Chapter 54

Travel had never felt so slow before in Arcturus' life. Even upon Shandalar’s enchanted carpet, the vast sky before them was dull and lifeless, an endless expanse that seemed to mock his restless heart. Below, the countryside stretched out in a patchwork quilt of vibrant greens, golds, and browns, each shade interwoven with the land's natural beauty.

The hills that held the occasional grazing sheep or solitary cottage could not cast away the specter that overshadowed his heart. Crimson scales that glinted in the sunlight, leathery wings that carried them to the heavens, and sapphire eyes that held depths of wisdom and mirth. Every distant mountain peak, each passing cloud, whispered of a time when the skies were filled with the thrill of flight and the promise of new discoveries. Now, the sky was merely an expanse to be crossed, a reminder of the growing chasm between him and the dragon he loved.

 Their journey took them southward, threading along winding paths and distant hamlets, ever cautious to avoid drawing too near to populated areas. Shandalar's illusions cloaked their presence, while Merlia’s magic masked their scent, reducing the risk of being traced. Yet, they never ruled out the possibility. They rested in hidden alcoves of rock or wood, ever vigilant, their eyes scanning the skies with a terrible anticipation.

Despite their fears, no word came of the undead magician they had spurned, nor of the vast armies Lumara could summon with but a stern chirp. Instead, the skies were patrolled by the usual airships, their resplendent hulls gleaming in the sunlight, propellers humming like a distant storm. Teams of gryphon riders danced around these vessels, their feathered forms twisting and turning with graceful precision. Arcturus watched them with envy, though impressive, were pale imitations of the freedom and majesty he had known. Each graceful dive and spirited ascent of the gryphons stirred a longing within him, a yearning for the life and joy he had shared with his dragon.

Arcturus would close his eyes, his mind drifting back to those moments of exhilarating freedom. He could almost see Veledar's majestic wings slicing through the heavens, feel the phantom gusts of wind whipping against his face. Beneath him, the dragon's warm, sinewy body shifted with every beat of those powerful wings, a living testament to their bond and dominion over the sky. But inevitably, these cherished memories shattered like delicate glass. A sudden vision of razor-sharp claws and a menacing snarl would jolt him back to the harsh present. The illusion of their shared flight was ripped away, leaving him grounded in the stark, unyielding reality of their separation.

The nights on their journey brought no respite for Arcturus, despite the efforts of his companions to lift his spirits. Amidst the songs, stories, and the raucous laughter of his friends, Arcturus remained a somber island of detachment. Food was tasteless, songs devoid of rhythm or joy, and drink held no solace as laughter refused to grace his lips. His heart was a barren landscape, untouched by the merriment around him.

Each night, he found himself staring at the stars, clinging to his oaths, whispering to himself that the suffering was worth it. That he would bear the weight of his own torment so that others might be spared. But with each passing night, the burden grew heavier. Sleep was a fickle ally, often bringing dreams of reaching out for a dragon that was no longer there. Frustration would twist his features as he scowled, drifting into a realm far less resplendent than the one he yearned for.

In the blink of an eye, a fortnight had slipped away since they had departed from the opulent halls of the Lund Estate. Now, they found themselves enveloped by a timeworn ruin, where nature had lovingly draped its verdant tendrils over the remnants of a once-majestic civilization. Towering columns and grand arches, once proud and resplendent, now stood as mere shadows of their former selves, cloaked in a rich tapestry of trailing ivy and delicate moss. The stone pathways, once bustling with life, were now choked with an overgrowth of ferns and underbrush, their surfaces slick with the dew of forgotten mornings.

The ruins were adorned with faint traces of ancient artistry, with intricate carvings and faded mosaics peeking through the dense blanket of greenery. The once-vibrant colors of these artworks had been softened to gentle hues by time’s relentless hand, merging seamlessly with the earth beneath. Ancient fountains, now dry and cracked, served as silent sentinels of bygone grandeur, their basins overrun with water lilies.

This place was nestled within the Forest of Stars, a grand expanse of ancient trees, their gnarled boughs stretching back through the ages. During winter, the snow-swept floor would come alive with ethereal motes of light, rising from the frost-covered ground in delicate spirals. These luminous wisps would ascend towards the heavens, winking and flickering as if yearning to break free from their earthly bindings and join the twin moons, lovingly painting the countryside below in swaths of pale white and lavender light.

