The serpent's immense head hovered in the parting mist, her diamond-shaped scales catching the fractured sunlight like a thousand prisms. Arbak, the ancient guardian of the Radon Woods' deepest lair, uncoiled slowly from the mountainside cavern, fifty meters of ethereal elegance, her body a flowing ribbon of cloud-patterned azure and silver. The mist clung to her like a living shroud, swirling in gentle eddies around her form.

  She regarded the exposed Vein first, the pinkish rock pulsing with an inner cosmos of glittering stars, soft yet unyielding, humming with a frequency that resonated deeply in her ancient core.

  her thoughts whispered through the ether, intelligent and layered, like the wind through ancient leaves. A spark of possession ignited in her slit-pupiled eyes, golden and wise.

  Her gaze shifted to the children and the Silverback Wolf. Nerion lay crumpled against the shattered rock, his arms twisted in ruin, his chest rising faintly. Julieta clung to Leo, tears streaking her face, the wolf's bluish-whitish fur bristling despite his fear.

  Hooves thundered from the treeline, crashing through the underbrush like a storm's vanguard. Mikael burst into the clearing, his ragged cloak torn and bloodied from the woods' trials, Elisha close behind him. Mikael's scarred eyes locked immediately on Nerion and Julieta, relief crashing over his features like a wave breaking on rock. "Alive," he muttered, his voice rough with unspoken gratitude. "AEON smiles yet."

  Arbak's coils tensed, her massive head whipping toward the newcomers with predatory grace. A low hiss built in her throat, energy condensing in her maw, brilliant white, the same beam that had scarred Rhys now charging with a mountain-shaking hum.

  The air ionised, the mist vaporising in its path.

  Mikael planted himself between the serpent and the children, shielding them with his body. Pain lanced through his old wounds as he strained his meridians, veins bulging under his skin, a faint crackle of suppressed lightning escaping his pores.

  He unleashed his bluff: Qi exploding outward in a Saint-level flare, his meridians groaning under the load. A partial Will Domain bloomed around him, a shimmering pressure that warped the Natural Energy, golden shadows flickering at the edges.

  The silhouette of a massive Mastiff loomed briefly, its ethereal fur crackling with veiled thunder, but he reined it in, sweat beading on his brow as blood trickled from his nose.

  "Accord of the Wilds!" Mikael boomed, his voice echoing with feigned imperial authority, every word a calculated strike. "Please spare these children according to the ancient customs. These children fall under my care, escorts bound by the old pacts. The intruder has fled, his greed unmet. We claim no more than safe passage."

  Arbak's beam dissipated in a hiss of steam, her intelligent eyes narrowing to slits as she coiled higher, the mist swirling like a thinking storm. “I know the treaty, Saint. 'The Wilds' law holds, but humans are its constant poison.

  Her voice emerged as a melodic rumble, the wind through caverns, elegant and ancient: "You call upon the Accord of Wilds. However, the intrusion weighs heavily, treaty or not, these pups cracked my sanctum, invaded my lair. That being said, I can give you one chance... This crystal sings secrets. Name it. Reveal its essence, and you can leave unharmed. Refuse, and cloud's wrath tests your bluff."

  “This…” Tension thickened the air, the mist stilling. Mikael paused, his silence stretching like a drawn bowstring, eyes locked on the Vein, weighing lives against lore.

  Elisha tensed behind him, hand on Nerion's pulse. Julieta held her breath, Leo growling low.

  Finally, Mikael spoke, his voice low and resonant: "The Ancient Beasts named it thus: the Fruit of the Mountain God

  Arbak froze, her coils halting mid-swirl, eyes widening in static revelation.

  A soft chime echoed as she severed a fist-sized chunk with precise grace, levitating it to Mikael. "Deal honoured. Depart. The Fruit is mine to master. That’s a small gift from me… to the boy,” the Cloud Serpent’s smart eyes watching Mikael’s every movement with rapt attention.

  Mikael caught the shard, warm in his palm, power surging through his pathways like liquid starlight. His meridians knitted partially, the pain easing in waves, strength returning enough to stand tall. "Our thanks, guardian," relief washing his body, finally relaxing his strained meridians.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Elisha scooped Nerion gently, the boy's unconscious form limp, his arms already swelling in grotesque fractures. Julieta climbed onto Leo's back, clinging tight, her wind cloak flickering weakly. Mikael walked behind Elisha, and they spurred into motion.

  Arbak watched them go, her massive form recoiling into the lair with a final, possessive coil around the Vein. The mist closed like a curtain, the mountainside sealing with a rumble, the Woods' secret guarded once more… for now.

  Mikael led the children to meet Manke and Lykos’ party, waiting in a canopy nearby. Nerion remained unconscious. Mikael, his posture stiff with pain, looked at Julieta.

  "Lady Julieta," Mikael said, his voice raw. "You know what was exposed back there. You saw the price of its secret."

  Julieta nodded, trembling.

  "You must swear to me, by your mother's name, that you will never speak of what you saw to your father, your siblings, or anyone in the Corina house. Not one word. Ansara's safety now relies on its ignorance. We have given away its secret once; we will not do so again."

  Julieta, seeing the deadly gravity in the eyes of Mikael, immediately swore the oath.

  They fled the Radon Woods under the fading light of the sun, Leo's paws pounding a desperate rhythm. Nerion stirred faintly in dreams: swirling Revolution spirals, Kael's hateful glare, Rhys's booming laugh. Julieta glanced back at the shrinking mountains, a seed of warmth blooming amid her fear—the real connections glimpsed in chaos.

