The journey to the ridge was slow, arduous. Garren's limp became more pronounced and his breathing ragged, but he pushed on, driven by the unspoken threat of Aerion's will.
Eana moved ahead, light-footed, scouting their path. Her small form disappearing and reappearing among the rocks.
Aerion walked at the rear, alert for danger. His inner conflict was a quiet presence against the cold mountainside. The pain in his bones sharpened, a grinding ache that made him clench his jaw.
He could feel the power stirring, reacting to the presence of the Vaelgard and their influence. The urge to release it was strong, tempting him to destroy.
But he held back. He needed to understand first.
They arrived at the ridge as the pale afternoon sun started to set, casting the sharp peaks in shades of purple and gray. From above, the road below looked like a thin, winding path cutting through the damaged land.
In the distance, they spotted faint traces of smoke rising from the Vaelgard camp, a dark stain against the dimming sky.
"There," Aerion stated, pointing at it. "The camp. We need to see its layout. Entrances, exits. Any sentry points."
Garren leaned against a rock, catching his breath. "And the damn patrols? They're crawling everywhere."
"They'll run patterns," Aerion replied with a flat voice. "Regular intervals. We watch, we map them, and we find gaps."
He sat on a cold rock, his eyes locked on the distant camp. Pain surged within him, sharp and sudden. He clenched his fists, grounding himself. The dragon inside him stirred, restless and eager for destruction.
But Aerion held firm.
Night deepened, shadows swallowing the land. Below, the Vaelgard camp was a cluster of flickering lights in the vast wilderness. Distant patrols moved in rhythm, their voices carrying on the cold air.
Aerion remained still, calculating distances and guard numbers. This outpost was the first piece in the wall he would tear down. He would start by finding every weakness.
The cave air was cold and thin, biting at Garren's exposed skin. He huddled closer to the small, flickering flame. Its meager warmth did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep in his bones since the Black Hollow.
Ryn sat across from him, picking at a loose thread on his worn tunic. His face was a mask of sullen fear, the kind that came after a shock had worn off, leaving only a dull ache.
Mira watched the flames, her arms wrapped around Eana, who slept, oblivious to the tension that coiled like a snake in the small space.
"We can't keep going like this," Ryn muttered, his voice low, almost a hiss. He didn't look at Aerion, who sat by the cave's entrance, a silent, watchful shadow against the gloom.
"He's fucking mad. What was that... that damn thing he did back there?"
Garren grunted, shifting his weight. His old leg throbbed.
"It's power, Ryn," he said, his voice quiet and flat. "Something we don't understand."
"I don't want to understand it," Ryn snapped, his voice rising with fear. "I just want to know where the hell we're going. What's the plan? We're just... following him in the dark. For what? He's not even... human."
His words hung in the air, thick with accusations. Aerion remained still, but the air around him began to prickle.
"He can't just expect us to march into a war we don't get, led by some bastard who... who could turn us to ash with a glance. We need a way out."
Ryn finally looked at Aerion with wide eyes, a flicker of defiance mixing with terror. "What do you want from us, Aerion? Where the hell are we going? And what are you?"
Aerion moved. It wasn't a quick movement, but a slow, deliberate turn of his head.
His blue eyes, usually dulled, flared. The light they held wasn't fire; it was like a frozen sea swirling beneath a thin surface.
Ryn gasped, his breath catching in his throat.
For a brief, agonizing moment, the cave seemed to spin, the shadows twisting into monstrous shapes.
An overwhelming, primal dread seized Ryn, clutching at his heart. He whimpered, clutching at his head, as if to stop the dizzying fear that pulsed behind his eyes.
Aerion then simply extended a hand with an open palm towards Ryn. No fire, no visible energy, yet Ryn was slammed back against the rough cave wall with invisible force.
A grunt of pain escaped him as the air was knocked from his lungs. His cheap, scavenged dagger, held loosely in his hand, clattered to the ground.
His muscles locked, rigid, holding him pinned. He struggled, a strangled cry escaping his lips, but he couldn't move.
His eyes, wide and bloodshot, fixed on Aerion, filled with raw, unadulterated terror.
The display was over as quickly as it began. Aerion lowered his hand.
The invisible force released Ryn, who collapsed into a heap, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face. His body trembled uncontrollably. His gaze fixed on the dirt floor. He was broken, utterly.
The fear returned to Garren, Mira, and Eana tenfold. A cold wave washed over them.
Aerion's display of power gave them a clear message. Defiance meant consequences, and those consequences would be their living nightmare.
With the internal threat extinguished, Aerion's gaze shifted outwards. He knew little of the world he remembered from centuries past.
That knowledge was old, useless now. He needed to know what Therion had done in the Veridian Dominion.
He needed to understand the Vaelgard Empire's movements. Survival was not enough. He needed details to fuel his vengeance.
"We will gather information," Aerion stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, yet ringing with authority that brooked no argument.
He looked at the trembling group. "Therion has taken control. The Vaelgard moves into new lands. We need to know their strengths, their plans, their weaknesses."
He looked at Eana, who still clutched Mira. "You move quietly, observe and listen. Find out about Therion's new rule. How do the people feel? Where are his soldiers? What are the Vaelgard doing? Their patrols, their camps, their movements."
Eana nodded, her eyes wide. She was quick, Aerion had seen it. Stealth was her weapon.
His gaze fell on Garren. "You will watch the roads. Look for supply wagons. Listen for rumors in the small villages, from a distance. Your age will be a cover."
Garren, despite his limp, was observant. His quiet nature made him less likely to draw attention.
Mira and the child would remain hidden, moving to a safer, more distant location while the others scouted. Ryn, still a shaking mess on the cave floor, was assigned menial tasks: fetching wood, keeping watch near the hidden camp.
Their first push deeper into the contested zones was hard. Vaelgard patrols were everywhere, their armored figures a common sight on the dusty roads.
Villagers eyed them with suspicion, their faces etched with fear.
Eana, with her small frame and silent steps, proved effective. She returned with whispers of Therion's regime, his oldest brother.
Public notices were nailed to village boards. People were forced to work, rebuilding parts of destroyed towns.
The symbols of his father's crest, the Veridian Dominion, were being replaced by Therion's stark, geometric sigil.
Garren, from his hidden spot, saw how the Vaelgard took over the land. New forts were built near main roads. Soldiers marched in long lines.
They made camps that lasted a long time. They tried to make the local people join them.
But the people were afraid and felt angry. They spoke quietly, just accepting what was happening because they had to.
Mira whispered to Eana, "This damn mess gets worse every day," her voice low and bitter, fear lacing her words.
Aerion listened, his mind worked fast. He put together all the small bits of news. Therion's betrayal was worse than he thought. It was a cold and planned act, and the Vaelgard Empire wanted to take over everything.
This knowledge made his anger boil. But now he saw the big picture clearly, and his raw desire for revenge turned into careful planning.