Chapter 3: Into The Gauntlet

Entis was a city of wonders, its sprawling streets and towering spires bustling with life both on the ground and above. While carts trundled across cobblestone roads and merchants hawked their wares from awnings, the skies belonged to the gryphons. It wasn't chaotic, though. Far from it.

Flight lanes, marked by colorful banners hanging from rooftops, directed gryphons to weave cleanly through the air. The outer heights were reserved for long-distance travelers and messenger gryphons, while the middle altitudes catered to locals running errands and patrolling guards. The lowest lanes were strictly for landings, takeoffs, and hovering deliveries. Gryphons respected the system because, without it, the city would devolve into feathered bedlam. At least, most gryphons respected the system.

Pyretalon, however, was no ordinary gryphon.

He tore through the middle lanes at a speed that turned heads and ruffled feathers. The painted banners, meant to guide others safely, flapped violently in his wake. Below him, startled citizens craned their necks skyward, hands shielding their eyes as the bluejay styled shot past. Other gryphons squawked indignantly and scrambled to get out of his way, diving out of the lane with feathers flaring.

Axton clung tightly to the saddle-straps on Pyretalon's back, his black robes flapping violently around him. The golden lining at the waist fluttered like sunlit wings, and his clay-colored trousers whipped in the wind. “We're going to get fined!" he shouted over the roaring wind

Pyretalon's golden eyes remained fixed ahead, sharp and unyielding as the horizon itself. “Do you think fines matter if you're late to face the queen?" His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder, calm but edged with steely resolve. “If we're delayed, she won't just be annoyed—she'll question my competence. I won't allow that."

An airship loomed in their path, its gilded sails glowing in the midday sun. Pyretalon shifted smoothly, angling his wings to glide under its shadowed hull. The ship's crew shouted warnings, the ship's bells clanging indignantly—but Pyretalon was already gone, leaving only a rush of wind and a glint of blue-tipped feathers in his wake.

“You're going to get us killed!" Axton shouted again, his grip tightening.

“I'd sooner rip my wings off," Pyretalon shot back. “Hold tight, I won't let you fall."

His stomach lurched as the gryphon dodged and weaved his way towards the looming castle. To think he prepared required spells for an hour under the gryphon's understanding eye, only to be raced through the streets with reckless abandon! Though perhaps a hard landing would spare him the embarrassment and dread of facing down the displeased monarch.

The castle emerged ahead, its stone walls towering against the pale blue sky. Massive turrets rose from the stone structure, each adorned with banners that fluttered lazily in the breeze. Ivy clung to the aged stone, offering a hint of green against the grey, while trees in neatly manicured gardens surrounded the base, their leaves a vivid contrast to the somber hues of the stone. Courtyards stretched out before them, some filled with the disciplined movements of gryphon and human guards training together, their wings and weapons flashing in practiced harmony. Gryphon guards were perched at intervals, armed to the teeth with gleaming armor and talon weapons. A great banner of brown and old hung close to the entry gate, bearing the rampart, golden gryphon.

It was in the second courtyard they landed with a bumpy trot, around them various gryphon guards and humans were busy running drills and training martial prowess. One was Frostbeak, a creamy white and teal gryphon, lashing out with his frost magic. His opponent was Powerfeather, a hulking figure of a man, raised by gryphons and shared their naming conventions for those that went to war. His massive muscles heaved with effort as he sent chunks of stone in the shape of his face flying at Frostbeak with a roar that could shake the heavens. Frostbeak danced deftly around the projectiles, slicing some of them in twain.

“Oh no, I'm under attack by a most handsome stone!" His talons flashed a shimmering white before he struck, shattering one bust of his beloved husband, “Sorry dearest!"

Axton stumbled slightly as he dismounted from Pyretalon's back, still dizzy from their whirlwind flight. “Somehow, we made it without crashing this time. Though I'm not sure how, considering you flew through half the city at full speed." he muttered under his breath, steadying himself against the gryphon's sturdy flank.

“Well, you'd be surprised what a gryphon's wings can do when there's a queen's wrath at stake." He met Axton's eyes with a slightly smug look, as if daring him to argue otherwise.

“You'll have to try harder than that, love!" Boasted the muscular man, Powerfeather, leaping back to dodge a deluge of icy blasts that frosted the ground beneath him, “Your ice seems no match for the Powerfeather technique of stone!" His voice was full of playful challenges, a glint in his blue eyes that matched the easy grin on his weathered face. His broad chest was bare, tanned and rugged, and his comically large blonde mustache wiggled with each confident laugh.

“All deception, my sweet!" The gryphon quipped, swooping in under one of Powerfeather's stone blasts to sweep him off his feet. Powerfeather let out a loud, boisterous laugh as the gryphon carried him through the air like a princess, his wings wide and strong.

“Ah, it would seem so!" Powerfeather bellowed, throwing back his head in hearty laughter as they landed. Frostbeak set him down gently, and the two exchanged a swift kiss, as casual as if it were part of their sparring routine.

Axton looked away, his heart suddenly pounding harder. How many times had he imagined himself doing something similar with Pyretalon, only for the moment to remain a wistful daydream? Would the gryphon even consider it, if Axton told him? He pushed the thought down, trying not to let it show. There were more important things to focus on.

“Axton!" Powerfeather roared, striding toward him with exaggerated drama. He placed his hands on his hips, striking a pose as if he were a statue carved by the gods themselves. “It's wonderful to see you, my boy!" His blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “But I must warn you—the queen is looking for you!"

