest," she replied, her words measured, betraying the reluctance that stirred within her.

Upon the cobblestone paths that wound through Akasa, they encountered an elder, his body a testament to time's relentless march, grappling with a bundle that seemed a titan's burden upon his stooped shoulders. Aren did not hesitate, his actions a silent sermon of his inner creed.

"I will help you," Aren declared, his voice a gentle breeze as his hooves made swift work of the elder's burden.

The old alicorn, his eyes a mirror of the gratitude that swelled within him, stayed Aren's further offer with a raised hoof. "Nay, kind sir. The strength for the lifting has left me, but I retain yet the endurance to journey on," he imparted with a reverence that spoke of his appreciation.

Aren's kindness extended beyond bounds, a lone sentinel uplifting souls. Near the field of fireball, memories stirred, revealing the boy beneath the priest's mantle.

In Ardenia's heart, young alicorns gathered for fireball—a blend of camaraderie and competition. Teams built ramparts, each stone a monument to collective effort, as the sun blessed their preparations.

Magic crackled as the fireball formed—a radiant sphere fueled by Ardenia's energy. Players skillfully hurled it, marking opponents' bricks in a dance of light and shadow.

Twilight ended the game, charred bricks marking the day's fervor. Victory mattered less than shared joy and bonds forged, as laughter and the scent of fire marked another chapter in Fireball's saga.

Aqasha, witnessing his moment of reflection, felt a stir within her own breast, the memories of a childhood harsh and unyielding clawing their way to the surface. It was not until Aren’s touch, firm yet gentle, that she was roused from her reverie.

“Aqasha? Is everything okay?” he inquired, his tone laced with paternal concern, his touch the catalyst for her sharp recoil.

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” she insisted, her words escaping her in a breathless rush, her demeanor all at once flustered and flurried as she hastened their passage to the bustling heart of Akasa.

Silently, they moved through the cobblestone spaces, lost in personal contemplation. The unspoken bond between them, though fiercely present, transcended mere blood ties. Despite Aqasha's protests, her affection for Aren shone as a guiding beacon through her doubts.

Upon entering the city square, a scene of revelry unfolded. Vibrant banners and streamers danced in the breeze, accompanied by melodic strains of festivity. Life pulsated through the square, its cobblestones obscured by joyous townsfolk and travelers alike. Even Aqasha, usually reserved, couldn't resist a smile as happiness permeated the crowd.

Amidst the bustling activity, Aren, draped in generosity, engaged with the townsfolk. His gaze swept over the festive tents and stages that sprang up like a merry forest. Yet, a distressed Luxian caught his attention. With graceful ease, Aren rushed to aid, leaving Aqasha to observe the square from afar.

"Welcome, brother. Is this your first time at the Festival?" Aren inquired with a warmth that could melt frost. "Yes, sir. I endeavor to offer a taste of Lux to all who wander here, my favorite meal" the Luxian replied, his nerves settling under Aren's amiable presence. Their laughter mingled, a fine note added to the square's symphony as they toiled together.

As Aren immersed himself in the brotherly dance of hammer and nail, Aqasha's gaze was snared by the approach of Ayzat, flanked by three Ardenians and a Luxian, their attire a mirror to that of the Second Paladin—a fact that pricked at Aqasha's pride. With the slightest of rolls of her eyes, she telegraphed her disdain, punctuating the moment with a sigh so potent it seemed to reach Ayzat before he stood before her. The crowd, recognizing the gravity of his presence, bowed their heads in deference, yet Aqasha's greeting was a laden exhalation, brimming with provocations veiled as boredom.

Ayzat, his countenance ever a mask of amiability, chose to parry with humor. "It's good to see you too, Aqasha," he said, his words like honeyed daggers. "Hm," was the terse echo from Aqasha as he continued, "I’m loving your enthusiasm so far."

Her retort was swift, "Oh, please. I’m not here for pleasantries."

Sketch n°25

He prodded further, a jest dancing in his tone, "Of course not, of course not. But surely, this isn't the fervor you'll bring to the stage?" Aqasha met his jest with a glare, a silent challenge that no mere alicorn would dare meet, yet Ayzat's laughter was undimmed by her scorn.

Then came the introduction of Mei, her presence timid, her aura unassuming—a stark contrast to Aqasha's fiery countenance. "This is Mei. She's to be your counterpart as Luxoah," Ayzat announced, unfazed by Aqasha's piercing gaze. The briefest of moments, a flicker of surprise upon Aqasha's visage before her eyes narrowed, inspecting Mei as one might a blade's edge. Mei's greeting, "H-Hi, I’m Mei," was met with a cold front, as Aqasha afforded her no more than her name in return, an acknowledgment grudging and sparse.

Mei retreated, wounded by the reception, a mirror of Aqasha's earlier sigh, her only reply. Ayzat, sensing the brewing storm, interceded with the grace of a diplomat, his assurances about Aqasha's usual warmth doing little to thaw the frost that had settled between them. Aqasha's stare, a lance of ice, bore into him. "What exactly do you want from me, Ayzat?" she demanded, a challenge laid bare.

"Who says I want anything?" he countered, his mirth a constant companion, even as the air crackled with unsaid truths. The dance of their conversation, a delicate minuet of words and silences, continued until, with a subtle gesture, Ayzat dispersed the assembly, leaving only the memory of glances exchanged and the echo of footsteps retreating into the mirthful din of the festival.

Under the twilight canopy of the bustling festival, Ayzat's lips moved in a hushed cadence, weaving an incantation as ancient as the cobblestones beneath their hooves. The surrounding cacophony of the square—the laughter, the clinking of mugs, the haggling shouts of merchants—all was abruptly devoured by an unseen maw. A circle of silence enveloped them, an intimate sphere where even the distant stars seemed to lean closer, eager to eavesdrop.

"What’s so damn important that you gotta shut the whole world out?" Aqasha's words cut through the quiet, a knife's edge of skepticism in her voice, her posture rigid with a defiance that came as naturally to her as breathing.

"I want you to join the ranks of the Protectors," he replied, his voice a solemn drumbeat against the soft murmur of the invisible barrier that cocooned them from the world's ears.

A sharp, biting laugh escaped Aqasha, scornful and cold, a wintry gust in the stillness of the secluded air. "Great, we all want things, don’t we?" Her eyes, sharp as the icicles that dangled from Eskalt’s eaves in winter, mirrored the chill in her voice.

"You're sharp, Aqasha. I like that. And trust me, becoming a Protector? It's all perks for you." His face was earnest, eyes alight with a fervor that belied his calm exterior, a bard convincing a skeptic of the virtues of an unseen melody.

"That's a no from me. If that’s your pitch, save it. I'm not buying, and I'm not interested," she retorted, her voice a shutter slamming shut, her body turning away, set to escape this unwanted web of intrigue.

"There’s power up for grabs, Aqasha. A unique kind," Ayzat called after her, his words a gentle but firm tug at the cloak of her resolve.

That gave her pause. She half-turned, her body caught between the desire to flee and the lure of the unknown. "What kind of game are you playing at?" she asked, her face a mask of disinterest poorly painted over a canvas of curiosity.

Ayzat smiled, a knowing, predatory curl of the lips. "I think you’ve got a clue."

"Nope. Enlighten me." The defiance in her voice was now laced with a thread of interest, thin but unmistakable.

"It’s power you don’t just stumble upon. It’s yours if you want it." His voice was a tempter's whisper, soft and insidious, promising wonders beyond the mundane sphere of daily life.

"Why spill this to me?" she challenged, yet her stance had softened, the hard lines of resistance beginning to blur.

"I have my reasons. And it involves you joining my special division."

"You mean the ‘Second Division?’ Why would I ever join it, as I'm not really interested in power anyway?" The concept seemed to draw her in despite herself, a moth flirting with the promise of warmth from a flame.

"Its actual, secret name is ‘Sacred Fire,’ and you haven’t heard of it because that’s how I designed it." The words hung between them, a revelation heavy with meaning, tapping directly into the well of her deepest unease.

Upon the whisper of that name, an involuntary shudder traveled through Aqasha as if it were imbued with an ancient power, dredging up echoes of a forgotten past from the depths of her soul. The very air around her seemed to thicken, charged with an invisible energy that clung to her skin like dew on morning grass.

Her heart, a steady drumbeat amidst the festival's chaos, faltered and raced, recognizing the name with a primal awareness that sank deep into her bones. There was a terrifying familiarity, a resonance that stirred the embers of her memory, transforming them into a conflagration of questions and half-remembered dreams. The festival's gaiety receded into the background, a distant melody as the name 'Sacred Fire' wrapped around her thoughts with the persistence of a haunting refrain.

"There's more to it," Ayzat intoned, his voice now carrying the weight of untold secrets, snapping Aqasha out of her thoughts.

"What now?" The exasperation that colored her query was tinged with a dawning realization of the magnitude of his words.

"I've got info on the Primordial Pantheon you'll want to hear." His eyes were two dark pools, serious and deep, the levity gone as if it had never been.

The walls she had meticulously erected around herself began to crumble, the defiance that once glowed hot in her eyes now reduced to the embers of a dying fire.

"I can't deal with this right now," she murmured, the silence spell waning, the edges of the real world beginning to seep into their secluded enclave of quietude.

"Think it over, but don’t drag your hooves. I don’t have forever." His warning was gentle but firm, a nudge toward the precipice of decision.

Her response was mute; her eyes flitted desperately across the square, latching onto the sight of her father, the alicorn a beacon of normalcy in a sea of confusion. There was her lifeline.

"I gotta help my dad. Just—don’t follow me, okay?" The plea barely left her lips before she was moving, her exit swift and determined, fleeing from Ayzat's presence, from the gravity of his words, and perhaps, from the call of a destiny she wasn't sure she wanted to answer. Ayzat watched her go, a wry, knowing smirk touching his lips, content in the knowledge that the seed of intrigue, once planted, was hard to ignore.

Chapter 15

As the fiery orb of dawn kissed the edges of the Fulmenian Forest, the world awoke in hues of ember and gold, breathing life into the silhouettes of ancient trees. It was here, amidst the whispers of leaves and the soft murmur of the waking woods, that Masha and her companions found themselves threading through the threshold of a new morn. Their spirits, buoyed by the revelry of the prior night's camaraderie, were as bright as the morning stars fading in the burgeoning light.

The evening past had unfurled as an unexpected tapestry of joy and laughter, a treasured interlude on their road to Akasa's festivities and their covert endeavors alike. Leyla, with eyes discerning as the forest hawks, had chosen a glade that promised safety in the wilderness's heart—a verdant chamber where they would shelter under the forest’s watchful gaze. Here, the younger three were tasked with foraging to wrest sustenance from the forest that teemed with ethereal beings whose very essence served as nourishment for the alicorns.

Yet, as if by some whispered agreement amongst themselves, the usually abundant mana-rich spirits had seemingly retreated into the unseen cradle of hibernation. The trio scoured the underbrush and canopies, their search thorough, but no ethereal quarry graced their path. Leyla, though touched by the gnaw of hunger, saw in this absence an opportunity for lessons more nourishing than food. She counseled them to embrace the moment as a crucible to temper their instincts, to hone the keen edge of their awareness that a Protector must wield as deftly as any blade.

She instructed them in the art of perception, for in the woods, danger lurked not only in the shadow of a predator but also in the silent threat of venom and thorn. It was a ballet of the senses they danced, with ears straining for the whisper of life and noses attuned to the subtle perfume of prey. They ventured from Leyla's chosen sanctum, mindful to carve a trail of markers back to safety, like breadcrumbs left in the wake of their silent passage.

The woods tested their patience until, at length, a Fulm—a spirit small in stature but immense in essence—materialized before them. Cloaked in the ethereal garb of thunder magic, its translucent form seemed to crackle with the raw power of a tempest, its spiky fur a crown of living lightning. Yet, the Fulm's acute hearing, legendary amongst the spirits of the realm, compounded their challenge, for it had ensconced itself amidst a copse littered with twigs and dry leaves that threatened to betray their presence with the slightest misstep.

With whispered strategies and exchanged glances, the trio wove a plan as intricate as the webs in the morning dew. Kolibry and Masha, with minds entwined, marshaled their telekinesis to coax the foliage into a subtle performance, a symphony of rustling leaves that sent the Fulm bounding toward the snare they had set. It was Yua, patient as the eternal stones, who awaited its flight. As the Fulm leaped, she ensnared it within a prism of light as unyielding as the truths of the world.

Triumphant, they returned to where Leyla had conjured flame from the cold hearth of night, transforming it into a beacon that promised warmth and feast. They presented their prize, and as the Fulm roasted, the aroma mingled with their tales, and laughter became the melody of their twilight congregation. Leyla's approval shone in her eyes, though she reserved her counsel for the morrow, not wishing to dim the glow of pride that embraced them all.

And so, beneath the tapestry of stars and the symphony of the nocturnal woods, they surrendered to slumber's embrace, cradled by dreams of the road ahead and the secrets that lay veiled within the folds of the ever-deepening quest.

***

Dawn had scarcely unfurled its golden banners across the Fulmenian Forest when the company stirred from slumber. The night’s rest had been deep and restorative, cradling them in the solace of dreams and the soft lullaby of the forest’s nocturne. They broke their fast and embarked upon the day’s journey, a mere ten-minute walk summoning forth the first encounter with the forest’s spectral denizens since their venture commenced.

In contrast to the Fulm they had outwitted on the eve, these new spirits were but shadows, elusive and ephemeral as the morning mist. They drifted above the loam, singular wings and shadowed forms adrift upon the woodland’s breath. Each carried within them a beacon of pulsing light, a rhythmic glow akin to the heartbeat of a creature wrought from the very weave of magic.

These shades of the forest sought no quarrel, passing the travelers by with a peaceful grace. Masha and her comrades led the way, their eyes drinking in the sight, while Leyla brought up the rear, her senses cast wide for any sign of peril that might stalk them from the shadows.

It was then that Leyla’s intuition whispered of a discordant thread in the forest’s harmony. With urgency born of a Protector’s oath, she alerted the trio to the brewing storm within the stillness. “Be vigilant,” she warned, her voice carrying the gravity of impending tumult. Her Protector’s sense was afire with premonition, the subtle yet discernible scent of danger that might not yet spell doom but could wreak havoc upon the unwary.

Leyla’s gaze became a sentinel’s watch, sweeping over the spectral procession for the harbinger of this unease. Masha, with youthful zeal, sought to emulate her mother’s vigilance, though her inexperienced eyes might as well have been searching for a whisper in the wind. Yua beckoned her familiar, Momo, to scout ahead, but the creature clung to her in stubborn refusal, an omen that tightened Yua’s throat with anxiety.

Kolibry, too, employed his keen senses in the quest for clarity, but the enigma eluded even his exceptional perception. The air hung heavy with an unspoken question until it was shattered by the plaintive cry of a solitary spirit. The pack it traveled with paused not but continued their ghostly pilgrimage, save for this one whose heart light flickered and faltered like a candle in a tempest’s throes.

“Withdraw from that spirit,” Leyla’s command was sharp and imperative. Masha and Yua, nearest the spectacle, hesitated but a fraction before a flare of violent luminescence sent them hurtling toward the rough embrace of an ancient tree. Kolibry, ever the sentinel, hastened to their aid while Leyla divided her focus between the errant spirit and her daughter, her relief palpable when she saw Masha unharmed.

The spirit’s light had morphed into a frenetic blaze, a pyre in its chest that belied an impending maelstrom of magical fury, fire veins spreading in its wings. Its keening wail was a clarion call that drew the other spirits near, only for them to be consumed by its ravenous luminance—a spectacle so harrowing that it seared itself into Masha’s memory, defying all she knew of the spectral world’s order.

In the wake of its feast, the spirit’s heart split into a furious rage, and it commenced a metamorphosis most vile. Shadows peeled back to reveal a core of roiling magma, a transformation from wraith to inferno. Leyla’s instincts flared, driving her to shield her charges from the searing heat that now threatened to desecrate the forest’s sanctity.

It was this peril that roused Masha from daughter to Protector, her resolve steeling as she stepped past Leyla’s protective reach. “Come, Voltstrike,” her invocation summoned her Soul Weapon, the hammer’s manifestation a tangible symbol of her fierce determination. Her companions beheld the weapon, their awe mingled with the weight of the moment, “Don’t get involved, Mom. I got this one.”

Masha’s declaration was a promise, a line drawn between the devouring spirit and the untouched sanctum of the forest. She had perceived the encroaching danger, the threat to life and land, and with her mother yielding the fore to her, Masha prepared to uphold the mantle she had assumed. The battle was hers to command, a testament to the path she had chosen as a Protector of Equestera.

In the hush of dawn, under the towering trees of an ancient woodland, a tension filled the air, thick as a summer storm. Masha, the embodiment of valor, stood levitating her Soul Weapon, an extension of her very being, at the ready. She faced off against the magmatic spirit, determination burning as brightly in her eyes as the flames within her foe.

In a flurry of calculated movements, Voltstrike met the spirit's blazing form, eliciting a sharp hiss of agony. Masha felt a surge of adrenaline mingled with a tinge of apprehension as the fiery onslaught raged on. Her body moved with trained fluidity, yet the searing touch of the spirit's molten wrath left her fur singed.

Despite the stinging pain, Masha remained resolute, her resolve burning as fiercely as the flames before her. With a flicker of intuition, she recognized a chink in the spirit's fiery armor, a vulnerability waiting to be exploited. As she deftly parried the relentless stream of magma, a spark of hope ignited within her.

With each lightning strike, she felt a surge of exhilaration as the spirit's defenses faltered. Yet, amidst the chaos, a sense of urgency gripped her. She needed to act swiftly before the spirit regained its footing. A plan began to take shape in her mind, a gambit born of desperation and cunning.

But the spirit was no fool. Sensing Masha's growing confidence, it unleashed a frenzied assault, its movements becoming an unpredictable tempest of destruction. Masha's strikes were met with evasive maneuvers, each attempt thwarted by the spirit's relentless onslaught. In the midst of battle, Masha knew that victory would require more than just skill—it would demand every ounce of her determination and wit.

The true menace of the spirit revealed itself in the chaos of battle as they formed molten projectiles, each a lethal threat seeking to consume all in its path. Yua, attuned to Masha's plight, felt a surge of courage as she stepped forward, her magic weaving a luminous barrier in an attempt to ensnare the frenzied spirit.

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For Masha, the respite afforded by Yua's intervention was a welcome reprieve. She expressed gratitude toward her comrade, a fleeting moment of solace amidst the turmoil of combat. With renewed focus, she summoned the elemental forces at her command, unleashing a thunderous roar that sent the spirit reeling.

Yet, with each strike, Masha couldn't shake the pang of guilt that gnawed at her conscience. With each defiant move from the spirit, the land suffered, innocent flora and fauna paying the price for their confrontation—it weighed heavily upon her heart.

Their fleeting triumph was short-lived, shattered by the spirit's desperate cry summoning reinforcements. Masha's determination flared anew as she faced the initial spirit head-on, her resolve unyielding even as the odds stacked against them.

Beside her, Yua's energy waned, her efforts focused on aiding Kolibry in maintaining their defenses against the relentless onslaught. The sight of her friend's struggle only fuelled Masha's determination further, a silent vow to protect those she held dear.

As the battle raged on, Kolibry's summons bolstered their ranks, spectral avians joining the fray in a desperate bid to turn the tide. Yet, with each vanquished foe replaced by another, the sense of futility grew ever larger, casting a shadow over their valiant effort.

Locked in a deadly dance with the first spirit, Masha's movements were a blur of calculated strikes and evasive maneuvers. Each clash left her body battered and her spirit weary, yet she refused to yield, drawing upon reserves of strength she didn't know she possessed.

With a fierce determination burning in her eyes, she unleashed a devastating surge of lightning, shattering the spirit's fiery form into oblivion. The victory was hard-won, leaving Masha drained but unbowed, a testament to her indomitable will amidst the chaos of battle.

As the clash raged on around her, Leyla's keen senses honed in on the shifting dynamics of the conflict. She felt a swell of admiration for Masha, every scar and bruise a testament to her courage and resilience.

Yet, even the strongest falter under the weight of relentless assault, and Leyla sensed the toll it was taking on her companions. Yua's flame flickered with waning strength, her efforts to maintain their defenses taking a toll on her will. With Kolibry focused on directing their spectral allies, Leyla saw an opportunity, a chance to tip the scales in their favor.

In a moment of clarity, Leyla shed her guise, allowing the full extent of her power to radiate forth in a luminous aura. It was a sight to behold, her presence commanding attention and respect amidst the chaos of battle. With deliberate grace, she stepped forward, ready to unleash the full might of her ancient heritage upon their foes.

"Yua, disband the shields," Leyla's voice cut through the tension, demanding immediate compliance.

"All of them?" Yua's voice wavered, uncertainty clouding her gaze.

"Without exception." There was an inexplicable allure in Leyla’s words, a deep-seated assurance that prompted Yua to acquiesce.

Leyla, with a grace that bespoke her experience, summoned her Soul Weapon, Thunderbolg. The might of it left even the confident Yua humbled. As the weapon gleamed menacingly, Masha managed a faint smile, a mix of pride for her mother and pity for the spirits, blissfully unaware of the storm about to descend upon them.

Thunderbolg, a manifestation of Leyla’s indomitable spirit, thrummed with unbridled electric fury, causing even Yua's fur to ripple in response. With a movement that blurred the lines between art and warfare, the weapon danced, rendering spirits powerless, marking a decisive victory for Leyla.

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Stunned silence draped Yua as she took in the unparalleled prowess she had just witnessed. As the lingering spirits dissipated into nothingness, Kolibry recalled his ethereal companions, and the land, once scarred by
conflict, found its serenity once more. Masha, summoning her remaining strength, stumbled toward her comrades.

"To witness the Third Paladin in all her glory," Yua whispered, reverence coloring her every word, "is a privilege. Can you teach us a few things, ma’am?"

“Definitely. I definitely will,” Leyla responded, a playful glint in her eyes.

“But why didn’t you reveal yourself earlier?” asked Yua, tilting her head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“I prefer to be discreet. The attention can be…problematic,” the Paladin responded with a wink.

In the aftermath of the fray, the scarred earth beneath them bore testament to the intensity of their recent battle. As the fine tendrils of settling dust danced with the sunlight, Leyla, her silhouette standing tall and majestic, motioned toward Yua and Kolibry with a graceful paw. "Alright, you two, gather those glinting crystals. We shouldn't dally."

She then turned her attention to Masha, whose habits were scratched and singed, the cloak she wore torn in places. There was a quiet exhaustion evident in the droop of her shoulders, a weariness that Leyla couldn't ignore. "You alright, Masha?" Leyla's voice carried a hint of concern, a maternal softness that was in stark contrast to her formidable presence.

