Eclipse and Chael walked back the way they had come, blindfolded and being led by the birds. The silence between them lingered until Chael spoke. “What do you think of what he said?”

  “Haaah, it seems like the information about Khali is legit,” Eclipse sighed, “We can trust it, at least for now. Alaric clearly wants something from Khali’s downfall.”

  Though neither said it out loud, both Eclipse and Chael felt a growing unease. Alaric wasn’t someone to be underestimated, and they suspected he knew more about them than they’d like.

  As they approached the door, it opened, and they stepped out into the dimly lit tunnel, and took their blindfolds off. Sage was waiting for them leaning casually against the wall. “Took you two long enough. So, did you get what we needed?”

  Chael wasted no time filling Sage in, relaying everything Alaric had told them about Khali and his plans. Everything except for Khali’s search for Eclipse and the Nine Lamentations of Conquered Worlds.

  By the time Chael finished, the three of them had already made their way back to the restaurant.

  Midnight. Somewhere in the depths of the Avyssos.

  Four figures sat in the darkened chamber around a cold stone table, the dim flicker of a lantern casting long, eerie shadows across the room. Two seats remained conspicuously empty. Khali's golden eyes, glowing faintly in the low light, reflected his growing impatience. He tapped his fingers against the stone, his irritation barely contained.

  "The commander of the Viridian Flame Warriors hasn’t shown up again." Khali muttered, his voice low but laced with frustration. His golden pupils flickered like embers as he glared at the empty seat across from him.

  "I heard they suffered heavy casualties, fighting off Blood Beasts along the northern borders," came Ghost's voice from the shadows. His face was completely concealed, only the faint outline of his large frame was visible. He continued in a mocking tone as he smashed his skull-topped staff against the stone table repeatedly, "Speaking of casualties, I heard three youngsters gave your men quite the ass-kicking, Khali."

  Khali's knuckles whitened as his fist trembled.

  "Watch your mouth, Ghost," he hissed. "None of us are immune to losses. Your turn might be next."

  Ghost let out a sharp snicker, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, don't worry about me. I’m not as fragile as your band of hooligans."

  The tension was thick in the room until a soft, almost jolly laugh broke the silence. "Hohohoho… why don’t we stop the bickering and get to what matters?"

  "Ki-kiki-kikiki, Alaric is right," chimed Lucian Voss, dim light reflecting off his pink tinted glasses, and his voice smooth and sinister.

  With that, the meeting commenced, the quiet hum of hidden agendas and deadly intentions filling the room.

  In the heart of Avyssos, deep within the hidden chambers of the Dracoferus tribe, Khali stood alone in a dimly lit room. The walls were lined with ancient symbols, their meanings long forgotten by most. Before him, on a pedestal, the Nine Lamentations of Conquered Worlds.

  “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” His fists clenched, and his golden eyes narrowed with seething rage as he looked at the painting. “First… this fake fucking Nine Lamentations. ”

  He then growled and kicked the pedestal, causing the painting to shake, but not fall, “Now these six figures… Why the fuck do they keep looking down on me?"

  Khali growled through gritted teeth. "Do they not fucking know who I am? All the tribes answer to me - Khali!”

  He slammed his fist into the stone wall, the impact echoing through the chamber. "Once I resurrect Tartarus, I'll rip each of those fucking rats apart, one by one. Ghost… just wait till I tear your mouth off your face."

  Turning sharply, he barked his orders to Dragos, who stood quietly at the entrance. "Make sure the boys are ready. Tomorrow’s the day we’re setting off to Draconis Village."

  Dragos gave a single nod, his expression unreadable.

  "Who were the men that attacked Thorn?" Khali growled, his voice dripping with venom.

  Dragos spoke calmly, "It seems they were the same boys we caught years ago. One of them… Eclipse, the grandson of Douzian from Grapefruit Village, the one we later found vanished."

  Khali's eyes burned with fury at the name.

  "Eclipse…" he muttered, his voice low but filled with deadly intent. "So, the grandson lives."

