Chapter 11 - Whispers of the Northern Wastes
The autumn chill was beginning to bite at the edges of the Eldorian capital, but inside the royal library, the atmosphere was thick and suffocating. Weeks had passed since the defeat of Malachor’s spectral remnant, yet peace had only bred new complexities.
Lucas sat cross-legged at a massive mahogany table, surrounded by towering stacks of leather-bound scrolls that dated back to the founding of the kingdom. His new life as a prince of Eldoria was vastly different from the streets, filled with tutors, statecraft lessons, and endless diplomatic protocols. Yet his heart remained tethered to the wild, untamed magic that had brought him home.
The door creaked open, and Queen Seraphina stepped inside, carrying a silver tray with a steaming cup of spiced tea and honey.
“You’re up late, Lucas,” Seraphina said softly, her footsteps silent against the Persian rugs. She placed the tray down and looked at the ancient parchment spread before him. It detailed the jagged topography of the Northern Wastes—a frozen wasteland bordering Eldoria that had been sealed off for over half a century.
Lucas looked up, his dark eyes catching the candlelight. “I can't sleep, Mother. The dragon... it’s restless again.”
Seraphina’s expression tightened. She sat on the edge of the table, her hand gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead. “Restless how?”
“Not angry like before,” Lucas explained, tracing a finger along the faded ink line of the northern mountain range on the map. “It’s like it’s listening. Like something out there is calling to it—something old. Something that survived the purge.”
Seraphina’s breath hitched slightly. She remembered the legends of the Northern Wastes—the ancient nesting grounds where the primordial dragons had first roamed before humanity built its stone walls.
“Malachor’s spell didn't just pull power from the local ley-lines,” Seraphina murmured, her voice laced with sudden anxiety. “Before he died, he tore open a rift. If something from the northern peaks sensed that release of magic...”
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Before she could finish her thought, a sharp, cold draft swept through the library, extinguishing every candle flame instantly.
The room plunged into absolute darkness, save for the faint, shimmering blue glow of a strange rune manifesting on the northern map itself.