Drawing a labored breath and forcing a weak grin, Masha responded, "I've been through worse, Mom. But a bit of rest wouldn't hurt." In response, Leyla, her horn starting to glow, summoned a radiant bolt of lightning. The bolt, tinged with a soft blue hue, spiraled around Masha, seeking out injuries, mending torn flesh, and knitting broken bone. The energy rejuvenated Masha's spirit, and her posture straightened. "That's…way better. Thanks, Mom."

Leyla's nod, filled with a blend of pride and relief, acknowledged her daughter's resilience. "You held your own out there," she commended as Yua and Kolibry approached, levitating with their telekinesis an assortment of luminescent crystals. Kolibry, wiping sweat from his brow, remarked with a chuckle, "Who knew saving the day would involve so much…crystal fetching?"

Yua, her fur shimmering from residual magic, playfully nudged Kolibry and quipped, "Well, someone has to do the heavy lifting while others just flirt with danger." Kolibry shot her a mock glare, retorting, "Always got your back, furball."

Masha, ever inquisitive, tilted her head slightly, asking, "Speaking of danger, why no Soul Weapons from you two? It might've swung things our way sooner."

After a fleeting, hesitant exchange of glances, Yua cleared her throat, "Truth is, we're still in training. Those things…they're not just weapons. They're a part of us." Kolibry nodded in agreement, "It's a deep bond, Masha. One that you can't just summon on a whim. Which is why I said that Quartz doesn’t suit you—you’re ahead of us."

Absorbing this revelation, Masha whispered, "I didn't realize. My apologies." After a contemplative silence, she reached out, drawing them into a firm, heartfelt embrace, to which Kolibry, gasping slightly, joked, "By the Pantheon, Masha! You're going to squeeze the life out of me!"

Upon reaching the majestic threshold of the Fulmeno-Ardenian frontier, they found themselves amid a winding procession of travelers, merchants, and Protectors, all eager to venture into the fabled realms of Ardenia. The shadows grew longer as the day waned, yet the line moved with surprising efficiency. Within mere moments, it was their turn to present themselves for inspection.

Each border official bore the emblematic crest of Ardenia: a golden flame burning above the summit of a mountain surrounded by pink-leaved trees. Their gazes were sharp and discerning, but upon recognizing Leyla, their stern demeanor melted away, replaced with a warmth and reverence reserved for cherished friends. Her storied presence commanded respect, a living legend among them. For she had not only defended their borders but had shared fireside tales, dined with them, and treated their kin with a grace that had left an indelible mark.

After the meticulous process of scanning their magical signatures—a swirling dance of Arcane symbols and ethereal light—they were granted entry. Beyond the border, a quaint Ardenian hamlet revealed itself, with cobbled streets winding through timbered houses. Akasa, the heart of Ardenia, beckoned in the distance, its spires gleaming like shards of crystal against the dusk sky.

In the town square, they found the transport depot where the famed Akasean vehicle awaited. Carved from the rarest Ardenian wood and fused with ancient magic, it was a marvel—a vehicle that moved with silent grace, levitating slightly above the ground, its wooden panels imbued with runes that hummed with power. Opting for this means of travel was a clear choice; it would expedite their journey to Akasa, ensuring their prompt arrival.

Securing their spots aboard, their stomachs rumbled in harmonious protest. A nearby stall, exuding enticing aromas of roasted mana meats and spiced plants, proved too tempting to resist. As they savored their meals and exchanged stories, Leyla, sensing the weight of unsaid words, pulled Masha to a quiet corner of the depot.

The depot was humming with activity; the ground vibrated with the comings and goings of various alicorns. In a secluded corner, Masha shot a glance around, eyes wary. “Mom, is there something off here? Should we watch our backs?” She was clearly on edge, still recovering from their recent face-off.

Leyla looked down, her own cloak a deeper shade. She chuckled softly, squeezing her daughter’s leg reassuringly. “No, Masha. Just the usual bustling border vibes.” She pulled out a few of the shimmering crystals collected on the rogue spirits, catching the dim light in the area. “We nailed our mission. But here’s a tiny hiccup—we gotta make sure everyone knows these spirits were from Fulmenian Woods, not Ardenia.”

Masha squinted at the crystals, her face illuminated by their glow. “You think that tiny detail’s a big deal?”

Leyla, twirling a strand of her dark blue mane, replied with a smirk, “In the grand scheme? No.” She then sighed and continued, “But paperwork? That’s a whole different beast. You'll see.”

“So, where’s our next pit stop?”

“We’re trekking to Akasa Guild Inn. They’ve got connections. But I’ll bet my last coin these crystals end up causing a ruckus at the Academy.”

Masha's eyes sparkled, picturing a familiar scene. “Oh, where Dad and Feyn are messing around?”

Leyla, with eyes that held countless tales, turned to Masha. "Yeah, our names on that report are going to raise a few eyebrows." She said with a playful smirk, making Masha's chest puff up with barely concealed pride, thinking of her family's reactions.

Masha, her voice touched with wonder, asked, "Did you feel this…this rush when you finished your first mission?"

Leyla, sinking comfortably into her plush seat, shot back, "What's bubbling inside you right now?"

But before Masha could spill her heart out, Yua and Kolibry, their presence always felt, drew near, eager to catch any morsel of wisdom Leyla might drop.

Taking a deep breath, Masha confessed, "I feel…amazing. Like I'm soaring, way up there." A genuine laugh burst from Leyla, but it soon turned into a small cough.

Leyla winked, "Wish my first time was as heady." Her gaze far off, she added, "Oh, it was a win, alright. Just…not my win. My so-called 'partner' made sure of that, wanted all the applause for herself."

Kolibry, his tone cheeky yet curious, remarked, "Bet she regretted crossing you. What did you do?"

A soft sigh escaped Leyla. "I let it slide. Being a Protector? You learn. Sometimes, you've just got to roll with the punches and move on. Listen up, you lot." They leaned in, every ear tuned in. "You're just starting out. And trust me, you'll get your fair share of knocks. But remember, you've got to toughen up. Equestera is not all sunshine and rainbows."

The words, sincere and straight from the heart, resonated deeply within them, making them ponder the paths they'd chosen.

As the transport vehicle glided on, the traditional buildings of Akasa started to appear, beckoning them closer.

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Chapter 16

On the eve of the grand Festival of Sorority in Akasa, the capital city of Ardenia had transformed into an epicenter of activity and anticipation. The intensity of the preparations was palpable from the moment one approached the imposing gates of the city, leaving travelers awe-struck. In Akasa, a city known for its grandeur, every festival was an exhibition of its rich culture.

Being the heart of Ardenia, Ardenu had left no stone unturned to ensure the city radiated its very best. Majestic gates, painted in the darkest shades of night, stood guard. Their surface bore intricate designs resembling fiery tongues, leaping and dancing in a mesmerizing pattern. At the pinnacle of the gates, an ever-burning flame illuminated the entrance, parting as if by magic each time the gates opened.

The city, already a bustling hub of Ardenian life, pulsed even more vibrantly with the Festival's approach. Ardenians who had journeyed afar returned to their homeland, reuniting with families and old memories. Luxians, too, from neighboring lands, were drawn to the city for the Festival, their presence weaving seamlessly with the Ardenians in a tapestry of unity and merriment.

Masha and her companions, their eyes wide with wonder, observed the rhythm of the city. Buildings adorned in fresh coats of paint gleamed under the sun, making the entire cityscape look rejuvenated. A hallmark of Ardenia's society, the noticeable absence of class disparity, was evident in the architecture. Homes, quaint yet spacious, lined the streets, all exuding a similar charm.

Kolibry couldn’t help but remark upon the communal planning. For every cluster of homes, there were multiple stalls catering to the residents' every need. In stark contrast to his homeland of Ventia, where one had to journey long distances for the simplest of purchases, Ardenia was a model of convenience.

The streets were thoughtfully designed, allowing for ample space between the houses, ensuring that no one felt cramped. "As alive as the flame," a common Ardenian adage, seemed to personify the city’s spirit. It underpinned the belief that every Ardenian was destined to lead an effervescent life, mirroring the perpetual energy of a flame.

Such zest for life had established Ardenia as Equestera's hub of leisure and entertainment. With an abundance of taverns, eateries, and meeting places, it was a haven for those seeking camaraderie or new friendships. Music, the heartbeat of Ardenian culture, was revered. Their melodies resonated across Equestera, solidifying Ardenia’s status as a musical powerhouse.

The Festival of Sorority was a testament to this musical legacy. Last cycle, the renowned band of the Fourth Paladin, from the icy peaks of Eskalt in Ventia, had graced the festival. However, their absence in this cycle was felt, as the revered Fourth Paladin, Asgeir, was bound by his duties.

As the group wandered the bustling streets, the infectious rhythm of street musicians filled the air. Unable to resist, Masha, swayed by the music, momentarily broke away, letting the tunes guide her paws in a dance, showcasing cycles of learned “grace.”

As the warm, golden hues of the Akasa sky stretched over the horizon, Leyla, with a glint of amusement in her eyes, observed Masha's spontaneous dance. The cobbled streets of the city, which had borne witness to countless tales of valor and intrigue, now echoed with the rhythmic tapping of Masha's paws. However, as the dance's allure began to fade, Leyla's discreet nod served as a reminder of their impending duties.

“My sister is here in the city,” Yua's voice broke through Masha's thoughts, tinged with a mix of hope and anxiety. She looked toward Masha, the unspoken leader of their ragtag group, seeking approval.

Masha, her gaze contemplative, raised an eyebrow. "Got any other stops planned?"

In the midst of the bustling crowd, Leyla adjusted the cloak that served as her disguise. She was a figure of renown, and drawing attention in these parts wasn't on their agenda. She interjected with a hint of nostalgia, “Before anything else, we should probably get rooms at the Guild Inn. Ah, the benefits of being both a Protector and a Paladin.” She smirked, recalling memories only she was privy to.

Kolibry, ever the observant one, squinted into the distance, his keen eyes scanning the labyrinthine layout of Akasa. “Where's this Guild Inn? I can't spot it.”

With a light-hearted chuckle, Leyla responded, “It’s nestled deep within the city’s nooks and crannies. Best you stick close, or you'll find yourself lost in Akasa's embrace.” Their laughter, genuine and warm, echoed in the narrow alleyways as they ventured deeper into the heart of the city.

The cobbled streets of Akasa reverberated with muted echoes of their footsteps. As they navigated through the city's winding alleys, the formation shifted. Leyla, her steps firm and sure, took point, guiding them through the labyrinthine pathways she knew so well. Masha, Kolibry, and Yua strolled abreast, their eyes absorbing the architectural marvels of Akasa—the elegant stonework, the filigree balconies, and the intricate mosaics that seemed to recount tales of old. Momo, ever the inquisitive spirit, would intermittently break free from Yua's perch, drawn to the myriad spectacles the city offered.

Leyla led them in a dance through Akasa's maze. At times, their route felt like a riddle, with countless bends and turns, enough to make a less trusting group doubt their guide. Yet, faith in Leyla held them steady, even as their path weaved through the city like a thread through fabric.

As the sun lowered its gaze, casting elongated shadows that danced with the twilight, the outline of the Guild Inn crystallized in the distance. The road leading to it was a straight, narrow path lined with ancient trees that stood sentinel, their leaves whispering tales of bygone travelers. It felt secluded, a stark contrast to the vivacity of the city.

Just as their destination seemed within grasp, Yua's pace faltered. Her eyes, sharp and observant, caught a familiar silhouette. With a mix of urgency and excitement, she approached Leyla, breathlessly exclaiming, "Leyla, there, my sister!" Leyla, always one for reunions, responded, "Well, don't keep her waiting. Invite her over." With a radiant smile, Yua signaled Mei.

Mei, upon catching sight of her younger sister, broke into a graceful run, her beauty evident even from afar. Heads turned, and murmurs arose as she passed, but she remained unperturbed. For her heart, vast and generous, held no room for vanity. It was filled with an abiding love for her sister, a love that saw beyond praises and ensured Yua never felt lesser in its light.

Mei moved with a quiet grace, drawing near to Yua and her eclectic ensemble, trailed at a leisurely pace by three alicorns. Their reunion was a touching sight as the sisters embraced tightly. The warmth of their bond palpable.

"My dearest Yua," Mei's voice trembled with emotion. "It feels like ages. How have you been?"

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"I've been on quite the adventure, Mei," Yua replied, her eyes glinting with untold stories. "But first, let me introduce you to those who've been by my side. You remember Kolibry, of course."

The graceful nod Mei shared with Kolibry wasn’t lost on Leyla, who discerned a certain fondness in their exchange, different from the customary alicorn camaraderie. She silently vowed to delve deeper into this at a later juncture.

"These are Masha and Leyla. Kolibry and I had the fortune to meet them at the renowned Aemna Inn recently," Yua added.

Leyla's unease swelled as Mei's gaze lingered, recognition dawning. In a reflex, Leyla hid herself behind her wing, heart pounding, bracing for exposure. Despite her efforts, the air thickened with tension, each breath a jagged shard as she awaited the inevitable revelation.

The ambiance grew tenser as the remaining three alicorns arrived. Among them was Ayzat, the distinguished Second Paladin of Equestera. His piercing eyes locked onto Leyla, recognizing her instantly. The verbal dance began.

"Leyla, in my city, without even the courtesy of a visit? What would the masses think?" Ayzat said, a mocking tone evident.

Leyla's response was curt, her distrust evident. "Ayzat."

In the lively clamor of the marketplace, Ayzat's playful suggestion rose above the din. "Your fondness for hiding your true self puzzles me. Why not reveal yourself and be recognized?"

Leyla, whose trust was not easily won, met his words with a barbed reply. "Should they put me on a pedestal as they do with you?" Her voice held the frost of a winter not seen but deeply felt, her suspicion of him as evident as the keen edge on a blade.

A heartful laugh burst from Ayzat, echoing around them with genuine mirth. "I'm hardly one to deny anyone their adoration," he said, with the grandeur of a seasoned performer bowing to an enraptured audience.

Unimpressed, Leyla allowed only an eye roll to betray her feelings, as if the gesture alone could dismiss his words like fallen leaves in the wind.

Turning his gaze upon young Masha, Ayzat addressed her with a familiarity that belied the cycles that had passed. "Masha, it's been ages. Far too many seasons have passed."

"Hey Ayzat. Yeah, it's nice to see you after so long," Masha replied, her words measured and carefully neutral, a stark contrast to the vibrant hum of life around them.

Ayzat’s grin was sharp, perhaps too eager. "Lucky for me, Leyla hasn't turned you against me…not yet anyway." His tone was teasing, yet beneath it lay a depth that hinted at more than just playful banter.

"You've grown now, my word," he observed, a simple statement that nevertheless seemed to weigh on the air between them.

The protective stance Leyla adopted was immediate and fierce. "Leave my daughter alone, Ayzat." Her words were firm, a clear warning, leaving no room for further jest or familiarity.

He stepped back, his response a theatrical show of compliance. "Consider her left alone," he offered, a smile playing upon his lips, though it failed to reach the guarded look in Leyla’s eyes.

Under the sprawling shadow of the festival banners, Ayzat posed his query with a feigned casualness that was as transparent as the summer sky. "Why did you decide to come out today, Leyla? It's not often we see you at these events. What's the special occasion?"

His gaze slid over their rumpled attire, noting signs of a scuffle, yet he kept his thoughts on that observation to himself for the moment.

"We were just about to get rooms at the Guild Inn," Leyla replied, her voice devoid of the mirth that filled the air around them. "That's when I saw Mei and told Yua to call her out."

"You were going to stay at an Inn?" Ayzat feigned surprise, a playful twinkle in his eye. "When my own home is right here in the city? That won't do at all," he teased, expecting Leyla to resist his invitation.

Leyla hesitated, her gaze flickering briefly to Ayzat before yielding to Masha's subtle prompt, guiding them aside for a private conversation amidst the bustling throng of Ardenians and Luxians preparing for the Festival of Sorority. Her expression held a tinge of skepticism as she followed her daughter, the weight of her concerns evident in the furrow of her brow.

"What's the issue, Mom?" Masha inquired, her voice a blend of genuine curiosity and underlying concern, her ears twitching with anticipation.

Leyla attempted to deflect, a subtle evasion dancing in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she countered, her tone guarded.

"You're really going to turn down an offer to stay with the Second Paladin?" Masha's disbelief hung in the air like a palpable force, her gaze probing for answers.

With a soft sigh, Leyla relented, her facade crumbling under the weight of her daughter's earnest gaze. "I just don't feel comfortable around Ayzat, that's all. I haven't for some time," she confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Mom, please. Just this once?" Masha's plea was heartfelt, her eyes pleading for understanding, her tail swishing nervously behind her. "I want to see everything, ask him questions, just experience his world," she continued, her voice filled with an earnest yearning.

Leyla felt her resolve falter, the lines of tension softening as she acquiesced to her daughter's request with a reluctant nod. "Okay, but be careful," she cautioned, her voice laced with maternal concern.

Masha's face lit up with a radiant smile, gratitude shining in her eyes. "I will, Mom. Thank you," she softly murmured, her relief palpable.

With a forced smile, Leyla rejoined the group, where Ayzat awaited with a knowing glint in his eyes. "So, have you made up your mind? Are you coming?" he inquired, his voice tinged with eager anticipation.

Leyla hesitated, her unease lingering like a shadow over her features as she weighed her options. "I'm still not sure this is a good idea, but yes, we'll accept your hospitality," she conceded, her words tinged with a hint of apprehension.

Ayzat's response was an exuberant stomp of his hooves against the ground, the sound echoing through the bustling streets of Akasa, a genuine expression of pleasure. "Fantastic! I'm thrilled you're joining us. You're going to have a great time, especially you, Yua," he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious.

Yua, taken aback by the unexpected attention, felt a blush rise to her cheeks, her eyes widening in surprise. "Really? Me?" she questioned, her voice tinged with incredulity.

"Absolutely," Ayzat reassured her with a warm smile, his gaze lingering on her with genuine warmth. "Having the sister of the admirable Mei is an honor. She's remarkable, and I'm sure you are too," he praised, his words filled with sincerity.

"Thanks, Ayzat. She is indeed," Yua agreed, her voice soft with gratitude as she shared a tender glance with her sister, a silent acknowledgment of their unbreakable bond.

"Leyla, ready to go?" Ayzat extended the invitation with a grand flourish, his demeanor brimming with excitement as he awaited their response, his anticipation palpable in the air around them.

Leyla rolled her eyes discreetly before falling into step behind him, following the path to his residence.

The air was alive with the exchange of stories as they walked. Ayzat, ever eager to impress, shared anecdotes of his exploits with gusto. Leyla managed a smile here, a grimace there—each story resonating differently with her.

"Just wait until you meet my other guests," Ayzat promised as they neared his estate. "You're in for quite the treat."

As they rounded the last bend, the mansion stood before them, a grand testament to Ayzat's status. The sight left everyone but Ayzat and his close companions in awe. With a proud, self-satisfied grin, Ayzat soaked in their amazement, his heart swelling with pride at the impact of his lavish abode.

Masha found Ayzat's mansion to dwarf all but the Guild Inns in its majesty. Enclosed within a vast compound, the residence was ensconced amidst a copse of pink-leafed trees and dense shrubbery, nature's own guardians of the palatial retreat.

The path to the mansion was a meandering sojourn of two hundred meters, where the foliage whispered secrets of the grand estate it concealed. As they emerged from the verdant corridor, the full splendor of the mansion was unveiled, leaving those who beheld it in wonder and surprise.

Despite rising only two stories tall, the mansion extended its breadth across the land with the assertiveness of a rogue spirit commanding its territory. Windows adorned its facade, too numerous to count, their elaborate designs a silent proclamation of royalty and opulence. Each pane of glass, a meticulous craftsmanship, spoke silently of the grandeur within.

The residence was an architectural ballad with two prominent wings that boldly extended further than the mansion’s central heart. These wings housed the many chambers, from the somber stillness of the study to the warmth of the kitchen hearth. The mansion's core, however, was reserved for the grand staircase and the entry passageway, an arterial thoroughfare for the bloodline of guests flowing through its grandeur.

Clad in the dominant hues of Akasa's crest, the mansion was a canvas of resounding reds, so vivid that Masha's features contorted in visible distaste. To her, the palette was a cacophony of colors too vibrant for subtlety, yet Leyla, with a knowing eye, surmised the choice was reflective of Ayzat's own flamboyant essence.

The compound was alive with alicorns engaged in an array of pursuits, from the clash of combat training to the discipline of daily chores. Masha, ever inquisitive, regarded them with a gaze hungry for knowledge before presenting her silent query to Ayzat.

“Are these Protectors?” she asked, her voice tinged with the thirst for understanding rather than the bite of accusation.

Ayzat replied with a certain pride, “Most of them are aspirants, training to become Protectors. Most of them, at the very least.”

Masha, her brow furrowed, pressed further. “Why are they not at the Guild Inn or with an examiner, then?” Her confrontation was not of hostility but of a mind ravenous for the workings of this unconventional practice.

Leyla's voice sliced through the air, cold as the north wind, as she echoed the question. Ayzat, with the ghost of a smile and a glance as quick as an arrow loosed from a bow, responded.

“It's a privilege of a Paladin to lead a division of Protectors. An honor bestowed, an army reared,” he explained, his gaze lingering on Leyla, urging her to acknowledge the tradition.

“Is that the truth, Mom?” Masha’s voice was a mix of doubt and revelation.

Leyla’s affirmation was reluctant but firm. “It's true, but I've never seen the need for such a personal army. The Guild Inn's teachings are sufficient. You were the exception, as my beloved daughter—I wanted to do your training myself.”

The Ardenian's countenance was alight with the fervor of a believer. “Oh, Leyla, if only you could see the vision that guides me,” he intoned, his words sending an involuntary shiver through Masha.

Before the tension could ripen further, Masha interjected, “And what name do they carry?”

Ayzat, puffed with pride, declared, “They are the Second Division, as I am the Second Paladin, simple as that!”

As they neared the imposing entrance of Ayzat's abode, the master of the house paused, prompting Masha's curious gaze while Leyla emitted a sigh dense with frustration. The ceremony that ensued was sudden and orchestrated as if by unseen hooves; the disciplined members of the Second Division converged upon their location, forming an orderly procession. With a synchrony that spoke of rigorous training and unwavering loyalty, they dipped into deep bows, their reverence for Ayzat palpable in the air, their homage extending courteously to his companions.

Ayzat's voice rose in gracious acknowledgment, "My thanks to each of you. I trust you'll see to the comforts of our esteemed visitors during their stay." His eyes flickered toward Leyla with a gleam of victory, yet she afforded him no such triumph with her attention. With a rumble of acquiescence, the Second Division dispersed, their steps quick with purpose as they sought to fulfill the commands laid upon them.

In this tableau of fealty, Masha's eyes danced between the Paladin and his loyalists, captivated by the singular authority Ayzat wielded—a command both earned and given freely, it seemed. She took in the grandeur of his dwelling, an edifice that challenged her very notion of scale and sovereignty. Thoughts of the Primordial Pantheon's dwellings flitted through her mind, sparking her imagination about their grandiosity or humble grace, but the sight before her tethered her firmly to the present.