“I know." He replied sheepishly. “We're off to her training grounds now."

“How could you let this happen?" Powerfeather gasped, his mustache twitching as he turned his attention to Pyretalon. “What has become of the king of lists and scheduling?"

 “I... well, you see…" Pyretalon stammered, his beak opening and closing several times. His ears pinned against his neck as he searched for an explanation.

Before he could take the blame, Axton cut him off, “We…overslept."

“Overslept?" Frostbeak's voice carried a teasing tone as he cocked his head. “That's not going to look good on your reviews."

“No, it certainly will not." Sighed the gryphon, giving an exaggerated shrug with his wings, “Can't change the past now, suppose it just slipped our minds. We can only pray that our majesty if merciful with her punishments."

“I hear Gerald is still sore." Frostbeak pinned his ears.

Axton's stomach twisted as guilt gnawed at him. This wasn't Pyretalon's fault. It wasn't the gryphon's job to micromanage his life, and yet here they were, late because of him. Pyretalon deserved better—someone who wouldn't drag him down, tarnishing his name.

“If energy is the issue, I have just the solution!" Powerfeather announced, flexing his biceps. “You must try my meal plans! Packed with protein and flavor, they will turn you into a force to be reckoned with! I gave the recipe to your wolven friend Roran just last week!"

“Ah yes," Frostbeak chirped with a sly grin. “He mentioned it—said he felt like he was preparing for a war campaign."

“And that is why it works!" Powerfeather declared, pointing a triumphant finger skyward. “Proper fuel for the body leads to a sharper mind and unbeatable vigor! The secret to my strength, my dear boy!"

Pyretalon let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I'll keep that in mind, Powerfeather. Though I think we'll be keeping our current meal plan for now."

They hardly got out another word, but enough to ward away the overly helpful couple. Kind and welcoming they were, but they were in no mood to be slowed down further. Even when their fellow pink and brown gryphoness Talonheart tried to address them, they kindly told her off.

“Sorry!" Pyretalon called back with a chirp, “Maybe later!"

“Just watch out for Skywing!" Called out the gryphon guard, a medallion of Hades hanging around her neck. “He's still cross about you turning his wings into stubby twigs!"

Axton winced as the memory of the shrill squawk from Captain Skywing, the white tiger-like gryphon commander, came unbidden to his mind. He didn't know how he managed it, the captain always seemed to appear at the most inopportune times, his arrival heralded by Axton's latest magical mishap. Sharpened gazes and tight chirps were always tossed in his direction despite the kinship the captain shared with his mother Infinity.

“When did you shrink his wings?" Pyretalon's head cocked with curious amusement as they rounded the corner of the castle's outer hall. “Was that before or after your grease spell sent him skidding into a pile of manure?"

“After," Axton muttered, his cheeks flushing crimson. He tugged his robe higher, as if that might shield him from the memory. “Which reminds me—we need to get him a few apology cards and a roasted horse. Mother will kill me if he drops their dance practices."

Pyretalon's laughter was deep and rich, his feathers ruffling with the force of it. “Please," he said, “No matter how much ire you draw from the captain, I doubt he'd abandon your mother. He's got too much pride for that—and besides..." He leaned in closer, a sly grin curling his beak. “I doubt she'd let him."

They crossed through an alcove further into the castle, the last bit before the training grounds. Their path took them through the royal gardens that stretched out before them, a verdant labyrinth of meticulously cultivated splendor. Paths of polished white stone wove through lush hedgerows and beds of vibrant blooms, their petals shimmering in the golden sunlight. The air was thick with the mingling perfumes of lavender, rose, and the sharp, clean scent of freshly trimmed greenery. Towering above the garden were the alabaster spires of the castle, their tips piercing the heavens like Stalwart guardians.

As Pyretalon and Axton strode into this haven of color and life, their footsteps against the stone path were swallowed by the gentle hum of bees and the distant trill of songbirds. Pyretalon's wings shifted slightly, catching the sunlight and scattering golden glints across the path, while Axton adjusted his robes, his gaze flitting nervously to the sky as though he feared the queen's impatience might summon a storm cloud upon him.

Ahead of them, amidst the vibrant foliage, stood Voidwing the gryphon, the queen's consort, his apricot eyes gleaming like polished topaz in the sunlight. Though he was smaller than the average gryphon, a runt by measurement standards, he was a far more capable warrior than most. Some whispered he was the swiftest flier in all the land, with a heart swooning for his beloved queen. He moved with a leonine grace, his sleek black feathers lined with silver catching the light and reflecting it in muted, iridescent hues. A simple, yet finely tailored tunic adorned his lithe frame of dark Lumarian brown, lined with golden stitching. His talons worked deftly, tending to a sculpted hedge that had been painstakingly shaped into the elegant form of a woman in flowing robes—a striking likeness of Nivra herself. He sat upright, revealing one hind leg was black, the other white.

Voidwing's personal guards, three burley gryphons lingered nearby, though their roles seemed less formal than expected. One was casually preening his feathers, while another chatted amiably with a gardener, gesturing toward a particularly unruly patch of shrubs.

Voidwing lifted his head at their approach, his expression brightening into a welcoming smile. “Ah, Pyretalon, Axton!" he called, his voice rich and resonant, carrying effortlessly over the rustle of the garden. He gestured grandly with one wing toward the hedge, his talons dusted with clippings.

Pyretalon huffed, ruffling his feathers as he bowed his head. “Voidwing, we're kind of in a hurry—

“Nonsense! There's always time for art!" Voidwing cut him off, gesturing dramatically to the hedge with a wing. “Tell me, does it capture her grace? Her power?"

