CHAPTER 92: TIME TO START THE WORK.

Vandelion’s gaze darkened like storm clouds rolling over a scorched battlefield.

"It’s all because of the people of this city," he said flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The fools of Drakemire have gone senile—they’re meddling with forces they shouldn’t even whisper about. Now, even the dragons have been stirred from their ancient dens."

A silence settled over the group like the hush after a funeral dirge. The room itself seemed to hold its breath, shadows dancing across old stone as torchlight flickered along the walls.

Ethan frowned, brows knitting together. "What do you mean, Grandmaster? Can you elaborate?"

Daniel crossed his arms, his stance tense, jaw set like a man preparing for battle. "Yeah. I don’t get half of what you’re implying. Sounds like something big—and if we’re part of it, we need the full picture."

Vandelion let out a long, slow breath, a sound like wind stirring through the bones of a battlefield long forgotten.

He stepped toward a nearby column, resting a weathered hand against its cold stone surface. His gauntlet made a faint scrape against the worn etchings carved there decades ago.

It was as if he were grounding himself—bracing against memories no one else in the room could see.

"I arrived with Sir Kellan and a small scout unit two days before the main delegation," he began, voice heavy with burden. "It was meant to be routine—a diplomatic courtesy. Nothing more than formality. But as soon as we entered the lower city, I sensed it. The mana in the air—it’s... wrong. Like something ancient’s been awakened, or worse, unsealed."

He turned to face them. His eyes, a deep, unsettling gray, seemed to glint in the firelight—sharp, calculating, as if they could cut through the veil of illusion itself.

"We found markings. Strange, circular glyphs etched into stone—burned in with a magic that doesn’t belong to any known school. Not divine, not arcane. Closer to blood rites. Crude, yet terrifyingly deliberate. They weren’t made in haste. These were ceremonial."

Reyna’s brows rose in alarm. "Blood magic? In a city guarded by dragonkind? That’s bold. And reckless."

"It gets worse," Vandelion said grimly. "These weren’t just idle sigils. We found half-finished shrines hidden in abandoned storehouses. Bone fragments in tunnels beneath the sewers. Not ancient bones—these were too clean, too fresh. Whatever this is... it’s growing. Feeding. Becoming."

Ethan’s mind spun backward to a moment earlier that week. The memory was sharp now, recontextualized with horror.

"Reyna," he said slowly. "Remember the warehouse near the cliffside? That red smear behind the collapsed beams?"

Reyna grunted. "Looked like gang graffiti, but yeah. It smelled foul. Now I get why."

Liora stepped forward, her cloak trailing like ink. "There was a residue there. I noticed it too. Didn’t say anything at the time... but it reminded me of blood wells used in ancient vampire rituals. The kind that draw things from beyond the Veil."

Daniel scowled. "So this cult—or whatever it is—is operating under our noses. But that still doesn’t explain the dragons."

Selene’s boots clicked softly as she took a step forward. Her voice, calm and analytical, cut through the tension like tempered steel. "You think they’re connected."

"Not think," Vandelion said grimly. "I know."

He strode to the center of the chamber, where flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows over the worn tiles and dust-veiled banners of forgotten campaigns.

His figure loomed large there—part knight, part ghost from another era.

"Dragons do not come to cities," he said. "Not unless called... or threatened."

A chill passed through the room, subtle yet undeniable. The kind of instinctive reaction that ran deeper than logic, like prey sensing the approach of a predator.

Ethan rubbed his temple. "So what, the people of Drakemire summoned them by mistake?"

"No," Vandelion said, and this time, there was a finality to his tone. "They summoned something else. And the dragons came to stop it."

Silence followed. Not the kind born from hesitation—but the kind that settled when the weight of truth pressed down so hard it left no space for denial.

Then Daniel’s voice broke through. "We need to figure out what that ’something else’ is before it gets loose."

Selene nodded sharply. "Agreed. No delay."

"We’ll use the war room," Ethan said. "Let’s regroup and chart our course."

Minutes later, the war room opened before them like a relic of forgotten campaigns. Its high, vaulted ceiling echoed faintly with each footfall.

Banners from the dragon accords of old hung along the walls, their colors faded but their symbols still potent—flames, wings, eyes watching from above.

Ancient dragonsteel weapons lined the racks—broad-bladed halberds and curved greatswords that shimmered faintly with enchantments that hadn’t dulled in a hundred years.

A large rectangular table dominated the center of the room, its surface scarred and grooved from the blades, candles, and elbows of war councils past. It bore the smell of old wood, ash, and determination.

Corvin was already there, kneeling beside a grindstone. The rhythmic shhhk—shhhk of metal on stone filled the space, like the beating of a distant war drum. He didn’t look up immediately.

"Situation changed?" he asked, tone flat as always.

Ethan nodded. "Worse than expected."

Corvin rose, wiped his blade with a cloth, and moved to a wall locker. With practiced ease, he withdrew a heavy scroll and brought it to the table.

When he unrolled it, the table was covered edge to edge in a layered map of Drakemire—its surface, substructure, ley lines, mana veins, and the sprawling tangle of ruins beneath the city.

Ethan tapped three fingers across the parchment. "We split up. My team will cover the southern district—near the cliffs. That’s where we found the first anomaly."

Selene leaned over the map, eyes scanning. "I’ll take Corvin and Kellan through the temple district. It’s ancient ground, untouched by modern constructs. Perfect place for old gods or forgotten rituals to resurface."

Vandelion, arms folded, eyes distant, spoke next. "I’ll scout the mines alone. They were sealed off after the quake two months ago. If something was buried—or unearthed—it’ll be there."

Ethan looked at him, uncertain. "You sure about that?"

"I’m not dead yet," Vandelion replied with a faint smirk. "If anything screams, I’ll scream louder."

Reyna let out a snort. "You’re a loud bastard already."

The brief flicker of humor in the room quickly vanished beneath the gravity of what lay ahead.

Corvin placed red pins onto the map, marking each zone. "We move at first light. Investigate, collect evidence, and regroup. No fights unless necessary."

Daniel raised a brow. "Why the restraint?"

"Because if we spook them," Ethan said, voice steady, "they’ll vanish underground again. We want to catch them in the act—find out what they’re doing. Not just scraps and ruins."

Vandelion’s eyes landed on Ethan. "You’ve changed, boy. You used to be reckless."

"I still am," Ethan murmured. "But now I know what it costs."

This time, the silence that followed was different. Not a void. Not hesitation. But shared resolve.

Liora stepped forward, her crimson eyes aglow in the candlelight. "If these people are summoning things that don’t belong in this world... then I’ll help stop them. I may be a vampire, but I still understand balance."

Ethan nodded. "And I’ll help you regain your strength. That’s our pact."

Daniel cracked his knuckles. "Let’s end this before it becomes another calamity."

Reyna rolled her neck, her blade resting against her shoulder. "I’m ready to crack some cultist skulls."

Selene’s voice sliced through. "Then it’s settled. We move at dawn. No half-measures."

Vandelion placed one gloved hand on the table, firm and steady. "We hunt the truth. Not just for us—but for the dragons too. If they’ve broken their silence, it means something darker is crawling beneath this city."

Ethan’s gaze swept across the map, the red pins like bleeding wounds. Then he looked at his companions—Reyna’s fire, Daniel’s strength, Liora’s mystery, Selene’s discipline, Corvin’s stillness, Vandelion’s conviction.

The shadows of Drakemire had begun to move.

.

And Ethan was done waiting.

"Then let’s uncover it," he said, voice steady. "Let’s see what they’re so desperate to hide."