Masha’s introspections were curtailed by a jolt as she stumbled into Ayzat, pulled abruptly from her reverie. Her cheeks colored with a mortified flush as she stammered an apology. Ayzat's response, laced with a hint of roguish delight, rang through, "Oh, you don’t worry about that. It happens to the best of us," though Masha detected undercurrents of mischief in his tone, echoing the disquiet that had nested in her since their arrival, she said nothing.

"Let us proceed to the primary dining hall," Ayzat proposed, a presumption of a meal at the ready within his tone. Yua’s hushed inquiry to Mei about the existence of a secondary dining venue was met with an affirming, subtle grin, while disbelief played across Kolibry’s features at the opulence suggested.

With a stride toward the grand doors, they swung open as if on cue, ushering in a wave of splendor that eclipsed the outer magnificence. The foyer unfurled into a vision of Ardenian style, unabashed in its architectural pride. The craftsmanship of every furnishing bore the hallmark of Ardenian artisans, each piece a testament to the dominion's aesthetic and Ayzat's devotion to his homeland—a loyalty that, Masha conceded silently, could not be faulted.

Her eyes lifted to a chandelier that dominated the overhead space, its bold red tones a herald of Ardenia's emblematic hue. She pondered the ambiance it would cast when night fell, imagining the shadows and light in a dance of crimson. They passed beneath its looming presence, through the archways and beyond the stairwell, making their way toward the promise of the dining hall that lay beyond.

Beneath the ancient beams of Ayzat's grand dining hall, there stretched a table vast enough to host a convocation of fifteen alicorns, should the fates ever see fit to gather such a mythical assembly. The master of the house, Ayzat himself, had lavished his wealth with a lavish hoof, sparing no expense to ensure that those who supped at his table found no cause to lament a lack of comfort or the meagreness of the feast.

In the shadowed reaches of the room, above the heads of the gathered, hung chandeliers that, unlike the fiery red orbs that danced like captured sunsets in the halls of Ardenia, shone with a pure and unsullied light. These were the chosen luminaries of Ayzat's realm, crafted not for splendor but to banish the darkness from the corners of his feast.

As Ayzat ushered his entourage into the chamber, Masha's gaze fell upon two figures already gracing the space with their presence: Aqasha and Aren, who appeared to be ensnared in the prelude to a meal. The air between them was thick with the unsaid, for though Aren endeavored to engage with his companion, it was plain for all to see that Aqasha's spirit was leagues away. Her posture was a silent rebuke, a nearly turned back and countenance as blank as the untouched plates before them, even as Aren's gestures bespoke a desperate animation.

Leyla, witnessing Aqasha's stoic facade, was struck not with the sight of defiance but with a swell of empathic sorrow for the plight of the young alicorn. A maternal tempest raged within her, yearning to extend a comforting wing, yet she tamed the instinct, her resolve as ironclad as her title.

When, at last, the eyes of Aren and Aqasha rose to greet the newcomers, Aqasha seized the moment like a lifeline, extricating herself from a conversation that seemed a veritable gauntlet to her soul. Aren's gaze followed her retreat, and a silent agony belied the smile he donned as armor, trailing after his daughter with a father's concern etched deep in his heart.

Introductions unfurled like banners at a tourney. “Aqasha, Aren, I want you to meet my guests," Ayzat began with a flourish. "This is Leyla, the revered Third Paladin of Equestera, and her daughter Masha. Beside them are Yua, the lovely sister of our dear Mei, and Kolibry, Yua’s friend. Everyone, this is Aren, the esteemed High-Priest of Ardenu, and Aqasha, his daughter.”

The last words fell like ice shards from Aqasha's lips, "Adoptive daughter," a declaration stark and unyielding. Leyla and Masha's gazes latched onto her, their thoughts veiled behind eyes that missed no detail, though each pondered different mysteries.

Aren, with the grace of one who wields faith as his scepter, advanced with an amiable front. “It’s really nice to meet you, Leyla. I’ve heard many great things about you, and not just from Ayzat. It's good to meet all of you as well.”

Leyla's response, wreathed in honor, was swift. “It's a pleasure to meet you too, Aren. It’s always an honor to meet a High-Priest.”

Yet, as Ayzat's eyes danced with an impish gleam, a note of discord threatened the harmony of the gathering. “You two seem to be getting along already. Leyla, have you left that researcher yet, or is he still around?”

"Guard your tongue, Ayzat," she warned, the steel underlying her tone causing even the bold master of the house to retreat.

“Calm down, Leyla. I’m just teasing,” Ayzat parried with a chuckle that did little to hide the sharpness of his curiosity. “Anyway, let's all sit down. It looks like the food is ready.”

Thus, the company found themselves arrayed as a tapestry of station and story, with Yua, Mei, Kolibry, Aqasha and Aren on one flank and Masha and Leyla counterbalancing them. At the head, as befitting the lord of the domain, Ayzat presided. And as the courses commenced their grand procession onto the table, it was he who unfurled the banner of conversation, weaving words as deftly as a master crafts his chronicles.

Sketch n°30

The expansive dining chamber seemed to resonate with Ayzat’s question, thrown like a lance into the midst of their conviviality. “So, how do you two feel about starring in the play, Mei and Aqasha?”

Mei’s expression transformed, her joy radiant, as if her visage was kissed by the morning sun itself. She attempted to give voice to her happiness, but her ebullient smile held her speech captive. Masha, catching sight of this delightful struggle, chuckled—a sound soon echoed by all but Aqasha, whose attention remained steadfastly tethered to her plate, her disinterest as stark as a barren tree in the depth of winter.

As the silence stretched, Masha’s expectant gaze faltered, and she returned to her repast with a dismissive eye roll, surrendering the hope of engaging Aqasha.

The conversation shifted with Ayzat leaning subtly toward Leyla. “So, are you going to tell me what happened on the way?” he asked with an air of casual inquiry.

Leyla met his gaze squarely. “What do you mean?”

“You all had some trouble on your journey to Akasa. I want to know what happened,” he probed with more intensity, looking directly into her eyes.

Leyla sighed, her voice now bearing the burden of their recent peril. “We encountered magmatic spirits. It was quite the battle,” she recounted, and Ayzat’s demeanor sharpened, his joviality giving way to a rare solemnity.

“And what brought you to this city in the first place?” His tone was measured, the question poised like a chess move.

“We had business,” Leyla started. “Masha was getting her license from the Aemna Inn, and we took a mission in Ardenia. That brought us here.”

A shadow of concern flickered across Ayzat’s face. “These spirits are a matter of Ardenian origin; it seems I must take this to heart.” His words were heavy with the promise of action, and Leyla’s jaw set firmly, her thoughts a vault sealed shut. Masha, watching this interplay, held her tongue, recalling her mother’s lessons on the silent acceptance of duty.

With a discreet gesture, Ayzat summoned an attendant and murmured commands that vanished into the ambient hum of the hall. When the attendant returned and presented a pouch to Leyla, Ayzat declared, “For the mission's end. The crystals, if you please.”

Leyla parted with the crystals, her gaze betraying a momentary reluctance. “I'll look into these,” Ayzat stated, the curiosity in his voice echoing the room's sudden quiet.

The satchel remained with Leyla as the meal resumed its interrupted cadence. Soon after, yet another alicorn delivered a document to Leyla with all the formality the moment required. “This is to confirm the mission's completion at the Guild Inn,” said Ayzat.

Leyla responded, her voice a blend of acknowledgment and weariness, “I know the drill, Ayzat.”

His smirk was enigmatic, stirring the air with an unvoiced challenge. She tucked away the document, and as the tension subtly suffused the room, diners sought refuge in their plates.

Sensing the need to navigate away from the growing disquiet, Masha readied herself to broach a new topic with the Second Paladin.

Masha, amidst the jovial banter and clinking of the dinnerware, turned her inquiry to Ayzat. With an air of casual earnestness, she asked, "Can I ask you a question, Ayzat? It's pretty personal." Ayzat, reading the subtext of her query, gave a slight, encouraging nod, prepared for what was to come. "What happened to your wings? Was it an accident or during a fight?"

A chuckle escaped Ayzat's lips, not mocking but light with the acceptance of his past. The table's attention was now on him, all ears for a story not yet told to them. "Well, the truth is I have absolutely no memories about what happened to my wings. I’ve actually never known them."

"You don't remember anything?" Yua asked, disbelief tinting her voice, reflecting the skepticism of the table.

Ayzat shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm sure it was some accident. Why else would I not remember?" he said, turning his head toward Aqasha and Aren.

With Ayzat's response hanging in the air, Masha pivoted her attention to Aren. "Your Radiance, what is Queen Ardenu like?"

Aren took a moment, then with a genuine smile, replied, "Queen Ardenu is…fiery," eliciting laughter around the table. "Seriously, she's very graceful. Though she may seem a bit stern, she's actually very kind. She's like a mother and listens closely to her people. She's also very protective of those she cares for."

His fondness for Ardenu was palpable, warming Masha to the idea of such a ruler. He then turned his attention to Mei and Yua. "I've met Queen Luxoah too. She's incredibly kind and one of the loveliest alicorns I've ever met."

Mei and Yua beamed with pride, their affection for their queen evident.

Masha, feeling a pull of concern, shifted her gaze to Aqasha. "So, Aqasha, what's Ardenia like?"

Aqasha briefly looked up, then back down to her plate. "Red."

"What do you mean, 'red?'" Masha inquired, trying her best to keep her tone even.

"The colors," Aqasha answered tersely.

Masha, her voice rising slightly despite herself, asked, "Could you maybe explain a bit more?"

"No. I don’t want to," came Aqasha's blunt refusal.

"But it’s just a simple question about the upcoming performance," Masha persisted, a note of irritation creeping in.

"I could answer, but I don't want to. Why do you care? It's none of your business," Aqasha snapped back.

"I'm just trying to understand, that's all," Masha said, the volume of their conversation escalating.

"Except it is too much to ask," Aqasha retorted sharply.

The tension at the table peaked, with Leyla and Aren stepping in before words could escalate into conflict. "Masha! Why are you behaving like this?" Leyla interjected with authority.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Masha responded, her expression a mix of frustration and regret.

"Aqasha! You shouldn't speak to guests like that," Aren admonished with a firmness that commanded respect.

"Well, she started it," Aqasha said defiantly, but at her father's stern prompt, she mumbled an apology, and Masha did the same.

"Aren, my apologies. She's not usually like this," Leyla said with sincerity.

"It's alright, Leyla. I'm sorry for Aqasha's behavior as well. We'll have a talk later," Aren assured her, and with an exchange of understanding nods, they let the issue settle.

The remnants of the earlier tension seemed to unravel slowly, like thread from a spool, as they all returned their attentions to the feast spread before them. It was Yua who, in an attempt to weave the severed threads of camaraderie, engaged Mei in conversation. Kolibry, not to be left on the fringes, joined in, and the trinity delved into an exchange of information and updates, filling the voids left by time and distance.

“So, Mei, your performance is nigh. How stands your confidence?” Yua's voice was gentle, yet it carried the weight of concern.

Mei inhaled deeply, her chest rising like the swell before a storm, before exhaling a hollow laugh. “To be honest, I've been a mess, trying to soothe my mind.”

“Stress is the culprit, then?” Yua probed further, a frown knitting her brow.

“Yes, stress is quite the foe,” Mei affirmed, her hooves absently tracing the intricate grain of the wooden table.

Seeking to lighten the mood, Kolibry quipped with a fact that she knew would pique Mei’s interest, “What’s your remedy? Grape juice seems to be Yua’s newfound fancy.”

“Grape juice? Since when?” Mei’s curiosity was piqued, as was her sense of sibling rivalry.

Yua could only respond with a sheepish smile, a silent acknowledgment of the shifts time can bring. “It appears Kolibry has coaxed me into the habit.”

“And I could not? Curious, what tactics did he employ?” Mei’s voice danced with the lilt of teasing, the perfect blend of sibling jest and inquiry, causing both Yua and Kolibry to blush a hue reminiscent of the sunset.

Kolibry, momentarily speechless, found himself at a loss for words, a rarity that did not go unnoticed. Yua swiftly came to his defense with a playful threat. “Stop it, Mei. Or I’m going to hit your horn in. Now answer his question. How do you get over the stress when it comes?”

Mei's gaze softened, and she smiled at the thought of her supporter. “Ayzat has been a great help.”

Yua’s eyes darted briefly to Ayzat, who seemed engrossed in his food, the muscles of his jaw working quietly as he chewed.

“He crafts a special tea for me, and it works wonders,” Mei continued, her words painting a picture of a camaraderie as warm as the tea she described.

Ayzat finally looked up, his gaze meeting theirs. “It’s a secret blend of mine,” Ayzat interjected. His smirk was a fleeting thing, like a shooting star across the firmament of his face.

With the conversation drawing to a natural close, they refocused on their meals, the sound of cutlery against plates filling the room until nothing was left but empty dishes and satisfied sighs. Once satiated, Ayzat took charge, his voice carrying the clear note of authority as he beckoned another of the Second Division.

“Please take our new guests to their rooms so they can get enough rest,” he commanded.

Leyla, warrant but still able to show respect when it was due and moved by the undercurrents of grace in Ayzat’s gesture, offered her gratitude with a sincerity that shone in her eyes. “Thank you very much, Ayzat. I’m very grateful for this,” she said.

Ayzat’s smile, genuine, bloomed like a flower in the first light of dawn. “It’s alright. I’m just happy I finally got to meet Masha again,” he replied, and Masha offered an awkward smile in return, her eyes flicking to her mother.

The rest of the company began to rise, the soft rustle of their clothes and the muted shuffle of their hooves and paws marking the end of the evening. Yua bid her sister good night with the promise of the morning's light. “See you in the morning, Mei.”

“See you, sister,” Mei returned, her voice carrying a warmth that only siblings share. Kolibry nodded a wordless goodbye, his respect for Ayzat evident in the gesture.

Aren and Aqasha were a contrast in mood as they made their way, the former with a bearing of regal fatigue and the latter still marinated in the evening’s sourness. “Goodnight, Ayzat,” Aren called out, but Ayzat's hoof on his chest was a silent command to halt.

“Handle her with care. Patience might yet bridge the gap between you,” Ayzat counseled, his voice a low murmur meant only for Aren's ears.

“I’m weary of careful words. I’m simply tired,” Aren admitted, the weight of his responsibilities etched into the lines of his face.

“Just keep a little hope alive. That might make all the difference,” Ayzat encouraged, and with a heavy nod, Aren conceded and made his way to the solace of his room.

Mei lingered a moment longer, her presence a silent statement of her internal struggle. “I’ve prepared another special tea for you with ingredients I just received,” Ayzat said, retrieving a steaming cup from the adjacent chamber.

She took a cautious sip, the liquid familiar and yet not. “What’s changed? It seems very similar to the last,” she observed, the question hanging in the air like a riddle.

“It’s subtly different,” Ayzat assured her, his back already to her as he began to ascend the staircase.

Mei took another sip, her palate searching for the elusive new flavor. “I can’t discern it, but I appreciate it all the same,” she murmured, more to herself than to Ayzat, as she followed him up the stairs.

“I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully, for the play,” Ayzat encouraged her, his words echoing as they parted ways at the top of the stairs, each to their own sanctuary for the night.

***

In the opulent chambers of Ayzat's sprawling mansion, mother and daughter found solace amidst the lavish decor of Ardenian red and gold. Though ample quarters were provided for each guest, Leyla insisted on sharing a room with Masha, a decision that warmed her daughter's heart.

The scent of fresh cherry permeated the air, mingling with the weariness that clung to Masha's frame as she collapsed onto one of the beds. Moments passed before she stirred, her gaze heavy with remorse as she addressed her mother.

"Forgive my outburst earlier, Mom," Masha murmured, her voice tinged with contrition. "I let myself be carried away by that Ardenian."

Leyla approached her daughter with a gentle grace, a comforting wing draped over her shoulder. "It's alright, dear. Aqasha wasn't exactly winning any awards for her behavior, either. But hey, I'm glad you're owning up to it."

She patted Masha's head, messing up her mane in the process and earning a playful squirm from her daughter. Masha then pulled her mom into a tight hug, surprising Leyla with her strength.

"Whoa, I now understand how Kolibry felt when you nearly “squeezed the life out of him”," Leyla joked, a twinkle in her eye.

Masha laughed, not letting go. "Oh, come on, Mom! You're the Third Paladin. You can handle a hug from your favorite daughter," she teased right back.

Laughter filled the room, a melody of familial warmth that transcended the weight of their current concerns. Yet beneath the surface, Leyla sensed a shadow lingering in Masha's gaze, a silent turmoil that begged to be acknowledged.

Sensing her daughter's unspoken turmoil, Leyla took the helm, prepared to navigate the depths of their familial bond with unwavering resolve.

"What's weighing on your mind, Masha?" Leyla inquired, her smile a beacon of maternal warmth, inviting her daughter to confide in her.

"Well…I've been wondering something, Mom," Masha began, her curiosity piqued. "While I can see Ayzat's got a flamboyant streak and a touch of arrogance…I'm at a loss as to why you're so wary of him. Care to tell me why?" Her gaze met her mother's, seeking understanding in the depths of her eyes.

The Third Paladin hesitated briefly before settling onto her own bed. "I've always had a nagging feeling about him. So young, yet so much power…it sets me on edge, truth be told," Leyla admitted, her gaze flickering away from her daughter's in discomfort.

"You? Scared?" Masha's astonishment was palpable, her eyes widening in disbelief. "I never would've considered you for the apprehensive type, let alone over a colleague."

"Perhaps I'm simply too suspicious," Leyla conceded with a self-conscious chuckle. "But I witnessed him in combat a couple of cycles ago, and let me tell you, it was quite the fiery spectacle."

Masha swallowed hard, her mind racing with visions of Ayzat wielding formidable flame magic. Despite her mother's warning, a part of her yearned to witness such power firsthand.

"Just remember, he's the Second Paladin," Leyla reminded her daughter, locking gazes to impart the gravity of her words. "The second most powerful Protector in Equestera, and unquestionably surpassing me, despite him being only five cycles older than you."

Masha snapped out of her reverie, her attention snapping back to her mother, who met her with a teasing smirk. "Seems you've got quite the mountain to climb before reaching that pinnacle, don't you think?"

Pride swelled within the young Fulmenian, her grin exuding confidence, but before she could retort, her mother interjected.

"But for now, let's lay our worries to rest and let’s enjoy tomorrow’s Festival!" Leyla declared, her smile infectious. "Training's important, but so is savoring life's pleasures," she added, punctuating her point with a playful wink.

With a nod of agreement, Masha settled onto her bed. "Love you, Mom. Good night."

"Good night, Masha. Love you too," Leyla reciprocated, the warmth of her affection echoing in the darkness as she extinguished the light.

Part 05 – Astral magic - Chapter 17

In the revered halls of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn, a library of profound magnitude loomed, a sanctuary of enlightenment amidst Equestera's lush terrain. It held the essence of wisdom and solutions, a vast collection of ancient texts pursued tirelessly by alicorns in their quest for understanding.

Within this bastion of erudition, three esteemed scholars found themselves entangled in a bitter irony. Throughout their illustrious careers, truth had yielded to their intellects effortlessly. But now, an elusive answer remained just out of reach.

In desperation, they enlisted Feyn, a novice with a sharp mind, to aid their endeavor. Together, they delved into the archives, each table a haven of books and scrolls. Time slipped away unnoticed as they combed through the wisdom of ages.

The air grew thick with the scent of parchment and the murmurs of pages turning, punctuated by the thud of heavy tomes passed between them. As twilight bathed the library of its light, frustration crept upon their brows, save for Naegissa, whose serenity remained untouched.

Observers, lesser alicorns seeking knowledge, watched as these titans of intellect grappled with rare consternation, their pursuit of truth unyielding amidst the shadows of uncertainty.

These onlookers, both awed and curious, stood at a respectful distance, witnessing minds grappling with the unfathomable. Among them, Raybarn's reputation loomed like a shadow at noonday, signaling grave matters.

As the audience watched, spellbound, Naegissa's gaze swept over them, swift as a hawk's. Her sharp, silent reprimand scattered them like leaves in a gust of wind, their retreat marked by the cacophony of their fleeing steps, which drew Feyn's attention from the enigma that had ensnared his thoughts. He observed, only for a moment, as Naegissa's formidable focus returned to the sea of words that lapped at the shores of her mind.

Feyn's own gaze met Naegissa's, and in that silent exchange, they shared understanding, fleeting yet potent as lightning. Her spectral smile left Feyn unsettled as he returned to his books, the chill of her expression lingering.

And so the scholars delved on, each lost in their own world, Raybarn and Nerath as statues carved from stone, their focus unyielding, while Feyn wrestled with the shiver that clung to him, a remnant of the day's strange alchemy.

Merely minutes more, they toiled, with the specter of futility hovering close before Raybarn surged to his paws, his sigh a tempest of defeat resounding through the cavernous library. The echo of his discontent drew Nerath's eyes skyward from the parchments that had been her world, fixing upon Raybarn with an expression as raw as a fresh wound.

"What's wrong, Raybarn? Nothing?" her voice, laced with concern, cut through the thick silence. The great Raybarn, a pillar of their scholarly pantheon, could only muster the weary shake of his head, his visage the very picture of a stallion who had jousted with shadows and lost.

"Nothing. And truthfully, I should have expected as much," he confessed, the taste of disappointment bitter upon his tongue.

"What do you mean, Dad?" queried Feyn, his brow furrowed in consternation.

"I've combed through these books before, during my early days here. What eludes us now eluded me then. The collection has remained unhelpful," Raybarn lamented, his voice a low thrum of resignation.

"But surely something must have changed. New discoveries, new books…" Nerath proclaimed, her disbelief a banner unfurled in the dim light of the library.

"The updates I've come across haven't shed any new light on our problem," Raybarn intoned, "They're insubstantial." At this, Nerath's countenance fell, despair seizing her features as though she'd been told the stars themselves had been plucked from the firmament.

Raybarn's declaration heralded his intent to depart, and confusion knit Feyn's features tighter. "Are we leaving, then?"

"Not all of us. Just I," Raybarn clarified, a note of mystery threading through his words. "I remember an important contact who might help us break through this impasse."

"And who might this enigmatic alicorn be?" Naegissa inquired, interest piqued, her eyes sharpening with the acumen that had carved her reputation.

"A shadow among shadows, preferring the cloak of anonymity," Raybarn replied, while wary glances stitched a silent conversation between Naegissa and Nerath. Sensing their trepidation, Raybarn's chuckle broke the tension like a warm breeze dispersing fog. "You have no cause for concern. I'm not here to disrupt our work but to further it," he quipped, a sentence woven of two threads, an assurance coupled with a whisper of caution.