Camp was set with practiced efficiency, the fire roaring to life against the encroaching chill of evening. Beyond the canopy of ancient trees, the sky offered a spectacular show as the sun made its descent. Crimson rivers of light spread from the horizon, their fiery embrace painting the clouds in rich hues of gold and orange. These vivid shades danced on the edge of pools of deep lavender and black, where the first stars began to pierce the gathering twilight.

The journey of the day had been a grueling testament to endurance; even the most resolute among them felt the weight of their long hours aloft. As they gathered around the fire, the toll of their travels was etched into their weary faces, tempered only by the comforting heat of the flames and the awe-inspiring beauty of the dusk.

As the campfire crackled in the still night air, Arcturus sat lost in thought, his body weary and aching from a training session with Asterion. His gaze fixed on the dancing flames as he absently poked at the embers, his mind drifting to his dragon. Shandalar, slightly apart, focused intently on maintaining the camp’s magical wards, her fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air. Krotos, with his usual boisterous energy, regaled the group with lively tales and jokes between bouts of meticulously polishing his talons and feathers. Merlia, ever practical, bustled around preparing a hearty meal, trading amusing glances with the catbird. Meanwhile, Feku, with her trademark cheerfulness, busied herself with her collection of shiny trinkets and small snacks, her bright eyes darting around as she chattered away, ensuring everyone felt comfortable and entertained.

“So…While Asterion is occupied, anyone up for another game of Wolf’s wager?” Lyndis had brushed off a smooth bit of stone, shuffling a deck of playing cards between her deft fingers. “I could always do with separating you from your coin.”

It was never Arcturus’ thing, Skywing had adored playing it with the other gryphons on occasion. Though in Lumara they had called it Feathers and Fortune. Despite this, the rogue was more than capable of wearing down his resistance and dragging him in for the night.

“Why by Thor’s ass are we playing the baby version of Thunder Hammer?” Merlia scoffed, settling herself down with a pipe, wiping her fingers across her deep red shirt, “It’s easy as pie when compared! It's like serving a wee dram of ale when ye should be pouring a full cask of the finest whisky!”

“Tough talk, are you playing or not?”

“Bah, and waste me time?” She took a drag of her pipe, “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sounds as though you’re just too scared to lose to my magic fingers.” Krotos mused, strutting over a grin on his beak. With a fluff of his wings at every step he began to ruffle his feathers and cluck like a chicken.

“What an exceptional impersonation!” Lyndis cackled as Merlia’s face turned more red than Veledar’s scales.

“That’s it!” Merlia thundered, unhooking her pouch of coins and thumping them upon the stone. “Ya wee ones think yer so clever don’t ya?” She thumbed her chest, “I’ve been playing since before all of you were born!”

“Is that why you’ve been losing most of your hands?” Lyndis replied with a grin.

“Losing hands? Pah! It’s all part o’ the strategy!” Laughed the dwarf, “Lettin all ya get the taste of victory, your hopes up-“She formed a fist with a playful grin, “Then crush them to dust!”

While she went on to remind them of the rules, Arcturus could not resist looking to the stars. Deep down a tremble went through him, a chord to his very soul. He wondered if in these moments, if the dragon was experiencing the same longing, staring at these very stars.

“Oi, you listening or what?” Lyndis snarked, before loudly shuffling the deck, “Just cause you’re a metal skirt wearing paladin doesn’t mean you get out of gaming with the rest of us.”

“Asterion isn’t playing.” He gestured to the stoic as ever cleric, whom had his arms crossed as he gazed out to the countryside, “I am on watch.” His tail lashed, “Otherwise I would relish crushing Merlia at this pitiful contest.”

“Ooooooo, I think that be fighting words!” Merlia’s face lit up, “Come on over here and put your money where yer moo be!”

A wry smirk came to his lips as he and Lyndis shared a knowing look. “While it would please me, I do believe it was Arcturus that was invited.” He gestured to the human, “I have a quest for you, wipe that grin off her face.”

“Aye, if ye think yer paladin’s sense o’ duty can handle a proper game, then let’s see it! Come on, Arcturus, don’t just stand there lookin’ saintly—show us if ye can play cards as well as ye can handle a sword.” Her eyes shone with delight, “Or are ye all shine and no substance?”

Despite his reluctance, they’d manage to drag him in. He was tossed a card the moment that he plopped his coin pouch upon the stone. With a hearty laugh, Merlia had thrust a wooden tankard into his hand. “That’s the spirit lad!”

An empty tankard? He rose a brow as the others had gotten out tankard of their own. His answer came from Feku, who had scampered over, a wine bottle practically her size was clutched tightly within her grasp.

