Eclipsed

Chapter 7

The Messenger’s Journey

Ren stood at the edge of a rocky cliff, the wind biting at his skin as he gazed out across the sprawling landscape. The village lay behind him, nestled in the valley, but ahead stood a solitary, ancient tower—a place where the village’s messengers gathered to send word to distant lands.

At the base of the tower, a silver-winged griffin awaited. Its sharp eyes flicked toward Ren, recognizing him instantly. He approached, pulling from his satchel a small, rolled parchment sealed with his family’s emblem. He tied it securely to the griffin’s leg, murmuring a quiet prayer for its safe journey.

With a powerful beat of its wings, the griffin took flight, soaring into the sky. Ren watched as it became a speck against the horizon, knowing that the bird would travel across vast mountains and deep rivers, carrying his words to Miyako’s kingdom. It would take days, maybe weeks, but the message would find its way. The griffin was swift, and its loyalty unmatched.

Ren’s feet pounded the cracked earth as he made his way through the smoldering ruins of his village. The once bustling streets were now silent, filled only with the charred remains of homes and buildings. The library, miraculously intact amidst the destruction, stood as a grim monument to the past. Ren pushed open the door, the familiar scent of old paper and dust filling his nostrils.

He moved to the back of the library, his eyes falling on a weathered book—its title, "The 12 Disciples of Mal'gorath," written in faded gold across the cover. The mythological name sent a shiver down his spine, and with a steady hand, he opened the pages. The disciples, dark figures bound to a malevolent force, were said to bring ruin to those who sought them out. Each chapter was more chilling than the last. But Ren didn't have time to let the implications sink in. His mind was consumed by the flames of rage that still smoldered in his chest.

Slamming the book shut, he grabbed his gear—his weapons gleaming in the dim light—and strapped them to his back. His baby dragon, now half his size, fluttered its wings at his side, chirping excitedly as it nuzzled his arm. Ren barely noticed, his anger blinding him to its affection. The dragon let out a playful growl and climbed up his arm, settling onto his shoulder, its tiny claws digging in for balance.

Ren didn’t acknowledge the dragon's presence, but it seemed determined to stay close, rubbing its head against his cheek before hopping off to trail behind him. As Ren made his way toward the forest, the dragon darted around, pouncing at fallen branches and occasionally nipping at his boots in a bid for attention. But Ren’s thoughts were focused solely on the forest ahead, where the answers—if there were any—would lie.

The kingdom of Caldarion stood in stark contrast to Ren’s desolate village. It was a beacon of life and power, nestled between towering mountains and sparkling rivers. The bustling streets were lined with vendors selling fresh fruit, spices, and fabrics from distant lands. Lanterns swayed in the night breeze, casting a soft, golden glow across the vibrant marketplace. In the heart of it all, towering above everything else, was the grand castle—its stone walls gleaming under the moonlight, an imposing yet majestic structure that symbolized the kingdom's strength and wealth. Flags of gold and crimson fluttered from the high towers, while the sound of laughter and music echoed from within.

Inside the massive palace, the atmosphere was less festive and more somber. A long corridor lined with ancient portraits and fine tapestries led to a dormitory at the end of the hall. In a modest room near the back of the palace, Miyako sat at her desk, a candlelight flickering in the dim silence. The walls of her room were decorated with embroidered tapestries from various lands, a reminder of her travels, yet they could not mask the exhaustion in her eyes. She had been up late, studying documents and reports about the kingdom’s defenses, but her mind was far from these responsibilities. It was on Ren—on the boy who had left her behind, the boy she still thought about every night.