Chapter 4—Risen King

The ragged path led them to a dreaded place, a haven for otherworldly beasts that dared challenge the gods themselves. The gnarled trees, their branches reaching the veiled sky, whispered secrets of ancient power. Moonlight filtered through thick leaves, casting ethereal patterns on the forest floor. And the fog—the very breath of the forest—enveloped the atmosphere, concealing creatures that had lived throughout the centuries.

The coachman shivered as a cold sensation seeped through his leather cloak. The mercenary exchanged a confirmatory look with his colleague and tapped the back of the cart. The coachman hesitated, sensing the ominous weight of the place. "Hey," he called out, "Make it quick. Verdant is not a place to linger."

One of the two mercenaries hummed a response, then hoisted the coffin. They stepped into the forest, their breaths smoking in the chill air. The fog swallowed them, and the coachman watched as they disappeared into the mist. As they neared the centerpoint, they gently lowered the rectangular crate to the ground with a thud.

"Brax, " One of the mernaries called. " what? " The other answered. "Aren't you curious?" He queried. "I am, but we better not, " Brax eyed the box, curious as well of what's inside. "Do you really think it's the King? I haven't seen him yet, I missed the ceremony."

"Don't bother kiev, i don't want to open that box, he probably smells like shit in there, he's been there for almost a month. "

"C'mon man, let's just take a look then let's leave' Kiev insisted and brax sighed and fished out his dagger from his pockets and lifted the nails on the cover. They gave a nod to each other before opening the box, bracing their selves for the pungent smell that'll hit their nose. But to their surprise, the body inside wasn't rotten.

Datura Lucas lay there, as if in eternal slumber. His blood-soaked clothes clung to him, yet he retained an air of regal elegance. The sword rested at his side, a silent sentinel. His blond hair, untouched by decay, framed his face—a mask of preserved beauty. His skin, once kissed by sunlight, remained intact, as if his body defied the natural order. It was as though he were a preserved flower, immune to the ravages of time.

And then there was the fragrance—the scent of tea, a delicate blend that clung to his corpse. It was a complete magic, something beyond the realm of mere mortals. Humans like Brax and Kiev weren't capable of such preservation. They stood there, mused and taken aback by Datura's ethereal beauty.

"He's so fuckin' pretty," Kiev whispered, his breath visible in the chill air. "How is he not rotting, Brax?"Brax, too, marveled at the enigma before them. "Probably magic," he replied. "I've seen a couple of sorcerers and witches while I was on Mydadri. But I'm not sure. Magic is banned in Adri, so who knows who did this."

Kiev was sure he looked alive despite his still body, devoid of signs of breathing and heartbeat. "Hey, let's sell this, Brax. He'll make a good display in Sydadri."

"Stop it, Kiev. Let's just leave. The Duke might kill us if he finds out about this."

"Fine, man. I'm just thinking, why'd they have to kill him?" Kiev pondered, feeling remorse that such a face was taken so young. They retraced their steps back from where they came, glancing over their shoulders. Then, they heard mysterious howls and distant roars—a haunting symphony that echoed through the heart of Verdant Forest

Suddenly, at the speed of light, The drake's fiery breath seared the air, leaving a trail of blue flames in its wake. Brax and Kiev scrambled for cover, their bodies crashing against the forest floor. The ancient trees shuddered, their leaves trembling as if in fear.

"Run, Kiev!" Brax's voice was urgent, and Kiev needed no further encouragement. He sprinted, his boots skimming over gnarled roots and moss-covered stones. The forest seemed to conspire against them, every obstacle rising to impede their escape.

"What the fuck was that?" Kiev gasped, glancing back at the fading glow of the drake's fire. His heart pounded, and he clutched the hilt of his dagger, ready to strike.

Brax, the seasoned mercenary, leaned against a massive boulder, his chest heaving. "A drake," He confirmed, wiping sweat from his brow. "But they're not supposed to venture this close to the forest's edge." Kiev's mind raced. "Their lair is deeper within the woods," he said. "Why would one stray so far?" Brax's eyes narrowed. "This isn't natural behavior," he muttered. "Something's driving them out."

As the adrenaline subsided, Kiev's legs wobbled. "I think it's gone," He whispered, glancing around. The forest held its breath, as if waiting for the next calamity.But Brax's gaze was fixed on the path they'd marked earlier. "We're close," he said. "The cart should be—"

He stopped abruptly, and Kiev followed his gaze. The cart stood there, bathed in dappled sunlight, and he ran to the cart's direction in a heartbeat. As he reached the cart, he gasped for oxygen and removed his hood to cool down his body. "Brax that was intense, I thought I'd di— Brax?"

"Brax?" Kiev called, panic rising. "Where are you?"

Silence answered him. The forest whispered, its leaves rustling secrets. Kiev's fingers tightened around the dagger. Had the drake taken Brax? He stepped toward the cart, heart pounding. "Brax," He said again, louder this time. But the only response was the wind, carrying echoes of distant cries.

"Where's the other? Look at the moon, it's high tide and the drakes are on a hunt right now, we need to leave now." The coachman said

"Fuck it, let's go" frustrated, Kiev ran his hands through his hair and hopped on the cart. The coachman sprinted their way out of the verdant forest.

The center point forest held its breath, its ancient trees leaning closer as if drawn by the surging heat emanating from the blond Prince's corpse. The air quivered, and the very ground trembled beneath the weight of unseen power.

