14/02/2026
The Last Disandant
Chapter 5: The Kingdom That Trembled
Far beyond the mountains that bordered Elara’s realm, beyond the rivers that glowed faintly under the trembling sky, stood a kingdom wrapped in perpetual dusk.
It was known as Varynth.
While other kingdoms either celebrated or trembled in confusion, Varynth did neither.
It froze.
Inside a towering obsidian palace, the torches extinguished themselves one by one as if unwilling to burn in what was coming. The air thickened. Even the armored guards—men who had bathed in dragon fire and survived—dropped to one knee without knowing why.
At the highest balcony stood a tall figure cloaked in black and silver robes.
King Maelcor.
His long dark hair swayed although there was no wind. His eyes, ancient and hollow, stared toward the horizon—the direction of Elara’s kingdom.
“The seal…” he whispered.
Behind him, chains embedded into the palace walls rattled violently, reacting to the same force that shook the skies.
“It has broken.”
A general stepped forward, trembling despite his heavy armor.
“Your Majesty… shall we mobilize the Dragon Slayers?”
Maelcor’s fingers tightened around the staff he carried—a staff crowned with a cracked crystal that pulsed faintly with crimson light.
“No,” he said quietly.
And that single word silenced the hall more effectively than any scream.
“He has awakened.”
The general swallowed.
“But… that legend died centuries ago.”
Maelcor’s gaze sharpened.
“Legends do not die. They wait.”
Back at Elara’s kingdom, the atmosphere had not calmed.
It had deepened.
The young boy—white-haired, red sword resting effortlessly in his grasp—stood beside Elara. The dragon behind him lowered its massive head as though acknowledging something far older than itself.
The people could barely breathe.
Some wept.
Others pressed their foreheads to the ground.
Elara’s eyes softened when she looked at the boy, yet beneath that warmth was concern.
She could feel it.
The force that had slowed his birth.
The invisible hand that resisted even her mastery over time.
He looked nineteen. But he was not nineteen.
He was five hundred years held back by something even she could not fully command.
The red dragon beside him—its scales gleaming like fresh blood under sunlight—released a low growl. The transparent hatchling that had emerged from the golden box now circled the boy’s shoulder like mist given form.
It wasn’t merely a dragon.
It was a spirit.
And spirits did not bind themselves to ordinary souls.
The boy lifted his gaze to the sky.
“I can hear them,” he said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Elara stiffened slightly. “Hear who?”
“The chains.”
A murmur spread across the kneeling crowd.
The sky, once blue, flickered faintly like a reflection disturbed by ripples.
Then—
A crack.
Not thunder.
Not lightning.
A sound like reality itself tearing.
Far in the distance, beyond sight but not beyond sense, a pillar of dark energy rose from the western horizon.
Elara’s expression darkened.
“Varynth…”
The boy turned to her slowly. “They are afraid.”
“Yes.”
“But they are also preparing.”
Before she could say more, the ground beneath the castle trembled violently.
The dragons circling above roared in unison, forming a defensive spiral around the kingdom’s airspace.
The red dragon behind the boy spread its wings.
Its presence alone forced the strongest warriors in the crowd to collapse fully onto the ground.
Not from pain.
From recognition.
Power recognizes power.
And submits.
The boy closed his eyes.
For a brief second—
Time paused.
Not stopped completely.
But hesitated.
Leaves mid-fall hung in the air.
The sound of dragon wings dulled into silence.
Even heartbeats felt distant.
Elara stared at him.
He was not trying.
He was not concentrating.
He simply existed—and time bent slightly around him.
Then it resumed.
He opened his eyes.
“They are sending something.”
Elara’s jaw tightened.
“They would not dare.”
But even as she spoke, the sky darkened unnaturally.
Clouds gathered in a spiral.
A black tear opened high above the kingdom.
And from it—
A creature descended.
Not a dragon.
Not human.
Something twisted between both.
Its wings were skeletal, dripping shadow instead of blood. Its eyes burned violet, and chains wrapped around its body as if restraining its full form.
The crowd gasped in horror.
“Elara…” one of the elders whispered, “…that is a Void Drake.”
Elara’s eyes widened slightly.
“Impossible. Those were sealed.”
The creature shrieked—a sound that pierced not ears, but minds.
Several people collapsed unconscious.
Dragons in the sky faltered mid-flight.
The boy stepped forward.
His sword began to glow.
Red at first.
Then deeper.
Crimson turning almost black.
The Void Drake lunged downward, chains snapping one by one as it descended.
Elara moved instantly, time bending around her feet as she appeared several meters ahead in a blink.
But the boy raised his hand.
“Mother.”
The word froze her.
“I will.”
The red dragon behind him roared in approval.
The spirit-dragon on his shoulder expanded slightly, its transparent form shimmering like heatwaves.
The Void Drake unleashed a beam of condensed darkness.
The earth split where it struck.
But the boy did not move.
Instead—
The beam slowed.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
He stepped aside casually as it passed, carving a canyon into the distant hills.
Gasps echoed across the kingdom.
He lifted his sword.
The air around it distorted violently.
Not from heat.
From pressure.
The Void Drake sensed danger and screeched, trying to ascend back into the tear in the sky.
Too late.
The boy swung.
The strike did not travel through air.
It traveled through space.
A red arc appeared across the sky itself—like a scar being carved into reality.
Silence followed.
Then—
The Void Drake split cleanly in two.
No explosion.
No dramatic fall.
It simply dissolved, as though erased.
The tear in the sky flickered and sealed shut.
The winds calmed.
The clouds parted.
And still—
No one dared to rise.
Elara approached slowly.
Her eyes were no longer just concerned.
They were conflicted.
“You cut through a Void Seal,” she said quietly.
The boy looked at his sword, almost curiously.
“It felt thin.”
Thin.
The elders exchanged terrified glances.
Far away in Varynth, King Maelcor staggered backward as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
The cracked crystal atop his staff shattered completely.
“Impossible…” he breathed.
The chains embedded in his palace walls broke violently, whipping through the air.
“He should not wield that level yet…”
A shadow behind him shifted.
A voice—ancient and formless—whispered from the darkness.
“Then it is worse than we thought.”
Maelcor clenched his jaw.
“Prepare the Eclipse Gate.”
The general’s eyes widened in horror.
“But Your Majesty—that gate has not been opened in a thousand years!”
Maelcor turned slowly.
“If he has awakened… then the war we delayed five centuries has returned.”
Back at the castle gates, the kingdom finally began to stir.
Some began to rise cautiously.
Others stared at the boy as if seeing a god among mortals.
He, however, looked… uncertain.
He turned to Elara.
“Why do they fear me?”
She placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
“Because power without limits frightens even the brave.”
The spirit-dragon shimmered softly.
The red dragon behind him lowered itself in silent allegiance.
The boy looked toward the west again.
His gaze hardened slightly.
“I do not feel hatred from them.”
Elara frowned. “No?”
“No.”
He paused.
“I feel desperation.”
The wind shifted.
Far beyond sight, something vast began to stir beneath Varynth’s darkest lands.
The seal had been lifted.
But seals do not break alone.
Sometimes…
They are opened from both sides.
And deep within the void between realms—
Something ancient opened its eyes…
TBC