“Feku bring drink!” Exclaimed the kobold, accepting Krotos help to pour the crimson liquid into waiting tankards.

It was a deep shade, smelling dry and of wild berries. There was no mistaking what this was, some of Reginald’s private stock. As the Kobold loved the praise and attention, Arcturus could only sigh at the apparent theft, for he doubted Reginald would have parted with such a treasure.

“Of all the things she stashed away!” Merlia laughed, taking a sip, “You got the mind of a dwarf!”

Arcturus was more direct, gently sipping the offering, “Enjoy the wine cellar Feku?”

“It cold.” She replied without a hint of worry, “No like, Reginald, mean gryph give as gift for not allowing me cook!”

“No doubt Reginald will be up and wings over the missing bottle.” Sighed the knight, taking a sip of the dry concoction.

“So, ready to get your bum utterly pounded?” Krotos remarked, tapping at his stack of coins and cards, “Merlia talks tough, but whose won the last few nights?”

She gave him a shove, “Bird gets beginner’s luck and thinks he’s walking around with the biggest dick!”

Squawking laughter followed as he rolled a hand to his chest, “Oh please, we both know its-“

“Could we have enough of the genitalia talk?” Shandalar had padded her way over, taking a seat at his side to a smattering of raised brows.

It had been the first time she’d joined them, the rest of the evenings she’d spent combing through her books or meditating on her own. The sun-elf offered them a smile as she unfastened a sack of coins and laid them before her.

“Are you sick?” Lyndis asked softly.

“Oh gods, she’s dying.” Merlia laughed.

“Quick, heal me before it spreads!” Krotos fluffed his wings with a squawk.

“It is not any of those,” she replied, unphased by their teasing. “I have observed that social activities such as this enhance the bonds between companions. While I am not an avid participant in games of chance, I have observed your play these nights and have grasped the fundamental principles. It does not appear to be particularly challenging.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, if it’s not that challenging, then this should be quite entertaining. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you... at first. Let’s see if you’re as sharp with cards as you are with spells shall we?” Lyndis chuckled, “Alright the lot of ya, ante up.” She dished each one of them two cards, one face down and the other face up as they tossed in a coin to the middle.

Shandalar took a peek of her hidden card, the face up one a queen, “As I said, this game is simple, with only four players and fifty two cards, the winning combinations are limited.”

“True.” Lyndis smirked, “But there be more to it than that.”

“Of course, the bets will determine the strength of each hand.”

Merlia’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “Sounds like its time to pluck a gryphon!”

Arcturus had nothing, as such was his luck, even with the next round of betting. Looking around he already say pairs or possibly other combinations, he proceeded to fold before losing too much coin to a single hand. “I fold.” He grumbled.

“Same for me.” Merlia nursed her drink.

It was only Lyndis and Shandalar soon left, Krotos folding with a sigh, nudging Merlia with a wing for more drink.

Of the two, it appeared as though the sun elf had the superior hand, already showing two queens, possibly a third was concealed. Lyndis on the other hand had a smattering of numbers, possibly building up to a flush.

Between the two women, sparks seemed to fly, staring each other down as if to convince the other to give in. The mage eyed her card, tossing in a platinum coin.

“Oh, making it interesting are we? Here’s your platinum and another” Lyndis casually remarked, tossing in a two platinum coins.

“Holy shit!” Krotos laughed, spraying the ground with wine.

Lyndis on the other claw seemed unphased, pleased even, staring Shandalar down.

The sun-elf maintained her stone-like demeanor. “Is this what one describes as a ‘poker face,’ Lyndis?” She met Lyndis’ gaze steadily. “I assure you, I have engaged in battles with numerous mages over the years, reading their spells and devising precise counters many times. This should not be significantly different.”

“Yes, and this is cards.” She gestured to the pot of gathered coins, “Are you playing or not?”

Shandalar’s eyes traveled from her cards to the stalwart rogue before her. The gears turned in her mind as she weighed her options. With a resigned sigh, she folded, laying her cards on the table to reveal three queens. “Very well, Lyndis. It seems I have underestimated the nuances of this game. The battlefield is not the only place where strategy reigns supreme.”

Lyndis grinned mischievously as she revealed her final card—a worthless two of clubs. “It seems I had nothing all along,” she said, her eyes twinkling with triumph. “Sometimes, it’s not about the cards you hold, but the game you play.”

“You had nothing!” Shandalar's nostrils flared in disbelief as the others tossed back their heads in laughter. The rogue's grin widened, her eyes dancing with amusement.