“Do her eyes seem fierce enough? Or should I go with a softer look—like the time she glanced at me after I accidentally rearranged her books by color instead of subject?"

Pyretalon snorted. “She nearly roasted you alive for that one…How about you choose the time with all the diplomats? You know the one."

The consort swiftly adjusted his black and silver beak away, “I don't know what you're talking about." His white hind shifted, “I was focused on maintaining decorum, the entire time."

“Decorum? You mean when you leapt onto the envoy from Eryndale's tail like a fledgling with its first prey?" Pyretalon's voice was thick with barely suppressed laughter.

Axton's eyes widened. “He… pounced on their tail?"

Voidwing puffed up his feathers defensively. “Leapt is a strong word. I was merely... investigating!"

Pyretalon chuckled, his wings ruffling in amusement. “Investigating? You pinned him down in front of the whole court! Voidwing, in all his regal glory, perched on him like he'd just caught dinner. The queen nearly choked on her wine.""

Voidwing raised a talon to his chest, striking a noble pose. “Well, how was I to know his tail would twitch so invitingly? It was practically an invitation! Honestly, who parades around with such a... a pouncable tail?"

Nivra was going to kill him, Axton tried to walk his way past the consort, but the gryphon swung a wing around him, pulling him back to the hedge.

“Laugh all you want but mark my words." Voidwing's lion like ears splayed, “Axton: one day, you'll understand the irresistible allure of a well-twitching tail. Now what about my delightful Nivi?"

“It's impressive," Pyretalon said, his tone as dry as the summer wind. “But don't you think the nose is a bit… off?"

Feathers of the consort flared, and he stepped back to scrutinize the hedge, his expression suddenly serious. “Off? No, no, the nose is perfect. Symmetrical, regal… it's her nose to the last detail!"

Pyretalon chuckled, nudging Axton with a wing. “Don't let him fool you. This isn't his first attempt. Last week, his 'Nivra' looked more like a startled gryphet."

 Voidwing straightened, his feathers puffing up in mock indignation. “Art takes time and refinement, Pyretalon. Unlike your own efforts, which are… what? Hovering menacingly and glaring at bushes until they behave?" Voidwing turned to Axton, his amber gaze softening. “But tell me, Axton, what do you think? Does this not capture the grace of our queen? I trust your insight far more than our overly critical gryphon friend here."

Axton's cheeks reddened; how do you tell the queen's consort no? He stammered, “It's, um, lovely, Voidwing. But I really need to—"

The gryphon didn't let him finish. “Lovely is a start, but it must be transcendent! Gardener, add more flair to the robes! And Pyretalon, do you think her hair should have a windswept look, or is it fine as is?"

“Sire, as fun as this game is." Pyretalon sighed, “I do believe that your wife would be happier if her apprentice arrived on time."

Voidwing's feathers froze mid-flick. His eyes widened into apricot pools, his lionlike ears pined back. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you late?"

Axton nodded quickly; his voice small. “Yes, I—"

A squawk of alarm left the consort's beak, “Why didn't you say so?! She'll have my head if she finds out I delayed you!"

Quick as a flash, Voidwing slid under Axton, placing him upon the gryphon's back. “Hang on Axton, we'll get you there!" As his hands grabbed tight out of reflex, the feathery consort dashed off, scattering dirt and loose grass in his wake.

One of the guards called out from behind, “Sir, the flower beds—!"

“Forget the flowers!" Voidwing shouted, his tail streaming behind him. “If I don't deliver him now, I'll be decorating these gardens as a statue!"

“Since when has she taken on the demeanor of Emerald Lady?" Axton asked, clinging to the gryphon's back. Though small, he hardly seemed slowed down in the slightest.

“Voidwing turned back, giving the man a sharpened look." Voidwing muttered, doing as he narrated. Something he often did when nervous, “It's an expression! Now is not the time to be critical!"

“Wait for me!" Pyretalon called out from behind, joined by the guards in their attempt to keep pace.

“Let's just hope that Olas hasn't talked her ears off, gods above know how she adores him." Replied, Voidwing, his voice drooling with sarcasm.

** * * * * * * * * *

Together they raced the rest of the way there, easily leaving Pyretalon and the guards in the dust. Axton had always known the stories of Voidwing and his adventure with Arcturus and the gang, but to see it on display, it was truly a sight to be seen. No wonder other gryphons spoke highly of his prowess, surprised that a runt had surpassed their own. Even the likes of Captain Skywing could not best this gryphon in combat nor speed. He held on tight as Voidwing burst into the castle properly, sliding around corners, talons adjusting his grip, thankfully not knocking anything that could get in their way.

Servants swiftly leaped out of the way to avoid a collision, getting a squawking apology swift from Voidwing's silver lined beak.

When they finally arrived at the simple wooden door that contained the training grounds, Voidwing slowed his pace just enough to not slam the bulk of them into it. He let Axton dismount before pressing down the man's robes and inspecting him to ensure he didn't look like he was rushed.

“I deliver the mage to your capable hands my love!—on time, unimpeded, and entirely unmolested by our running into one another." Voidwing announced as he opened the door, adding a playful flourish of his wings, “Axton, of whom I didn't delay at all and came right here when I found him. I know that he might be late, but if you're going to be cross, dearest Nivra, take it easy on him, hmm? Who hasn't been in his paws before."

