The magnificent white beast shifted its weight, its massive, feathered wings rustling like winter wind through dry leaves. Its golden eyes remained locked on them, analyzing the blood on Azeal's hand and the fierce, protective aura radiating from Vaelora.
Vaelora slowly extended her arm, stopping Azeal from moving any closer. She kept her voice down to a soft, urgent whisper, though the sheer desperation in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Azeal, look at him," Vaelora whispered, her eyes never leaving the celestial stallion. "Yahi hamara aakhri sahara hoga is island se nikalne ka. Hamein kuch bhi kar ke is Pegasus ko apni taraf karna hai taake yeh hamein apne upar baithne de."
She took a slow, agonizing step forward into the silver grass, her hands held out openly to show she carried no malice. "Yeh ham se darr kar udd na jaye... kyunki agar yeh udd gaya, toh hum kabhi bhi is manhoos island se nikal nahi payenge. Aur woh Sirens hamein bhi maar dengi."
Azeal held his breath, his hand resting near the hilt of the Star Fire Sword but completely still. He could hear the faint, echoing shrieks of the Sirens down in the ravines—they had realized their prey had escaped the trap, and they were already scaling the rocky cliffs, slithering upward through the dark cracks. Time was rapidly running out.
"How do we tame a creature born of the sky?" Azeal whispered back, his muscles tensing as the wind howled around the plateau.
"They don't bow to strength, Azeal. They bow to spirit," Vaelora said.
She took another step, her boots sinking softly into the glowing grass. She closed her eyes for a brief second, letting go of her panic and tapping into the pure, ancient lineage flowing through her veins—the blood of the true northern rulers who had once ridden alongside the high beasts of the old world. When she opened her eyes, they shone with an unyielding, honest clarity.
The Pegasus let out a sharp snort, its front hoof striking the ground, kicking up sparks of silver light. It spread its colossal wings wide, casting a massive shadow over the meadow, seemingly on the verge of taking flight into the starlit sky.
"Please," Vaelora spoke directly to the beast, her voice carrying the soft weight of a royal command laced with pure humbleness. "We seek no dominion over you. We are the last protectors of the light, and we are hunted. Carry us out of the dark."
The stallion tilted its head, sniffing the cool night air. The ancient magic inside the beast reacted. It sensed the heavy, sacred weight of the Book of Origins strapped to Vaelora's back, and it recognized the cosmic resonance of the Star Fire Blade at Azeal's hip. This was not a pair of ordinary travelers; these were the rightful heirs to the broken realm.
Slowly, the tension left the Pegasus's magnificent frame. It lowered its massive wings, folding them gracefully against its white flanks. Step by step, the stallion walked toward Vaelora, until its soft, velvet muzzle gently pressed against her open palm.
A breathless laugh escaped Vaelora's lips as she stroked its neck.
"Azeal, quick!" she called out, turning her head back as a horrific, screeching howl erupted from the edge of the plateau.
The first of the Sirens had just breached the cliffside, her long obsidian talons digging into the silver grass, her beautiful face distorted into a demonic mask of hunger. Behind her, a dozen more glowing shapes were clawing their way out of the shadows.