With a scrutinous glance, Raybarn sought a sign upon Naegissa's inscrutable façade, but her expression was as unreadable as a sealed scroll. With nothing more to glean, he cleared the remnants of uncertainty from his throat and, like a ship unmooring from a familiar harbor, turned his back on the ocean of books and set his course toward an unknown horizon.

The imposing figure of Raybarn halted in midstride, summoned back to the circle of his peers by the sudden arrival of two fellow academicians, gasping for air as though they had raced against the wind itself to deliver their message. "We bring urgent word," they panted, the cadence of their breaths punctuating the gravity of their news, "of a new spirit taken into custody."

The quartet repositioned themselves, a collective air of intrigue enveloping them like a cloak. It was Nerath, her voice steady and commanding as the ancient stone that buttressed the Academy, who broke the silence, "Tell us more."

With scant pause for breath, the messengers divulged the latest marvel: Protectors had returned, not from a hunt, but with a spirit enigmatic and unplanned in their capture. The others received this intelligence with widened eyes and quickened pulses, for the chronology of such events, was a rare and ominous dance of the spirits.

A flicker of astonishment escaped the chasm of Naegissa's usually unfathomable expression—a rarity as precious and as telling as a flaw in a diamond. Raybarn's eyes, sharp and calculating, lingered on her just a moment before he wrapped the observation in the folds of his mind.

Clearing his throat as if to dislodge the portents of their discoveries, he sidled Feyn away from prying ears. "Son," he intoned with the gravity of the sacred halls around them, "I want you here with your eyes and ears open. Learn everything you can about this and give me a full account when I'm back."

Feyn, absorbing the weight of his charge, offered a dutiful nod, his query about the identity of Raybarn's secret contact smothered by the urgency of the task at paw.

Raybarn acknowledged the remaining scholars with a solemn nod, the unspoken language of departure. "Good luck, Raybarn. We're all counting on you," Nerath's voice chased after his receding form.

Once Raybarn's presence had been swallowed by the labyrinthine stacks, Nerath's attention snapped back to the messengers. "Have the Protectors documented their encounter?" she demanded, the steel in her voice a match for the strength of her gaze.

The messengers nodded, their movements synchronized, their faces alight with the fervor of their report. "They chanced upon this spirit unexpectedly," they revealed, a mystery enveloping their words as they spoke of the underground laboratory—the scholarly sanctum where Arcane knowledge danced with the palpable and where another spirit had been detained for study.

Silence enveloped the group as they contemplated the implications of these discoveries, each mind grappling with the threads of a tapestry that seemed to weave itself ever more complex with each passing moment. The game of knowledge and power was afoot, and in the Arcanic Academy, even the walls seemed to listen, to whisper of the shifting tides in the world of spirits and alicorns.

The revelation struck like a lightning bolt, sending Naegissa from her seat with a force that had the very air in the library retreat in alarm. She rose, a tempest given form, her wrath so fierce and so sudden that Feyn, Nerath, and the academic messengers recoiled. In her eyes, a storm was brewing, and her companions could not help but step back lest they be caught in her squall.

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"Why is the sanctity of our laboratories now a joke to be laughed at in the open?" Naegissa's voice thundered, each word a sharp slap against the complacency she accused. Her outburst was a cascade of anger, washing over the hushed tones of scholarly pursuit that usually filled the chamber.

Nerath, the picture of studied calm, observed Naegissa with an arched brow of inquisition, awaiting the tempest's end. When the fuming tide finally receded, Naegissa reclaimed her seat, her displeasure an aura that none dared approach.

With a measured tone, Nerath addressed her, "We'll address the lapses in protocol, Naegissa. But right now, let's focus on this new spirit. It could be crucial for our understanding, wouldn’t you agree, Feyn?"

Caught adrift in his own sea of thoughts, Feyn was abruptly lured back to the shores of the present by Nerath's voice. A quick, somewhat uncertain nod was his reply, hoping it sufficient to mask his momentary absence.

Satisfied, or perhaps accepting of Feyn's silent support, Nerath directed her attention back to the messengers who, having regained their composure, continued. "The Protectors' instincts were right, but they encountered something unexpected."

"And that is?" probed Nerath, her inquiry sharp as a maester's scalpel, wings moving in trepidation.

"They found the spirit alone, unaccompanied by threat or ally, and it was…unwell, in distress, hitting its head against a stone," one messenger explained.

Nerath and Feyn lapsed into contemplation, minds racing to fathom such an anomaly amongst the spirits, for never before had they encountered or learned of a spirit thus afflicted.

Naegissa, however, was still steeped in the bitterness that the breach of secrecy had brewed within her. Her reaction, fervent and excessive, did not escape Nerath's perceptive gaze, who quietly vowed to unearth the roots of her friend's vexation at a more opportune moment.

The messengers made to depart, yet one paused, turned, as though a final piece of the puzzle beckoned to be placed. "Just one more thing—though the Protectors were unharmed, they returned quite paranoid. Take their testimony with care," he imparted.

Acknowledging the warning, Nerath motioned for the messengers to leave. Her gaze then settled on Naegissa. "We need to examine this spirit closely." Although still simmering, Naegissa stood, her resolve steeling her. Nerath followed suit, and with Feyn in tow, they departed the grand archive, setting forth toward the holding cells where the latest piece of their enigmatic puzzle awaited.

Chapter 18

The corridor stretched out before Raybarn, its expanse swallowed by a yawning darkness. The passage seemed endless, and yet familiarity guided his every step; the soft padding of his canine front paws mingled with the more silent tread of his feline hind paws, echoing gently. He had tread this path enough times that its memory was etched in his very being, guiding him unerringly through the obsidian void.

It was a precarious journey, for the narrow corridor's walls bore menacing spikes, a relic of ancient defenses against would-be invaders. It was a stark reminder of the precautions the alicorns took to ensure their sanctum remained sacrosanct. The first-time entrants were invariably instructed: tread true, straight, and ceaseless till light beckons. Deviation could mean a grim fate.

Raybarn, a seasoned traveler of these treacherous lengths, paid heed to the ancient edict. He respected the wisdom of the elders, recognizing the gravity behind their decrees. They ruled with benevolence, but rules, once set, were immutable.

As he journeyed forth, a dim glow broke the inky expanse. Torches, their flames flickering with a hesitant dance, marked the end of the spiked gauntlet. With each step, the world grew clearer, the dangers of the corridor replaced with the safety of light. The entrance to the next chamber, unmarred by the cruel spikes, beckoned.

A figure stood there, an emblem of time and wisdom. The alicorn of the ancient Pythonian lineage was an imposing sight. As the distance between them shortened, the age-old alicorn's voice, deep and resonant, filled the corridor, echoing with the weight of countless tales and experiences.

“You must be Leyla’s husband.” His voice, authoritative yet underlined with a mysterious allure, resonated through the corridor. Raybarn could feel the weight of centuries, of power and gravitas, emanating from this singular being. It was all he could do to not fall to his knees in sheer awe. Instead, he lowered his head, offering a gesture of profound respect.

With a nod, Raybarn replied, “Indeed, I am. Your summons, Paladin Solaryon, was both unexpected and swift. I thank you for granting me an audience with such expediency.”

Solaryon’s gaze lingered on Raybarn for a moment before he spoke again, “Be welcomed, Raybarn, to the hallowed halls of the Sacred Castle of Alykarn.”

To many, Solaryon was more than just a name; he was a legend. The First Paladin of Equestera and the reigning High-Priest of Python. His very essence was intertwined with the deity he served, Python, forming a bond deeper than any mortal could fathom. Over countless cycles, his dedication and unyielding service had earned Python's unparalleled trust. If there were tales of her confiding in any being, it was only in Solaryon.

Setting aside the ageless, enigmatic beings of the Primordial Pantheon, Solaryon's might and majesty were unmatched. He was a force to be reckoned with, his reputation extending across realms, whispered in reverent tones as one of the most formidable alicorns to grace existence. His tenure as the High-Priest of Python spanned an era, outlasting the memories of any living alicorn. As the leader of the Paladins, his word was law, and his guidance, a beacon for those who followed the righteous path.

Solaryon was a majestic sight, an alicorn of grand proportions. His coat shimmered with a hue reminiscent of the first light of dawn, and his mane cascaded down like a river of molten gold. Embedded within his forehead, just below his horn, was a singular gem, pulsating softly, a testament to his deep connection with the divine Python. His wings, expansive and magnificent, bore patterns that chronicled tales of ancient battles and sacred rites. Each feather seemed to shimmer with its own ethereal glow. Around his neck, a chain of ancient runes dangled, each symbol signifying an oath, a vow, or a victory. His eyes, deep pools of wisdom, had seen epochs pass, and in their depths, one could glimpse the very essence of time itself. He was a living tapestry of Equestera's history, its trials, triumphs, and timeless traditions.

Beyond his physical splendor, an intangible aura enveloped Solaryon, a sensation that Raybarn could not only see but deeply feel. This aura, a manifestation of potent passive magic, was like a tempestuous sea, oscillating between calm ripples and forceful waves. The air seemed denser around Solaryon, charged with an ethereal energy that made the very stones of the castle vibrate in hushed reverence.

Every step Raybarn took closer to the First Paladin made him more aware of this overwhelming force. It was like walking against a gentle but persistent tide, a power that did not seek to hinder but merely made its presence known. This aura was not aggressive; it was protective, a shield woven from countless spells and blessings, acquired and refined over millennia.

Raybarn's canine and feline paws felt a tingling sensation akin to the subtle buzz one might feel near a ley line or a sacred altar. The ambient luminescence of the corridor seemed to dance and play in response to Solaryon's magic, creating a ballet of light and shadow around him.

The soft glow from the gem on Solaryon's forehead appeared to pulse in tandem with this aura, acting as a beacon or perhaps a heart, beating in rhythm with the ancient magic coursing through his veins. The chains of runes around his neck seemed to resonate, emitting faint harmonics that added to the symphony of magic in the air.

This was not merely the power of an alicorn; this was the powerful might of a being who had walked side by side with deities, a creature who had faced down cataclysms and emerged not just unscathed but stronger. It was a silent testament to Solaryon's countless cycles of devotion, sacrifice, and unwavering faith.

The deep timbre of Solaryon's voice resonated through the sacred corridor. “Your letter’s arrival last night was quite the unexpected surprise, Raybarn. Walk with me.” His gait, firm and purposeful despite the weight of his many cycles, carried him forward.

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Raybarn followed, feeling the pull of the ancient alicorn's magnetic presence.

“I had envisioned our encounter to be more of a ceremonial greeting, considering you’re wed to my most cherished Paladin,” Solaryon remarked, casting a glance over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with both mischief and admiration.

Raybarn’s heart swelled with pride. With a soft chuckle, he responded, “Leyla holds that honor in your eyes?”

“Indeed. But she remains unaware of this favoritism. Thus, your secretive request in your letter piqued my curiosity,” Solaryon mused.

Raybarn nodded solemnly. “Yes, Paladin Solaryon. It’s of utmost importance.”

Solaryon's brow quirked in amusement. “Does this mean we must forgo our conversation over a cup of Fulmenian black tea?”

A light-hearted smirk played on Raybarn’s lips. “Perhaps later. Leyla spoke of your fondness for it, so I've brought some as a gesture of goodwill and apology for the abrupt nature of my summons.” From within his satchel, Raybarn produced ornately sealed packets of tea. The fragrant aroma wafted into the air as Solaryon graciously accepted the offering, his age-worn face breaking into a genuine smile.

“Ah, Leyla’s wisdom shines through once again. I am most appreciative,” he intoned, holding the packets close.

“My pleasure, Paladin Solaryon,” Raybarn replied with a bow of his head.

As they continued, the corridor culminated at a singular, unassuming door. Its austere appearance was deceptive, and Raybarn's heart raced with anticipation. Throughout all his previous visits, he had never ventured beyond this threshold.

“Your audience awaits within,” Solaryon said, pushing the door open in invitation. “Proceed.”

As Raybarn stepped through, the deluge of magical energy that enveloped him was so potent that it rendered him momentarily speechless, a sensation of awe and reverence seizing him.

He just entered Python’s throne room. Unlike the grand and ornate chambers that dotted Equestera's landscape, Python's sanctum bore an ethereal simplicity. This place did not revel in splendor or display; instead, it pulsed with raw, unyielding magic that no other throne room could rival. To Raybarn, it felt like stepping into another dimension—sacred, timeless, and ineffably serene.

The chamber was awash in soft, muted luminescence, just bright enough for Raybarn's eyes to trace the regal architecture and glean the intricate designs wrought from the finest and sturdiest materials in all of Equestera. These materials, though strong, emitted a soft pearlescent glow that transformed the room into a tapestry of shadows and light, giving it an almost monochromatic appearance reminiscent of ancient tales and whispered secrets.

Scattered thoughtfully throughout were relics and artifacts—each a testament to Python's dominion over all magic. These pieces didn't shout their significance; rather, their understated presence spoke of Python’s quiet confidence and unparalleled power. The furnishings, while not lavish, stood in elegant testament to the room's occupant—the preeminent alicorn of all.

Yet, what was most palpable was the residual magic. It hung in the air, a force so overwhelming that even the mightiest of alicorns might falter under its weight. While Solaryon, seasoned by countless visits, seemed undeterred, Raybarn struggled. An invisible force drew him into a deep bow of deference.

The aura in Python's throne room was a living, breathing tapestry of power that danced and flowed like a river of ethereal light. It wasn’t merely a static energy; it was vibrant, dynamic, and ever-changing. Sometimes, it appeared as a gossamer veil of twinkling stardust, spiraling and weaving intricate patterns in the air. At other moments, it took on the form of ghostly apparitions, remnants of old spells and ancient incantations that had been cast within these walls. Each subtle movement of this energy was like a whisper from the annals of time, hinting at age-old secrets and stories that the room had borne witness to.

This pervasive magic bore the weight of centuries, emanating a wisdom that spoke of countless rituals and ceremonies that had taken place here. There was a depth to it, a profound heaviness, like the dense atmosphere before a storm. It felt as if the very walls and floors absorbed and retained every spell, every word of power ever uttered, releasing them slowly as a continuous, pulsating hum. This hum was so resonant that, if one were to listen closely, they might discern the faint echoes of prayers and chants from epochs long past.

However, for all its grandeur, there was also a gentle quality to the residue. It cradled and caressed those present, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth and security. It was a reminder that, while the magic here was potent and at times overwhelming, it was also protective, serving as a guardian to all those who entered with pure intentions. This duality, both fierce and tender, made the magic of the throne room not just a force to be reckoned with but also a testament to the queen's balanced and judicious reign.

Even without laying eyes on Python, an innate knowledge whispered to him, reminding him of the omnipotence that graced this chamber. Raising his gaze ever so slightly, he caught sight of Python, ensconced upon her throne with a grace that belied her immense power.

"Your Majesty," Raybarn began, his voice echoing softly, "I am deeply honored to be granted an audience, especially on such short notice. I am well aware that not every plea receives your esteemed consideration."

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The soothing command of Python echoed softly through the cavernous chamber, "Rise, dear one." Her voice held the power to command legions, yet the tenderness of a nurturing matriarch was unmistakable. Raybarn, upon standing, felt the gravity of Python’s presence, understanding the deep-rooted reverence she commanded amongst the alicorns. Her aura was one of boundless might combined with an encompassing love, rendering her a guiding beacon to all. "It is not every day that I receive the consort of one of Equestera’s most illustrious Protector. Share with me your concerns, my child."

A silent vow passed through Raybarn's thoughts to express gratitude to Leyla upon their next meeting. For now, he poured forth the tale of recent days unto Python. He spun the yarn of the two enigmatic spirits ensnared, the web of circumstance surrounding their capture, and did not omit the peculiar strain of astral magic that had made itself known to them.

Python's eyes, keen as winter skies, never wavered from Raybarn as he unfolded his account, her mind a fortress contemplating the seeds of his discourse. In due course, he provided the sought reply to her question, his voice steady yet imbued with the gravity of his claim.

"Your Grace, the arcanic signature that we discerned bore not the hallmark of your magic. Is it within the realm of the fates that a nascent strand of astral enchantment has been woven?" The silence that followed draped the chamber like a pall. Python, lost in a sea of contemplation, gave no utterance, and Raybarn held in the quiet, watching her with a patience born of reverence.

When Python finally spoke, her voice betrayed a tremor, a subtle note that Raybarn's keen ears did not miss. "It stands outside the realm of my experiences, this divine arcane you speak of," she intoned.

Doubt flickered in the back of Raybarn's mind, for Python's words, meticulously chosen, sparked curiosity rather than quelled it. Her eyes, sharp as the edge of dawn, caught the hesitance in Raybarn's stance, and swiftly, she sought to amend the fray in understanding.

"The tomes of lore and scholarly treatises might declare astral magic a mere facet of the divine, yet the truth is far more elusive," Python clarified. Raybarn's eyes grew wide as the ancient texts, his mouth agape as if to catch the wisdom falling from her lips. Not once in his many revolutions as a scholar, his name etched in the annals of the Arcanic Academy, had such knowledge crossed his path. The revelation stunned him to his core.

Yet the reminder of Python's towering presence pulled his senses back from the brink of astonishment. With a mind as sharp as the winter gale, he reined in his wonder, for he stood before Python, the maternal enigma, the font of all astral mystery.

"Forgive my perplexity, Your Grace," Raybarn entreated, his voice a mixture of humility and the barest hint of bewilderment. "I find myself adrift in unfamiliar waters, yearning for a beacon of understanding."

Python regarded him with a look that bore the softness of dusk. "Such turmoil is to be expected, my child," she confessed, the sigh that escaped her lips stirring the very air of the chamber. "Your learnings at the Academy are not without their merit, even if they capture but a shadow of the greater truth."

"And how might this be, my queen?" Raybarn's query was delicate, the respect he bore for his queen evident in his cautious tone.

"The essence that distinguishes astral magic from divine lies not in the spells cast but in the caster. Astral magic is wielded by your kin, the alicorns of common birth, while the divine…that is the province of the royals among us. To most, it is indiscernible, yet to me, it shines as clearly as the stars above."

A moment's hesitation, then, "Might I pose a query, Your Majesty?" he asked, to which Python assented with a graceful nod. "Why then have we, the echelon of your scholars, been veiled from this wisdom when such knowledge could be a boon to our Protector's quests?"

Python's response was a silence that swelled in the room, thick as the mists that roll off the Sleeping River. Raybarn watched her face, which seemed to gaze through the stone and mortar of the room and into some distant horizon.

"In my stead as guardian of Equestera, I have learned the heavy burden of secrets," she finally said. "Not all truths can be laid bare without unsettling the harmony we cherish."

Understanding flickered in Raybarn's eyes, for he, too, had wrestled with the decision to shroud truths to safeguard the beliefs and morale of those not yet ready to bear them. Yet her next words would weigh on his heart.

"Fear of the unknown, the unconfirmed, stayed my hoof. I could not risk the seeds of panic to take root on mere suspicion," she admitted, a shadow of regret passing across her noble features.

Raybarn grappled silently with the revelation, the knowledge that such a secret could have reshaped their inquiries, their very understanding of their world. He concealed his chagrin, yet Python, with the intuition of one who has long stood amidst the currents of power and mystery, perceived it nonetheless.

"I offer my apologies, Raybarn. The veil over these secrets was not meant to burden you thus. Yet there remain truths that even now I must keep within the silent halls of my heart."

"Think nothing of it, Your Majesty," Raybarn replied, his allegiance unwavering. "Your trust is the bedrock upon which my service is built, and this secret shall be kept."

Her gratitude was a mere nod, simple yet profound. "Is there aught else you seek of me?" she inquired.

He pondered, but for a brief span, before replying, "No, Your Majesty. You have my deepest thanks for your gracious audience."

With that, he turned, his footsteps echoing solemnly as he departed the throne room. Python's eyes remained on his retreating form, her visage unreadable. She sensed the unspoken thoughts that still clung to him, the shadows of unsaid words, but chose the path of silence. Raybarn, for his part, wrestled with the choice to reveal his knowledge of Naegissa, but in the wake of their dialogue, he held his peace, his thoughts his own once more as he stepped beyond the queen's sight.

As Raybarn's silhouette melded with the dusky corridor, the regal echoes of his departure from Python's sanctum diminished into a hushed stillness. With each step, he felt the weight of courtly vernacular lift, a weight he had scarcely noticed until it was gone. In the presence of Paladin Solaryon and Queen Python, he had navigated a labyrinth of intricate dialogue, a dance of words as elaborate and fraught with peril as the steps of a courtly masque.

The challenge of maintaining such ornate communication had taxed his faculties to their limits, a testament to his role as a scholar and his place in the hierarchy of Equestera. Now, with the stone walls of the castle bearing witness to his solitude, he permitted himself a weary exhale, allowing the armor of his lexicon to fall away. In the quietude of his own mind, stripped of the need for grandiloquence, he could not help but long for the simplicity of plain speech and the comfort of unadorned honesty.

However, Raybarn found himself ensnared in a labyrinth of mysteries, each revelation leading only to more perplexity. While he begrudgingly acknowledged the queen's need for secrecy in the delicate dance of Equestera's politics, her divulgence of the nuances between divine and astral magic left him with a furrowed brow and a mind teeming with questions.

Was it out of pride or a sense of paternal duty that Raybarn resolved to shoulder this burden alone? Not even he knew. Though he held an unwavering faith in the omnipotence of the Primordial Pantheon’s regent, the encounter with Python had sown the seeds of doubt in the fertile soil of his mind. "What further secrets does she guard behind those inscrutable eyes?" he mentally asked himself, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves in a tempest.

In his heart, Raybarn knew that to protect his son, his family, or even Equestera, he must tread cautiously yet resolutely. He resolved to embark upon a clandestine odyssey, a journey to unravel the enigma that was Naegissa. But he understood all too well the peril that lay in confronting such a mysterious being, and he steeled himself for the delicate dance that lay ahead. Each word, each gesture, would be a thread in the tapestry of intrigue, woven with the utmost care and precision to navigate the treacherous waters of his quest.

Chapter 19

In the dimly lit halls of the Arcanic Academy, under the vigilant gaze of Nerath, the decision had been wrought with careful deliberation. The wisdom of old dictated that the two recently captured spirits must not be held too close together, for in unity, they might muster the strength to defy their bindings or, worse, unleash havoc once more. Their memories still held the scars of the first spirit's capture, and with the recent ensnarement of another, Nerath saw fit to invoke distinct safeguards. As her magic swirled and danced, forging a new containment wrought of enchantments and alchemical designs, it was clear to any observer that this was no ordinary cage.

In tandem, the enigmatic Naegissa beckoned the three Protectors who had partaken in this perilous quest to detain the spirit. Their presence was not only demanded by the prudence of Nerath but stirred a peculiar intrigue within Naegissa, something unseen and unsaid, lurking in the depth of her cerulean eyes.

As the three Protectors treaded the alabaster floors of the laboratory, where Naegissa and the silent Feyn awaited, there was a palpable disquiet in their gait. Their features, once proud and resolute, now hinted at an unsettling narrative. Feyn, ever observant, discreetly assessed their countenances and statures. The three Protectors stood, each representing not just their respective clans but the roles they had chosen in the labyrinth of life.