The training grounds stretched before them, a blend of functionality and understated grandeur. Smooth stone tiles formed a wide, open arena, their surfaces etched with faint runes that shimmered with latent power. Lining the room were weapon racks and alchemical stations, meticulously arranged, their contents ready for use. The kingdom's emblem—a regal gryphon—was carved into the far wall, flanked by banners in the royal colors of brown and gold. Despite its martial purpose, the room bore touches of artistry: intricately carved pillars and soft, ambient light from enchanted lanterns gave the space a balanced air of strength and refinement.

At the room's center stood the royal monarch herself, Queen Nivra, and Axton immediately noticed the difference in her form. Midnight-black feathers with an iridescent sheen framed her lithe gryphon body, her golden-tipped plumage glinting in the warm light. She cut a regal figure even in this form.

Her attire was both functional and elegant. A rich, deep-purple sash with delicate golden embroidery encircled her torso, the sash bore subtle patterns of gryphons in flight woven into the fabric with care. A matching stole rested against her shoulders, draping lightly over her wings and held in place with a brooch shaped like a gryphon's head.

“How fortuitous that you've arrived just now," Nivra said, her voice smooth and melodic, “I was beginning to think the fates themselves conspired to leave me at the mercy of Master Olas' endless enthusiasm for life's... I fear that I might have bored him."

From a nearby cushioned perch, Olas Mysticfeather beamed, his rust-colored feathers looking as though dusted with black ruffled with pleasure at the mention. A series of fine gold chains were draped across his chest, interwoven with delicate gems that caught the light like scattered stars. What clothing he had hugged his form, leaving nothing to the imagination, they were of luxurious silk in rich shades of purple and gold draped with regal folds and fastened with a gold brooch shaped like a gryphon's talon. “Ah, my dearest Voidwing! The finest gryphon to grace these lands since yours truly. You truly know how to brighten a dull day." He waved a taloned hand as though swatting away Nivra's veiled jab. “And my grace, fear not of your skill with the tongue. I could talk for ages about my delightful apprentice or that sexy guard of mine over there."

The lord gryphon gestured with a wing, the feathers going from rust to white to black. The fixation of his attention was a half-elven mercenary at the edge of the room, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. Eyes sharp and armor of silver and red, he was the example of diligence. Though they'd deny it publicly, it was the worst kept secret in the kingdom. Olas had fallen for the mercenary hard, couldn't go anywhere without him, he was said to even live with the gryphon after his wife had perished under mysterious circumstances. All whispers circulated that the wizard had done the deed to be with his beloved mercenary.

“Leon, darling!" Olas called, his voice practically dripping with honey. “You simply must tell me your secret. Do you polish that armor daily, or does it gleam naturally under your ruggedly handsome aura?"

Leon's head turned slightly, tossing his blonde, braided hair, his brow furrowing as his cheeks reddened faintly. “My lord, I'm trying to work."

“Always on guard you are." Olas repeated with a dreamy sigh, clutching his chest theatrically. “Isn't he magnificent when he's so focused? Even in the heart of our kingdom, always watchful for my safety. The gods blessed me with him in my life."

“Olas, for the love of the gods, can you not? I'm trying to keep an eye on the room." The half elf guard retorted.

Olas leaned forward with his beak forming a wicked grin. “Oh, but you do that so well, my dear. Like a guardian angel with biceps."

Leon groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I swear, you're gonna be the death of me."

“And what a glorious way to go." Olas sighed, thumping his tail.

“Olas, focus." Nivra was quick to chirp, cutting the lord off before it could continue. “With Axton here, we can finally get around to the reason of your visit."

“Ah yes." Olas mused, rolling his hand, “Though I do love our little chats my liege, I consider the magical competition an added bonus of sorts."

“Is that why you find it necessary to boast at every meeting?" Nivra cocked her head.

“I believe if you're great at something my grace, you should flaunt it."

It was then that Pyretalon and Voidwing's guard detail clambered into the hall, composing their feathers with a chirp. Pyre was swift to Axton's side, his eyes falling over Olas and Leon, the tiger gryphon bowed his head.

“Lord Olas, always nice to see you. Same to you Leon." Pyretalon spread his wings, “When are you getting married?"

Olas perked up at the attention, his feathers flaring in faux indignation. “Married?!" he squawked, his voice light and airy. “Oh, darling, I don't think I could ever settle down. Too much magic and work to do for something as mundane as love!"

“Is that why your bodyguard over there is wearing your feather around his neck?" Pyretalon's voice was teasing, his gaze flicking to Leon. Sure enough, Leon was sporting a small, singed feather of Olas' on a golden chain around his neck. The half-elf upon noticing, stuffed it underneath his chest plate.

“A good luck charm!" Olas trilled, ruffling his wings with exaggerated drama. “Always need to know where he is, don't you? After all, someone could sneak up and take me from behind!" He puffed out his chest, striking a regal pose. “Nothing but the finest for those that find themselves routinely underneath me."

“Is that where Leon likes to be?" Pyretalon's tone was dry, laden with amusement. “Underneath his great lord…servicing him?"

“Well from time to time, the other time he's- “Olas stopped dead, ears splaying as he realized Pyretalon's meaning, “Ah, well." He stuttered with a nervous laugh, “He does such a good job, tending to any desire that I might have…I mean, he's so good at covering my rump…I…gods I did it again." As Pyretalon snickered into his wing, Olas sighed, trying to compose himself, “Regardless, he's the only man I could ever trust, always able to take whatever task I thrust into his hands."

“If we're done poking fun at Olas' ability to stumble into innuendos," Nivra's voice cut through the snickering and awkward tension, her tone cool and mildly mocking, “I would very much like to get to the matter at hand."

