The Sinful Young Master

The ground trembled as a massive bear lumbered into the clearing. Its fur was a deep auburn, and its size dwarfed even Kaltherion's towering form. Each step was a reminder of its raw power, yet there was a calmness in its movements, a quiet wisdom that contrasted with its imposing presence.

Next came the serpents, slithering out from between the roots of the great trees. Their scales shimmered in shades of emerald and sapphire, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. The largest of them, a python as thick as a tree trunk, raised its head high to meet Kaltherion's gaze.

Last, a winged feline with sleek, black fur and glowing yellow eyes leapt from the shadows. Its wings folded gracefully against its body as it took its place beside the gryphon, its movements as fluid as liquid.

Kaltherion stepped into the centre of the circle, his presence commanding the attention of every beast. His golden hair caught the faint moonlight, giving him an almost divine aura. Raylena stood slightly behind him, her eyes scanning the crowd with a sharp gaze, ensuring all had gathered.

"Brothers and sisters," Kaltherion began, his voice deep and resonant, carrying effortlessly across the glade. "The winds of change sweep through the lands, and the balance teeters once more. I have seen it with my own eyes—a boy has awakened."

A ripple of murmurs moved through the gathering, the beasts exchanging glances and low growls. The gryphon let out a sharp cry, and the bear rumbled low, its massive form shifting uneasily.

Kaltherion raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. "He is no ordinary mortal. His presence is unlike any I've encountered. His aura holds the potential to shift the very tides of power. Yet, with such potential comes danger. The Nynthralls and nyphorites, and their shadow, creep closer to this realm. They will not ignore the boy's awakening."

The serpents hissed, their forked tongues flicking in agitation. The direwolf stepped forward, its silver eyes narrowing. "You speak of danger, Kaltherion, but what proof do you have of this boy's significance? Many mortals rise and fall, yet the balance remains."
Experience tales with empire

Kaltherion met the wolf's gaze unflinchingly. "When I faced him, his presence alone was enough to halt my primal form. His will, his aura—it's raw and untamed, but it is there. He made no move to dominate, yet his essence commanded respect."

The winged feline, its voice smooth and melodic, spoke next. "If this boy is as you say, then he is a double-edged sword. Do you propose to guide him or eliminate him?"

Raylena stepped forward, her voice sharp and clear. "Neither. He is not yet fully awakened. To act now would be to tip the balance prematurely. What we must do is prepare—for him, and for the storm that follows."

Kaltherion nodded in agreement. "The boy's journey will decide his fate and ours. If he becomes a force of destruction, we will act to protect the balance. But if he can be shaped into a force of stability, he may be our greatest ally against the encroaching darkness."

The gryphon tilted its head, its golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And what of the Nynthralls? If they seek the boy, they will come for him with all their might. Are we prepared to face such a threat?"

Kaltherion's expression hardened. "The Nynthralls are relentless, but they are not invincible. We must strengthen our bonds and gather our forces. Each of you commands realms and dominions that will be crucial in the days to come."

The bear let out a deep rumble of approval. "Then we stand united. The boy may walk his path, but we will be ready."

The beasts gave their agreement, their collective presence a testament to the power of the wilds. Kaltherion raised his hand once more, his voice firm. "Go now to your realms. Watch, listen, and prepare. The storm is coming, and we will stand as its counterbalance."

As the beasts began to disperse, their forms melting back into the shadows, Kaltherion and Raylena lingered in the circle. The lion-man's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the faintest hint of dawn began to break.

***

The estate's garrison loomed tall against the evening sky, its high walls casting long shadows over the courtyard.

The drake, Maelruth, exhaled loudly, its breath fogging the cool air as it slowed to a halt. The beast's sharp claws clicked against the stone as it adjusted its weight, its powerful form radiating an imposing presence. They have just reached the estate after their departure from the forest, and the knights went straight into the garrison.

Jolthar dismounted smoothly, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud.

He ran a gloved hand over Maelruth's scaled neck, murmuring a word of gratitude.

The drake lowered its head slightly, acknowledging the gesture, though its eyes never stopped scanning the surroundings.

Jolthar stood beside it, waiting for the pit crew to arrive and tend to his companion.

"Is that a crimson drake?"

The voice cut through the ambient noises of the courtyard like a blade, smooth yet sharp.

Jolthar tensed slightly, his instincts kicking in as his hand moved toward the hilt of his sword. He turned quickly, his eyes narrowing as he sought the source of the voice.

A figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows with an unnerving ease.

It was Myron. His expression was calm, a faint smile playing at his lips as though he were amused by Jolthar's reaction.

"Yes," Jolthar said cautiously, his eyes studying Myron. He didn't even sense him coming towards him.

"And it has a name—Maelruth."

Myron's gaze shifted to the drake, his expression unreadable.

"Maelruth the Bloodstorm," he said softly, almost reverently. "A befitting name for such a ferocious beast."

Maelruth snorted, steam curling from its nostrils as it regarded Myron with an almost intelligent awareness. The drake's fiery eyes narrowed slightly, but it made no move, its trust in Jolthar keeping it calm.

"You know of crimson drakes?" Jolthar asked, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and suspicion.