CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21 - LEAVING VELDERA.

The air was cool. Damp. You could smell the dew.

Dawn was dragging itself across the eastern hills, spilling gold and pink like someone tipped over a pot of honey and paint. Mist clung low to the dirt roads and the broken rooftops of Veldera, the whole place looking like it hadn’t fully woken yet.

Except—at the northern gate, people were already there. A lot of people.

What started as dozens had swelled into hundreds, maybe more. The same ones from the plaza last night, and plenty who hadn’t been there, too.

Wolfkin sat on wagons with their arms folded, legs crossed. Lionkin leaned against stumps with waterskins in hand. Kids dangled their legs off the wall while a sharp-eyed catkin sat nearby, tail flicking, watching the horizon like her life depended on it.

Everyone stared at the same thing.

That hill.

The hill Kael had pointed to when he gave his little speech. The hill the sun was crawling over now.

They looked at it like a stage curtain about to rise. Like they were waiting for the play to start, and the tickets had cost everything they had left.

The air buzzed—half nerves, half hope.

"I didn’t sleep," some teenager muttered, eyes red but shining. "What if he already left?"

"He won’t," said a tired mother holding a bundled child. "He said sunrise."

"But what if he meant his sunrise? Like—what if dragons see time backwards or something?"

A lizardkin snorted. "He doesn’t look like the planning type."

"But—"

"Shut up," growled a huge minotaur woman. "He’ll come. I’ll wait all day."

"Do you think he’ll bring food?" a young catkin girl piped up, nibbling her last biscuit. "He seems like someone who brings snacks."

Her brother groaned. "He’s not your uncle. He’s our savior."

"...Why can’t he be both?"

The brother merely sighed at those words, their voices melting into the hum of the crowd. Not all jokes, but not all dread either. A strange, fragile balance.

Then it happened.

The first sliver of sun touched the crest of the hill.

And the crowd froze.

Every neck craned, every ear perked, every tail stilled. Even the damn birds shut up.

But nothing happened.

The hill stayed empty.

No shadow against the sky. No lazy man with two girls in his arms. No "good morning, mortals."

Just... nothing.

Seconds bled into a minute. Then two. Then ten.

Whispers started, softer this time. Not hopeful. Uneasy.

"Where is he?"

"Did he leave without us?"

"Maybe it was just a dream..."

"Maybe we’re idiots."

A girl started crying. An old man’s knuckles went white on his cane. The fire in the crowd dimmed.

And then—

From the wrong side of the field, casually strolling in like he had nowhere better to be, came Kael.

Coat slung over one shoulder, hair a mess, eyes half-shut, like he’d only just rolled out of bed. He yawned big enough to crack his jaw.

Beside him, Alenia and Lyra walked, looking perfectly awake, which only made him look worse. Evethra glided behind them, all dignity and sharp eyes.

But the real spectacle was Rue and Rina, skipping ahead like they owned the place, waving at the crowd as if this was their personal parade.

"YOU’RE LATE!" someone shouted. Relief more than anger.

Kael blinked, looked up at the sky, then at the hill. "...Am I?"

"YES!" half the crowd answered at once, laughing now.

He scratched his head. "That hill really tricked me. Looked farther away."

Alenia pinched her nose. "We told you it was time to go."

Lyra smiled, gentle as always. "You said ’five more minutes.’"

Evethra’s voice cut sharp. "That was an hour ago, my lord."

Kael gave them all a look. "Mutiny. Clear mutiny."

Alenia shrugged. "Don’t oversleep on your own big day, then."

Rue spun, pointing at him with all the drama of a prophet. "He was snoring! Like a dragon in a cave!"

Rina blushed, hands behind her back, eyes down. "He... did snore a little."

Kael looked betrayed. "I saved you both."

Rue skipped. "We love you!" Then, louder, "But we also keep you honest!"

Rina bobbed her head shyly.

The crowd cracked into laughter, the tight knot of nerves dissolving into warmth again.

Kael sighed, heavy and theatrical. "This is the thanks I get."

Rue grinned. "At least you weren’t drooling."