“Duly noted." Smirked the black and blue catbird.

It was then that the attention of the magical gryphon lord fell upon Axton, giving him a nod. The young man gulped, trying to keep his composure. While the gryph was bombastic, flirty and charming in certain respects, he was one of the strongest wizards in the land. Some even said that he could rival Nivra herself if they came to blows. Several times he's already slipped up in front of the lord, only to be met with empathy, although Axton wasn't sure if he was being condescending, it was hard to tell with him.

At Olas' side was a gryphon that he'd not seen before, one roughly the size of a wolf. They appeared young, perhaps only ten or eleven, their feathers not entirely well defined like adult gryphons. What feathers they did possess were various shades of black, lavender and crème, their eyes bright blue and filled with warmth. He was busing himself with quiet mutterings through his yellow beak, assembling a series of small runes and herbs into a simple, circle.

The gryphs attire consisted of a simple, deep purple form-fitting robe that draped over his shoulders and down his back. Soft leather bands bound his wrists and ankles, adorned with tiny, delicate runes etched into the leather. A small satchel hung at his side, filled with herbs, crystals, and other alchemical supplies.

Olas' face lit up with pride as he gestured toward the smaller gryphon, “Ah, yes! Allow me to introduce you to Nikais," he said with a grand flourish, “my latest and greatest pupil. Talented, quick-witted, and already showing promise like none other. Isn't that right, Nikais?" Nikais didn't look up at first, getting a nudge from the lord with a nervous chirp, “Is that not right?"

Nikais snapped up, nearly sending his gathered supplies scattering. “Oh, yes I am master." He gave a beak parted smile, before swiveling to Axton, “And it's good to meet you, master Olas has told me so much about you!"

“Has he now." Laughed Axton, “All good I hope."

“Just know to bring your best." Olas cut off their exchange, giving both Nivra and Axton a look of pride, “Otherwise, how else will this be a test? I do hope Axton here has improved from last time-"

“I've…fixed that part of my spell." Axton sheepishly replied, recalling he'd accidently struck Skywing with the spell, causing the gryphon to float to the ceiling, sputtering and chirping most angrily.

“And yet, captain Skywing isn't here to see your progress." Olas chuckled, rubbing his chin, “Most curious."

Axton was pulled aside by his mentor, by the expression on her face she was putting up a strong act of being polite for the lord's sake. She gave an aggravated hiss, only speaking when she was certain they were out of earshot of the gryphon currently doing the same with his student.

“Axton, listen to me," she said, her tone steady. “I know this isn't easy for you, and I know you've been struggling. But today, more than ever, you need to find your focus. Don't let Olas get inside your head. He's trying to make a mockery of you, of me, with his little apprentice. Prove him wrong. Gods I'd love to rub his beak in it for once. Have you all the spells we discussed?"

He nodded swiftly, going over each of the slots that she'd requested, a smattering of enchantments and evocations from various schools of magic.

“And what about the final part?" Her brow rose, “Have you reviewed the spell that's been giving you trouble? Etherealness?"

A spell to jaunt one into the ethereal realm, to allow them to pass through solid matter with ease. A useful spell, powerful, only achievable by those with exceptional talent.

Axton's eyes darted away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. “Yes, Master Nivra," he mumbled. “I've gone over it again."

Nivra's tail flicked, betraying a flicker of impatience. “More good news," she sighed, her voice low and disapproving. “I'd hate for it to be a repeat of last time. I don't think I can stand Olas' mockery for another month."

“Why not instruct him to stop?" he asked, his voice meek.

She turned away with a fluid, proud movement. “I don't wish to hold my power over him, I want to beat the uppity gryphon at his own game. If I command him, then I've lost."

She turned back, her eyes meeting Axton's with a cold, searching intensity. “Now go," she said, her tone softer but just as commanding. “Prove to me you've not wasted my time."

Sure, that's exactly what he needed to hear. Axton was given a gnarled staff with an orb of crackling energy caught within. He stood tall, trying to beat down the nagging doubts in the back of his mind. Beside him Nikais sat upon his haunches, tail tapping back and forth with happy chirps escaping his beak.

Nivra padded her way to join her husband and the others, segregating themselves in an alcove across the room. She pulled down a brass lever with a dull clunk.

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble with an unsettling, low rumble, as if the very stones were alive with an ancient, primal force. The scattered equipment and decorations now seemed to retract, absorbed into the very walls themselves as though they were preparing to defend against some incoming danger. From the depths of the stone, pillars of rough-hewn rock surged upward with a sudden, violent burst. These pillars, coarse and uneven, stood tall, stretching like the sinewy arms of a giant reaching toward the ceiling above. Some of the floor sank into pits, yawning darkly as though promising danger to those who fell in. Other platforms shook loose from their earthen mornings, bobbing in the air like bloated fish, glowing faintly with an ethereal light that pulsed with raw, arcane energy. Above all, the central pillar stood tall and solitary, its base hidden, a flag upon it fluttering gently, the symbol of a gryphon stitched upon its surface.

“You'll do great." Nikais chirped softly, leaning back with mirth, “Uncle Leon says magic's not about being perfect, it's about making sure you don't end up a total disaster."

“How does that help?"

“Well, if you trip, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and make it look like part of the plan." Said the gryphon with a smile.

Nivra's voice cut through the air with an almost lyrical tone. “The course before you, young ones, is a test of agility, speed, and magic. It is designed to challenge the limits of what you can accomplish in the pursuit of skill. Each of you will navigate a series of obstacles, all leading to that final flag on the solitary pillar." she pointed to the far end of the room.