The Saburian Harmonizer, his coat shimmering like the finest golden sands of a desert at dusk, carried an aura of serenity. Unlike many of his brethren, he did not bear the prominent symbols of battle. Instead, he wore intricate amulets and talismans around his neck, tokens of his deep connection to the healing arts. His eyes, pools of deep amber, held knowledge far beyond the common realm. They hinted at the countless hours he'd spent delving into the mysteries of magic, understanding its very essence, and using it to mend and restore. He was an embodiment of the ancient Saburian philosophy that revered the world's magic-infused core.

Beside him, the Ventaian Weapon Master was a stark contrast. Her ethereal beauty was accentuated by the intricacies of her armor, which seemed to be forged from the very storms her clan was known to command. The mane as fluffy as her chest, a testament to her northern lineage, flowed gracefully, contrasting with the deadly weapons she bore. Her beak-like muzzle was set in a determined line, and one could spot the glint of steel in her eyes, eyes that had seen countless battles and emerged triumphant.

The Fulmenian Bounty Hunter, same kin as Feyn, was an enigma. His mixed lineage of feline agility and canine strength was evident in his stance—poised, ready to strike, yet always alert. Dark markings adorned his form, perhaps trophies from his hunts or symbols of his many pursuits. Unlike the Harmonizer's contemplative demeanor or the Weapon Master's assertive presence, he exuded a raw, unpredictable energy. His eyes darted around, always scanning, always calculating. Strapped to his back was an array of specialized tools and weapons, each tailored for a specific purpose, be it capture or combat. Every aspect of him screamed efficiency, a testament to his life as a hunter of bounties, chasing down those who dared defy the laws of their world.

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Remembering the words of his father, Feyn knew his role. As the ever-faithful sentinel, he was to remain muted, a shadow in the background, only to voice his thoughts when beckoned. The Protectors aligned before Naegissa in a disciplined row, with Feyn, ever watchful, positioned a step behind her, awaiting the unfolding discourse.

"Who discovered the essence?"

The trio of Protectors hesitated, their eyes darting among each other as Naegissa's tone was chillingly impersonal. The Saburian Harmonizer stepped forward, taking on the role of spokesperson for the group.

"We just happened to find the spirit by accident. We don’t usually take on the mission to capture spirits, even though we are fully aware of such missions." Sensing a need for clarity, the Ventaian Weapon Master voiced her thoughts.

"We usually keep spirits in check, not trap them." In a moment of impulse, Feyn stepped forward, words spilling out before he could grasp them. "Why, then, did you imprison this particular one?" No sooner had he spoken, Naegissa's gaze pierced through him, akin to a predator locking onto its quarry. Feyn, recalling his vow of silence, visibly wilted under her scrutiny. It was the Fulmenian Bounty Hunter's turn to intervene.

"Our Ventaian storm maiden here needed a halt, given the power of that spirit." He chuckled, though the humor was strained. Feyn mentally berated his Fulmenian comrade's attempt at levity. Nonetheless, the light-hearted attempt provided a brief respite for the nervous Protectors, at least until they met Naegissa's icy stare once again.

"Did any peculiarities catch your eye? Anything out of the ordinary as you approached the spirit?" Their expressions mirrored confusion, pondering the depth of Naegissa's inquiries. Their hesitance was palpable until Feyn, emboldened by his earlier foray into speech, chose to interject.

"The aura exuding from this second spirit lacks the resonance we encountered in its predecessor." Naegissa's gaze softened, devoid of any malice. "The only difference is in its behavior." Silence cloaked the chamber as the Protectors exchanged wary glances. Feyn lowered his gaze, dreading Naegissa's impending words.

"You three may go." Without further ado, Naegissa swept past Feyn, making her way to where the spirit had been confined by Nerath. The three Protectors, a tad bemused, retreated from the arcanic chamber.

Naegissa observed the spirit intently while Nerath meticulously checked the cage's security, ensuring no possibility of the spirit's escape.

"This spirit doesn't seem as tainted as the previous one," Naegissa remarked, staring at it with narrowed eyes.

"Could it be influenced in some subtler way?" Feyn speculated. Both Nerath and Naegissa had previously taken note of Feyn's keen instincts. While Naegissa appreciated his insight, she remained stoic, keeping up her reputation as the stern scholar. She did, however, acknowledge the validity of his comment with a nod.

"Indeed, it might've been exposed to another, more corrupted spirit for an extended period."

"This could be valuable for our studies," Nerath added, approaching the spirit to take a closer look alongside Naegissa.

"How so?" she queried.

"Even if we can't pinpoint the source of this peculiar magic, understanding its impact on spirits might provide insights," Feyn explained.

"That might lead us closer to solving the current predicament," Nerath mused.

"And could prepare the Protectors for similar challenges during their missions. Well thought out, Feyn." Nerath playfully nudged Feyn, who beamed in reply. To Feyn's astonishment, even Naegissa allowed herself a rare smile, causing him to momentarily gape in shock.

Nerath shifted her attention to the assembled academicians in the room and cleared her throat, signaling her intention to address the group.

"Greetings, fellow academicians," she began, "As we all know, there is another unusual spirit that has been captured. It is quite different from the other one that gave us problems, and so we have to conduct greater research to study this one properly. We have to start immediately, and so every alicorn working in this laboratory must have this as their primary project until further notice. Let’s get to work."

The room buzzed with energy as academicians scurried back to their stations, gathering their specialized equipment for the investigation. Several approached the spirit's cage, brandishing devices designed to gauge the spirit's essence and energy, aiming to determine a starting point for their research.

Nerath's voice interrupted the room's buzz, "Naegissa, Feyn, I'm initiating an in-depth magical assessment of this spirit. Will you assist?"

Feyn's nod was swift and filled with anticipation. Naegissa's response, in contrast, was a languid nod, her expression one of apparent indifference. Feyn marveled at how swiftly she could revert to her customary stern demeanor.

With mutual agreement, both positioned themselves beside Nerath, gearing up for the forthcoming analysis.

She began by drawing a complex, intricate circle around the spirit's cage. The circle was filled with ancient runes and symbols, each glowing faintly with a blue hue. She then placed four crystal obelisks at cardinal points around the circle. These obelisks, known to channel and focus magical energies, started pulsating in harmony with the rhythm of the spirit's aura.

With a deep breath, Nerath started chanting an old alicorn spell, her voice resonating in perfect pitch with the vibrations of the cage, a magical aura surrounding her horn. As she chanted, the symbols in the circle lit up sequentially, creating a revolving pattern of lights. The essence of the spirit began to manifest as a nebulous cloud above the cage, revealing its core energies and memories.

Naegissa, well-versed in the procedure, used her own magic to erect a protective barrier around them. The barrier ensured that no external energies interfered with the assessment and also prevented the spirit's essence from escaping.

All the while, Feyn stood back, carefully observing every detail. His keen eyes took in the nuances of the ritual, from the fluctuating colors of the spirit's essence to the subtle hoof movements of Nerath. Although he was primarily there to observe, Feyn was eager to learn and potentially assist if called upon.

Suddenly, a powerful surge of energy emanated from the spirit, causing the circle's lights to flicker erratically. Sensing the rising intensity, Naegissa strengthened the barrier while sending a glance of concern toward Nerath.

Without breaking her concentration, Nerath spoke, her voice cutting through the tension, "Feyn, hand me the Astral Prism." Feyn quickly retrieved the prism—a triangular crystal known to stabilize magical energies—from a nearby table and handed it to her.

While levitating the prism, Nerath channeled its energy, directing it toward the spirit. Slowly, the erratic energies began to stabilize, and the spirit's essence returned to its cage, albeit in a calmer state.

After a few moments, the lights on the circle dimmed, and the obelisks stopped pulsating. Nerath took a moment to catch her breath before turning to Feyn and Naegissa, "Thank you both. That was…unexpected. But we've gathered crucial data. Feyn, your quick thinking with the Astral Prism was invaluable."

Feyn, slightly flushed from the praise, replied, "I was just following your lead, Nerath."

Naegissa, ever the stoic, simply nodded in agreement, "Indeed. We've uncovered layers of this spirit's magic that we previously knew nothing about. There's much to analyze."

And with that, the trio got to work, eager to decipher the mysteries that the spirit held within.

Chapter 20

Feyn turned around in his plush bed, the ceiling above seemingly more fascinating than ever. Even though Raybarn immediately succumbed to the embrace of sleep when he had returned from his undisclosed meeting, Feyn's mind raced with yesterday's events, refusing him the same comfort. He desperately wanted to connect the dots of everything that had unfolded, hoping to unveil a revelation that would awe Nerath, Naegissa, and, most importantly, his father. But doubt lingered, reminding him of the towering reputations of the academicians he hoped to impress.

As Feyn continued to drift in his thoughts, he barely registered the slight movement from his father's bed. Before he could react, a familiar yet unexpected sensation—a small prick—distracted him. He watched a minute orb of light dissipate into the shadows. A smile played on his lips, recognizing this playful gesture, a signature move of Raybarn's from their countless bonding moments.

Glancing at his father, Feyn saw Raybarn, apparently deep in slumber. Believing he had the upper paw, Feyn conjured a retaliation, a shimmering projectile aimed straight at his unsuspecting father. However, just as it was about to make contact, Raybarn's eyes snapped open. With a deft move of his wing, he deflected Feyn's playful assault.

Raybarn's smirk was evident even in the dim light. “You'll need to sharpen your skills if you hope to best me, my boy. The score's eighteen to one now.”

Feyn's grin matched his father's. “I missed being by your side today, Dad. Who did you meet with?”

Raybarn's expression softened. “I know, Feyn. Some matters just required my attention, and regarding who I met, you’ll know in due time. But tell me,” he shifted to a more comfortable position, giving Feyn his full attention, “what did you uncover in my absence?”

Feyn's excitement bubbled over, and he sprang from his bed, pacing energetically as he began recounting the day's discoveries to his father.

“Firstly,” Feyn began, pacing fervently, “we established that the spirit’s magical signature remained intact.”

Raybarn raised a brow. “Untouched?”

“Completely. There's no evidence of meddling or signs that anyone tried to manipulate its core essence. It's baffling and quite unprecedented.”

Raybarn frowned in contemplation. “Then what's triggering its erratic behavior? There must be a reason.”

Feyn's stride became more animated. “Ah, that's the fascinating part, Dad.” Raybarn’s eyes lit up at his son’s enthusiasm, seeing reflections of his younger self, back when discoveries were fresh and every theory a new adventure. “Continue,” he urged.

When Feyn mentioned the spirit's terror, a ripple of intrigue danced across Raybarn's countenance. His eyes, pools of shadow and light, sparkled with curiosity beneath the heavy brow that furrowed with concern. “Terror? Truly?” His voice, a low rumble, resonated with a mixture of disbelief and fascination.

Feyn nodded eagerly, his mane bristling with excitement. “Yes! While this is based on preliminary observations, the academicians are quite confident in this analysis.” His voice, though steady, carried a hint of urgency, mirroring the specificity of his discovery.

Raybarn's response was measured, his nod conveying both acknowledgment and a thirst for more information. “Anything else of note?” He asked, punctuated by the rhythmic tapping of his front paw against the floor.

As Feyn hesitated, his movements betrayed the internal struggle to articulate his thoughts. His tail, a slender whip of fur, flicked nervously behind him, betraying his inner turmoil. “I developed a theory regarding the nature of the spirit's corruption.” His voice, though soft, held a quiet determination.

Raybarn leaned in, his posture mirroring his son's intensity. “Go on,” he encouraged, his eyes alight with anticipation.

“I surmise that the corruption within the spirit has reached the second degree.” Feyn's gaze never wavered as he spoke, his eyes seeking validation from his father.

Raybarn's response was a measured inhale, a pause that hung heavy in the air. “What did Nerath and Naegissa make of this?” His words were laden with the weight of experience, tempered by a genuine desire to understand.

“They concurred. My observations were on point. And the best part? I actively assisted in the spirit's magical assessment.” Feyn's voice, tinged with pride, carried a note of triumph as he shared his achievements with his father.

Raybarn's stern facade melted away, replaced by a proud smile that softened the lines of his face. He approached Feyn, drawing him into a gentle embrace that spoke volumes of paternal pride. “You've outdone yourself, Feyn. If you keep this up, you'll surpass me as an academician.” His words, though spoken softly, carried the weight of a legacy passed down through generations.

Feyn's humility shone through as he pulled back slightly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. “Dad, you’ve set quite a standard. Matching up to you is a daunting task.” His words, though humble, resonated with a determination to carve out his own path in the world of academia.

Raybarn's touch was gentle yet firm as he cradled Feyn's face with his wings, ensuring their eyes locked in a shared moment of connection. In the dim glow of the moonlight, their alicorn features were cast in a soft, ethereal light, accentuating the bond between father and son.

“Feyn, I've had my time. But your potential? It's boundless. Your journey has only just begun, and I've no doubt you'll soar beyond my achievements.” Raybarn's voice, a melodic rumble, carried a note of genuine pride as he spoke, his wings enfolding Feyn in a protective embrace.

As Feyn's eyes welled up with emotion, Raybarn gave him a playful nudge, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “After all, we need some edge against the ladies in our lives, don’t we?” His words were tinged with humor, a lightness that hid the weight of their conversation, and he punctuated them with a playful wink.

Feyn chuckled softly, the sound a warm counterpoint to the seriousness of their discussion. "We certainly do," he agreed, his voice carrying a hint of fondness for their female family members. But as he cleared his throat, the levity of the moment gave way to the gravity of their discoveries.

"Presently, we've observed that the magic's impact is notably evident on the mind." Feyn's tone was measured, his words weighted with the implications of their findings.

Raybarn furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to one of deep contemplation. "There haven't been any physical manifestations or injuries?"

"Strangely, no. Any harm observed stems from the individuals under its influence. They seem to inflict damage upon themselves, not as a direct result of the external force." Feyn's observations were clinical, his analysis devoid of emotion as he relayed the facts to his father.

Raybarn's expression darkened, his thoughts racing as he processed the information. "This new insight aligns with certain pieces I've been attempting to put together." His words carried a weighty significance, hinting at knowledge beyond the scope of their current discussion.

Feyn's keen gaze lingered on his father, a silent question hanging in the air. "What are you thinking, Dad?"

Raybarn offered a reassuring smile, though it did little to dispel the uncertainty in Feyn's eyes. "Nothing for you to fret over, Feyn. Trust me."

But Feyn's skepticism was evident, his gaze probing as he sought reassurance. "Are you certain? You seem…preoccupied."

Raybarn's smile softened, a glimmer of affection shining in his eyes. "All will be revealed in due time," he promised, his voice steady with conviction.

As Feyn turned away, a fleeting thought snagged his attention, prompting him to pivot back toward his father with a sense of urgency. The outside light cast intricate patterns across the room, illuminating the subtle contours of their alicorn forms as they engaged in their discourse.

"Oh, there's another peculiar detail," Feyn interjected, his voice carrying a note of intrigue that mirrored the flickering shadows dancing across the walls.

Raybarn, ever the attentive listener, leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What might that be?"

"It concerns Naegissa," Feyn began, noting the immediate shift in Raybarn's demeanor at the mention of her name. "Her reaction to today's revelations was…atypical, to say the least."

"In what manner?" Raybarn's voice, a steady rumble, betrayed a hint of concern beneath its measured tone.

Feyn proceeded to recount the events, his words punctuated by the rhythmic tapping of his front paw against the floor. "She summoned the trio of Protectors responsible for the spirit's retrieval. At first, her fury was unmistakable. She interrogated them with a palpable intensity."

Raybarn nodded knowingly, his expression a mask of contemplation. "Sounds characteristic of her."

"Indeed," Feyn agreed, his gaze unwavering. "But the anomaly arose when they corroborated my hypothesis regarding the second-degree corruption. Her anger vanished instantaneously, replaced by an unreadable expression. It's unlike her to change so drastically."

Raybarn's brow furrowed in thought, the furrowed lines casting intricate patterns in the moonlight. "Curious," he murmured, his mind undoubtedly turning over the implications of Naegissa's behavior.

Raybarn, contemplative, moved toward the window, observing the bustling activity of the alicorns below. His thoughts seemingly miles away.

As Raybarn stood, consumed by the unfolding panorama outside the window, Feyn approached him cautiously, sensing the depth of his father's contemplation. Raybarn's usually lucid and piercing gaze seemed distant, his mind clearly processing myriad thoughts.

The information about Naegissa's unexpected shift in demeanor wasn't just intriguing for Raybarn—it was alarming. While the revelations about the spirit and its untampered magical signature were undoubtedly significant, it was Naegissa's reaction to Feyn's theory that deeply unsettled Raybarn. He had admired Naegissa's sharp intellect and unwavering demeanor, but the sudden change in her behavior was uncharacteristic, to say the least.

Raybarn's pride in Feyn's astute insights was palpable. Yet, there was also a hint of regret. If Feyn hadn't shared his observations with Naegissa, perhaps she wouldn't have turned her scrutinizing gaze toward him. Raybarn's instincts as a seasoned researcher told him to approach the situation analytically, dissecting each nuance to discern the truth. However, the paternal instinct within him overpowered all else. All he wanted was to shield Feyn from any unforeseen complications or dangers that might arise from this predicament.

Raybarn fixed his gaze on Feyn, his eyes intense and earnest. “Listen closely, Feyn. The information I'm about to share with you must never leave this room. It stays between us. Understood?” The gravity in Raybarn’s tone was unlike anything Feyn had heard before, and it immediately set him on edge.

“I understand, Dad,” Feyn replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You must swear it, Feyn.”

“I swear, Dad. I swear,” he responded without hesitation.

Raybarn took a deep breath, steeling himself. “The enigmatic alicorn I met was none other than Her Majesty Python.” Feyn's eyes bulged in disbelief. He had imagined many possibilities, but meeting the Queen of Arcane had not been one of them.

“You…you met the queen?” Feyn stammered, attempting to process the weight of the revelation.

“Yes, and it is crucial that this remains a secret. No one, absolutely no one, should learn of this.”

“I won’t utter a word, Dad.”

Raybarn's eyes softened, “I trust you, Feyn. I always have. My priority is to ensure your safety.”

“What do you mean by that, Dad? What’s happening?”

Raybarn hesitated for a moment, “I pray you never have to find out. But for now, there’s a critical task I need you to undertake.” Feyn's posture straightened, ready to assist in any capacity. But what came next was not what he expected. “You must leave Alykarn and deliver a message to King Fulmen. As the son of Leyla and I, it shouldn’t be difficult to convince the High-Priestesses to have an audience with him.”

Feyn's initial eagerness faded as if a shadow had passed over his face, darkening the bright spark in his eyes. The thought of being away from his father, especially during such uncertain times, sent a pang of sorrow through his heart.

Every fiber of Feyn's being rebelled against the notion, like iron repelling a lodestone, resisting the pull of separation. Yet, beneath the surface tumult of his emotions, a sense of duty asserted itself, weighing heavy upon his shoulders. He grasped the gravity of the task before him, understanding the significance it held, particularly given the esteemed recipient of his missive—the very King of Fulmenia.

With a laden sigh, Feyn subdued the rising tide of his conflicting emotions, his countenance a tableau of subdued resignation. His face, etched with the lines of solemn contemplation, betrayed the storm of thoughts and feelings churning within him. And with a reluctant nod, he acquiesced his acceptance, a testament to the burden he bore and the path he must tread.

Raybarn handed him a shimmering communication crystal. “The message is sealed within. Only the king can access it. It’s attuned to his unique magical signature.” Feyn took the crystal, its intricate facets gleaming under the dim light, and stored it with utmost care. Sensing his son's unease, Raybarn approached him, laying a reassuring paw on his shoulder. “Remember, it seeks him and only him.”

Feyn’s gaze remained burdened, his eyes echoing the depth of emotion churning within him. Sensing his son's inner turmoil, Raybarn drew him into a tender, reassuring embrace. The younger alicorn leaned into the comfort of his father’s touch, soaking in the fleeting moment of warmth and safety.

“Always remember this, Feyn,” Raybarn began, his voice soft and earnest, “Every day, I am in awe of the alicorn you’ve become and the one you’re still evolving into. The potential I see in you goes beyond what I've ever achieved. You have the makings of not just a good researcher but an exceptional one.”

Tears shimmered in Feyn’s eyes as they met his father's. He took a moment, then gently withdrew from the embrace. The weight of the task before him loomed large. “Is there something I need to do before going back to Fulmenia?”

Raybarn’s affirmative nod only intensified Feyn’s curiosity. “Your path leads to Aemna, our capital. And before going there…go back to the Guild Inn and ask for your examiner already. It’s sooner than expected, but that way, you’ll already be able to learn to be a Protector and, in the meantime, hire them to escort you during your journey.”

The mention of his examiner seemed to ignite a newfound resolve in Feyn. He leaned in, wrapping his father in another heartfelt embrace. “Alright, I’ll do just that. I love you, Dad.”

The elder alicorn's voice quivered slightly as he replied, “And my heart holds endless love for you, too, my son.”

Taking a deep breath, Feyn declared, “I must begin my journey, then.” He swiftly gathered a few essentials and, with a mix of determination and melancholy, exited the room, ready to fulfill his newfound purpose.

Raybarn's gaze turned upward, searching the vastness of the sky that began a new day. The sun, a magnificent celestial entity brought to life by Python, started to cast its radiant glow upon Equestera. For a fleeting moment, it offered Raybarn a semblance of peace. He watched the beginning of the sun's dance, lost in the rhythmic ebb and flow of its brilliance, but eventually, a profound sigh escaped him. He left the sanctuary of his room.

The corridors of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn bustled with youthful alicorns, each brimming with fervor, eager to cement their place to prove their prowess. Their ambitions were palpable, their desires evident in every stride. Raybarn couldn't help but let a wistful smile cross his face, memories flooding back of a time when he, too, sought acknowledgment in those very halls.

With each step, Raybarn's paws echoed a rhythmic beat, punctuating his resolute march toward one of the hearts of the Academy—the Arcane section library. His eyes scanned the vast cathedral-like room, with its towering shelves casting elongated shadows on the mosaic floor, hoping to find Nerath and Naegissa absorbed in their scholarly pursuits. But the dancing candlelight revealed only one figure amidst the rows of parchment and ink. Naegissa, with her raven-black mane cascading down, sat poised, her hoof delicately tracing lines of an arcanic script.

Drawing a steadying breath, Raybarn addressed her, every word weighted with intent. "Naegissa," he began, allowing a hint of softness to lace his otherwise stern tone, "Where might I find Nerath?"

Without breaking her connection with the tome, as if entranced by its words, she answered in a voice as smooth as velvet, "She's deep within the lab, tending to the newly discovered spirit."