Kael ruffled his hair, coat settling as he finally stepped in front of everyone proper. One arm lifted lazily.

"Good morning, my fans."

More laughter.

"You’re late!" someone shouted again.

"I arrive exactly when I mean to," Kael fired back, with all the fake grandeur of a bored king.

Alenia muttered, "When you wake up."

Kael shrugged. "Details."

Lyra cut in gently. "He didn’t forget you."

Evethra added, cool and steady, "You were never an afterthought."

Kael’s golden eyes swept over them—wagons, packs, families clinging together, hope shining where it hadn’t before. He smiled, soft but clear.

"You all came."

A few nodded, others sniffled.

"...Guess I can’t sleep in tomorrow either," he muttered, and laughter rippled again.

Then he lifted a hand. Magic cracked faintly between his fingers. The sun was climbing over the hills now, spilling gold across all of them.

Kael’s grin stretched wide.

"Well," he drawled, "let’s see what kind of trouble we can stir up."

The cheer that erupted split the morning open. Mist scattered. Voices carried far down the road ahead.

....................................

Meanwhile, on the other side of Veldera...

The southern gate was never lively. Always quiet. Always still.

Not today.

Two rhythms pounded in from opposite sides of the horizon. Hooves—dozens, relentless. A drumroll before the curtain rises.

From the west came a hundred armored riders, led by a man blazing as bright as his scarlet hair. His destrier was black as midnight, a silver sigil flashing on his chestplate.

Vaelen Baneron. Three swords hanging off him like they belonged there. And that grin—that cocky grin carved into his face as if he was born with it. He didn’t slow. Didn’t even glance at the walls. Just kept hunting.

From the east, another hundred. No clatter. Precision. Discipline. Horses keeping perfect pace, the whole line like a machine.

At the center, robed in sapphire, sat Arren Baneron. Staff resting easy in his grip. Eyes sharp as a knife, expression giving nothing but weight.

The brothers met at the gate.

For a moment, nothing. Just horses snorting and banners flapping.

Vaelen tilted his head. "Thought you’d still be polishing your robes, brother."

Arren’s gaze slid over him. "Thought you’d be in bed, hungover. Yet here we are."

Vaelen’s grin sharpened. "Guess we both want this one."

Arren’s tone was silk over steel. "Our little brother deserves a thorough accounting. Accident or intention."

The challenge sat between them, heavy as last night’s toast: ’May the better brother win.’

Neither expected to see the other here. Neither was leaving.

"First things first," Vaelen said, tugging reins. "We find him."

Arren nodded once. "On that, we agree."

The guards at the gate scrambled, half-awed. "M-my lords, Veldera is honored—"

"Spare it," Vaelen snapped. "We’re looking for a man."

Arren’s voice cut quieter, sharper. "You know who."

The guards faltered. Not ignorant—hesitant. Finally, one young voice spoke. "...If it’s who you mean... you might already be too late."

Vaelen leaned down. "Too late?"

The guard’s eyes flicked east, to the golden light. "He... and the demi-humans... they were leaving. At sunrise."

The air changed.

The brothers turned to each other. No words. No need. The urgency was mutual.

Vaelen swung from his horse in one smooth move. "We move. Now."

Arren dismounted, slower but no less intent. "He cannot vanish into Rugurda."

That forest—endless, alive, dangerous even for them. The worst place to lose someone.

Vaelen raised a hand without looking back. "Hold the line. We’ll move faster alone."

Arren gave the smallest nod. His mages obeyed.

And then they were gone.

Vaelen blurred, vaulting crates, rooftops, startled citizens in great strides.

Arren floated, robes whispering, slicing through the air like an arrow.

They were fast. Too fast.

The northern gate came into view—

And both stopped cold.

Because beyond it, where empty sky should’ve been, rose a wall.

A wall of stone and magic, unbroken, unending, climbing so high it swallowed the sun.

It hummed with power, a mirror that reflected everything back but revealed nothing.

Vaelen landed, jaw tight. "...That wasn’t here yesterday."

Arren stepped down, eyes narrowing. "No. It wasn’t."

And together, they stared at the impossible monolith.