The night air was cool against Caelum's skin, but the heat of battle still burned in his veins. The echoes of the feast faded behind him as he walked alongside his father, each step drawing him further from the celebration and closer to something unknown.
William Blackwell moved with quiet confidence, his presence commanding even in the dim glow of the street lanterns. He had never been one for revelry, and tonight was no different. Without a word, he had slipped away from the banquet, only motioning for Caelum to follow.
"Your road will be a hard one," William said, his voice steady yet firm. "But use what I've taught you, and you will always find your way home."
Caelum nodded, absorbing the weight of his father's words. The trials had pushed him past his limits, tested every fiber of his being—but he had endured. And now, something else awaited him. Something only his father could show him.
As they turned a corner, the scent of iron and oil filled the air, mingling with the lingering warmth of embers. Blackwell's Forge stood at the end of the narrow street, unassuming yet steeped in history. This was the place where weapons of legend had been born—and where his father had forged his own path
William pushed open the door, and Caelum followed him inside, the warmth of the forge wrapping around him like an old memory. The glow of molten metal flickered against the walls, casting long shadows. And waiting for them, standing beside a workbench cluttered with tools and blueprints, was Ander.
The black-furred leonine warrior turned, his golden eyes appraising Caelum with a knowing look. "Well, well," Ander rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "Tell me, boy—have you ever heard of the weapon you wielded during your trial? The Spear of the Eclipsed Dawn?"
Caelum blinked, caught off guard. "Only what I felt when I held it," he admitted. "It came to me in the moment—I didn't even know its name."
Ander exchanged a glance with William before stepping closer. "Long ago, before the gods turned on one another, there was a being named Pelor—the god of the sun. His light was unmatched, and in his hands, he wielded a weapon of unparalleled power—Pelor's Spear of Dawn. It was more than just a weapon; it was a beacon, a force of divine judgment."
Caelum listened intently, his grip tightening at his sides.
William continued where Ander left off. "But the gods feared his power. They saw him not as a guardian, but as a threat. So they conspired against him, imprisoned him, and in doing so, they turned him into something else." William's gaze darkened. "They turned him into the Chained Oblivion."
A chill ran through Caelum despite the forge's heat. He knew that name all too well. The entity his father had spent his life fighting against—the shadow that loomed over everything.
"When Pelor was lost, his most devoted warriors—the Seraphim—were left adrift," Ander said. "They were beings of light, but without their master, they sought new paths. They learned to master both darkness and radiance, and from them, the first generation of Abyssal Seraphim was born. Your grandmother, Seraphina, was one of them."
Caelum's breath caught. He had never known much about his grandmother—only whispers of her name and the legacy she had left behind.
William stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "She was the guardian of the Spear of Dawn. But when the Abyssal Nexus struck, she lost it. It was never seen again." His gaze fixed on Caelum. "Until you."
Caelum frowned. "But I didn't have the real spear. It was just... a shadow of it. A copy."
"A copy made from your own power," Ander corrected. "That means something. The fact that you could manifest even an echo of that weapon speaks volumes. It means its spirit, its purpose, still lingers."
Caelum looked between the two of them, realization dawning. "You're saying... we should make a new one?"
William nodded. "Not just any spear. A weapon for the new King of Dawn."
The forge fell silent for a moment, the weight of those words settling between them. Caelum let the thought roll over in his mind. A new weapon, forged not from the past, but for the future. A weapon that embodied both the light he carried and the shadows he embraced.
He stepped forward, placing his hands on the workbench, the heat of the embers brushing against his skin. "Then it needs a name. The old spear belonged to Pelor. This one belongs to me."
William and Ander waited as Caelum considered, the flames reflecting in his golden eyes.
Finally, he spoke. "Solstice Piercer."
Ander grinned, baring sharp teeth. "A fine name. A spear that stands between light and shadow, just as you do."
William smirked, crossing his arms. "Then let's get to work."
Caelum took a breath, steadying himself. He had fought his trials, proven his strength. But this—this was something more.
The morning air hung thick with the scent of iron and embers as Caelum stood at the edge of the Black Keep's training grounds, adjusting the straps of his armor. The night's revelations still echoed in his mind—the truth of Pelor, the lost spear, and the weight of the path ahead. Yet, as he fastened the last buckle, his focus remained on the journey before him.
Behind him, the towering obsidian walls of the Black Keep loomed, its shadow stretching across the courtyard. The fortress had been his home, his crucible—but today, it would become a memory.
William Blackwell watched him in silence, arms crossed over his chest. There was no parting speech, no sentimental farewell. Only a single, measured nod. "You have what you need."
Caelum nodded back. "Where am I going?"
William reached into his cloak and handed Caelum a sealed letter, the wax bearing no mark. "Ironhaven. Dave, Vlad, Rosecurt, and Mich are there. You'll assist them for a short time."
Caelum frowned. "That's all?"
His father smirked, a knowing glint in his golden eyes. "That's all you need to know for now."
A stirring in the shadows behind William sent a shiver through the courtyard. The air thickened, warping around a mass of shifting darkness. From it, a pair of burning gold eyes emerged, followed by a serpentine form coiling into the light. Asterveil.
The Shadow Dragon's body was liquid night, his scales shifting like the void itself. Wisps of darkness trailed from his wings, curling and unraveling as if the dragon himself bled the abyss. He lowered his head, exhaling a mist of black smoke.
Caelum stepped back, instinctively reaching for his weapon, but Asterveil merely rumbled with amusement. "Still skittish, hatchling?"
Caelum blinked. "Hatchling?"
William's smirk deepened, but he said nothing.
Asterveil shifted, his massive wings unfurling just slightly, sending a gust of shadow-laced wind through the courtyard. "You are young. You are untested. But you carry the light of dawn and the weight of night upon your back." The dragon's gaze bore into him, ancient and unreadable. "That is why I chose you."
The words settled heavily in Caelum's chest. Asterveil had chosen him. Not just as a rider, but as something more.
Caelum exhaled and stepped forward. "Then let's not waste time."
The Shadow Dragon lowered himself, his body folding into the courtyard's darkened stones. Without hesitation, Caelum climbed onto his back, gripping the smooth, cold ridges along his spine.
William watched, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice quiet but firm, he spoke. "Fly well, my son."
Asterveil's wings snapped open. The shadows beneath him erupted, and in a single, powerful motion, they launched skyward.
The world blurred into streaks of silver and black as they ascended, past the fortress walls, past the tallest peaks. The sky above shattered into a tapestry of stars, infinite and endless.
And then—Asterveil dove.
The stars bent around them as the dragon folded his wings, hurtling through the celestial void. Time twisted, the sky fracturing into ribbons of gold and violet. The very fabric of reality rippled around them, pulling them forward—toward Elloria.
Toward the next chapter of Caelum's fate