It’s called a bluff.” Lyndis chuckled, sweeping her winnings into her sack. “Guess having a few hundred years on me doesn’t amount to much after all!”

As insults and barbs flew around the table, Arcturus tossed his cards in and stretched his limbs. Despite their laughter, he felt no happier than he had at the start of the day. With a sigh, he padded his way to the edge of the camp, seeking solace in the quiet. Just as he thought he had escaped, Lyndis’ sharp whistle pierced the air, stopping him in his tracks.

“Where ya goin’?” Lyndis asked, eyeing him from boots to head.

“Merlia already searched the grounds,” Shandalar added confidently. “And I cast illusions. No one should be able to see through them. They will see nothing but another patch of the forest from afar.”

“Still,” Arcturus groaned, gesturing to an uneven path littered with rocks and overgrown bushes, “if it’s all the same, I’d rather stretch my legs than lose more coin to our queen of cards.”

Rolling her eyes, Lyndis laughed. “Yeah, well, don’t go far. Oi, Krotos! Why don’t you tag along, make sure he doesn’t get lost?”

“How can he get lost? The ruins aren’t that big!” Krotos slapped his cards down, tail flicking. “You’re just afraid I’m going to win.”

“I’m more than willing to take your coin,” Lyndis said, her tone dripping with amusement. “How much more do you have left to wager?”

“Does it matter?” the gryphon chuckled, puffing out his chest with a confident air. “I’m due for a good hand. Watch and see.”

“Krotos.”

The gryphon sighed deeply, rolling his eyes with exaggerated drama. “Very well, your majesty. It seems our esteemed Arcturus is more deserving of my company. Speaking of which—” He perked up, feathers ruffling with excitement. “Arcturus, wait up! I’ll even let you stroke me!” With that, he broke into a gallop, his enthusiasm barely contained.

“Don’t go fucking him Krotos!” Lyndis hollered after him.

“No promises!”

Despite the gryphon’s exasperated chirping, the paladin chose to ignore his plea and continued along the labyrinthine path through the overgrown ruins. The air was thick with the weight of antiquity, heavy with a musty scent that spoke of forgotten ages. Shadows clung tenaciously to every surface, eagerly awaiting the departure of the sun's light.

Above, the distant rustling of bats and the soft calls of birds wove a melancholic symphony through the dense, shadowy canopy. As he descended the crumbling, moss-covered steps, his thoughts wandered back to the lives once lived within these ancient walls.

His gaze was drawn to a tranquil pond, its surface gently disturbed by the whispers of the wind. Nestled at its edge, amidst the encroaching tendrils of a vine, stood an ancient shrine. Its weathered stone bore the symbol of Nutambar: a pair of intricately carved antlers, entwined in an eternal embrace.

“Strange place, isn’t it?” Krotos suddenly spoke, nearly causing the paladin to jump and instinctively reach for his sword.

“Krotos!” Arcturus exclaimed, trying to regain his balance.

“Whoa, hold on!” Krotos caught him deftly. “You’d think you’d be more careful, with only two feet to stand on.”

“I typically don’t have gryphons sneaking up on me,” Arcturus replied, dusting himself off. “Decided to tag along, did you? Thought you’d stay behind for another round of giving Lyndis your coin.”

“She can be quite persuasive,” Krotos sighed, shifting his gaze from Arcturus to the sprawling ruins. “Makes you wonder what happened to this place. It’s far older than Lumara.” Krotos’ gaze found the shrine nestled by the pond. “You’d think Nutambar would be more attentive to those who revere him—”

“Time, most likely,” Arcturus interjected, continuing his walk through the ruins. “Or perhaps enemies seeking blood, or monsters. Who knows what brought it to ruin?” He heaved a great sigh, a cold unease settling in his heart. “Everything has an end.”

Arcturus stared into the tranquil pond, his eyes tracing the path of frogs gliding across the water and the lilies that clung delicately to its surface. Yet, beyond these simple reflections, he saw only the face of the dragon who had shattered his heart. Why could he not cast aside these thoughts and focus on the quest at hand? His fingers tangled in his hair, a gesture that had once brought comfort when Selina was alive. Why did this draconic heartache cut so much deeper, ever twisting the knife lodged in his soul?

“You’re troubled by him,” Krotos said softly, padding to the paladin’s side with a gentle grace. His ears were splayed back, his eyes catching the fading light with a sympathetic gleam. “I’ve noticed how you stare into the distance during our rests, always shrouded in sadness—”

“Are you watching me all the time?” Arcturus turned his gaze away, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “I didn’t realize I required constant supervision.”