  He took his gaze back to the painting slowly. But as he stared, something darker swirled inside him - a coldness crept up his spine. His body stiffened as a sharp, overwhelming shiver coursed through him, dragging him back into a memory he wished would stay buried.

  A tall and imposing figure - ripping the heart out of Khali’s father with a twisted smile on his face flashed vividly in his memory. Khaan’s blood-soaked the entirety of his fur robes, and blood trickled down his mouth, staining his grey beard. Khali sat frozen on the ground, trembling in terror. After taking one gaze to catch a glimpse of the man’s cruel smirk, he never looked up again and only saw his bloodstained white boots. He never saw past that man’s smile. At the same time, Khali couldn’t tell if he truly remembered the man’s smile, or if it was just his mind filling the gaps of that hazy, blurry day. His body was paralysed by fear, his breath short, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched the life drain from his father’s hazel eyes.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The man’s cold and commanding voice echoed in his mind, “Find the real Nine Lamentation of Conquered World…”

  Khali’s hands shook and his knuckles were white with how hard he clenched his fists. His teeth ground together as he muttered to himself, almost a whisper, "That man… If only this damn painting wasn’t fake… who knows when he’ll show up again.”

  The memory faded, but his fear remained.

  That boy, Eclipse… He clenched his fists tighter, his voice a low growl. "He shows up now, after all these years of us searching for him…. And I don’t understand why that old bastard Alaric wouldn’t help either, even though he told us where the kid was the first time."

  Alaric had first given Eclipse’s location in Gravestone village a few years before Khali consulted with him about the whereabouts of Eclipse. On orders, Dragos and Thorn had set off to capture Eclipse, being the closest to the location at the time. They had failed to capture Eclipse, as he had mysteriously disappeared while Thorn was trying to take information out of him.

  Later on, Khali immediately asked Alaric about the Eclipse’s whereabouts again, yet he recalled Alaric’s face, jolly, shaking his head.

  "I don't know where he is now, hohohohohoho…"

  Khali wanted to tear that smug smile off his face.

  “Well, now that Eclipse has revealed himself," he continued, his voice filled with venom, "Make sure every one of the boys is aware. Capturing him is our primary priority alongside finding the blood sample. If he appears again - if he gets away from us one more time…”

  Khali grit his teeth as the image of the man ripping his father’s heart out flashed again, vivid and brutal. His body trembled, the weight of that memory unbearable.

  ‘I’ll use every method of torture imaginable once I capture that brat until he tells me the location of the real Nine Lamentations of Conquered Worlds’… for when that man returns.’

  The ground trembled beneath the steady march of hundreds of men, both on horseback and on foot. Most carried bows and arrows slung across their backs, while others wielded heavy axes and swords. They wore savage expressions, fur hats pulled low over their brows, and their clothes were rough and torn. Their voices filled the air with loud laughter and battle cries like a pack of barbarians.

  At the front of the horde rode Khali on his dark steed. His sharp, golden eyes gleamed and reflected the faint light from the dim sky. He wore a fur-lined cloak that billowed behind him, and his powerful frame was draped in leather armour.

  Dragos, his right-hand man, rode beside him.

  “The route is straight ahead, my lord,” Dragos stated, glancing down at the weathered map gripped in his gloved hand. “If we keep pace, we’ll reach the crossing before nightfall.”

  Khali’s gaze narrowed as he studied the road ahead - a narrow path that curved sharply to the left. The dense forest pressed in on either side, the trees standing unnaturally still, their twisted branches clawing toward the path like crooked fingers.

  “How strange,” Khali muttered, his voice low. His golden eyes swept over the surroundings in alertness. “The forest… it’s too quiet.”

  Dragos frowned and leaned forward in his saddle, straining to hear.

  “You’re right,” he said, uneasily. “No birds. No insects. Even the wind’s gone.”

  A chill crept along his spine.

  “We’re headed straight east exactly as the tablet said, so…” Dragos began, but his words faltered as a distant rumble rolled through the ground.

