The Elements of Zion: The Vine, The Branch, and The Thorn

His Supreme Power

Above us, the sky turned to an inferno. Great plumes of fire billowed from the gaping maws of the dragons as they descended upon the Azurian fleet below. Vessels that had battled through the onslaught of thorns unfathomed, were now tinder for the conflagration of Lucian's wrath.

"Steady, Isaac!" Trose's voice pierced through the cacophony, his feathers brushing against my cheek as he banked sharply to avoid a fiery onslaught. Clinging to his broad back, I could feel every sinew and muscle tense with the effort of our flight. His strength was a tangible thing, even as my own resolve wavered like a flame in the storm.

Dove soared alongside us, His form a stark contrast to the dark beasts we pursued. "Focus on the heart," He said, his voice calm amidst chaos. "The fire cannot consume what is pure."

I tightened my grip on the hilt of The Flame of Zion,—its purpose clear in my mind. We were the shield against this tide of destruction, the guardians of a world teetering on the brink of annihilation.

As we neared the water's edge, the dragons seemed to sense their looming entrapment. Their assault grew desperate, flames fusing with the salt spray to create a scalding mist that shrouded the watery battlefield. It seared my lungs, but I fought through the suffocation.

"Almost there!" Trose called out, his silhouette cutting through the haze. The thud of my heart matched the thunderous beating of his wings. And then, from the roiling waters below, something stirred—a presence so ancient and immense that it dwarfed all other fears.

The Leviathan rose.

Its emergence was like the birth of a new world, a titan from the depths, scales glistening with primordial power. Water cascaded from its colossal form, each droplet catching the light of the fading fires above, a shower of diamonds in a sea of darkness.

With a sound that melded thunder and the roar of a thousand waterfalls, the Leviathan opened its gargantuan jaws, eclipsing the sky. In one swift, fluid motion, it snatched the dragons from their aerial dance of death.

For a moment, time itself seemed to bow to the creature's majesty. The dragons' flames quenched, their fury smothered by the unyielding embrace of the ocean's guardian. The Leviathan dragged them down, down into the abyssal cathedral where it reigned, leaving behind only the echoes of their defeat and the ripple of water closing over a story that would descend into legend.

We hovered there, Trose, Dove, and I, suspended between relief and awe. The tempest of fire and blood had passed, and in its wake, the world drew breath once more.

The depths churned with a ferocity that had no equal, the Leviathan's coils binding the thrashing dragons as it drew them down to their watery tomb. Their serpentine bodies writhed in impotent rage, scales scraping and fangs gnashing against the leviathan's indomitable force. The sea around us roared in triumph, the surface frothing white with the tumult of the ancient beast's might.

Trose's feathers were slick against my fingers as I clung to him, each beat of his wings resonant with the pulse of victory. His eyes, fierce and undaunted, reflected the fury of the scene below. Beside us, Dove hovered with an otherworldly grace, his gaze serene yet piercing, as if he saw beyond the chaos to a peace that awaited.

"Behold, the end of an age and the beginning of a new."

"Indeed," Trose replied. "The Thorn King's reign is no more here."

The Leviathan's power was absolute, an unyielding force of nature that claimed the dragons with ease. As they disappeared beneath the waves, the water calmed, and the Leviathan submerged, leaving behind a stillness that belied the battle that had raged mere moments before.

With a final, powerful stroke of his wings, Trose descended toward the ship that emerged from the dissipating mists of war. King Triton's vessel, grand and resolute, cut through the water, its sails billowing like the breath of the ocean itself. Prince Leamaris stood at the helm, his expression one of relief and reverence for the miracle we all had witnessed.

"Steady lad," Trose spoke softly as we alighted on the deck. My legs trembled beneath me, the aftershock of adrenaline making them feel as insubstantial as wraiths. Trose's talons clicked against the wood, grounding me to the moment.

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice hoarse with emotion. The weariness in my bones was profound, yet within it, there kindled a spark of something potent—hope, perhaps, or the beginning of healing.

Prince Leamaris approached me cautiously, like he was unsure of who I was. It wasn't until that moment, since leaving Ascension, that I realized I had returned to my physical form. Despite this realization, Prince Leamaris seemed confident in recognizing me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder as he spoke."Take heart, Isaac," clapping a firm hand on my shoulder. "You fought bravely."

"Did we?" I wondered aloud, peering out toward Heaven's Landing. The horizon was etched with the silhouettes of fallen temples, their once-majestic structures now debris scattered by the hands of malice and fear. A testament to both our victory and our loss.

"We did," Trose assured me, preening his feathers back into order. "And there will be time enough to mend what has been broken."

I nodded, knowing he was right. But for now, I allowed myself a moment to simply breathe, to feel the deck beneath my feet and the spray of the sea on my face, to let the weight of countless battles ebb away with the tide.

"Rest now, warrior," Dove cooed gently. "For soon, we rebuild."