Undeterred by her initial aloofness, Raybarn strode closer, the pools of light from overhead chandeliers reflecting in his earnest eyes. "I've been contemplating a venture," he declared, choosing his words with care. "A journey to the location where the spirit was found. I believe it would be beneficial to witness it firsthand. Your insights would be invaluable. Care to accompany me?"

The weight of his proposal hung in the air, causing even the dust motes to seem suspended in time. Naegissa, her demeanor typically cloaked in suspicion, paused. The rhythm of her breathing was the sole sound, almost synchronized with the flickering candle flames. Then, with a graceful movement, she closed her tome, and her face was lit by a smile that danced between mischief and mystery. "Such an adventure holds allure," she mused, her voice tinged with anticipation. "It promises to be intriguing. Count me in."

As they moved toward the Storm wing's magical circle, side by side, their mutual determination created an aura of unspoken camaraderie. Raybarn's gaze momentarily rested on Naegissa, and the memory of Feyn's observation echoed in his mind. Her smile, a beguiling juxtaposition of allure and menace, held him captive. It was a bewitching vision, but one that hinted at depths of enigma, like a serene lake hiding treacherous undercurrents.

As the pair ventured into the twilight beyond, a palpable tension embraced them, a prelude to the tempest of uncertainty that lurked ahead, waiting to unfurl its mysteries.

Sketch n°35

***

After a journey that seemed to stretch into eternity, Feyn finally reached the Guild Inn of Alykarn. With a tentative push, he entered the establishment, his steps muted by the raucous revelry that filled the air. The clamor of Protectors, lost in their merriment, drowned out any sound he might have made upon entry.

Navigating through the bustling throng of alicorns, Feyn managed to reach the receptionist's desk without incident. “Excuse me?” he ventured, his voice barely audible above the din.

Noticing his presence, the receptionist, a small, gray-furred Pythonian, turned her attention to him with a warm smile. “Hello, mister! How can I help you?” she inquired, her tone friendly despite the chaos around them.

“I’m looking to hire a Protector to become my examiner and, in the meantime, to escort me to Aemna for an important and urgent private mission,” Feyn explained, his voice tinged with shyness but bolstered by determination.

The receptionist's expression shifted to one of surprise. “Oh! I see. Unfortunately, many of the high-ranked Protectors are currently occupied with other duties or already have disciples,” she lamented, her apology evident in her gaze.

Before Feyn could respond, the receptionist's gaze flicked toward a lone alicorn seated at a nearby table, engrossed in reading a parchment. “Wait a moment, mister. There might be someone available,” she said, her eyes alight with newfound hope. “Follow me, and you can speak with her directly about your situation.”

Heart pounding like a war drum, Feyn trailed behind the Pythonian receptionist, his nerves jangling with anticipation. They approached a table where a formidable figure sat, engrossed in a parchment. Feyn's gaze swept over the Virtusian before him—an alicorn of silver fur and a mane of metallic blue—a seasoned Protector, unmistakably. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her presence bearing down upon him.

“Lady Velzael, I've brought a potential client for you,” the receptionist announced before retreating to her duties, leaving Feyn to face the formidable Protector alone.

Velzael continued reading, seemingly unperturbed by their presence. Feyn stood before her, a mere mortal in the shadow of her prowess, his pulse thrumming with the urgency of his mission.

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the din of the Inn. Feyn struggled to find his voice, his tongue heavy with the weight of his apprehension.

Finally, Velzael rolled up her parchment and cast a penetrating gaze upon him. “So? What do you want?” she demanded, her sapphire eyes boring into his soul like twin daggers.

Feyn found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Velzael, his front paws rubbing together nervously. “Um…well, I need to hire you for a highly urgent mission to Aemna,” he stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Velzael's reaction was swift and decisive. “Ah! Perfect timing. I'm headed there myself,” she declared, slamming her pint down on the table with a force that sent beer sloshing over the rim. “But what's the mission, and what's the pay?”

Feyn's anxiety began to ease in the face of Velzael's enthusiasm, rough though it may be. “I have an important message for King Fulmen, but there's more to it—”

“Alright, my guy,” Velzael cut in, rising from her seat. “No need to spill the beans. I'm guessing this is top-secret stuff. I’m Velzael of Beltodir, Ruby-ranked Bounty Hunter. You can call me Vel.” With a confident smile, she extended her right hoof, expecting Feyn to reciprocate the greeting.

The young Fulmenian hesitated briefly, unsure of the protocol, before joining his paw to her hoof in greeting. “I'm Feyn…from Aemna, I suppose?” he offered tentatively.

“Ah, not familiar with Virtusian customs, are you? We just mention our hometowns,” Velzael explained, her demeanor relaxed despite the urgency of their mission. “Anyway, if you're ready, let's hit the road!”

With a sense of urgency that left Feyn reeling, he followed Velzael out of the Guild Inn, the clink of coins on the table marking her swift departure.

Feyn struggled to keep pace with Velzael as they traversed the bustling streets of Alykarn, the Virtusian's long strides leaving him breathless. “Wait up, Miss Velzael,” he gasped, his chest heaving with exertion.

“Vel, remember? I told you,” she reminded him, forging ahead without a backward glance, heedless of Feyn's struggle to keep pace.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the city gates, Feyn trailing behind, his breath ragged. Velzael cast a scrutinizing glance at him, her eyebrow raised in silent question.

“Aren't Fulmenians supposed to be swift? Especially with those ‘speed’ paws of yours,” she remarked, gesturing to his canine front limbs with a pointed hoof.

Feyn took a moment to catch his breath before responding. “Let's just say I'm not as seasoned as you are,” he managed between gasps. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh? You want to be a Protector?” Velzael's grin was sly, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“And I'd like to hire you as my examiner,” Feyn added, mustering his resolve and meeting her gaze head-on.

But his determination wavered as Velzael's expression shifted, her smile vanishing to be replaced by a steely glare. “Me? Your examiner?” she echoed, her tone heavy with a foreboding weight.

This time, Feyn stood his ground, his gaze unwavering as he sought to meet Velzael's formidable stare. “With just one glance, I could tell you're a formidable Protector,” he stated, his tone solemn. “So yes, I want you as my examiner.”

Velzael closed the distance between them with a deliberate, predatory grace. “Do you truly believe you're worthy of being my disciple?” Her voice held the same weighty intensity as before, challenging Feyn to prove himself.

As Velzael drew near, Feyn couldn't help but notice the sheer size and muscular body she possessed. Yet, he refused to yield, drawing strength from memories of pranking his even more formidable sister. He held his ground, unflinching in the face of her imposing presence.

Having witnessed his sister's training under their mother's tutelage, Feyn understood the importance of demonstrating his abilities to Velzael. Though a twinge of fear tugged at his resolve, he masked it with a facade of confidence. “Try me,” he replied, his smile strained but determined.

Sketch n°36

Author's Note

This is the end of the first volume of Infinite Eclipse Origin - I hope you liked it so far!
The current goal is to release the second volume in September 2025. Of course, we cannot guarantee anything as unplanned things might happen.

You can check the glossary (with a "guide of the alicorns of Equestera") here

Feel free to check the Infinite Eclipse discord server, where the community around the series (both Origin and Prequel) is quite active and where I give some teaser from the second volume.

While they're currently sold out, physical books will be restocked when the second volume will be released. If you're interested, you'll be able to purchase it here

An audio-book is in production and will certainly be released beginning of 2025 - if you're interested in that, be sure to subscribe to my YouTube channel to not miss it

I hope to see you again for the next volume! :)

Prologue

Author's Note

After a year of delay, here is finally the first volume of a project that is dear to me: Infinite Eclipse Origin. I am not a professional writer - this is simply a stress-free hobby, for my personal enjoyment. So this is a story of my universe, where sometimes I do as I please, and other times my characters do as they please.

That being said, I am well aware that I am embarking on a very long journey because the story I want to tell is, nevertheless, relatively long (and grows as I work on it). So it will be an adventure that will take several cycles, an adventure that, I hope, you will enjoy and follow as the volumes are released (I hope to maintain a steady pace but, really, I can't guarantee anything!).

I would like to thank my dear collaborators who are helping me with this project, especially WitheredSlayer who is the incredible artist of the "IEO" project. You will discover their sketches throughout the story. I also thank Shepengul for the beautiful maps visible at the beginning of this book. Of course, this project would not have come to fruition without Maryssa and Amyntha who offered me their significant help with the editing and proofreading of the book. I always hope to be able to count on you for the next volumes!

Finally, I couldn't name you all, but I would also like to thank greatly the wonderful community of Infinite Eclipse, to you who support me on these projects, whether they are musical or writing. None of this would have existed without the interest you have in this story and I wish you will love those completely new characters.

I really hope you enjoy this long series of novels, and I hope to be able to finish this gargantuan project that I have just embarked on.

Feel free to let me know what you thought of this first volume, which could be considered as an introduction to the ancient world of Equestera, whether publicly on various social networks, or in the Infinite Eclipse discord server.

Yours sincerely,

Jyc Row

Prologue

On a brisk afternoon, despite the sun's radiant ascent into the vast cerulean sky, two Protectors, Elyco and Laxam, embarked upon their journey toward the Pythonian Forest. Fresh from their recent venture in eastern Fulmenia, they yearned for respite, but fate had other designs. A communication crystal, a shimmering emissary sent forth from the venerable Arcanic Academy of Alykarn, manifested before Elyco, bearing a message of grave import: "A curious spirit has been sighted in the Slitherroots woods near the Pythonian border. An investigation is imperative. At least one Opal-ranked Protector is needed."

This was a requirement Elyco, a Virtusian alicorn, fulfilled. However, Laxam, her companion, held the Amethyst rank, one tier below Opal. If they weren’t a team, the Luxian alicorn wouldn’t have been able to take on the task.

Drawing near the border of Python’s kingdom, they were met by the guardian charged with briefing them, a seasoned Pythonian alicorn. Her distinctive stripes adorned her neck, likely extending over the rest of her back, concealed beneath her formal armor. In comparison to Elyco and Laxam, the latter bore a closer semblance to her, his Luxian build echoing the Pythonian's, while Elyco's draconic features and sturdy physique set her apart. Her metal horn, cast in gold, an exclusive Virtusian trait, appeared out of place amidst the trio.

The Pythonian alicorn displayed her Protector's insignia as an earring, denoting her Ruby rank—a Bounty Hunter. A splint encased her right foreleg, a relic of an injury inflicted by a particularly malevolent rogue alicorn from days long past. Both Laxam and Elyco discerned that she was a former Protector, yet her authority within the Guild remained evident, as marked by her continued display of the insignia.

They paid their respects with bowed heads, and Elyco spoke first, her voice resonating with an authoritative tone despite the Pythonian's higher rank.

"Greetings to you. I am Elyco of Gorgoldur, Opal rank, summoned in response to the Academy's call. And here stands my companion, Laxam. May we presume that you are the one tasked with providing us the full scope of this situation? The message we received was somewhat sparse in its details."

The retired Bounty Hunter replied, "Greetings to you both, Protectors. I am Pyra, and I am indeed responsible for your briefing. The Academy apologizes for the sudden summons, but the urgency of this mission is paramount, and you were the closest."

The two younger Protectors exchanged glances, the memory of their recent mission's hardships still fresh, a fact known to the Academy when they dispatched the crystal. Their primary concerns revolved around the mentioned urgency and the scant information provided.

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Pyra continued, "A distinctive signature has been detected in the depths of the Slitherroots woods—a wholly unfamiliar type of spirit. Your mission is to investigate the woods and report back to me the moment you uncover any clues."

Laxam's ears perked at the mention of the enigmatic spirit. "A new type of spirit? How is such a phenomenon even conceivable?"

"That is precisely the question that you are here to answer, Protector Laxam. To my knowledge, the Academy, you, and I are all equally perplexed. Hence, we have dispatched Protectors without delay."

Elyco's instincts urged her to seek further information. "But the crystal specified the presence of at least one Opal-ranked Protector. Why would such a high rank be necessary for what appears to be a routine spirit investigation? Furthermore, why the urgency? Spirits are not renowned for their mobility, and if it were a simple observation, the Academy would not have summoned us so promptly."

Pyra winced slightly at Elyco's pointed inquiry. "These spirits, it appears, are not the first of their kind, and they have exhibited greater strength and aggression than initially anticipated. Lower-ranked Protectors were sent initially, a mistake the Academy is unwilling to repeat."

Elyco's next words cut to the chase. "There have been casualties already. Am I correct?"

Pyra nodded in confirmation. "You are not mistaken. This is precisely why an Opal rank is necessary. Your Luxian companion would not have been permitted to accompany you if you were not an assessor yourself. As for the urgency, these spirits tend to vanish after a time, and—"

"No one knows why?" Laxam interjected, prompting Pyra to nod once more.

Elyco agreed, "Very well, Pyra. We shall proceed. After all, this spirit will not investigate itself, will it?"

Despite Laxam's attempt to convey confidence, a subtle undercurrent of concern, a magical resonance common to Luxians, betrayed his anxiety. Elyco gazed at her companion with tenderness, seeking to reassure him through her eyes. "You are correct! We shall take our leave, Protector Pyra. Thank you for the information."

"It was my pleasure," Pyra replied with a respectful bow of her head. "Upon concluding your investigation, dispatch a communication crystal. You need not concern yourselves with delivering it to the Academy, for they wish you to enjoy a well-deserved respite. I shall oversee all other arrangements." She paused before adding, "May fortune favor your journey, and may the Pantheon watch over you."

With that, Elyco and Laxam set forth on their path toward the Slitherroots Forest.

***

After a few hours, the edge of their destination loomed into view. Towering trees stood before them, their roots twisting and writhing above the ground. Laxam remarked, "The spirits here are more agitated and chaotic in nature; that's why the roots have such weird shapes. It's fascinating how they end up shaping our world like that, don't you think, Elyco?"

The Virtusian alicorn regarded Laxam, his voice, and the accompanying magical resonance, betraying his curiosity and passion for the subject. She found his enthusiasm endearing, even if her own interest was more limited. She responded, "Indeed, it is. I wonder what this enigmatic spirit might be…What do you reckon it might be?" Her question was more for Laxam to showcase his knowledge of spirits than to satisfy her curiosity, but any nugget of information or theory could help them formulate a plan.

"If I'm being honest, I don't know," Laxam began. "A completely new type sounds wild to me. I've studied spirits extensively, and I've never heard of anything beyond what's already been documented."

"I see. So no clue at all. We're as in the dark as the Academy right now," Elyco sighed. "Alright, let's get this over with." She stepped forward, moving past Laxam's side, and added with determination, "Come, Starcutter."

Laxam watched in admiration as a fine blade of black stone materialized in front of the Virtusian alicorn, encased in a magical aura similar to the one surrounding her metallic horn, a manifestation of her telekinesis magic—a basic skill taught to young alicorns from every realm.

Although Laxam had witnessed Starcutter countless times before, he still marveled at the sword's elegance and durability. Despite its appearance, the slender blade was far from fragile, serving as one of the most formidable weapons he had encountered. It was Elyco's unique Soul Weapon, tailored to her, as each alicorn possessed a weapon imbued with their essence, a physical materialization of one’s soul.

Laxam's gaze traced the blade to its golden hilt and continued along Elyco's shoulders, covered by her leathery wings and on toward her hindquarters. He shook his head, realizing he was lost in thought. "What's the matter, Laxam?" Elyco inquired.

Startled, he blushed and stammered, "N-Nothing to worry about. I'll tell you once we're done with this mission."

Elyco smiled affectionately at him before venturing into the forest. "Let's proceed swiftly, shall we? I can't wait to hear it."

Laxam trotted closely behind her, teasingly asking, "So, what's your plan, Lady Elyco?"

As expected, Elyco came to an abrupt halt and turned to him, saying, "Laxam, you need to stop that. I'm only five cycles older than you. If you don't, you'd better start praying to Luxoah herself to protect you from my wrath."

"I'll be sure to pay my respects, milady." He chuckled, allowing an almost melodic note to escape his muzzle. Elyco didn't want to admit it, but that laugh had always been a source of reassurance, especially in the dark and tangled woods of Slitherroots.

"As for our plans," Elyco continued, "I'm not sure what to do. We should patrol until we find that spirit, but we can't really split up. The forest is a labyrinth and a prime location for ambush, given all these tortuous flora." She swung her sword to cut down a branch obstructing their path.

"And there's barely any light," Laxam added. "I think I have a solution for that." He summoned a small, winged serpentine creature, which cooed and rubbed against his cheek. "Happy to see you too, Faran. Could you please provide us with some light?" In response to his command, the little creature began emitting a gentle glow, providing a welcome source of illumination beneath the dense canopy.

The two Protectors ventured deeper into the forest, searching for any sign of the enigmatic spirit. They continued for an hour or two without success, eventually deciding to take a break. Seated on the forest floor, they nibbled on their field rations. It was then that Laxam suddenly asked, "Huh? How long have we been here, Elyco?"

Baffled by the question, Elyco replied, "I can't be sure, but I'd estimate less than two hours. Why do you ask?" Her head tilted upward, and she noticed what Laxam was referring to. Despite the forest's darkness, the sky was visible through the gaps in the leaves, and it was pitch black—a few stars punctuated the firmament. It was the middle of the night.

Elyco leaped to her hooves, her confusion mirrored in Laxam, who was still gazing at the night sky. A chilling wind began to blow, and an eerie whispering sound reached their ears. Something was approaching. Faran squeaked fearfully. "Laxam, get ready, trouble is approaching!" Elyco shouted, snapping her companion out of his trance.

As he stood up, Elyco began channeling her magic, a wave of heat radiating from her heart and spreading throughout her body with each beat. Her jaw underwent a transformation, elongating to accommodate larger and sharper teeth. Horns sprouted above her cheeks, slightly curving away from her face and running parallel to her jaws up to her snout.

Her once slender figure swelled with newfound power, muscles coiling beneath the emerging armor of gleaming scales, each one a shard of twilight. Her limbs, now massive and formidable, bore the weight of her transformation with ease, the delicate hooves giving way to great claws that could tear the earth asunder. And from her back, wings unfurled with the quiet strength of a tempest, mighty enough to buffet any spirit into disarray with a single, powerful stroke. This was her draconic form, a manifestation of magic unique to Virtusians.

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Her sharpened teeth clamped onto one of the spirits that suddenly appeared, locking it in place as she drove the tip of her blade through the spectral being. Laxam acted swiftly, summoning his own Soul Weapon, "Come, Lightbringer." A staff of white wood and intricate ornament, culminating in a glass sphere, appeared in his telekinetic aura. Light radiated from it, illuminating their surroundings.

In the thick of it, they fought the spirits, a relentless dance of combat. A dozen foes fell, each defeated with precision. Synchronized, their movements were a testament to endless hours of training.

Yet, the spirits persisted, like a haunting presence in the woods. Suddenly, they ceased their assault and vanished. Laxam's breath, trapped by tension, escaped in a quiet rush, dissipating into the cold air.

"What was that?" he asked, confusion etched on his brow. The air hung with anticipation, urging them forward.

"I don’t know," Elyco responded, her voice a steady murmur amidst the stillness. "But it seems something is disturbing the spirits in the vicinity." Her eyes, sharp as the edge of her Soul Weapon, caught a fleeting dance of light—a specter in the shadows. It beckoned from yonder, where an ancient tree stood, gnarled and stoic, a silent sentinel amongst its kin.

With steps measured as a predator, she advanced, each footfall a deliberate testament to her caution. "There’s something here," she murmured to herself, her gaze fixed upon the mysterious luminance seemingly coming from some sort of crystal.

Elyco soared through the air, slamming into a tree. Laxam could hear the sound of her ribs cracking under the impact. He scanned and found the new foe: a grotesque, twisted, alicorn-faced tree, the spirit they sought.

Lightbringer's orb gleamed. Laxam conjured his defense, fending off relentless attacks.

Spells shot out—light coiled around tree limbs. "Laxam, get the crystal!" Elyco's voice was barely audible amidst monstrous growls. Laxam raced, spotted the crystal, and reached for it.

The tree grew a limb—Elyco intercepted, crashing down with a thud. Pain surged as claws grappled the magic. Laxam yanked the crystal, fear gripping him.

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He dropped the magic stone to the ground, his telekinesis seemingly stripped from him. The crystal was a source of pure dread.

Elyco's body was pushed back by an unseen force, and she landed on the forest floor, battered and exhausted. Her eyes remained fixed on the crystal, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it. Her skin crawled out of fear.

The tree, its limbs immobilized, contorted one final time before going lifeless once more. The Protectors panted heavily, catching their breath, and as the moments passed, they could feel the forest's spirits retreating. Laxam rushed to Elyco's side, concern etched on his face.

"I'm alright," she reassured him with a weary smile. "Just a few broken ribs, nothing a good night's rest won't fix…Am I getting better at lying?"

"Not even close," Laxam replied. They locked eyes for a few moments, and he couldn't help but inch closer to her lips. But then he remembered something and abruptly asked, "Wait, where are the other spirits? My spell wouldn't have made them vanish, not by a long shot."

Their answer didn't come in the form of words but rather as a looming shadow that crept closer to them. They could faintly discern the silhouette of an alicorn, but something was amiss—the shadows around it stretched unnaturally, as if they reached out to it. This alicorn appeared cloaked in darkness from another realm, its every step calculated and cold.

A profound sense of fear gripped them to their very core, and Elyco struggled to keep her telekinesis aura steady, her sword trembling alongside her. They were facing something of dire proportions.

"Laxam! Elyco! Where are you?!" A faint voice coming from a distance. Pyra's voice.

“Laxam! Take the crystal and run! It’s the only thing we have for the Academy!” ordered Elyco. She knew it was probably the last she'd ever barked, and the thought pained her to no end.

“B-But what ab—”

“Now!” her voice amplified by her draconic form, a tear almost dropping from her eyes.

"Laxam! Elyco! Show yourselves, please!"

Laxam momentarily forgot everything else, focusing solely on the voice. His legs ached, his lungs burned, but he kept running. The only thing he could hear was Pyra's voice. He didn't notice the branches slapping his face or the thorns digging into his sides. He ran, ran like he had never run before. Why had he been sent here alone? This mission was far beyond the capabilities of a single Protector.

"Laxam! Please answer me!"

Laxam forgot the world around him, his mind fully occupied by that distant voice. He only concentrated on reaching it, his legs aching and his body pushed to its limits. He didn't hear Faran crying out a warning.

Something struck his back with tremendous force, sending him tumbling across the forest floor. He tumbled and tumbled, and when he tried to get up, he couldn't. His spine had been shattered, and death was swiftly approaching.

The crystal lay a few centimeters from his muzzle, its cold presence sending shivers down his spine. He saw a hoof, darkness surrounding its true color. An aura grabbed the crystal, lifting it away from his view. Laxam felt cold and powerless, life slipping away.

"Laxam! If you can hear me, come to me, I beg you!"

A faint memory flickered in his mind, one of warmth in his heart—love. He didn't understand why; he had never found anyone who could stir his heart in such a way. But he longed to shout it out with all his might.

