Veilbound Secrets: The Oath Bearer's Curse

Cedric nodded at Eirina, his expression one of begrudging respect. “We can’t afford to let our disagreements fracture our strength.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Aela asked, her wings flickering with anticipation. “Do we forge alliances with the other lesser families? There are many in Centrallis who would jump at the chance to fight alongside us.”

“Lesser families?” Tharon scoffed. “Those pathetic houses can barely defend their own borders, let alone contribute to a war against the Cultists. We need real warriors.”

“Real warriors?” Aric shot back, feeling the heat rise in his chest. “How do you define ‘real’? They might lack your dragon blood, but many of them have skills and knowledge that could prove invaluable.”

“Enough!” Cedric’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension. “We will not waste time on semantics. We need to gather intelligence. Sylvan, I want your people to monitor the forests. Eirina, can your kin use their connections to gather information on the Cultists’ movements?”

“I can,” Eirina confirmed, her expression softening as she met Cedric’s gaze. “The Valenwood will do what it can. But we must act swiftly.”

“Good,” Cedric replied, the weight of leadership evident in his demeanor. “Tharon, your warriors are formidable. I want them to scout the borders. If any Cultists are making their way toward Centrallis, I want to know before they arrive.”

Kael leaned back, folding his arms. “And what about the Drakaryn people? Shouldn’t we be leading the charge? We’ve fought against worse odds before.”

“Yes,” Cedric said, his eyes narrowing, “but this time, we need to be strategic. The Cultists may have a greater number, and they’re no longer merely the rabble they once were. We must plan accordingly. We will gather our forces, but we will not throw them into a meat grinder without knowing our enemy.”

“I still say we should strike first,” Tharon insisted, his jaw set. “We need to show them that we’re not afraid. Fear is a powerful weapon.”

“But what about the innocents?” Aela interjected, her voice rising with passion. “The civilians in the cities? We can’t risk their lives in our quest for vengeance. We have to think of them first.”

“Then let’s ensure they are safe,” Sylvan suggested, his voice measured. “We should fortify our borders and ensure that the people are protected before we launch any offensive. I can rally my kin to help reinforce the barriers of the forest and the paths leading into Centrallis.”

“Do whatever it takes,” Cedric instructed, his tone brooking no argument. “But I want constant updates. We can’t afford to lose contact with each other during this.”

“We’re going to need more than mere communication,” Kael replied, his voice thoughtful now. “If the Cultists truly have access to forbidden powers, we might need to delve into the Wyrd ourselves. Perhaps we should consult the ancient tomes, seek out forgotten magics that could tip the scales in our favor.”

Aric felt a shiver at the mention of the Wyrd. “That could be dangerous, Kael. We’ve seen what happens when people reach too far into the Wyrd. We need to be careful not to lose ourselves in our pursuit of power.”

“I would rather lose myself than allow the Cultists to dictate the terms of this war,” Kael shot back, his temper flaring once more.

“Let’s not turn on each other,” Cedric interjected, his voice cool and authoritative. “Kael, if you wish to explore the Wyrd, you’ll do so with caution. I will not have you jeopardizing our cause for the sake of pride.”

“Pride?” Kael replied, incredulity painted on his face. “It’s about survival!”

“Then we must act like it,” Aric added, meeting Kael’s fiery gaze. “We need to think about every move we make, not just swing our swords without thinking.”

The atmosphere in the room was taut with tension, yet beneath the surface, there was a current of respect beginning to form as everyone’s thoughts coalesced into a unified front.

Cedric took a deep breath, sensing the gravity of their moment. “We are in uncharted waters. The time for disagreement is past. We must stand united against the coming storm. Our families have thrived for centuries because of our bonds, and now, more than ever, we must reaffirm them. If we do not stand together, we will all fall, one by one.”

As silence settled over the Dominion Halll, the weight of Cedric’s words hung in the air, and one by one, each heir nodded in agreement, understanding the road ahead would require both strength and cunning.

“Very well,” Aela said, her voice firm. “Let us forge this alliance, but we must also prepare for the worst. I will begin gathering intelligence on any movements in the skies. The Aethari have eyes that can see even the faintest stirrings of darkness.”

“Good,” Cedric replied, his approval evident. “The sooner we act, the better. We all have our roles to play, and we need to work together. No more secrets among our families.”

Aric raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "And the relics? If the Cultists are after the gods, they’ll likely target relics tied to them. We need to be sure our families’ relics are secure."

"Exactly," Cedric replied with a grim nod. "Relics could easily become targets. Safeguarding them is paramount, and relocating them might even be necessary. Sylvan, what’s the status of your family’s relic?"

Sylvan straightened, pride flickering in his gaze. "The Elysian relic is concealed within our estate, protected by ancient wards. For now, it’s secure."

"And your family, Kael?" Cedric looked to the dragon-blooded heir.

Kael’s voice dropped, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. "The Drakaryn relic lies in the heart of our ancestral mountain. Generations have guarded it—it’s not leaving our grasp."

Aric’s gaze was sharp. "Then we coordinate. If we’re to stand against this threat, we need to be ready to protect what’s ours. The relics can’t end up in the wrong hands."

Aela nodded, her voice steely. "And perhaps we’ll need the relics to strengthen our power. If the Cultists are after gods, they might see our relics as conduits. We can’t allow that."

Cedric's voice was firm. "Agreed. Let’s reconvene in a week with updates—scouting reports, intelligence, sightings of Cultist activity. Same hall."

As the heirs rose, a weighty determination settled over them. They were united, driven by a common purpose, aware that the future of their world was at stake.

