CHAPTER 75: ENVY IN THE MIST OF CELEBRATION

The Sanctum’s infirmary smelled of herbs and antiseptic, a sharp contrast to the den rot of the Shadowfen Marshes.

Kelvin lay on a narrow cot with his left arm raped up in bandages that itched against his skin. A slight ache came from beneath the wrappings. He shifted, and let his gaze drift to his companions.

Lyra occupied the cot to his right, her posture was rigid despite the sling cradling her right arm. The healers had mended the matter left by a zombie’s dark energy-infused strike, but her usually vibrant green eyes were dim, shadowed by frustration.

She met Kelvin’s stare and offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice was a coarse from hours of disuse.

"Like I tangled with a stampeding wyrm and got lost," she replied. "I will be fine. Just need a day or two."

Across the room, Darius laid on his cot. Scratches crisscrossed his face, shallow marks from the marsh’s brambles, but his eyes sparkled with undimmed mischief.

He propped himself up on one elbow, grinning as if they had just returned from a leisurely hunt rather than a life-or-death struggle.

"Well, I will say that we have earned a break," he declared, stretching his arms with a theatrical groan. "No drills, no patrols, just good food and better sleep. Right, Kelvin?"

Kelvin chuckled, the sound loosened the knot of tension in his chest. "You had find the bright side of a cave-in, Darius."

Before Darius could retort, the infirmary door was opened, revealing the presence of Master Veyne. The elder tamer, who carried in his hand a tray ladened with steaming bowls of soup and a basket of crusty bread, the aroma of rosemary and broth disturbed the air.

His gray beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes, though seem stern, held a warmth that softened his imposing presence.

"Thought you might need sustenance after your ordeal," he said, setting the tray on a low table between the cots. "The healers mends the bodies, but a full stomach mends the soul."

Immediately Kelvin’s stomach growled in agreement, and he reached for a bowl and said. "Thank you, Master Veyne."

They ate in silence at first, the clink of spoons against ceramic was the only sound heard. Then, as the meal revived them, the conversation turned to the mission.

Lyra recounted how Salaris had swooped through the marsh’s fog to sever a zombie’s arm, inorder to save her from a fatal blow.

Darius bragged about Rhoam’s iron-plated charge that had shattered a horde’s formation, his laughter echoed off the walls.

Kelvin spoke of Xerion’s flames, how they had blazed through the darkness to incinerate the crystal’s tendrils, his voice was steady despite the memory’s weight.

"I still can not believe that we pulled it off," Lyra said, setting her empty bowl aside. Her tone was softened and tinged with awe. "That crystal, it was like it had a mind of its own, clawing at us with every pulse."

Kelvin nodded, the memory vivid: the dark crystal pulsed with a malevolent energy, its whispers moved into his thoughts, promising despair. "It nearly broke us. But we held it together. That is what that matters."

Darius raised his bowl in a mock salute, soup sloshing over the rim. "To the Tide’s Crest, unbreakable, unstoppable, and maybe a little unhinged."

They clinked their bowls. Master Veyne watched, a faint smile tugging at his lips, then he gathered the dishes and settled beside Kelvin’s cot.

"The Sanctum is planning a celebration for you," he said. "You have earned it, so no questions. But don’t let it get to your heads. This victory is a brief interval of rest, not an end."

Kelvin’s pulse quickened. "What do you mean?" Veyne’s gaze grew grave, his eyes were like storm clouds. "The Veil rift has not closed.

You shattered the crystal and stopped the infestation, but the darkness lingers. It will regroup, grow stronger. The Sanctum will need you again."

A chill prickled Kelvin’s skin. He had dared to hope their triumph was final, but Veyne’s words confirmed the fear that gnawed at him since the marshes. "How do we prepare?"

"Train, heal and watch," Veyne replied. "Your strength lies in your unity and your beasts. Don’t squander it."

With that, he rose and left them, the door was shut behind him. The trio sat in silence and the weight of his warning settled over them like a shroud.

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Lyra, Darius and Kelvin remained confined at the infirmary for three days where they received treatments and care for their easy recovery...

The celebration started that evening after they were allowed to go their dormitory in the Sanctum’s great hall, a space that glows with torchlight and festooned with banners.

The Tide’s Crest emblem was a stylized wave that crashed against a shield, a proud declaration of their triumph.

Long tables were sagged under platters of roasted meat, glazed fruits, and pitchers of spiced cider, the air was thick with the scents of cinnamon and smoke.

Kelvin, Lyra, and Darius sat at the head table with their beasts that was arrayed nearby. Xerion lounged on a woven mat, his flames reduced to a soft, contented glow that shines like embers.

Salaris perched on a carved stand where her iridescent feathers catched the light as she glows with meticulous care.

Rhoam sprawled beside Darius with his massive head resting on his tamer’s lap, iron plates that was clinking faintly with each breath.

Tamers and mentors approached them throughout the night, their words was a mix of praise and curiosity. A wiry girl with braided hair taped Kelvin’s hand and asked him. "I heard you faced the crystal head-on. Is it true it screamed when it shattered?"

Kelvin nodded, the memory of that unearthly wail was still echoing in his ears. "It did scream, like it was alive and furious."

An older mentor, his face lined with years of battle, tapped Darius on the shoulder and said. "Rhoam is a force of nature. You have indeed trained him well, lad."

Darius beamed with a smile as he scratched Rhoam’s snout. "He is the real hero. I just point him in the right direction."

Not all the attention was warm. Zack, their perennial rival came over and his voice dripped with mockery. "Well, well, the heroes of the hour. I suppose even a blind drake finds a meal now and then."