“Not quite supervision, just observation,” Krotos replied with a soft chuckle. “You’re either immersing yourself in work or drifting away into your own thoughts. You’re trying to avoid thinking of him, burying your longing deep within. Do you regret coming with us?”

The man hesitated, forming a fist at his side. He had sworn an oath to Shandalar, a commitment that should have sufficed, ensuring that undoing Nigel’s schemes came first. Yet, as he gazed out into the empty sky, a pang of longing clutched at his heart.

“I know I shouldn’t,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “But I can’t help but dwell on the emptiness of my bed, miss the flights, even the gentle sound of his breathing is a void that I can’t ignore.” He looked towards the distant sun, its crimson hues on the clouds evoking memories of the dragon. “He has me in his grasp; it feels as though a part of me has withered away, yet I remain. Meals are flavorless, stories are hollow. This is not living; it’s mere existence.”

“What you’re feeling isn’t uncommon,” Krotos responded gently, settling onto his haunches with a resigned flop of his tail into the dirt. “I’ve felt it myself—bitten by the love bug and left bitterly in the dust.”

People didn’t want you?” Arcturus asked with a soft, bitter laugh, placing a hand on the gryphon’s shoulder. “What drove them away?”

“Who’s to say?” Krotos shrugged his wings nonchalantly. “The point is, you knew it was real, and that’s why it hurts. If it were just any fleeting fancy, you’d cast it aside without a second thought.”

“Do you think he feels the same?” Arcturus’ voice trailed off, a gnawing sensation settling in his gut. If their love had been genuine, how could have the dragon so easily discarded him?

“I’m sure he’s feeling just as wretched at this very moment,” Krotos said softly, his tone surprisingly empathetic. “I saw the glances you exchanged, the playful banter, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled at each other. Though I haven’t known you two long, I can imagine he’s retreated to his cave feeling quite foolish, worried that some certain gryphon might swoop in and claim you for himself—”

Here it came—the teasing, flirtatious banter. Arcturus sighed with exasperation. “Didn’t Lyndis warn you about—”

“She said nothing about you fucking me.” Krotos interrupted with a playful chuckle, his wing sweeping dramatically across his feathery chest. “I happen to know several stress-relieving techniques that could have you squawking with—”

““If all you’re going to offer are lewd suggestions, then I would prefer you leave,” Arcturus cut in, his gaze averted. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“To reject such an enticing offer as mine must mean your heart is truly heavy,” Krotos said with a brief, self-satisfied laugh, before fluffing up his feathers and sitting up straight. “Very well, I shall honor my gryphon’s oath and refrain from any further salacious remarks.”

“I suppose it must be hard for you-“

Krotos’ beak snapped shut, barely containing a snicker.

Resting a hand on the gryphon’s shoulder, he thanked him for his concern.  

“So...” the gryphon’s voice took on a teasing tone, “is he going to be jealous if he thinks I’ve comforted you?” Krotos’ eyes gleamed mischievously as he continued, “Because I’d hate to find myself on the receiving end of a furious roar for trying to comfort you.” He let out a low, rumbling purr, his gaze seeming to gloss over as if envisioning a dramatic scene. “Do you think he’ll...throw me to the ground, hissing and declaring that I’m encroaching on his territory? Give me a lesson I’ll never forget?”

“Looking forward to a forceful Veledar Krotos?”

“So, what if I am?” The gryphon shook his head with a chirp, “You have your fantasies, let me have mine...Clearly your fantasy was to cozy up with a blue gryphon whose bountiful balls you could not stop fondling with your eyes.“

“What did we discuss?” Arcturus said, his voice firm as he crossed his arms.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist!” Krotos squawked as he padded over to the edge of the pond, dipping his beak for a quick sip of water.

Arcturus squeezed the bridge of his nose, maneuvering around the playful gryphon and evading his lecherous glances. He wished Krotos could offer comfort without making it seem as though he harbored ulterior motives. Just then, something caught his attention—or rather, the absence of sound did. The forest had gone eerily silent, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for a predator to strike.

Krotos’ demeanor shifted abruptly; his eyes widened, and his body grew taut. “Someone is here.”

“It’s probably just Lyndis, looking for us,” Arcturus said with a nervous laugh, moving to stand beside the gryphon.

Without warning, Krotos screeched, “Arcturus, get down!” With a swift movement, he dragged Arcturus to the ground with his wing. A blur of black and white feathers streaked above them, a gryphon of ominous appearance. The realization hit him: they were under attack!