As they began to file out, Aric murmured, "Let’s hope we’re not already too late." He watched each of them, his gaze cold, calculating, as they disappeared into the corridors, their expressions a blend of resolve and uncertainty. The echoes of their footsteps faded, leaving Aric alone with Cedric.

Cedric studied him intently. "Are you ready for this, Aric?"

Aric’s answer was clipped. "What choice do we have?"

Cedric’s face softened, though his words remained solemn. "Just remember, this fight isn’t only with external enemies. It’s a battle with ourselves and whatever shadows lie within."

Aric gave a slight nod. The path ahead was steeped in risk and, perhaps, potential. He was determined not only to prove himself but to emerge stronger, not just as a member of the Oswin family but as someone who’d survive at any cost.

The gods might fall, but he would rise.

Aric stepped out of the Dominion Hall and exited the palace. The scent of damp earth lingered in the heavy air, with clouds signaling impending rain. The Centrallis gardens, vibrant with color, felt muted, as though nature itself sensed the conflict brewing.

As he walked, he fell in step with Aela, who strode purposefully toward the stables. She glanced sideways at him, her brow slightly furrowed. "You look as if you’re carrying the world’s weight on your shoulders."

Aric’s expression remained impassive. "I’m not one for dramatics, but this goes beyond the Cultists. If they manage to shatter the Veil, they’ll unchain chaos across Aeloria."

Aela’s gaze hardened. "The Veil and the Wyrd are in a fragile balance. If the Wyrd Entities are unleashed, there may be no regaining control. We need more than just our families. Allies, even those beyond our usual circle."

Aric tilted his head slightly. "Perhaps your kin, the Aethari, as we discussed. You have eyes on the skies; if anyone can sense movements, it’s you."

Aela raised an eyebrow, impressed. "The Aethari value strength and clever strategy. You’ll need both if we’re to secure their help."

They neared the stables, and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones caught their attention. Sylvan was there, adjusting the saddle on his obsidian-coated steed, his expression composed but his eyes sharp. He looked up, flashing a confident grin. "Conspiring again, are we?"

Aric smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Just discussing strategy. Are you certain your Elysian relic is as well-protected as you claim?"

Sylvan’s face darkened, his tone serious. "The Elysian relic is more than family pride. It holds secrets my father kept even from me. If the Cultists learn of its true nature, it could draw their full attention."

Aela crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "Can we trust your family to defend it? We can’t risk betrayal from within."

Sylvan’s jaw tightened. "Trust is thin, even among families, but I swear on my lineage—no one will jeopardize this cause on my watch."

Just then, Kael strode into the stables, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the trio. “I overheard your discussion about trust,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling. “You’re right to be wary. The Drakaryn have faced treachery before, and it nearly cost us everything. If we are to stand against this threat, we must forge bonds that can withstand the storm.”

Aric met Kael’s gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “Are you saying we need to consider blood oaths?”

Kael nodded gravely. “Exactly. A blood oath binds our fates together. If we vow to protect each other’s relics and families, it sends a message to the Cultists: we are united, and we will not fall.”

Aela seemed to contemplate the idea, her brow furrowed in thought. “It’s a powerful commitment. But do we trust each other enough to make such an oath?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Sylvan interjected. “The longer we hesitate, the closer the threat comes. This is about survival.”

After a moment of silence, Aela sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Very well. If we’re going to do this, let’s make it a gathering. We can bring our families together, lay our cards on the table, and formalize this alliance.”

Aric’s eyes hardened, a quiet intensity in his voice. “Then let’s make it happen. We’ll gather them, forge a unified front, and ensure every family knows what’s at stake.”

...

Back at the Oswin estate, the weight of recent events settled over Aric like a dense fog. Familiar surroundings cloaked in silence greeted him, yet everything felt profoundly altered, as though he had slipped into a world that was both his and not his. For the first time, the full reality hit: he was here—fully, tangibly, irrevocably in the real world, with nothing left to shield him from the consequences of his actions.

He paused in the dim, austere hall, gazing at the portraits lining the walls. Each Oswin ancestor, preserved in oil and pigment, seemed to scrutinize him with eyes that held centuries of secrets. The prophecy, he thought bitterly. It felt like a specter at his shoulder, guiding his every step as if each choice, each breath, was somehow anticipated by forces lurking just beyond comprehension. The prophecy was both a cage and a weapon—and he intended to wield it as both.

I am here now. The Oswin heir, he mused, his expression cold and distant. He was no longer the malleable, uncertain Aric who had once looked to others for guidance. This time, he would bend the world’s rigid rules to his will, like a blade tempered in fire. If fate has expectations of me, he thought, then it’s only fair I hold it to mine.

His mind drifted to the voice that had haunted his thoughts—a whisper that had once felt like a compass, guiding him through both obvious and obscured paths. Yet here, in the heart of the Oswin estate, there was only silence. He closed his eyes, reaching into the depths of his mind, where he felt the echo of its presence as if it were lurking in some dark corner of his psyche, waiting.

Where are you? he called inwardly, demanding rather than seeking.

Nothing. Just the hum of his own thoughts, resonant in the quiet. The absence of the voice felt unsettling, but there was also a cold satisfaction in it. Without its cryptic interjections, he could act on his own terms, free to plot his path without deciphering riddles. And yet, the silence held an unsettling warning, like the eye of a storm that could erupt at any moment.

If you won’t guide me, he thought, then I’ll find my own way to the truth. Be assured, I will find it.

...