Olas, sat tall, fluffing his wings with a beak parted smile, “Think of it as a little race, really. Who can get to the flag first, show off their skills, and avoid falling flat on their beaks. Though, I must say, I'm not sure which one of you is more likely to take a tumble. But I guess we'll find out soon enough, eh?"

Nivra shot Olas with a cold look. “This is a serious test, Olas. Not a chance to indulge your snide comments. Axton's skill is beyond reproach. And Nikais—" she turned to the gryphon apprentice, “—no flying your way to the flag. This is about magic and thinking, not brute strength."

Nikais nodded, his wings half-extended, then quickly folding them back against his sides. “Understood my grace!"

With a screech, the race was on. Axton surged ahead, gripping his staff tight. The first challenge was a narrow, crumbling bridge of stone spanning a deep chasm. Axton raised his staff, murmuring the incantation for a spell of levitation. A faint shimmer of blue light enveloped him, and with a leap, he floated across the gap, the spell allowing him to hover just above the crumbling stones. Nikais, behind him, watched with a frown, his wings twitching as if he was reminded not to use them. With a tap of his hands against the stone he squawked his own spell, enhancing his agility, launching himself from stone to stone with deft leaps, avoiding the worst of the unstable bridge.

The second section was a maze of pulsating barriers that stood defiant, this was a test of figuring out and bypassing the barriers. Given time Axton felt he could pass through each barrier with specific incantations, however time was not on his side. Instead, with the grit of his teeth, he performed the motions for dispelling them instead. The first evaporated with little effort, but the next required him to focus, letting the magic build within to an almost unbearable degree. Sweating, he managed it, but it cost him precious time. Nikais on the other paw had taken one look, pulling out spells one after the other, easily being allowed to progress. By the time Axton dispelled the last barrier, Nikais was only a hair's breadth ahead.

“Nivra, looks like Nikais is making this look easy." Olas smugly chirped, leaning over to the raven feathered gryphoness.

“Nikais may be quick, but Axton's resilience is something to be admired." She replied sternly, “His method worked as well."

Stone pillars, jagged and uneven, rose up from the ground for the final challenge, creating a twisted maze that blocked his view of the distant goal. A strange, almost surreal glow emanated from the core of each pillar, pulsating like a heartbeat.

The air was heavy with the scent of ozone, the remnants of magical energy still lingering from the two prior challenges. Fireballs floated lazily in the gaps between the pillars, a fiery promise that threatened to punish any misstep. These weren't ordinary fireballs, either—they crackled with raw power, casting long, twisting shadows across the rocky expanse.

The center of the maze was a gauntlet of stone and magic. A lone pillar jutted upwards from the ground, its surface smooth and polished, glimmering with an ethereal light. Atop it, the flag fluttered in the faint breeze, taunting Axton with the promise of victory. The sight made his stomach clench with a mix of determination and fear. It was so close, yet so far away. He glanced over his shoulder. Nikais was just a few feet behind him, the gryphon's fiery determination blazing in his eyes. Axton tightened his grip on his staff, feeling the comforting weight of it in his hand. He could do this. He had to.

The first fireball shot past, its path erratic and taunting, each blaze threatened his progress. Axton's pulse quickened. He had to time his moves perfectly to avoid getting scorched. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the nearest platform, his foot sinking slightly into the rough stone. It was solid enough, but uneven, tilting as if the entire maze were alive with an unseen force.

Casting a quick barrier spell, Axton raised his staff, creating a shimmering shield just in time to deflect the next fireball that came his way. The heat from the explosion made his robes flutter, but he ignored it, his focus entirely on the next move. Nikais wasn't far behind, his movements precise and sure. Axton's heart clenched as he saw the gryphon apprentice leap to the next platform, his magic crackling around him. Nikais was fast, too fast. Axton couldn't let him get ahead now. Not here, not now.

Axton took a deep breath, summoning every bit of strength he had. The fireballs were coming faster now, the gauntlet intensifying with each step. He couldn't afford to hesitate. With a grunt, he cast a gust of wind spell, sending a powerful blast forward to knock the next fireball off course. The fireball veered to the side, but not enough to miss Axton completely. He felt the searing heat singe his robes, the pain shooting through his shoulder. But he pressed on, ignoring it.

Ahead, Nikais was getting closer to the goal. Axton's frustration surged. He couldn't let him win. He had to prove himself. With another surge of magic, Axton extended his hand, invoking the icy power of Ray of Frost to freeze the next fireball mid-air, sending a blast of chilling energy that sent the fireball crashing harmlessly to the side.

His heart was pounding now, the pressure unbearable. The last fireballs lay before him, coming faster, the gauntlet was relentless. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. With a swift flick of his staff, he cast a mirror image, creating three illusory duplicates of himself. The fireballs targeted the illusions, exploding harmlessly against them. He managed to regain his lead, passing Nikais, who was sent flying off course onto another platform.

Finally! He reached the final platform, snatching the flag with a triumphant smile. He'd done it. Then he turned, looking down upon the finish line, where a target in the shape of a gryphon had been drawn. But as he took a step forward, his vision began to blur, the insides of his chest aching, he could hear a distant roar of fear in his ear. His world began to spin as he recalled the sickening rushing air, the weightlessness of his stomach, the dread that his life was to end.