From the dense foliage and rugged stones emerged Skywing’s team from Suntail’s fortress: the pair of gryphons and the man bursting with muscles. Each was clad in armor that gleamed ominously in the dim light, their expressions as unyielding as steel.

“So, we meet again, Arcturus,” the muscled man said, his voice a low rumble of menace. He wore a mustache that seemed almost comically extravagant, but his grin held a dark promise. With a deliberate motion, he brought his armored fists together, causing sparks to flare and dance around him like malevolent fireflies. “It’s time I put these fists to good use against you!”

“That’s right,” The crème and teal gryphon at his side declared, his wings spreading wide in a display of feathery menace. “Time for payback! Fist him good sweety!”

“I intend to dearest!”

The pink gryphoness emitted an indignant squawk, her eyes narrowing with disdain. “Powerfeather, Frostbeak could you two refrain from flirting while we’re facing an enemy? Try to maintain some semblance of dignity for the gods' sake.”

With a solitary hiss, Arcturus unsheathed his onyx blade, its dark surface glinting in the dim light. He assumed a defensive stance, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto Skywing’s icy blue eyes. The gryphon moved with the stealth and intent of a predator, his movements calculated and deliberate, searching for the opportune moment to strike.

Without armor, missing the others and by surprise, Arcturus did not like their odds of making it out of here unscathed. Getting out of this would require a bit of skill. So, you finally managed to track us down, did you?” he said, a grin masking the apprehension gnawing at his insides. “Regrettably for you, Skywing and your lackeys, I won’t be returning to the capital today. My companions are nearby, and let me assure you, this one knows how to scream.”

Krotos fluffed his feathers, his beak opening for a deafening screech. However, before he could unleash his intended roar, a shimmering thread of blue erupted from Frostbeak’s talons. It coiled around Krotos’ beak with swift precision, sealing it shut and rendering his cry a mere muffled whimper.

“We would prefer that you come quietly.” Frostbeak chuckled, exchanging a wink with his human love.

"No more games, Arcturus. Surrender," Skywing hissed, his wings flaring out in a menacing display. "Don't make us hurt you."

Arcturus's gaze flickered over his surroundings, searching for options. "Of which I could say the same to you," he replied, his voice steady but his mind racing. He knew he was outmatched. His voice wouldn't carry far enough for help, and running was futile; Skywing had always been the swifter. The tiger gryphon would be upon him in moments. He needed a distraction, something to turn the tide-

His decision was made for him as Krotos sprang toward his captor, disrupting the blue gryphon’s concentration on the spell. Swift on his paws, Krotos narrowly dodged the muscled man’s earthen projectiles. Each impact shattered the ground in a cacophony of destruction, timed almost perfectly with the rhythm of Krotos’ frantic movements. He was a blur of teal and blue, colliding with Frostbeak and sending him crashing to the ground with an indignant squawk.

This was his chance! Without hesitation, Arcturus pressed the attack, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. His strike was swift and precise, aimed to incapacitate rather than kill—a blow easily mended by a healer. Skywing dodged with a throaty squawk. Arcturus grimaced as he narrowly avoided a talon, warding off the gryphon with his blade.

To think it had come to this: losing one friend in Garroth and now this? Each narrow miss, each desperate parry, made it clear that he might have to spill the catbird’s blood.

No remarks, no quips, no taunts, just the pair moving across the forest floor in a deadly dance. They knew each other far too well, predicting moves before they were even made. Skywing circled Arcturus, leveraging his size advantage, his talons and beak always a threat. Without his armor, Arcturus knew that one wrong move would leave him gutted like a fish, and he had seen too often what gryphons could do to unprotected flesh.

They moved with a grim determination, a silent understanding of the stakes. Skywing's eyes were cold, focused, as he feinted and lunged, trying to find an opening. Arcturus parried each attack, his mind racing to stay a step ahead. Memories of their training sessions flashed through his mind, the countless hours spent honing their skills now turned against each other in deadly earnest

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the rustling leaves and distant bird calls a stark contrast to the violent struggle unfolding below. Arcturus felt the weight of his decisions pressing down on him, the knowledge that this was no longer a practice bout but a fight for survival. He steeled himself, knowing that he had to end this quickly, before fatigue or a moment's hesitation cost him his life.