As his existence dwindled, he whispered the word he had never spoken before, "I love you…"

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Part 01 – The mysterious spirit - Chapter 01

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Chapter 02

Across the vast expanse of Equestera, the mere whispers of the Kingdom of Python stirred profound reverence among its denizens. Pythonia, a realm ruled by the enigmatic Python, the Queen of Arcane, was a land steeped in an aura of mystique and boundless respect. While Python's appearances were infrequent—almost legendary when she did grace her subjects with her presence, the bowing that ensued was not born of fear but a profound sense of familial affection.

Among the esteemed Primordial Pantheon, a council of seven kings and queens governing the world, Python held a position of singular significance as their regent. Her powers, formidable though they were, were never wielded with tyranny. Instead, her strength was a harmonious complement, a reflection of her deep connection to her fellow alicorns. Each member of the Pantheon was mighty, almost godlike in their own right, but Python's strength was a testament to unity rather than a looming shadow.

Velzael, like any other alicorn, already knew all that, but someone kept talking and explaining trivialities since the beginning of their journey to Alykarn, the capital of Pythonia. And it was really starting to get on her nerves.

The ancient forest, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, cradled Velzael and her captive, a rogue Pythonian alicorn, as they ventured toward the grand capital. The prisoner, ensnared in chains controlled by the Bounty Hunter, found solace in the rhythm of its own voice, weaving tales of Queen Python's regality amidst the serene surroundings.

"But you must understand! Queen Python, clad in exquisite black and green attire, was a vision of elegance and grace—"

Velzael trod lightly on the forest floor, the path ahead illuminated by dappled sunlight filtering through the thick canopy. "Spare me the poetic descriptions. We journey to Alykarn for bounty, not to indulge in tales of Pythonian royalty."

Guiding her captive through the enchanting forest, Velzael, a twenty-six cycles old Virtusian, exuded an air of seasoned expertise as a Ruby-ranked Protector—a Bounty Hunter of remarkable talent. Her silver fur shimmered in the sunset, accentuated by a metallic blue mane that caught the dappling sunlight filtering through the thick canopy.

Sapphire-like eyes, pools of determination, observed the surroundings as the rogue Pythonian alicorn continued his tales. Velzael's tail and wings, just a shade darker than her body, betrayed a touch of uniqueness in her appearance. The atypical style of her Protector outfit, adorned with silver and chrome chains, gave her a distinct silhouette.

These chains, extending from her outfit to each leg—front and back—were attached to bracelets, an unconventional yet functional choice. Additional chains connected to a necklace bearing a pendant resembling a ruby lozenge, her Protector's insignia. Velzael's mastery over telekinesis allowed her to wield these chains with precision, complementing her heroic magic in dealing with rogue alicorns. The color of her chains harmonized with her overall appearance. Loose chains, their tips resembling the pendant around her neck, added a splash of vibrant colors—blue, green, purple, yellow—creating a captivating contrast.

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The wind whispered through the ancient trees, carrying with it the rogue's words. "Her wings, two contrasting pairs, one as black as the darkest night and the other as pure as a pristine snowy expanse, symbolized the delicate equilibrium she maintained—"

They emerged into a tranquil clearing, the remnants of sunlight casting ethereal patterns on the moss-covered ground. "Equilibrium, huh? More interested in keeping our balance in these woods. Your queen's fashion choices won't protect you from unseen threats. Like me, for example."

Velzael's long canines peeked discreetly from her closed mouth. Despite the elegance of her appearance, there was a palpable muscularity that hinted at her strength and resilience. Scars, etched like battle-worn tales on her silver hide, bore witness to her numerous altercations with rogue alicorns. These scars, not blemishes but symbols of experience, spoke of Velzael's journey as a skilled Bounty Hunter. And also symbols of terror from the point of view of rogue alicorns.

As they moved with ease, the forest revealed itself as more enchanting than treacherous. And the prisoner kept his serenade. "Her eyes, slender and enchanting, gleamed with a captivating shade of green, radiating warmth and affection—"

The path ahead meandered gently, twisted branches creating an inviting tunnel leading deeper into the woods. "But it's not just her appearance that draws her subjects! It's her profound affection for them, her mastery of all six types of magic—"

The dense foliage above cast a verdant canopy over them, and Velzael's eyes observed the peaceful surroundings. "I don't need a lecture on magic. I need you to be quiet until we reach Alykarn. No more tales of staffs commanding thunder and clouds or flames. Got it?"

The air retained its tranquility as the ancient trees stood sentinel. "Well, there's also a staff of light, storms, heroic magic, and sand magic. Each a tribute to the Pantheon members!”

As they emerged from the forest, the magnificent capital sprawled before them. Alykarn, with its grandeur and splendor, welcomed them. Velzael redirected her prisoner, guiding him to the prestigious Arcanic Academy of Alykarn. "Pantheon or not, my reward awaits, and your tales might find an audience in your cell. Behave, chatterbox."

In the shadowed recesses of her consciousness, she recognized that the captive sought naught but to vex her with his narratives. His tales, a worn tapestry echoing in the corridors of her awareness, revealed nothing new. And Velzael, true to her nature, held Python in high regard and esteem, even though she wasn’t from Pythonia. The grandeur of the edifice before her, a majestic monument to Python's fervor, commanded her attention. Mesmerized, she delved into meticulous scrutiny, ensnared by its allure as if in a trance.

The Arcanic Academy, often referred to as the AAA, stood as a monumental edifice, a symbol of unity and growth within the community. Python's desire was to see her beloved Academy nestled at the heart of the capital city, where she could oversee it personally, right alongside her temporary castle. During its construction, she decided to weave her own castle into the structure.

The builders, their magic abilities well-honed, understood that altering the structure would be a challenge. However, their profound love and respect for Python eclipsed any hesitation. They embraced the task with the utmost devotion, for they were building a legacy not for a tyrant but for a queen who cherished them as her own children.

The grand edifice of the AAA stood as a testament to the lofty ambitions of alicornkind, a behemoth of architectural wonder that dared to challenge the heavens themselves. Its colossal bulk unfurled like a scroll of stone and enchantment, curving into a formidable semicircle that spanned nearly a half league across. It pierced the sky with the audacity of eighty towering floors, each a bastion of sorcerous lore and scholarly pursuit, save for the final triad that nestled within the Arcane glow of a hovering aureole—a mysterious crown that capped this monument to pythonian ingenuity.

Surrounding the Academy, in a celestial dance of geometry and magic, four globes and three cubes traced ethereal paths through the air, each at varying altitudes as if in orbit. These were the seven hallowed wings of the library, repositories of ancient knowledge and esoteric secrets that many Harmonizers yearned to unravel. They hung there, suspended by forces unseen, as if the very stars had been plucked from the firmament to bear witness to the Academy's splendor.

Python played an integral role in shaping the Academy's design. She had her own unique vision for the Sacred Castle that rested within the Academy. Rather than position her quarters at the heart of the structure, she chose to place them at the very top, granting her an unparalleled view of the bustling activity below.

The seventy-seven research floors within the Academy were divided into an array of specialized rooms. Battle rooms were reserved for those seeking to become Harmonizers trained in combat, while classrooms were designated for conventional studies. Test rooms allowed experiments involving magic items and crystals to unfold. Each floor was structured similarly, yet the nature of activities grew more profound as one ascended.

The last three floors in the aureole, dedicated to the queen, held an air of mystique. Python's specific desires guided the construction of her quarters. One floor was home to her grand throne room, a sight to behold. On the lower level, this choice ensured swift access for those granted clearance to appear before their ruler. The other two floors catered to Python's personal living quarters and a space where she could freely exercise her magic. The latter served as a venue for the Primordial Pantheon's essential discussions, a privilege for the most significant of gatherings. These three floors were among the most enigmatic constructions across all Equestera.

Velzael abruptly jolted from the depths of her contemplation. The enchanting allure of the Academy had ensnared her senses, so much so that she found herself peering upon it through the lens of the queen herself. It was as though she, in unison with Python, had birthed this magnificent creation.

"A spell woven by the queen upon her most eminent masterpiece," intoned her captive, awestruck by the AAA. "A proclamation to ensure all comprehend the craftsmanship that birthed this marvel. Would that I had not trod these grounds before; then, perhaps, I might have savored the rapture you've just encountered."

Velzael remained silent, ensnared in the enchantment that both captivated and unbalanced her senses. The allure of the spell cast a fantastical haze, causing her to hesitate at the threshold of the looming structure. Yet, her focus shifted as two alicorns, unmistakably Academy denizens, guided their kin and dispensed information. It became apparent to Velzael that these academicians held sway within the AAA or, at the very least, possessed the means to grant her desires.

"Oi, pardon me," she called out, her tone carrying a blend of formality and the rugged demeanor that clung to her. "I'm Velzael of Beltodir, a Bounty Hunter. Came to deliver this miscreant who allegedly pilfered a load of scrolls from your esteemed Academy." She maintained a semblance of courtesy, though her appearance hinted at a more rough-hewn demeanor. "Could you take charge of this rascal and scrawl your signature on my document? Need to collect my dues at the Guild Inn."

The pair of scholarly alicorns regarded the Bounty Hunter with a momentary hesitation before acquiescing to her request. "Indeed, Lady Velzael, we shall attend to this rogue alicorn promptly. Might we presume these chains are yours?" one of them inquired.

"Yeah, they are mine. Dispatch them to the Guild Inn when you’re done with him; I would like to have them back," she said. "No need to rush, though. I’ll be there for a few days. I really need to rest."

Velzael appeared visibly fatigued, a weariness that spoke of a protracted absence from true leisure. Levitating her mission missive with telekinetic finesse, she presented it to the academicians for their endorsement. Once the document bore their signatures, she offered a casual salute to the pair before making her way toward the Guild Inn, situated on the opposite side of the capital.

Her steps were marked by the tiredness that clung to her every movement, an exhaustion that transcended the physical. As she traversed the streets of Alykarn, the grandeur of the surroundings escaped her notice, for her mind harbored but a singular objective—to reach the Inn, secure lodgings, and surrender to the embrace of a well-deserved slumber.

As she approached the hallowed entrance of the Guild Inn, Velzael exerted her strength to usher open the imposing doors. The normally raucous ambiance of the establishment hushed to a muted murmur as the seasoned alicorn traversed the threshold. Whispers trailed in her wake, rumors dancing through the air, acknowledging her presence amongst the Protectors indulging in libations and sustenance. Unfazed by the attention, Velzael, accustomed to such scrutiny, paid the idle chatter little mind.

Directing her course to the receptionist, she addressed the small, gray-furred Pythonian alicorn behind the desk. "Hey. I’m looking for a room for a span of days," she declared. Her hoof pointed to the red lozenge-shaped jewel hanging from her necklace, the telltale insignia of a Ruby-ranked Bounty Hunter. The receptionist, smiling, offered a small, illuminating green cube—the key to her temporary abode. "Your room awaits on the third floor, Lady Velzael."

"Is my name known to you?" the Bounty Hunter inquired, weariness apparent in her gaze, a mix of surprise and fatigue clouding her eyes.

"Indeed, your reputation precedes you," she replied with a kindly smile, leafing through informational papers on Alykarn. "Would you require recommendations for your stay?"

Declining the offer, Velzael stated her intent to seclude herself for a few days, after which she would journey to Aemna. With a casual gesture, she conveyed her preference for in-room dining. Addressing the matter of payment, she presented a document, a testament to her successful bounty, signed by the academicians. The receptionist, after perusing and approving, applied a stamp to the missive. In a spectacle of verdant flames, the document disintegrated, birthing a purse laden with coins.

Some coins were claimed by the receptionist for the cost of Velzael's stay, and the remainder returned to her. "Your affairs are settled. Retreat to your room, for you appear to be in dire need of respite," the Pythonian alicorn advised, the smile still etched upon her features.

Velzael acknowledged the counsel with a muted chuckle. "Indeed. Good night and thanks," she murmured, making her way to the stairs. Ascending to her assigned quarters, she slotted the green cube into its designated orifice. The door yielded, revealing a lavish expanse befitting her high Protector standing. Yet, Velzael's attention was solely fixated on the bed. Depositing her belongings on a nearby shelf, she surrendered herself to the embrace of the sumptuous bedding. In scant moments, the Virtusian alicorn succumbed to the beckoning allure of sleep.

Chapter 03

The journey from Fulmenia to Pythonia was a relentless odyssey, a treacherous sojourn that wound its way through the rugged terrain of Equestera, a land where nature's harsh embrace sculpted the very land. The weight of their travels bore down heavily upon young Feyn's shoulders.

In a world where alicorns possessed the gift of wings, their majestic appendages were not mere adornments for flights of fancy. Their flight relied on the subtle weave of magic to soar through the skies, but when the enchantment waned, they were left with an exhausting ordeal, necessitating terrestrial travel. Days of unyielding locomotion had sapped their strength, rendering even Raybarn, a seasoned traveler of formidable repute, fatigued.

Feyn, on the other hand, was unaccustomed to the rigors of extended journeys. His prior experiences had been confined to brief outings, never testing his endurance for more than a few hours. This was his maiden voyage into Pythonia's realm, and his youthful exuberance collided with the physical demands of the road. His fervor could hardly shield him from the taxing trials of the journey, compelling him to pause often to regather his strength.

Raybarn, empathetic to his son's toil, understood that these hardships were valuable crucibles in the forging of an aspiring Protector. His role required physical endurance, and Feyn had to learn to surmount these arduous trials. The exchanges between father and son, demanding though they might be for the young alicorn, were a necessary part of his maturation.

"Dad, I'm tired," Feyn confessed during a necessary respite.

"I know you are, but we must press on," Raybarn responded, his understanding swathed in a stern tone of mentorship. "We have to reach Pythonia as swiftly as possible."

Feyn acknowledged his father's wisdom with a weary nod, fully aware that endurance was the key to his aspirations. Raybarn's reassurance provided a comforting bulwark amid the omnipresent exhaustion that threatened to engulf them.

Raybarn, recognizing the emotions welling within his son, offered a deeper level of guidance. "If you're to become a Protector, you'll become accustomed to exercises and drills like these when you enter the Guild."

Feyn's eyes widened, comprehension unfurling like a petal beneath the weight of his father's words. He was beginning to grasp the path he had chosen, one that demanded he embrace the crucible of rigors and tribulations. Raybarn noticed the contemplative expression on his son's face and, with a chuckle, sought to alleviate the burden of the young alicorn's apprehensions.

"Don't fret, Feyn. You'll grow accustomed to it," Raybarn assured with a fatherly grin. "Now, let's continue."

And so they did, resuming their wearying trek through the formidable expanse of Equestera. Hours passed, and the border separating Fulmenia from Pythonia came into view. Raybarn's reputation had preceded him, earning him the respect and camaraderie of the border workers. They joined the queue of travelers awaiting their ethereal identity checks, a critical procedure before entry into Pythonia. This process had been implemented following an incident wherein a rogue alicorn, using magic to assume another's identity, had committed a crime that resulted in the wrongful incarceration of an innocent alicorn.

The officer conducting their identity check recognized Raybarn, and their greeting was infused with warmth. As the scanning energies did their work, a sense of fraternity was palpable.

"Raybarn, good to see you, brother," the officer exclaimed.

"Likewise, Thonrie. How have you been?" Raybarn inquired, his interest sincere.

Thonrie, with a wry smile, replied, "Well, surviving, as we always do. Equestera might be harsh, but we alicorns are tougher."

Raybarn chuckled heartily. "Indeed, we are."

The conversation eventually shifted to Feyn, who had been patiently waiting. Thonrie's keen gaze fell upon the young alicorn. "And is this your son?"

Raybarn beamed with paternal pride. "Indeed, my one and only son. He's following in my footsteps, unlike his sister, who's inheriting her mother's legacy."

The officer nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Well, you get one, and she gets one. Seems fair to me."

Thonrie, a middle-aged Pythonian with a mane touched by the silver grace of time, was a trusted friend of Raybarn's. They had forged their friendship many cycles ago, engaging in countless hours of collaborative research and experimentation before Thonrie's reassignment to border duty for identity checks.

Raybarn and Feyn passed their identity checks at the border, journeying deeper into Pythonia, their destination, the AAA. Though they had crossed the border, the capital city was still far away, and the Academy was strategically nestled at its heart, a pulsating core of Pythonia. The grand edifice was a source of pride for the kingdom's residents, who held it in profound reverence.

As they traversed Pythonia, Raybarn seized the opportunity to engage Feyn in meaningful discourse. His tone took on a gravity that stirred a degree of concern within his young son.

"Alright, Feyn," Raybarn intoned, his voice carrying weight, "we must attend to weightier matters. You shall undertake your preliminary entrance examination for the Academy forthwith."

Feyn's heart faltered momentarily. The prospect hadn't crossed his mind during their journey, let alone such a significant trial. "W-What do you mean? H-How am I to—"

"As an alumnus of the Academy and a seasoned scholar, I am eminently qualified to serve as your examiner in this matter," Raybarn interjected, his tone meant to soothe, a conspiratorial wink accompanying his words. "Rest assured, you are well-versed in theory, and your prowess as a mage is evident even at your age. The practical aspect of this test shall pose no challenge, mark my words."

Raybarn's praise warmed Feyn's spirit. His father had always been his paragon, and to witness such confidence in his abilities was a boon indeed. Waste no time, Raybarn posed his inquiry:

"How many types of magic grace Equestera?"

Feyn's confidence was bolstered by the simplicity of the question. "There are three," he replied, unwavering.

"Correct. And the primary category?" Raybarn prompted, their steps echoing along the tranquil path in the Kingdom of Python.

"Ethereal magic, the most accessible and widespread," Feyn declared confidently. "It draws upon the ambient mana permeating our world. It can be found literally everywhere."

"Indeed," Raybarn affirmed, a proud grin adorning his features. "As I said, a trifle for you. Now, as a mere formality, demonstrate a spell employing ethereal magic."

Surveying their surroundings, Feyn spied pebbles strewn along the path. Focusing his will, his horn alight with a pale azure glow, he set the stones in motion, their flight controlled by his telekinesis—a fundamental manipulation of ethereal energy. His chest swelled with pride, a surreptitious glance cast toward his father.

"Alright, alright, I know you master ethereal magic easily. Show off," Raybarn chuckled, acknowledging Feyn's display. "Remember, however, this is but the baseline for entry into the Academy. Mastery of ethereal magic alone will not suffice for success in this test—or in your academic pursuits."

Feyn feigned a pout, releasing his hold on the pebbles, allowing them to tumble to the ground before joining in laughter. "I know, Dad, no need to fret. What's the next question then?"

"Well, as you likely guessed: what's the second category of magic?"

The young Fulmenian pondered, scratching his chin with a paw. "That'd be pure magic. It's a tad trickier, drawing from our own wellspring of mana. Typically, it's wielded by Protectors, who're keen on their limits and the signs of depletion. Pure magic's akin to a sliver of an alicorn's life force. When that reserve runs dry, well, best-case scenario is a coma, worst-case, death. Though, one can gauge the dwindling by a more mundane sensation—hunger."

Raybarn listened attentively as they walked, deftly sidestepping a rock Feyn would have otherwise stumbled over in his absorption. "That's…quite the elucidation, Feyn. Seems those hours buried in tomes have borne fruit," he remarked, a mixture of astonishment and paternal pride coloring his words.

Feyn blushed, gratified to have impressed his father with his acumen. He'd labored tirelessly in recent cycles, aspiring to emulate his role model.

"Now…this is where it gets a touch more intricate. Should you possess the knowledge, can you conjure a spell using pure magic?" Raybarn inquired, his curiosity piqued, eager to witness his son's prowess firsthand.

The young Fulmenian had already choreographed his next display of magic. He shut his eyes, honing his focus on his four paws. Within moments, they crackled with an electric aura, emitting faint yellow sparks. Though unnecessary, he vocalized the spell's name, anticipating his father's inquiry.

"Thunder magic: Lightning walk!" he proclaimed, demonstrating the spell's effect. With a burst of speed, he darted among the trees, a blur of motion causing the blue leaves to cascade in his wake.

After a brief span, he halted before his father, dispelling the spell. "That's my go-to for evading Masha after a prank," he admitted, a wide grin of mischief adorning his face, showing his fangs.

Raybarn's eyes widened before he erupted into laughter. "Ahahah, like father, like son indeed! I've employed the same trick to dodge your mother's ire. With that spell, I'm even faster than her," he boasted, a smug grin playing upon his lips.

"I get it completely—Mom's a Paladin. If she catches you, you're done for. And the same goes for me if the mountain of muscles that is Masha gets her paws on me," Feyn chuckled, sharing in his father's amusement.

"Enough teasing about them when they're not around," Raybarn interjected, his tone half-serious. "Focus now—while you're performing admirably, the test isn't concluded. I trust you know what comes next?"

"Absolutely," Feyn affirmed, refocusing his attention. "Explaining the third type of magic, I presume."

The young Fulmenian gazed upward, the azure canopy partly obscured by the characteristic blue leaves of Pythonia. Information on astral magic was scant, but his sister's aspirations to become a Paladin had imparted some knowledge.

"Astral magic, also known as divine or sacred magic," he began, adopting a serious tone. "It's the most enigmatic form, wielded exclusively by selected alicorns—High Priests and Paladins. Mastery demands not only rigorous training but also the blessing of a member of the Primordial Pantheon."

Raybarn observed his son, the breeze carrying a soothing rustle through the leaves. Feyn appeared lost in contemplation.

Eager to gauge his son's understanding, Raybarn prompted, "Can you elaborate on that, Feyn?"

Caught off guard, Feyn returned his focus to his father. "Oh! Uh, yeah, of course…It's because astral magic belongs to the Primordial Pantheon, and it's pretty risky for regular alicorns. Even with their blessing, using astral magic isn't exactly encouraged," he explained, pausing briefly before forging ahead. "The big issue is that each spell drains a chunk of the user's magic reserves permanently. Astral magic packs a punch, sure, but it's like signing away part of your life with every cast…shortens your lifespan."

Raybarn sensed his son's unease. He was on the verge of urging him to speak freely when Feyn halted their stride, breaking the silence to voice his concerns.

"Dad…has Mom, being a Paladin, ever had to dip into astral magic?" he inquired, a hint of worry coloring his tone as he idly toyed with a leaf at his paw.

Halting beside his son, Raybarn extended a wing, drawing him into a gentle embrace. "No, Feyn. She hasn't," he reassured, offering a comforting smile. "While there have been some scrapes, Equestera is peaceful, and Leyla's strength is more than enough to handle any threat without resorting to such spells."

Relieved by his father's answer, the young Fulmenian's anxieties eased. With a subtle tilt of his head, Raybarn indicated they should resume their journey, aiming to reach the nearby town come the morrow's dawn.

"Just one more question, and I reckon your test will be in the books," Raybarn declared. "Different elements of pure and astral magic exist—what are they?"