  The journey back was a controlled nightmare under Mikael’s lead, his power allowing them free travel through the Beast’s infested Woods. Elisha carried the injured Lykos, while the remaining guards and Manke attended to Julieta and Nerion. Their eyes when they saw the “beggar” shining. This was a true, powerful warrior of Ansara.

  Hours later, near the secure perimeter of the Radon Woods, Lykos finally stirred. He was heavily bandaged, stable due to Mikael's intervention, but crippled by Francis's blade. He watched the orphans and the surviving loyal guards minister to Manke.

  Julieta, who had been sitting vigil by his side, offered him water.

  Lykos took the water, his Legate’s eyes clear but filled with a depth of shame Elisha had never seen. "Praetorian," Lykos rasped, his voice weak. "Tell me the truth. Kael... Francis... Were they truly working for Alara? And did I... did I fall for their entire scheme?"

  Elisha, who was cleaning Lykos's wound, confirmed the betrayal. "It was a perfect plot, Captain. They used your certainty against you. Francis revealed the Alara sigil as they struck you. However, more may be hidden underneath; we’re not sure if we saw the whole truth."

  Lykos closed his eyes, accepting the political catastrophe. "I was blind. Arrogant. I treated you and your brother as a liability because you came from the frontier, because your origins were humble. After all, you defied the easy path. I let my contempt for the concubine's daughter and my pride in my own Will blind me to true treachery. I apologise, Elisha. I apologise to Lady Julieta. I thought arrogance was the Capital's defence; I see now it is its curse."

  "Your honour was sound, Captain," Elisha said, choosing his words carefully. "You died defending the Lady. That is what matters to your House."

  Lykos nodded, the truth settling in. He was the political key. He was the high-ranking witness necessary to expose Alara's treason without destroying House Corina. "When I return to Ansem," Lykos vowed, his voice gaining fierce strength, "I will ensure justice is done, not just for House Corina, but for your brother's future. Tell Lady Julieta I will serve her with true humility, not just pride."

  The next day dawned crisp over the orphanage, the sunlight filtering through the modest windows like a gentle promise. The guards milled about, packing the last of their gear, while the children buzzed with unbridled joy. Manke had pressed a hefty pouch of gold into Myra's hands the night before—enough for feasts that would stretch weeks, meats and sweets the kids had only dreamed of. Laughter echoed as they chased each other in the yard, their bellies already full from a breakfast banquet.

  Julieta moved among them like a changed breeze, her fine dresses from the capital now gifts in small hands. She knelt by a cluster of girls, helping Mira slip into a sky-blue gown embroidered with silver threads. "In the capital," Julieta recounted, her voice animated with stories of grand festivals and glowing mana-lamps, "the streets light up like stars fallen to earth. Nobles dance under chandeliers that float on wind spells!" The girls giggled, their eyes wide, twirling in their new finery.

  But as Mira spun, Julieta’s smile faltered. The mansion's opulent halls flashed in her mind—the cold marble, sycophants circling for Father's power or family's gold, no true warmth in their eyes. These children... their laughter was pure, uncalculated, alive in a way her world had never been. Tears welled unbidden.

  "Is something wrong, big sister Julieta?" Mira asked innocently, tilting her head in the too-big dress, concern furrowing her brow.

  Julieta blinked them back, forcing a bright smile as she adjusted the hem. "It's nothing, little one. That dress looks beautiful on you—like a princess from the tales." She pulled Mira into a hug, the girl's small arms wrapping back without hesitation. The other children piled on, a tangle of giggles and warmth that cracked something deep in Julieta’s chest.

  Manke observed from the periphery, his arms folded. A rare gentleness softened his weathered eyes.

  Later, as the sun climbed higher, Manke sought a quiet corner of the patio. Mikael sat alone on a weathered bench, his back to the world, staring at the distant horizon where the Woods' silhouette faded. A half-empty bottle dangled from his fingers, the sharp scent of spirits cutting the morning air.

  Manke approached with measured steps, then dropped into a deep 90-degree bow, his forehead nearly touching the ground. His voice trembled with long-held emotion. "Brigade Captain Manke salutes the Dragon Legate. Many of us old soldiers still carry the glory days in our hearts, your strategies, your unbreakable line, your fierce might, which put fear in our enemies’ hearts. Master Corina grieves your departure to this day, a wound that never closed. We've waited years, scouring whispers for any sign. To see you alive... in Ansara..."

  He held the bow, minutes stretching in silence broken only by birdsong. Mikael remained impassive, unmoving as carved stone. He lifted the bottle, taking a long, slow swig, his eyes lost in the horizon's haze—ghosts of battles, betrayals, and losses parading unseen. No acknowledgement, no word.

  At last, Manke straightened with a heavy sigh, his respect undimmed. He turned away, a quiet hope kindling. “I’ll tell no one but Master Corina about your presence here, my Lord. Not one of the guards will tell either, on my honour.”

  The carriage rolled out soon after, the guards in formation, dust kicking up behind. Julieta peered from the window, her heart aching. She'd wanted one last word with Nerion, but he remained unconscious, his arms splinted in the orphanage infirmary. As the vehicle gained speed, a shout pierced the air from the gates.

  “UGLY GIRL! DON'T FORGET ABOUT US! WE'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN SOMEDAY!”

  Nerion stood there, his arms in crude casts, propped by the other children. A wide, mischievous grin split his pale face despite the pain, his eyes bright with that ear-to-ear pride from his survival. The orphans waved furiously, a chorus of goodbyes.

  Julieta leaned out the window, her hand waving wildly, tears mixing with her laugh. "Never! We'll see each other soon!" The warmth of that moment etched into her soul—a promise, a change, something to carry through the cold roads ahead.