As they parted, panting from their exchange, Arcturus felt his body threatening to seize up, as though an invisible python was constricting around every limb, desperate to pull him together. In the corner of his eye, he caught the gryphoness chanting. It was clear she would take no risks when it came to the commander's health. Gritting his teeth and summoning the force of his will, he focused on his oaths, pushing back against her tricks. Though he succeeded, it was too late. Skywing had already closed the distance, his talons slicing through Arcturus's arm and splattering the ground with blood.

Wincing, Arcturus pressed Skywing back. The wound was not deep, but blood poured down his arm. He panted, pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. Summoning his strength, he struck back, finding a gap in Skywing's armor and returning the wound in kind.

"Arcturus!" Skywing halted, desperation etched in his gaze, his tail lashing furiously. "I beg of you, cease this madness before it costs one of us their lives… You cannot win."

Krotos was sent tumbling behind him, snapping and swatting at Frostbeak’s face. Feathers were being ripped free, blood spilling as a symphony of squawks resounded through the ruins. For a fleeting moment, he managed to pin the crème gryphon, his claws squeezing at the bird’s throat. But then a serpent of earth raced up his flank, coiling tightly around his limbs.

“No one fools around with my husband without my say so!” Laughed Powerfeather, striking a pose to show off his bulging biceps.

“Hey, I’m into a lot of things, but not tentacles!” Krotos squawked, pulled to the ground by the tendrils strength as he desperately tugged to free himself. It was no use as he squirmed, grunting and hissing. With every move, the tendrils tightened, until all he could do was rock pathetically back and forth.

“Too bad, blue boy!” Frostbeak chirped with glee, forcing Krotos down against the earth with both hands, a grin spreading across his beak. “You’re getting my lover’s signature earthy girthy tentacle attack!”

“Mercy!”

They were losing, he could hold Skywing off for sure, but not all of them. He too would be bested, given time, though he hated to admit it. The grim reality that rested before him was retreat, even if the gryphon was swifter. He wound have to wound him, slow him down, slice a leg. Unfortunately, as he was rounding upon Skywing, looking for an opening, Talonheart enacted a plan of her own.

Wings flared wide, from their crème and brown embrace came light with the intensity of the sun. It was like daggers into one’s eyes, bringing day to the dusk gripped clearing, more than enough time for Skywing to take advantage.

“You’re done!” Shrieked the commander, victory all but assured.

Blinded, heart pounding, his ears ringing, he didn’t have much time. He swiftly preformed the motions of the shield of Lo, uttering the word of power through gritted teeth. Magic coursed through his veins, bringing the shield between him and what he hoped was the commander’s coming strike. It shattered as the gryphon surged through it, grabbing Arcturus by the chest and slamming him to the ground with a resounding screech.

“There, you’re beaten!” Skywing wailed, pressing down his weight to pin, not kill. “Now stay down.” He growled, talons digging into the man’s chest, “There will be no other warning.”

How wrong his once friend was. Through blurry vision, Arcturus could sense the spell twisting through his flesh, leaving a trail of heat that would not dissipate. It called to him, wanting to be used, so why would he deny it? With a savage grunt he grabbed the gryphon, his weight no more troublesome than a lone feather. As the commander squawked his surprise Arcturus flipped him over, soon turning the gryphon’s victory upon himself.

Squirming and thrashing proved ill suited to stop him, Arcturus’ strength was unmatched. He snatched his blade and pressed it to the commander’s throat, leaving little question on what might happen.

“Yield!” Arcturus roared, barely able to meet those widened eyes he’d seen so many times, “No more spells either!”

Talonheart was frozen, reared up, hands raised, not dropping them for an instant as her tail lashed across the dirt, “Foolish human, kill him and you won’t make it out of here yourself.”

“That’s it Arcturus, fuck him up!” Krotos managed to groan as the earthy snakes coiled around his beak.

Panting, blood practically burning, Arcturus beheld the prostrate gryphon beneath him. That familiar beak half-open, ears pinned, eyes narrowed—it drove a wedge into his heart. His hands, though tightly gripping the blade, trembled as he maintained its position. Without this, any victory was but a fleeting thing.

“Do it.” Skywing’s gaze burned through the air, his words dripping with venom. “Suppose this is who you are now. A king-killing, traitorous scumbag. What would Selina say if she saw you right now?”

Arcturus's heart clenched at the mention of Selina. Her memory was a balm and a torment, a ghost that haunted his every decision. His grip tightened, the blade quivering, “I have killed Cornellius as you say, but I am no traitor to my oaths.” He grunted, eyes like steel, “I cannot let you take me. Not when you serve those that would employ the likes of Liches, Cthulhids-”

“Not even trying to deny it.” Skywing continued, thumping his tail. “I thought you’d insist it wasn’t you, weave some fantastical excuse, but to hear it now… Do you know how many people perished trying to stop you and your companions?” The gryphon growled, “Those elementals your friends unleashed were not particularly picky about what they attacked.”