Quickening his pace to match his father's stride, Feyn replied without hesitation. "Thunder, Flames, Light, Storm, Sand, Heroic, and Arcane. Each tied to a member of the Primordial Pantheon," he recited as if plucked from a well-worn tome. "For instance, us Fulmenians are pretty good with Thunder magic, but mastering any other element would be a stretch."

Under his breath, almost lost in the rustle of leaves and not reaching his father’s ears, he muttered, "But not impossible…"

Raybarn swelled with pride at his son's knowledge. "That's an exceptional answer, Feyn! Without a doubt, you've aced your preliminary entrance exam for the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn," he proclaimed, a broad smile lighting up his features.

Feyn's countenance illuminated with an effervescent joy, prompting him to prance and leap around his father, who couldn't help but chuckle at his son's exuberance. "Just one more step, and you'll be primed for enrollment once you secure your Protector's license!" Raybarn exclaimed with paternal pride.

But Feyn's jubilation dimmed as a realization struck him. "Oh…I completely forgot about that," he confessed, a hint of dismay coloring his tone.

Raybarn rested a paw on his son's head, tousling his mane affectionately. "Fear not, my boy. I have every confidence in you. Just a license stands between you and the Academy—no need to embark on the kind of adventures your sister seeks," he reassured, his voice brimming with paternal assurance.

With a shy smile and a nod of gratitude, Feyn acquiesced, and they resumed their journey along the tranquil roads of Pythonia. Night descended upon them, casting the world in a cloak of darkness.

Beneath the towering canopy, they found respite, sharing tales and laughter as they whiled away the hours. Feyn cherished these moments with his father, his admiration for him deepening with each passing conversation. From familial anecdotes to jovial jests to earnest discussions about the Academy, they conversed well into the night until weariness claimed them, and they surrendered to the embrace of slumber.

Come dawn, Raybarn roused Feyn from his peaceful repose, coaxing him back to wakefulness. Though reluctant at first, Feyn yielded to his father's gentle prodding, and together they resumed their journey through Pythonia, Feyn trailing closely behind.

After several hours of travel, the sight of a distant village offered a glimmer of hope, a beacon on their path forward. As they walked, father and son continued their dialogue, Feyn soaking in the wisdom imparted by Raybarn.

With the first light of dawn painting the sky, they reached the village, ready to rest and recharge before embarking on the next leg of their journey, awaiting transportation to Alykarn.

Sketch n°08

Chapter 04

The Arcanic Academy of Alykarn, nestled in a kingdom steeped in ancient magic, was dedicated to arcane mysteries. Its imposing architecture reflected its scholarly ambitions. The colossal library housed seven sections open to all researchers. It was an oasis of erudition for unraveling mystical arts.

Hidden within was a clandestine enclave for esteemed academicians. Amid shelves burdened with enigmatic grimoires, elites pursued arcane studies in solitude. Raybarn was a familiar figure here, a trailblazer in these hallowed halls.

Naegissa, draped in elite attire, held court in the private sanctuary. Her presence was captivating, her fur cascading like obsidian with silver stripes. Her intellect and love for research had propelled her to elite ranks at twenty-four cycles.

But behind her prowess lurked an enigmatic persona. Naegissa's icy demeanor and concealed one-eyed visage unsettled many. Her perceived superiority deterred collaboration despite her expertise.

Engrossed in a tome on taming magical signatures, Naegissa sensed intrusive mystical energy. Her gaze shifted to another high-ranking academician entering the library, met with calculated indifference.

The intruder, undaunted by Naegissa's apparent apathy, nudged her playfully and inquired, "Hey! What are you reading?"

Though her body language exuded an air of indifference, her words belied a different sentiment. One unacquainted with their history might have construed their interaction as two strangers, but there was an undercurrent of camaraderie between them.

Sketch n°09

Naegissa, unmoved by the interruption, replied, "Hey. I'm reading the energy locator material you told me about. What are you doing here?"

The other academician, feigning offense, gasped melodramatically. Naegissa's response was a withering eye roll, a testament to her irritation. "You hurt me, Nae. You hurt me," her companion sighed.

Naegissa's retort was devoid of warmth, "Oh please. Answer the question."

"I'm here to spend some time with my best friend in the whole of Equestera."

"You mean your only friend." Naegissa's words were laced with frost, but a concealed smile betrayed the affection she held for her companion.

"If you keep being like that, you’ll never find love, Nae!"

Their exchange dissolved into shared laughter, a notion as preposterous as Naegissa entertaining romantic feelings for another alicorn. Her convictions lay elsewhere, in the pursuit of higher knowledge, not in frivolous friendships or amorous entanglements.

After the laughter abated, her Pythonian friend transitioned to a weightier matter. "Have you heard about what's going on with this weird spirit and the magical signature it has?"

Where her friend bubbled with enthusiasm, Naegissa remained cool and distant. "Why exactly are you not as intrigued by this as I am?" her companion inquired.

"Because it's not uncommon to encounter new spirits," Naegissa replied dispassionately. "They come and go, and sooner or later, we'll understand how to deal with them."

"This time is different, and you know it. You don't want to be a part of that?"

"I'm not concerned. We'll manage, as we always do."

The Pythonian leaned closer, her voice now laden with genuine concern. "Are you really okay?"

Naegissa stared at her quizzically, her emotions a turbulent sea. "Why did you ask that? I'm perfectly fine."

"You don't sound fine. There's something potentially destructive happening, and you don't want to be a part of it at all?"

"Yes. Exactly."

Unperturbed, her friend took a bold step and brushed Naegissa's book aside. Irritation flickered in her eyes, but her friend was undeterred. "Why did you do that?"

"I need to talk to you about something important, and you're distracted."

"Fine. What is it?"

With a deep breath, her friend began, her voice filled with empathy. She extended a wing toward Naegissa, offering a comforting gesture. "I know it's not easy because your parents disappeared at the exact same time that we saw the last 'new discovery.' I'm really sorry about that."

At the mention of her parents, Naegissa's gaze snapped to her friend, a mixture of alarm and bewilderment etched on her features. She was not accustomed to anyone remembering her family's mysterious vanishing act. Her thoughts swirled, emotions clashed, and it was difficult to pinpoint one prevailing feeling. Frustration, irritation, and surprise all vied for dominance.

Undeterred, her friend pressed on, her voice softening. "I want you to know that I'm here for you."

Naegissa's resolve began to waver, but her friend's next words restored it in an instant. "I think if you try to involve yourself in this research, you can get some sort of closure from it."

Her friend's encouragement met with Naegissa's skepticism. "What answers could I possibly get?"

"You never know."

"Fine. I'll think about it."

Though her reply was devoid of warmth, her friend knew not to push further. She had known Naegissa for cycles and understood that she was a delicate balance of conflicting emotions. Push too hard, and Naegissa might explode, an outcome none desired.

With Naegissa now lost in her thoughts, her friend departed, leaving her to contemplate in silence. "Okay, I guess I'll see you around," her friend offered, but Naegissa's silence was her only response.

Alone once more, Naegissa gazed at the ceiling, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. She attempted to mask her emotions, to portray a façade of indifference, but beneath that veneer, a maelstrom of feelings churned.

In a soft, self-directed murmur, she questioned the uncanny awareness her friend had displayed, "How on Equestera did she know? How does she remember?"

As the Pythonian departed the library through a magic circle serving as a portal—creation of the King of Sand, she bore a heavy burden of concern deep within her soul. Standing on the threshold, she closed her eyes and silently willed Naegissa to follow. But her plea was met with silence, and so she steeled herself and moved forward. Her affection for Naegissa was profound, akin to sharing in her friend's pain. She could feel the weight in Naegissa's chest, yet it was a formidable task when the one in need refused to acknowledge their own vulnerability.

In a bid to dispel the disquieting conversation, the academician embarked on a stroll outside the Arcanic Academy, a rare indulgence she reserved for moments of intense stress. The access to the library, being inside the AAA building, her path led her into the bustling city of Alykarn.

With each step, the respect she garnered from fellow alicorns was palpable. They recognized her, both by her rank and her attire, and greeted her with reverence. The ever-present wind played with her translucent veil, and she reciprocated the salutations with a joyful demeanor, even if her veil proved to be an unruly companion.

Beyond the Academy's gate, she finally freed herself from the confinements of her veil, tucking it away as she ventured deeper into Alykarn. She meandered through the city's lively streets, skillfully avoiding the stream of passing alicorns. In her path, she encountered familiar faces, old friends from her days before joining the AAA, and each interaction was marked by warm smiles.

Taking a detour, she navigated through the bustling Alykarn market, not for purchases but to immerse herself in the vivacity of the place. Her idea of clearing her thoughts was unconventional; it involved traversing teeming streets and engaging with the citizens. This unusual practice endeared her to the people, and her genuine rapport with them made it all the more enjoyable.

At her favorite fruit vendor's stall, she paused to greet Garya, an elderly alicorn who had known her for cycles. The bond between them ran deep, akin to a grandmother-granddaughter relationship. "Greetings, Garya."

"Oh, my beautiful daughter! It's been too long. You spend a lot of time cooped up in that Academy of yours," Garya exclaimed.

"I was walking past and just decided to say hello. How's the market today?"

Garya gestured at her nearly empty baskets, except for a single apple. "You can have the last fruit, my child. It has been such a good day."

With a smile, she accepted the gift and bid farewell to Garya. She continued toward the gates of Alykarn, her thoughts never far from Naegissa. She longed to see her friend free from her self-imposed solitude, yet she knew that only Naegissa's own choices could grant her release.

The grandeur of Alykarn's architecture did little to distract her from her contemplations. As the capital of Pythonia, the city reflected the power and opulence of the kingdom. Its edifices, while not the most advanced in all of Equestera, were still a marvel to behold, second only to the architectural wonders of Saburia, the desert realm.

A solitary thoroughfare threaded through the heart of the city, flanked by imposing structures. The city's design emphasized unity, with buildings huddled closely together. Although it may have seemed crowded to some, the bustling streets were a testament to the city's vibrancy.

As she continued her journey, a communication crystal materialized before her, bearing a message. She learned that she had been assigned the duty of welcoming a visiting researcher to the Academy, a task that was fortuitously in line with her current route. She reached the city gates and informed the guards, awaiting the arrival of the researchers she was meant to greet.

It wasn't long before she spotted them approaching. Raybarn and Feyn had disembarked from the public transport to Alykarn, engaged in a spirited conversation about the state of magic in Equestera. Raybarn recognized her as the academician he was to meet due to her distinctive attire, and he hastened over to greet her, bowing his head in the customary fashion. Feyn, emulating his father's actions, joined in the gesture.

"Greetings, academician. I am Raybarn of Fulmenia, and I was summoned to help with an investigation and observation," Raybarn said.

She acknowledged him with a warm smile, "Yes, I am familiar with your work, Raybarn. I hope that I can learn a lot from you if you would let me."

"By all means. I would be incredibly honored to teach such a revered member of the Academy," Raybarn replied.

They exchanged smiles, and her attention turned to Feyn. "I was told it was only you that would be coming. Did you think that the situation requires an extra mind?"

Raybarn, a bit uncertain, replied, "Oh, not at all. This is my son, Feyn; I brought him here so he would have some experience. Not to worry, I've taught him for cycles, and he's proven a very good student."

"That's alright. The more, the merrier. Please come with me. Let me show you around our Pythonia for a bit."

With Raybarn and Feyn in tow, she led them on a tour of the city, introducing them to various landmarks and trusted market vendors. The trio enjoyed each other's company, and as they approached the end of their journey, she revealed, "Your quarters will be at the Academy, both of you. Your meals will also be taken care of. In fact, your first meal is ready and waiting for you."

Raybarn expressed his gratitude, and she turned her attention to the reserved Feyn. "How's learning under such a respected and well-known researcher going?" she inquired.

Feyn hesitated but eventually responded, "It's going very well, thank you."

Noticing his reticence, she chuckled, recalling her similar interactions with Naegissa. Though, the shy Fulmenian asked, "What's your name, academician?"

"Oh, pardon my manners. I was so happy to receive you both that I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Nerath!"

Sketch n°10

Part 02 – Masha’s first mission - Chapter 05

The Fulmenian Guild Inn, nestled in the heart of the majestic Aemna, the capital, stood as a paragon of alicorn education, revered across all of Equestera. For those who embarked on the journey within its hallowed halls, it was a sanctuary of learning and the crucible for those aspiring to become Protectors.

That Guild had wisely enlisted the expertise of some of the most esteemed retired Protectors to serve as mentors for the new recruits. These seasoned mentors imparted their wisdom, forged through countless cycles of experience in the field. Although it remained unspoken, there lingered an unceasing rivalry between Aemna and its counterpart, the illustrious Thaaldin, capital of Virtusia.

Hidden away in one of the most inaccessible corners of the city, the road leading to the Inn was heavily guarded. The Fulmenian Forests, charged with electrifying energy, sheltered an environment that was as perilous as it was enthralling. The trees, adorned with leaves, crackled with an electric charge, casting an ominous aura over the surrounding roads.

Over the cycles, countless alicorns had nearly met their doom in these woods, their bodies scorched by the unforgiving power of the trees. Even the most physically robust would crumble under the electric onslaught unless they were adequately trained to navigate this perilous terrain. The first time young Leyla ventured into the forest en route to the Guild Inn, she emerged battered and bruised. A massive bruise marred one of her wings, and her leg had been shattered, a testament to the sheer ferocity of the arboreal electric force.

Yet fortune smiled upon her that day. A skilled Amethyst-ranked Protector, well-versed in the art of handling thunderous energy, happened to be taking a stroll. He swiftly erected a protective magical shield around her and administered aid to ease her pain, ultimately delivering her into the capable paws of the Inn's healers.

In the ensuing cycles, Leyla's strength grew to the point where she could nonchalantly traverse the electric-charged groves. As the Third Paladin of Equestera, her visits to the Aemna Inn were infrequent, dictated by her duty as a Protector. However, whenever she had the opportunity, she made a pilgrimage to the place where her journey began, a humble tribute to her roots.

Aemna’s Inn, like its sister Guilds, was a sprawling complex of various establishments. Though dwarfed by the grandeur of the AAA's compound, as no other building could rival the Academy in terms of sheer scale and prestige. To distinguish itself from the Academy, Aemna’s Inn endeavored to craft a unique atmosphere for its patrons.

The compound boasted an array of stalls that offered diverse culinary delights from every corner of Equestera. For alicorns hailing from distant lands or those seeking to savor the myriad flavors of the realm, this was a haven of gastronomy. Throughout her time at the Inn, Leyla made a point to indulge in dishes from various Equesteran regions, a personal culinary journey beyond the confines of Fulmenia.

The Inn also featured a keep where alicorns could unwind, bond, and cultivate strong relationships. Such camaraderie was imperative, for in the world of Protectors, alliances and partnerships could be the difference between life and death. The Inn's architects had shrewdly designed the structures to foster these vital connections.

Leyla, wanting to closely oversee her daughter Masha's journey as a Protector, decided to accompany her to the Guild Inn. Her maternal instincts compelled her to ensure Masha's safety. She understood that the world held threats, both seen and unseen, that could prey on new Protectors. Yet, her guise was also a tactical necessity; revealing herself as the Third Paladin could invite unwanted attention, both friend and foe.

A dark blue cloak adorned with intricate yellow embroidery billowed behind Leyla, shrouding her figure in mystery. The matching mask, fitted snugly over her muzzle, concealed her features, leaving only her piercing eyes visible. Masha, her ears flattened in confusion, gazed at her mother's covert attire, curiosity evident in her feline-like movements.

"Mom, why are you dressed like this? You're utterly unrecognizable," Masha queried, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"That's precisely the point, my dear," Leyla replied, her voice gentle yet firm, a soothing melody amidst the light buzzing sounds from the surrounding trees. "I need to remain incognito."

"Even from Dad?" Masha persisted, her wings twitching with uncertainty.

"What do you mean?" Leyla's ears perked up, a hint of amusement coloring her tone

"I'm certain Dad wouldn't recognize you right now," Masha mused, a playful glint in her eyes.

Leyla chuckled softly, her laughter carrying a comforting warmth as she playfully nudged Masha with her shoulder. The impact, gentle yet firm, almost toppled her daughter, a testament to Leyla's strength. "Well, a Paladin strolling into the heart of the Guild Inn would be no trivial matter," Leyla explained, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. "I aim to attract as little attention as possible. In Aemna, I seldom enter without my disguise unless it's purely official business."

"Why not? You became a Protector here," Masha questioned, her curiosity piqued by her mother's explanation.

"And that's precisely why I don't wish them to know it's me, especially now that you're joining," Leyla replied, her gaze softening with maternal concern.

"You're concerned about me, and that's understandable. But, Mom, you're the Third Paladin. No one in their right mind would dare harm your family," Masha reassured, her voice tinged with admiration for her mother's esteemed position.

In response, Leyla's lips curled into a knowing smile, and her eyes held a twinkle that spoke volumes. A maternal look, laden with the weight of experience, was cast upon her daughter. It was a look that conveyed the unspoken truth that Masha still had much to glean about the intricate tapestry of Equestera. The world held secrets yet to be unveiled, and the seasoned Protector was determined to guide her offspring through its enigmatic corridors.

As they ventured forth, they walked in companionable silence, the sound of their footsteps in rhythm with their heartbeats. Equestera's beauty surrounded them, nature's symphony playing out in the rustling leaves and distant spiritcalls. Each footfall marked a step into a future brimming with promise and uncertainty.

It was Leyla who broke the tranquil silence, her voice a soothing whisper in the calmness of the moment. "By the way, my dear, today, you are the star of the show. You embark on the inaugural leg of your journey to become a Protector. Let us not divert our attention from your path."

Masha recognized the wisdom in her mother's words. She didn't covet the spotlight; her admiration and love for Leyla ran deep. Yet the prospect of her mother overshadowing her own achievements on this crucial day would have left a bitter taste in her mouth. Their shared bond was unbreakable, but today was her day, and she was prepared to seize it with both paws.

"You're right, Mom," she replied, a quiet determination in her voice. "I'd prefer not to have all eyes on you while I take my first steps as a Protector."

With Masha's sentiment echoing her own, Leyla harked back to the days of early instruction, and the memory wrapped her heart in warmth. She watched as her daughter had transformed from a wide-eyed innocent into a mature, capable young alicorn. As they walked side by side, her thoughts occasionally drifted to the blissful simplicity of those early days when Masha's perspective was painted with the colors of hope.

Such innocence, she mused, was a consequence of their sheltered existence. The darkness of the world had been kept at bay, and the complexities of the larger world had yet to mar her children's souls. This innocence stemmed from their limited exposure to the world's intricacies, safeguarded by parental love.

However, with every cycle that passed, Leyla became more aware of the impending need to acquaint her offspring with the world's harsh realities. She knew the price of naiveté in a realm fraught with dangers concealed in the most unlikely of corners. The time had come to inoculate her children against the world's malevolence.

Raybarn had taken up the mantle of introducing Feyn to the shadows of magic. The young alicorn was steadily learning the intricacies of forbidden spells and their sinister consequences. This knowledge was essential for a future researcher who needed to discern between good and evil.

Simultaneously, Leyla was nurturing Masha's understanding of the various magical energies she would encounter as a Protector. Although her daughter hadn't yet faced the full brunt of the malevolence lurking in Equestera, she possessed a clear sense of the challenges that awaited her in the field.

As Leyla ruminated on her children's gradual exposure to the shadows of the world, she found herself overcome with gratitude for their growth. Masha, in particular, had blossomed in ways that filled her heart with pride. The lessons, strolls, and conversations shared with her daughter were among the cherished moments that she missed when duty called her away as a Paladin.

Masha's excitement about becoming a Protector was palpable, but she harbored apprehensions about the impending changes in her life. This journey would distance her from her mother, reducing the opportunities for talks, walks, and lessons, a prospect she wasn't quite ready to confront. These thoughts carved lines of concern on her face, etching away the small smile she had worn moments earlier.

Unbeknownst to Masha, her turmoil did not go unnoticed. Leyla sensed the shifting currents of her daughter's emotions and halted in her tracks. Masha, lost in the whirlpool of her thoughts, continued walking until her mother's voice called her back to reality.

"Masha?” Her mother asked, seemingly worried. “What's troubling you? We've longed for this day, and it has finally arrived."

"That's the issue, Mom," Masha confessed, her eyes clouded by tears. Leyla moved closer, and they shared an intimate moment, their heads touching as an emblem of comfort and affection.

Her mother, ever understanding, probed further. "Explain. What weighs on your heart?"

Sketch n°11

Masha, her voice trembling with vulnerability, confessed her fears. "When I enter the Inn, I'll have even less time with you, and that terrifies me."

Leyla had once grappled with the same distance from her family when she embarked on her path as a Paladin. Her eyes held an empathetic understanding. "I know precisely how you feel. When I became a Paladin, it drew me further from you three. You were my world, and the separation was a painful rift."

Masha's curiosity led her to inquire about her parents' experience. "How did you and Dad handle it?"

Leyla's response bore a blend of wisdom and warmth. "It took time, my dear. We learned to adjust. Whenever there was an opportunity, we seized it and spent precious moments together. We navigated the challenges, making the best of the situation. Even in my absence as a Paladin, I strived to be there for you and Feyn when duty permitted."

Masha, bolstered by her mother's example, felt her resolve strengthen. If Leyla could make the separation work, she could too. Her sorrow transformed into resolute determination, and Leyla smiled, her eyes full of pride for her daughter's strength of spirit.

As the imposing doors of the Inn loomed on the horizon, their destination lay before them. Masha and Leyla engaged in playful banter, a shared moment of levity before embarking on this pivotal juncture.

Upon reaching the threshold, Masha cast a reverent gaze upon the grand doors. Beyond them lay the genesis of her new life as a Protector, a life she embraced with fierce determination. With her characteristic mix of determination and good-natured teasing, she turned to her mother, her words brimming with aspiration.

"Mom, I shall surpass you and ascend to the position of the First Paladin."

Leyla's laughter filled the air, a sound free from mockery but rich with encouragement. She held unwavering faith in Masha's potential. Knowing her daughter's tenacity, she had no doubt that Masha's declaration held the promise of becoming reality.

"Well, my dear, you still have quite a journey ahead of you."

Masha's confidence shone brightly. The early lessons had fortified her spirit, a trait essential for a Protector. Some spirits, fueled by malevolent magic, could sense fear emanating from a Protector and exploit it. Masha, the Third Paladin's daughter, carried herself with a touch of arrogance, a product of her mother's guidance. She wouldn't allow the world to perceive her family's status.

Masha was set apart from other applicants approaching the Inn. Many of them trudged in with heads bowed and shoulders hunched, radiating an air of defeat and hopelessness. Yet Masha had internalized her mother's teachings, and she walked with her head held high, shoulders squared, and chest out. Her aura radiated unwavering confidence, causing other alicorns to question if she were an applicant or an instructor.

Leyla, a picture of maternal pride, recognized her daughter's unique advantage on this momentous day. The stage was set for Masha to begin her journey, a journey that would define her and her family's legacy.