“No, not like this!" he thought, his mind a whirlwind of panic. He tried to steady himself, to focus on the task, to right his world, repeating the words Pyretalon had him mutter when such things would plague him. But it was too late. Nikais was there, the gryphon's triumphant laugh ringing in his ears as he snatched away the banner with his beak. “Better luck next time!" he trilled, then leapt from the platform without care, landing softly below without even using his wings. Axton was as in a cold sweat as he labored with breath. His world a blur. But as he focused on Pyretalon's words slowly his heart began to calm down as his breathing became easier but still horsed, it was only then did he realized that he had lost the competition.

Axton felt the weight of Nivra's gaze piercing through him like an ice-cold dagger. Disappointment radiated from her, a sharp sting that twisted in his gut. He cursed under his breath, bitterness filling his mouth as he pushed the feeling down, forcing himself to act. With a swift motion, he launched himself from the pillar, the height dizzying, his heart still pounding like a war drum. The world seemed to slow as his hands moved instinctively, drawing the raw magic from the air around him.

The spell surged through his veins—quick, controlled, but not the most potent. Feather Fall. It wasn't a grand display of power, but it was enough to cushion his descent. He twisted his staff, his focus honed, and as he felt the ground near, he willed the spell into full effect. The impact when he landed was softer than expected, like sinking into a bed of feathers. No pain. No shock. Only the faint burn of magic lingering in his skin and the heat of his humiliation.

“Oh, ho ho! It would appear as though the first round goes to me, darling!" Olas's voice oozed with amusement, that infuriatingly sweet and dramatic tone of his as he glided forward, his plumage ruffling as he flashed Nivra a look full of playful, smug arrogance. His head tilted just so, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “So sorry, my dear, but it seems your precious protégé couldn't keep up with mine." he purred, his beak curling into a self-satisfied grin.

"So, it would seem." Nivra's voice was sharp and unwavering, but there was an undertone of something deeper, something Axton couldn't quite place. "But know this, the day is yet done."

The trials seemed to mock him, each one a dagger to his pride, and with every strike, his confidence crumbled further. Axton's failures piled upon each other like the weight of the world, suffocating him, the crushing pressure building with each misstep. Despite Pyretalon's unyielding support, his words of encouragement were no match for the storm that raged in his chest, an incessant thunder that only grew louder with every spell that misfired, every incantation that fell short. The harder he tried, the worse it became.

It was as though all his years of study, all the hours of practice, had been wasted. Nothing he had learned seemed to matter anymore. A fledgling. That was what he felt like. A child fumbling with magic too powerful for him, his grasp on the arcane fragile at best.

When they were called to demonstrate their final spells, an overwhelming sense of dread curled in his gut. The thought of standing before everyone, exposed to his failure, nearly suffocated him. His hands trembled as he widened his stance, his mind screaming at him to get it right. His fingers traced the air, weaving runes for the etherealness spell.

He could feel the magic, the power, flowing through his veins like liquid fire. The air hummed around him, resonating with the threads of the spell. He could almost taste victory, just on the cusp of his fingertips. He focused, blocking out everything else— he just had to do this right. He repeated the incantation in his mind, the words forming like fragile petals in the breeze.

Sweat beaded on his brow, his breath shallow, and every muscle tensed with the effort. This is it; he thought. The moment where everything could change.

But the magic betrayed him.

As he spoke the final word, it faltered. A slip, a stutter in his tongue, and everything unraveled. The magic recoiled, snapping back like a rope that had been stretched too far. It wasn't the elegant flow of ethereal travel he had imagined. Instead, only half of him was swept away, his body flickered, shimmering and fading, but his legs and lower torso remained stubbornly grounded, still bound to the reality he longed to escape.

“By the gods, are you alright?" Pyretalon squawked in alarm, leaping like lightning to his side. His sharp talons scraped against the stone as he landed, his eyes wide with concern, his wings flaring in a protective arc.

“I... I'm fine," Axton said hoarsely, though the words felt foreign on his tongue. His hands shook as he tried to reestablish his focus.

Looking down, his legs were gone, but he could still feel them. The sensation was strange, as if they lingered just beyond his reach, as though they had made the journey without him. How many times had he promised himself he would master these spells? How many hours had he poured into study and practice, only to fall short? He had to reassure the loyal gryphon he was fine, that touching him might make things ever worse.

“Ah, fear not, dear Axton." Olas cooed, his voice dripping with an almost theatrical confidence. "I've certainly been through this rather embarrassing little mishap before—nothing a bit of finesse can't fix, darling." With an extravagant sweep of his wings, the gryphon lord glided smoothly to Axton's side, his presence almost too soothing, as though he could make even the worst calamity feel like a mere trifle.

"Now, now, stay still, my dear. Relax, take a deep breath—keep calm," he purred, his voice a balm to Axton's rattled nerves, despite the tension in the air. There was no arrogance in Olas' tone, only a deep, strangely comforting assurance. "You'll be perfectly fine, I promise."

Without missing a beat, Olas flicked his tail with a flourish, his eyes glowing faintly as he whispered a string of words, delicate but powerful. Magic swirled around them like a gentle breeze, tendrils of energy latching onto Axton's disembodied legs.

The spell was swift—faster than one would expect. With an effortless twist of his wings, Olas returned Axton's legs.

“There we go, all fixed! Much better now, don't you think?" Olas added, a coy smile playing at the corners of his beak

“T-thanks." Axton stuttered out his thanks, wishing he could die right there.

