Vaylor flew back up into the sky with a wide grin on his face. It was all too much!
Vaylor had been skeptical at first when the boy had first told him about the worm tamer. A dream where he was told to go back to the rubble? It sounded like madness. But the existence of the colossal worm had endorsed his story.
Letting the boy live was one of the greatest decisions I have ever made. He truly is an anomaly.
Too taken up by his excitement, Vaylor hadn't noticed the shouting and screaming in the distance. The loud roar of a dragon had followed after them, along with the product of their destruction—a black cloud of smoke that blanketed the sky just above Lin Ti soil.
Wasting no time, Vaylor flew towards the border with a puzzled look on his face. He ripped off his boiled helm and threw it into one of the slave villages below.
What is going on!?
There, he saw it. The cause of all the ruckus and the panicked cries that licked at the belly of the night.
There was a gaping wound in the wall where the limestone once stood. On either end, there were flames dancing and billowing under the graceful guide of the wind.
Ahead of the wall, on Lin Ti soil, Vaylor found a conflagration so monstrous that he thought he was staring into hell itself. The flames were curling upwards into the sky, desperate to rip away at the stars.
Lin Ti buildings had been torn to the ground, blackened and violated. Men and women alike let out guttural screams as the fire tore into their skin.
Some were fruitlessly rolling about on the ground, others threw buckets of water on their comrades, but nothing could put out dragon fire so easily.
Vaylor—spotting Lord Bryteburn, his son, and king Aldrid—began descending at great speed. He landed in front of the king, and began shaking him aggressively.
"What happened here? What happened!?"
For once the hot-headed king was not so quick to anger. Instead, he wore a panicked look as he turned to face Lord Vaylor.
"T-the dragon." Aldrid stammered, pointing at Vorax.
"What? What about the dragon!?" Vaylor yelled.
"Lord Bryteburn. He had ordered it to kill one of the Lin Ti generals for striking his son. But, the beast had incinerated him and everything in its path instead." Aldrid croaked, taking a step back from Vaylor to sit with his thoughts.
Oh. This is…this is not good.
"Lord Vaylor!" Rannel shouted, rushing towards him with his heart in his guts. "Please, come quick! It's my father, there's something wrong with him!"
Of course there's something wrong with him, Vaylor thought. If the man had truly ordered the strike that had destroyed Lin Ti soil, then The Voice would punish him accordingly.
Somehow, the neglectful entity knew whenever an attack was carried out on another nation. Whoever ordered the attack, and whichever beast carried out the attack, would be punished if it was their first offense, and destroyed if it was their second.
Lord Bryteburn had suddenly collapsed, letting out a croak that made it sound like he was dying.
"Lord Bryteburn!" Vaylor called out, hurrying to kneel beside him. "What's happening to you!?"
"Father are you okay!?" Rannel choked, holding back the tears building up in his eyes.
"I…I don't know. My…my fingers feel like wood."
Looking around, Lord Vaylor realised that someone was missing. "Rannel, where is Ruwyn?"
"I-I don't know. After Vorax's attack the man had just up and vanished."
That damnable agent. He's going straight back to the emperor to report this
Speaking of Vorax, the creature was behaving strangely. It had stopped roaring and went deathly silent, backing away from the wall and staring into the night sky.
After a minute had passed, the dragon stumbled onto its back and began writhing in agony.
"No…Vorax." Lord Bryteburn croaked, reaching out for the wailing dragon. There was nothing the Lord could do for it.
Its screams tore at the night sky, and the earth rumbled underneath the weight of its convulsing body. The dragon began to wither away into large bodies of dust, starting from the talons.
Vaylor watched in horror as The Voice began stripping away its entire existence, everything that made the dragon what it was. Its wings became dust, its dorsal crest, horns, and Vaylor swore he saw a single tear drop as the disease spread to its head.
The beast was gone, leaving nothing but dust and ash.
"W-what just what happened? Where did Vorax go!?" Rannel exclaimed.
"The Voice." Vaylor said. "This is what happens when Tamers decide to attack nations before the Great Reset, or cause large scale wars."
Vaylor had only seen it happen once some 400 years ago, and the event had brandished his mind with the mark of fear. An envious lord from Mei's homeland had openly reproached their marriage, swearing that Mei was betrothed to him.
Truthfully, she was, but laws and customs cannot sway the heart of a woman who is deeply in love. Vaylor and Mei had flown to Lin Ti on the back of Blackwing, where Mei then approached the emperor to denounce the madman, and strip him of his titles so he could let go of his claim on her.
Lin Ti's emperor, seeing Vaylor's marriage as politically savvy, obliged and the enraged Lord was never heard from again. That was until Vaylor's wedding was bombarded by a beast belonging to the same vengeful lord—or so he insisted on calling himself.
Vaylor had summoned Blackwing to fight him off, but before he could the Lord had crumbled and turned to dust right before his eyes. Vaylor recalled that, thousands of years ago, the second emperor had died the same way after ordering his men to attack the western continent.
And, like the emperor and the eastern lord, Lord Bryteburn was slowly crumbling away, too. His arm had vanished, and his left leg had disintegrated into the same dust that was pouring out of his other stump.
"Help him! He's going to die!" Rannel cried, holding his fathers face.
Would the Voice kill him for a first offense? Surely not.
The disease stopped spreading, but half of Lord Bryteburn's face was gone, swept up by the wind. So was his left leg, an arm—his pride.
"Guards! Guards! Anyone!" Vaylor called out, his head twisting and turning. A myriad of men were already watching them with widened eyes. "Help Lord Bryteburn! Get him the most urgent medical care!"
"Where are you going!?" Rannel complained, watching the frantic as he summoned Blackwing in preparation to depart,
"Back to the mainland." Vaylor shouted, motioning to climb Blackwing.
"B-but Lin Ti! My father, what about—"
"Lin Ti will do nothing but threaten us, did you not see what just happened to your father? To Vorax!?" Vaylor howled.
"But we might need you here! I-I don't know what to do. Why!? Why are you going back to the mainland when we now need you most!"
"If I don't see the emperor first," Vaylor began, a worried look creeping up to his face. "The emperor will have your fathers head. Don't forget what he did. No more questions, silence! Your fathers dragons are still there, you have many of your own, boy. So gather the paladins—though I'm sure they're already on their way—and act like the Lord you are destined to be some day!"
With that, Vaylor flew away with great speed, and with a mind that was riddled by thoughts.
If Lord Bryteburn died here, his house would set their sights on Lin Ti in the name of vengeance.
No, Vaylor had to direct their rage at the emperor and at themselves. It was one of the ways he'd gain an advantage in the Great Reset.
Lord Bryteburn must not die…yet. Not like this. His death at this moment is too great a risk, it may spell the unity of his house for the war to come. No, Lord Bryteburn must perish in a pool of fire, and the fifth zone must burn as kin slaughter kin.