Omega's Rebirth-Chapter 813: Burned ()

The rain had stopped hours ago. But the skies were still darkened in the aftermath of the storm.

Neveah stood at the rim of the gorge, hands blistered and still glowing faintly. The Fae sigils had long since gone dark beneath her feet.

On one hand, it felt like a burden had been lifted off of her. On the other hand, there was a measure of guilt. She wasn’t certain Adrienne’s memories were hers to sacrifice.

But they were not hers to carry either. What had to be done, was done.

"It worked," Lord Fintan chuckled in disbelief, visibly exhausted from the spell.

"As every century before. The Fae will be safe while the rest of the world burns, you mean." She muttered, turning away from the gorge.

"Too bad. This won’t keep the crack sealed forever. Just buy time."

Neveah wasn’t sure what she had expected. That the gorge would close up and everything would go back to the way it was?

The sacrifice of Adrienne’s memories should have been worth more than a temporary fix. But when did anything ever go so easily?

The binding circle vanished as she stepped out, seared into the earth like a scar. The black sea had calmed. Like any other steadily flowing stream. No trace of the crackling magic, only the scorched perimeter where six sigil-stones once pulsed.

How long that calm would be, Neveah wasn’t certain. But she knew one thing, this crack had been weak. Beoruh still hadn’t recovered. And he didn’t have all the pieces of the hybrid rune.

But he was out there. And he would stop at nothing.

Xenon was waiting outside the circle. He picked Neveah up into his arms before she could protest.

"Don’t beat yourself up." He said. "No one expects you to change the world, my love."

"You bought time. That is enough."

"Jian?" She asked.

"With the squadron. For the time, we have no further business here. And the Fae battalions can handle the rest. We will be leaving Aloria."

She nodded slowly. "To Dragon Keep?"

"Yes. Garron believes the hidden archives may hold the answers we seek. And Jian...the throne has been left without a King for too long."

"It’s time he returned to his place. Us too." She murmured in agreement. She nuzzled his neck. Giving in to the exhaustion tugging at her.

_________

The world had changed in many ways. But Dragon Keep hadn’t changed. It was as cold as Neveah remembered.

The ascending room had been in continuous descent, and after what felt like an eternity, it finally came to a halt.

Garron stepped out first. His expression attested to what she felt. Anyone with a measure of self preservation left would have much rather been anywhere else than down here.

And if she didn’t realise the urgency, Neveah would have protested the idea of heading down to the archives just as they returned to the Keep.

Jian and Xenon had gone straight to the study first. He had granted no audience yet. He hadn’t even met Imagor who was out on flight patrol, nor informed him of his return.

Jian was officially expected back at the Keep by dawn tomorrow. But they had returned at nightfall.

Somehow, he was different since their return was decided. Not to Neveah. But his entire countenance had taken a dive. Like he had put back on the invisible shroud of the cold, detached King that had slipped these past days.

Returning to Dragon Keep was bittersweet. As King, he would have to face the council. Face Orin’s loss and declare commencement of his funeral rites. Pass judgement on Keila, decide on a temporary Fae representative for the purpose of restructuring alliances with the Fae.

He would also need to deliberate on the next course of action regarding Beoruh. There were also the affairs of Fort Blazed’s return and Fort Inferno in the aftermath of the eruption, to sort out. The pending unified council and judgement of Lord Riven of the Dune light hall were affairs awaiting his decision.

He had spoken nothing of it, but Neveah could sense his apprehension. Subtle as it was, through their bond. A few months in the forlorn domain had cost him almost a year in the real world.

And unfortunately, he could not just carry on from this moment. No. There were hundreds of pieces to pick up. His dynasty of peace and prosperity he dedicated centuries to, was essentially...broken.

Neveah’s heart ached for him. But she knew what he needed now was their silent support. So she had reassured him she would be fine on her own, sent him off with a smile and accompanied Garron down.

"Do you have any idea what we might be looking for?" Neveah asked, her gaze taking in the endless rows of scrolls and volumes.

"The origin runes date back to the earliest centuries. The rise of the dark empire." Garron supplied.

"Essentially, the beginning of time." She murmured, glancing back at the volumes. The least of them dated back a few centuries at least. Even Asrig’s writings.

There was no hope separating the old from new. Only the old from the older.

"That’s... helpful."

It wasn’t.

For the next hour, Neveah flipped through one dusty volume after another. Most were written in strange language, others in symbol code. Some wouldn’t even open.

Finally, they narrowed down the dates till they stared at a towering shelf. Neveah sighed heavily.

"If only it would fly out on its own and hit me in the face."

She regretted her words when a huge tome shot out of the shelves in a cloud of dust and mould. It hovered right in front of her but the dust cloud it carried sent Neveah into a coughing fit.

"Right. Magic."

Garron hurried over and grabbed the book. "Be careful with that down here. This place is teeming with cursed residues of dark magic. Magic, even opposing ones, attract each other. You don’t want to be singled out as a possible host."

Neveah shuddered in visible disgust. Suppressing Demevirld immediately.

Garron carried the tome over to a table. There was already a pile of volumes he previously put aside, most likely on related topics or for reference and context.

He fetched a magnifying lens, peering down at the tome.

It was a large book, sealed with an intricately designed cover of entwining vines. In the center, the vines came together to form a bind that looked like a real, blooming rose.

"It looks as alive as any other rose you’d find in a lush meadow." Garron observed, squinting.

"You know you don’t actually need that, right?" Neveah asked to be sure.

Garron scoffed beneath his breath. But his attention was completely taken with the tome and finding a way to outmanoeuvre the binding.

Neveah waited in silence.

"Veah, you should head up first. I’ll sit with this one for a while." Garron finally said.

She didn’t argue. It was already a struggle to convince Jian and Xenon to let her come down herself. Her growing affinity for magic was a source of concern to everyone. The less time she spent down here, the better.

When the ascending room got above the underground level, Neveah finally released an uneasy breath.

With how tense everyone was, she was becoming worried she might breathe in dark magic.

She halted the ascending room at the ground level. It was late into the night now. The Keep was cold and empty, save for a few dragon lords that did double takes on sighting Neveah.

They had arrived by a portal on the landing platform of the second level. So their reaction was no surprise.

Out in the courtyard, Neveah let her feet guide her until she arrived at the rickety bridge.

There, Xenon stood. His black robes floated gently in the evening breeze.

The sight brought a smile to Neveah’s lips. The sudden urge to take a walk out of the Keep must have been spilled over through their bond.

She made her way to him, stopping only a short distance behind him. She slipped her arms around his waist, leaning against him.

He hummed lowly. "What have I said about being out in the cold, Misha?"

The hurt was instantaneous. A chill spread down her spine and Neveah pulled away like she had been burned.

Xenon whirled around almost instantly. His eyes were wide, horrified at his own words. "Veah, I don’t know why... I...it just..."

Neveah didn’t wait, she turned away. Hurrying back to the Keep.