“It's alright, Axton. You're fine." Pyretalon murmured, his wing sweeping around Axton, pulling him aside. But even the gryphon's comforting gesture did little to soothe the storm within Axton's chest. His feet moved on their own, but Axton's gaze never left the cold stone floor beneath him. The weight of failure pressed upon his shoulders, suffocating him, and no matter how he tried to focus on the comforting presence of his protector, the words, the gestures, all of it felt distant, muted.

And then, as if the universe itself was determined to drive the point home, he heard it—Nikais, his younger counterpart, stepping forward with a casual grace. The gryphon's figure was a blur of motion as he summoned the same ethereal spell Axton had fumbled with moments earlier. The little gryphon fluffed his wings, the action almost playful, like this was nothing more than a simple game to him.

“Uncle Leon, look, I did it, I did it!" Trilled the little gryphon.

"And what a wonderful job you've done, my little student!" Olas beamed, swelling his chest with exaggerated satisfaction. "Though, of course, no surprise really, considering my impeccable tutelage. Perhaps Axton might do well to visit Whitedell more often—learn from the best, hm?"

"He was clearly having an off day." the queen interjected sharply, her tone biting like a dagger's edge.

"Ah, yes, the old 'off day' excuse," Olas mused, waving his wing in an exaggerated, dismissive manner. "How many times must we repeat this, my dear? I understand, of course, that you have more pressing matters—your condition, and all that," he added with a sly, almost teasing grin. "Congratulations, by the way. I imagine one of those eggs will be named after me, hm? A fine gesture, I'm sure."

"Not likely," Voidwing chirped brightly, his smile wide and teasing.

"Ah, well," Olas sighed dramatically, "Worry not, Axton! I have every confidence that in no time, you'll master your shortcomings. You'll see, just as the moon waxes and wanes, so too will your abilities grow."

Axton stood at the edge of the training ground, staring at the patterns in the dirt, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his failure. The ache of Nivra's disappointment echoed in his ears, drowning out most of the chatter around him. He wanted to disappear, to crawl into a corner of his spellbook and never come out.

“Axton," Pyretalon began, his voice calm, “this isn't the end. Failure is a teacher sharper than any blade."

“I'm not in the mood for you." He snapped back, making the gryphons ears pin.

The soft padding of talons against stone reached his ears, and he tensed. Before he could summon the energy to look up, Nikais' bright voice broke the heavy silence.

“Axton!" Nikais called, his tone light and carefree. “That was... actually pretty fun, wasn't it?"

Axton didn't look up, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, real fun." His voice dripped with sarcasm, but Nikais didn't seem to notice.

“Hey, don't sweat it!" Nikais stepped closer, his feathers ruffling slightly as he gave Axton a grin. “Everyone knows you're amazing. It's just that I was something special..." He frowned, searching for the word. “A... patriot? No, wait, that's not it...A prominery?"

“Prodigy," came the dry correction from Olas, he strolled by Leon at his side. “Now we can get to discussing trade routes my liege." His crown feathers extended, a trill leaving his beak, “Oh, I just do love paperwork!"

At a chirp, Nikais wished Axton well, bounding to his master's side. That left Nivra to stall, search Axton up and down as her bodyguards and husband lingered within her shadow. Her gaze, it said everything, that Axton was an utter disappointment.

“Master." Axton bowed his head in shame before she could speak, “I…know that wasn't the best display of such things. I promise…I will do better next time."

The queen gave a heavy sigh as Voidwing trotted along to strike up a conversation with the visiting lord. “It's alright Axton, I loath to admit it, but he is the superior teacher of the two of us." Her hinds shifted, voice growing dull, “I'm just glad you tried your best…even if it could not match the new gryphet. In time, I imagine you'll cross this obstacle before you."

“Hmm," he began, his voice calm but firm, “I'd wager it's not just about 'superior teaching,' is it, Nivra?" He stepped closer, his presence as steady as a mountain. “Sometimes, obstacles aren't meant to be crossed on the first try, or the second, or even the third. Growth takes failure, and failure takes guts. Something Axton's shown in spades today."

He turned his sharp gaze to Axton, his tone softening. “Your best wasn't enough today, and that's fine. It only matters that it's better tomorrow. You're not racing their expectations, Axton. You're racing your own."

“Oh, how insightful, Pyretalon," she drawled, tilting her head just so. “Clearly, I've been doing it wrong all these years. Perhaps I should abandon my methods entirely and let you mentor Axton instead. I'm sure he'd thrive under endless platitudes and poetic musings about growth."
“I guess you'll just have to wait and see." Smirked the gryphon.

“Always the optimist Pyre. I'll trust you." She sighed, before reaching into her pouches and procuring a few scrolls wrapped tight with the royal seal, “And while you two and here there is a list of things I would like done."

It was a list of regents, books and various chores that he was required to undertake. Menial things that her study and magical experiments would require. Axton bowed his head. “I'll do my best."

“Course you will." She sighed, “Now if you excuse me, I have to spend the next hour listening to this gryphon go on and on about this."

"Ah, my apologies, Nivra. Lord Olas's endless exultation of his prodigy is indeed a heavy burden to bear." He shifted his wings slightly, his stance steady. "But at least Voidwing will be there to lighten your mood. You'll endure this, as you always do, with all the elegance and wit that leaves the rest of us in awe."

“And yet, I envy you two." She sighed before leading her bodyguards away with a clacking of talons.

Axton held the scrolls tight, words failing him. With a sharp breath, he shoved the scrolls into the folds of his robe and turned, walking away in the opposite direction. Each step felt like it echoed too loudly in the silence of his mind. Could there still be a way to salvage this—some flicker of redemption, some spark that could show he wasn't the utter failure?