Arcturus didn't falter, forcing himself not to dwell on the lives lost. “Our kingdom must be stopped, Sky. Its tendrils stretch far and wide. Cornelius… he was but one of many…” He swallowed hard. “If you saw the lengths they go to for power, you’d be here with me. If you were still the gryphon I knew, I can explain it all.”

As Skywing squirmed, his gaze seemed to try and ignite the very air. “You kill our king, slaughter our soldiers, and expect me to just believe you at your word?”

“Old… dearest friend… It is all that I have. My word was good enough for you once.” Arcturus grimaced. “Please… I beg of you.”

For a moment, the gryphon said nothing, his gaze softening. “If it were anyone else…” The gryphon grunted, thumping his tail. “You’ll have to get off me.”

“How do I know you won’t seize the opportunity to pin me down, shove my face into the dirt, and drag me back to our kingdom? You were working with Suntail.”

His voice lowered, but his gaze didn’t waver. “It would appear both of us have explaining to do. Arcturus, now it is your turn to trust me. You have my word; we won’t drag you off in chains unless we have just cause.”

You can’t be serious, commander.” Talonheart growled, fluffing her wings. “Nothing he says is going to make a—”

“Enough, Talonheart,” Skywing snapped, his voice a whip. “I make this decision, not you.”

Logic insisted that he not listen, that his enemy would say whatever was required to free himself from this impasse. Yet in that feathery face was the gryphon he’d always known, the one he’d shared drinks with, laughed with, and lived a life with Selina. If anyone deserved his trust, it was him. The paladin’s resolve wavered in the face of this bond, he had already lost most of what his old life held, he could not lose him too. His blade fell, tossed to the dirt.

“Arcturus, you can’t be this stupid!” Krotos grunted, breaking his beak free.

“It is only fair that I do what I have asked of him.” Arcturus replied, shifting upon the gryphon’s chest, meeting those sky-blue pools. “He has earned that much.”

Slowly, the knight slid off Skywing’s feathery chest, letting the gryphon flop over and return to all fours. The moment of truth was at hand. No sudden movement, no order of attack, not even a sign of a pounce. The commander turned upon his feathers, dwelling on the patches of brown and blood that clung to his white tiger-like haunches.

“Now how is that fair? You’ve done essentially the same to me.” Arcturus dusted off his trousers and gestured to the rip in his shirt, “I feel as though we’re even in that regard.” He gestured to Krotos with a tentative smile, “Think you might have gone and traumatized that one, he’s worse about his feathers than you are with your hind paws.”

“Now that certainly is a feat.” Skywing replied, his stance softening as he gave a soft smirk.

For the briefest of moments, the years of tension and unspoken words seemed to melt away. They laughed with honest smiles as the commander approached, and Arcturus did not recoil. Any doubt over what might happen vanished, his friend was here once more.

“Here, let me help with that.” Arcturus gestured to the flesh wounds they’d inflicted upon one another in their bout.

“It’s not really anything, it will heal on its own, really, it’s—”

He approached, noting the gryphon did not retreat. Focusing upon Bahamut, he channeled the magic through him, sealing both his and Skywing’s wounds.

“Now that is fascinating.” Skywing’s eyes widened with a curious chirp, “I was meaning to ask where you’d picked up such tricks.”

“No deception, while not as excellent as a cleric it gets the job done.”

“Indeed.” Skywing took a few steps, shaking his hind leg in test. Holding his head high, he composed himself, taking control. He gestured for Arcturus to follow. “I believe you and I need to have a bit of dialogue… Alone, I would like to hear about everything that has transpired.”

“Is that wise, commander?” Talonheart narrowed her gaze, “He could try something.”

Skywing scoffed, gesturing to the discarded sword. “If Arcturus here tries anything, he’ll find me on top of him faster than he can blink.” He tossed his head with a chirp, “And let the blue one there go, no sense in him being bound and gagged while we wait. If he agrees to not shriek.”

“You heard Skywing.” Talonheart groaned. “Let him free.”

“Finally!” Krotos gasped for air, “I know this might sound strange, but I think you three gave me a few more kinks!”

Skywing chuckled, starting to lead the way, a sway in his haunches. “Come, Arcturus. We have much to discuss.”