The night came swiftly in the wilds, blanketing the world in an oppressive darkness. Ronan didn't know where he was headed, nor did he particularly care. The forest seemed to stretch out endlessly, and each direction felt as uncertain as the last. All he knew was that the weight of his existence as a Forsaken Beastbinder was beginning to settle like a storm cloud in his chest.
As the last vestiges of light faded from the sky, Ronan gathered dry wood and started a small fire, the crackling flames offering him the only warmth against the biting chill of the forest. Doomfang sat a few paces away, his wings folded tightly against his body as he watched Ronan with those glowing blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the night itself. The wyvern's silence was almost suffocating, as if the very air around them held some unspoken tension.
Ronan glanced at the creature, the bond between them stretching taut, but still, he couldn't quite understand it. Doomfang was a force of nature, ancient and incomprehensible. He had nearly torn the beast apart with ease, and yet Ronan could feel his own body trembling from the sheer intensity of that encounter. It wasn't just the fight. It was the realization that this creature, this wyvern, was now his partner, his equal in battle.
But what did that truly mean? And more importantly, what was the cost of such a bond?
The cost is your humanity, Forsaken. The wyvern's voice reverberated in Ronan's mind, low and foreboding. What you seek to understand will tear you apart.
Ronan flinched. His hand hovered over the small fire he had built, and he sighed deeply, his mind clouded. He was tired of the constant whispers, the feeling that something just beyond his understanding was waiting for him to fail. It was as though the world itself had conspired to make him a weapon—whether he wanted it or not.
"Why did this happen to me?" he whispered to the night, the question hanging in the air like a bitter curse.
The world does not choose who it gives power to. It simply grants it, and it is up to you whether you use it or succumb to it. Doomfang's voice was measured, but there was an edge of something ancient beneath it, a tone that suggested Ronan was still missing a key part of the puzzle.
Ronan let the fire crackle in silence, the flames dancing in the wind. He didn't have answers, and neither did Doomfang. The only thing that remained was the path ahead, and the knowledge that he would have to face what was coming, regardless of whether he was ready.
A rustling sound from the trees nearby broke the stillness, and Ronan's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't alone in the wilds, and this time, it wasn't just the sound of the natural world. There was something deliberate about the movement—something that spoke of a predator, not a random creature.
Doomfang's head snapped toward the noise. Prepare yourself, Forsaken. We are not alone.
Ronan stood up slowly, the firelight casting long shadows across the clearing. His hand instinctively reached for the makeshift dagger he had fashioned from a sharp stone, but the weapon felt insignificant compared to the power that hummed in his blood. He was no longer just a boy with nothing but fear and hope to guide him. He had a wyvern, an ancient creature bound to him by fate. And yet, that power didn't make him invincible.
Another rustling sound, closer this time, made Ronan's pulse quicken. Whatever was out there was circling them. Waiting.
Stay close to me, Doomfang warned, the tone in his voice now laced with something more protective than Ronan had ever heard from him before. I will shield you if necessary.
Before Ronan could respond, the figure emerged from the darkness.
At first, he thought it was another beast. A hulking shape moving with incredible grace, but then the figure stepped into the light of the fire, revealing itself to be a man—tall, lean, and cloaked in a dark, tattered robe. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but the eyes that gleamed from beneath were not human. They glowed with a faint amber light, the pupils slitted like those of a serpent.
Ronan's breath caught in his throat. He knew, even before the man spoke, that he was no ordinary traveler.
"You're far from the village, Forsaken," the man's voice was smooth, like honey, but with an undercurrent of danger. "And much deeper in the wilds than one should wander. Perhaps you've come here to die."
Ronan tensed, his hand tightening around the stone dagger. "Who are you?"
The man chuckled darkly. "A curious question for one who is hunted. But no matter. You will soon understand." The figure stepped forward, revealing the intricate markings that covered his hands—runes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. "I am called Kaelen, and I have been watching you, Forsaken."
Ronan's eyes narrowed. Watching me?
"Yes," Kaelen's smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. "Ever since you awakened that beast of yours."
Doomfang moved, his form growing larger as his wings unfurled. His voice resonated in Ronan's mind, a low growl. Be wary, Forsaken. This one is no mere man.
Kaelen didn't flinch. Instead, he spread his hands, as if to show that he meant no harm, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. "Oh, I don't want to harm you, Forsaken. At least, not yet. I'm merely here to offer you a choice."
"A choice?" Ronan's grip on the dagger loosened, but his heart continued to race. The figure before him was more than he appeared—he could feel it in his bones.
Kaelen's smile grew wider, more predatory. "Yes. The power you now wield is not just yours to command. It's part of something much larger, something ancient. You may think you're the one controlling Doomfang, but in truth, the wyvern controls you. And soon, you will learn that the bond you share is not just between man and beast. It is between you and forces far darker than you could ever imagine."
Ronan's mind spun, the words threatening to unravel everything he had come to believe. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to embrace your destiny," Kaelen said, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "You see, Forsaken, the bond you share with Doomfang is but a small part of a much grander design. And whether you like it or not, you are now a player in a game that will reshape the very fabric of this world."
Ronan's stomach twisted. He didn't know whether to trust this man—or to run. But deep down, something told him that Kaelen wasn't lying. The wyvern, the power, the connection… it was all too much for him to fully comprehend.
"You're not the only one who has a stake in this game, Forsaken. And the choices you make now will determine your fate—and the fate of those you care about."
Ronan could feel the weight of Kaelen's words pressing down on him, and in that moment, he realized that his journey was just beginning.