  “Let’s carry on.” Khali growled.

  The tribesmen didn’t complain and followed their leader into the eerie opening. They walked further in for a while, all of the tribesmen on guard.

  Dragos’s eyes scanned each leaf of every branch like a hawk, scanning for any potential threats. Soon, they approached a dead end.

  A deep frown appeared on Khali’s face, “Dragos, tell the warriors to stay on guard,”

  Dragos nodded solemnly, he opened his mouth to shout an order when suddenly the horses whinnied in fear, stamping nervously.

  A very faint trembling began. It began as subtle as a shiver through the earth at first, then violent and soon, the whole earth beneath them shook.

  “What the hell-” Dragos shouted, trying to steady his mount.

  Without warning, thick tree roots erupted from the soil ahead and to the sides, spiralling upward like serpents. The forest seemed to come alive, ancient and furious, as the roots curled and twisted, snapping through the ground in chaotic surges. A scout screamed as a root burst up beneath his horse, flinging both the tribesman and the horse into the air.

  “Ambush!” Dragos roared, drawing his sword. “Form up! Protect the chief!”

  But before any formation could take place, a smoke bomb exploded at the centre of the path, flooding the air with dense, choking fog. Visibility dropped instantly, and the sharp, acidic stench of the smoke burned in their lungs. The tribesmen coughed and shouted, lost in the chaos.

  “Khali!” Dragos called, turning wildly in the fog.

  And then - through the smoke, he saw it.

  Khali’s body, limp and lifeless, was being yanked upward into the air by a tangle of roots. His eyes were closed and his expression was calm.

  “No!” Dragos surged forward, slashing through a coiling root - but the tendrils retreated into the mist with their prize, leaving only the chaos and the smoke behind.

  "Chief Khali!" A tribesman shouted in disbelief, watching as Khali’s floating body moved swiftly, carried by some unseen force towards the opposite direction.

  "Chase the Chief- cough! Someone’s trying to - cough! - kidnap him!" Dragos barked through the smoke, which had gone down his air pipes. The tribesman who had managed to avoid the tangled roots surged forward, racing after their leader’s hovering form.

  Behind them, the remaining troops were trapped. Towering tree trunks and gnarled roots had risen from the earth, forming an impenetrable barrier. The dead end to the front, the forest thick on either side, and now this - there was no escape for those left behind. Panic spread like wildfire among the men, but Dragos kept his focus on Khali, his heart pounding as he and the few tribesmen sprinted after their Chief.

  Suddenly, Khali's floating body took a sharp right, veering off the path that Dragos and his tribesmen had been following. They lost sight of him momentarily before spotting his form again in the distance. Determined, they pushed forward, the sound of their heavy boots pounding the earth as they chased after their chief. The body drifted through the dense trees on the left side of the pathway, forcing Dragos and his men to push through the tangled branches and thick leaves, their faces scratched, and their progress slowed.

  Then, without warning, Khali’s body dropped to the forest floor in a small clearing. Dragos rushed forward, his breath heavy with exertion, and quickly turned the body over. But as soon as his hands touched the figure, his blood ran cold.

  "Wait… where’s the Chief?" Dragos muttered, his eyes wide as he realised the body he had been chasing wasn’t Khali’s. It was a random tribesman from the Dracoferus tribe who was staring up lifelessly, his throat slit.

  With a frustrated growl, Dragos threw the tribesman’s limp body back onto the ground. Dragos’ face darkened with suspicion.

  "Who… would do this?" He muttered under his breath. But then something clicked, and his head snapped up.

  "Where’s the other one?" Dragos barked, looking around frantically. "There were five of you chasing the Chief with me, and now I only see four. Where is the other one?"

  The remaining tribesmen exchanged dumbfounded looks, their confusion palpable as they glanced around the forest. The fifth tribesman had vanished without a trace.

  Somewhere in another area of the forest, Eclipse sneered as he stood over Khali's unconscious body. His plan had worked perfectly.