Shard of thalon

Training begins

“Hold the staff steady, Draven!” Korath barked, his voice echoing through the Mistwood. The old warrior’s scarred hands gripped a gnarled staff, its tip glowing with Aetherweave. Draven fumbled, the staff slipping in his sweaty palms. He stood on a mossy clearing, surrounded by twisted trees dripping with mist. The Griffin perched nearby, its eyes watchful. Lirien leaned against a trunk, arms crossed, watching.

Draven tightened his grip. “I’m trying!” The staff wobbled, sending a weak mist puff into the air. It dissolved before reaching the ground. His arm ached from the climb to Pyrovance, and the pendant hung heavy, still warm from the flight.

Korath stepped closer, his boots crunching leaves. “Trying won’t save you. Focus!” He swung his staff, a mist blade slashing toward Draven. Draven ducked, heart pounding. The blade grazed his shoulder, cold and sharp. He stumbled, dropping the staff.

Lirien rushed forward. “Korath, ease up. He’s new at this.”

Korath glared. “New or not, Zarok won’t wait.” He picked up the staff, thrusting it back into Draven’s hands. “Again.”

Draven stood, breath shaky. The Mistwood hummed with life—birds chirping, leaves rustling. But tension hung thick. He raised the staff, mimicking Korath’s stance. Mist gathered at the tip, swirling slow but steady. He swung, aiming at a tree. The mist struck, carving a shallow gash in the bark.

Korath nodded. “Better. Now channel the shard.”

Draven hesitated. He touched the pendant with his free hand. Its warmth spread, syncing with the staff’s glow. Mist thickened, forming a small shield. It hovered, fragile but real. Lirien smiled. “See? You can do this.”

Korath grunted. “A start. Keep going.” He stepped back, arms folded.

Draven focused, sweat beading on his forehead. The shield grew, solidifying into a curved wall. He pushed harder, and the mist stretched, wrapping around a tree trunk. The tree creaked, bending under the pressure. Draven grinned, pride swelling.

A rustle broke his focus. A Naga slithered from the shadows, its scales glinting green. Draven froze, staff lowering. The creature’s eyes locked on him, unblinking. Its tongue flicked, testing the air. Lirien gasped, stepping back. Korath raised his staff, ready to strike.

“Wait!” Draven shouted. The pendant pulsed, hot against his skin. A voice filled his mind—soft, ancient. Help us. He dropped the staff, hands trembling. The Naga coiled, not attacking. Its eyes softened.

Korath lowered his weapon. “What’s it doing?”

Draven stepped forward, heart racing. “It’s talking. Asking for help.” He reached out, slow and steady. The Naga nudged his hand, scales cool against his fingers. A surge hit him—images of a broken egg, warriors trampling a nest. Pain and fear flooded his senses.

He pulled back, gasping. “Its nest. Destroyed by Zarok’s men.”

Lirien knelt beside him. “Can you help it?”

Draven nodded. He picked up the staff, focusing the mist. He shaped it into a cradle, lifting the Naga’s broken egg from the ground. The creature watched, silent. The egg glowed faintly, life stirring within. Draven set it down, the mist fading.

The Naga bowed its head. A golden light shot from its horn, striking Draven’s chest. Heat flooded him, then peace. The pendant flared, linking him to the Naga’s mind. Gift given. Speak to us. The connection snapped, leaving him dizzy.

Korath stared. “What just happened?”

“Creature-communication,” Draven said, standing tall. “The Naga blessed me.”

Lirien touched his shoulder. “That’s rare. Use it well.”

Korath grunted. “Good. Now fight with it.” He swung his staff again, mist blade aiming low. Draven reacted, raising his own staff. The mist shield blocked the strike, holding firm. He pushed back, sending Korath stumbling.

The old man laughed. “There’s the spark!” He steadied himself, nodding approval.

Draven lowered the staff, breathing hard. The Naga slithered closer, coiling around the egg. Its eyes met his, a silent thanks. He felt its trust, a new strength in his chest.

A c***k split the air. Draven spun. Trees parted, revealing a figure—Kwevn. His staff glowed, mist swirling dark. “Thought you’d hide here?” Kwevn’s voice carried venom. “Training won’t make you Thalon.”

Lirien stepped forward. “Kwevn, stop.”

Kwevn ignored her. He raised his staff, mist lashing toward Draven. The Naga hissed, uncoiling fast. Draven swung his staff, mist clashing with Kwevn’s. The impact shook the clearing, leaves raining down.

Kwevn grinned. “Weakling.” He advanced, staff spinning.

Draven ducked, heart pounding. The pendant heated, guiding his moves. He thrust the staff, mist piercing Kwevn’s sleeve. The dancer yelped, stepping back. The Naga lunged, blocking Kwevn’s next strike.

“Enough!” Korath roared. He stepped between them, staff raised. Kwevn lowered his weapon, glaring. “This isn’t over,” he spat, then vanished into the mist.

Draven panted, staff trembling. Lirien rushed to his side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. The Naga returned to its egg, scales glinting. The connection lingered, a quiet hum in his mind.

Korath approached. “Kwevn’s trouble. Drin’s influence grows. Train harder.”

Draven gripped the staff tighter. The pendant’s warmth steadied him. He glanced at the Naga, then the Mistwood. A new power stirred within. But Kwevn’s threat loomed, a shadow on his path.

A distant roar echoed. Draven tensed. The sound came from Aerithar’s direction—low, menacing. Korath frowned. “Zarok’s not done.”

Lirien scanned the trees. “We need to move.”

Draven nodded, slinging the staff over his shoulder. The Naga lifted its head, eyes alert. The roar grew louder, shaking the ground. A dark shape flickered through the mist, too fast to track.

He turned to Korath. “What’s that?”

“Trouble,” Korath said. He pointed west. “To Pyrovance. Now.”

The shape charged. Draven raised the staff, mist flaring. The Naga hissed, coiling protectively. Lirien drew a dagger. The clearing tensed, ready for a fight.