And then, like a marble flame, the glow ignited. It danced along Datura Lucas's veins, weaving through his body like molten lava. His eyes snapped open, pupils dilating as he gasped for air. The voice—distant, yet commanding—echoed in his mind: "Wake up, King of Adri."

He pushed against the coffin-like crate, muscles protesting as he surged upward. The lid gave way, and he spilled out onto the forest floor, limbs trembling. His clothes clung to him, soaked with blood that he was not sure if it was his.

The world spun around him. The forest—dark, ancient, and unfamiliar—loomed like a forgotten dream. His memories were fragmented, disjointed. How had he ended up here? And why did his body feel both reborn and betrayed?

His hand pressed against his abdomen, seeking wounds that weren't there. No gashes, no punctures. Only the echo of pain and the lingering taste of—he remembered, he was betrayed, killed by his very own cousin and uncle. The pain wasn't physical anymore, it was his heart, that can't accept his traitorous kin.

The thunderous voice reverberated through the forest, shaking the very leaves from their branches. Datura Lucas's eyes widened as he clutched the hilt of the sword—the very weapon that had once been turned against him.

"King of Adri," The voice echoed, commanding and unyielding. "Rise, for you are not to succumb to darkness. You are the Crowned King of Adri, destined to stand tall even in the face of calamity."

The sword in his hand blazed with heat, its metal searing his palm. He flung it away, watching as it soared through the air, leaving a trail of magenta light. The engraved stone on its handle pulsed, resonating with the very essence of his being.

Datura Lucas retrieved the sword, its energy surging through his veins. It was no ordinary blade; it was the Sword of Ydric, an ancient heirloom artifact but no more than a decoration. Its soul connected to his, a bridge between realms.

"Speak," he whispered, his mind reaching out to the sword, hoping that he wasn't going crazy. "What purpose do you serve?"

The sword's voice—more sensation than sound—filled his thoughts. Memories surged forth—the battles fought, the blood spilled, the honor upheld. It had been wielded by kings and warriors, its legacy etched into the fabric of time.

"You are the last hope," The sword murmured. "The balance between light and shadow rests upon your shoulders. The darkness that claimed you once seeks to consume the world. Rise, King of Adri, and reclaim your crown."

"Ydric, what are you? How are you talking to me?" Lucas queried."It doesn't matter, King of Adri, but I've lived for centuries, for I've only been human for thirty-four years, but the knowledge that I've acquired throughout the years is what I'll be giving you," ydric said

"King of Adri, do not be like me, you are young and determined. I will help you, reclaim your crown and do what is right for your kingdom."Ydric continued.

" You still didn't answer my question, never mind, I'll figure you out myself. But I'll have to get out of here first." Lucas stood up, clutching the sword in his hand. He heard multiple roars surrounding the area, wolves, bears and cayotes were his first thought to inhabit this mysterious forest, but he seems to be wrong about it.

A blast of energy erupted, propelling Datura Lucas backward. He braced for impact, the ground rushing to meet him. But the Sword of Ydric, anchored him. Its hilt burned in his grip, and he used it to steady himself. Before him stood the wildwood drake, a creature unlike any he had encountered. Its mossy scales shimmered in the moonlight, and its legs were massive—towering thrice his height. The talons, black and sharp, promised swift destruction. Lucas's breath caught; he had never seen such a guardian of the forest.

"Ydric," he gasped, his voice urgent. "What kind of dragon is this?"

The sword's response echoed in his mind. "It's a wildwood drake," Ydric said. "The forest's guardian. But you must run—I refuse to let you kill such creatures."

Lucas's disbelief surged. "I thought you'd help me reclaim my kingdom," he retorted, ducking behind a tall tree as the drake charged. Its gnarled antlers rammed him, and he staggered, almost falling.

"Yet you'd have me dead for such a beast," Lucas scoffed. The drake's talons lunged, and he leaped, blocking with his sword. The force of the giant creature sent him sprawling.

"Ydric," he panted, running out of breath. "Talk to me! Don't you have abilities to lend me?"

As the wildwood drake lunged, its gnarled snout aimed for Datura Lucas, he instinctively raised his left hand, a desperate shield against the impending bite. But in that moment of peril, the forest itself seems to have responded—a thorn bush erupted from the ground, its sharp spines piercing the drake's snout. The creature roared in pain, thrashing to dislodge the unexpected assailant.

Lucas's surprise turned to awe as he witnessed the forest's intervention. The drake, momentarily distracted, tore apart the enormous thorn bush, but it was enough to give Lucas a chance. He positioned his hand once more, and another thorn bush sprouted from the earth, this time aiming for the drake's hind legs. The creature stumbled, its massive legs entangled in the thorny vines.

He laughed, incredulous. Ydric, the sword, must have lent him an incredible ability. But the drake was relentless. It lunged again, this time using its tail to fling him. Lucas winced as he felt the impact against a tree, the force threatening to knock the breath from his lungs.

The drake prepared to release another green fire energy ball, its mouth agape. But fate intervened. A red fire, as if summoned by destiny, erupted from Lucas's right. It collided with the drake's own energy, creating an explosion that sent the creature crashing to the ground. Dust billowed, and Lucas coughed, waving his hand to clear the air.

His savior emerged from the fog, a figure cloaked in red robe. Long black hair framed her alluring face, and her eyes glowed yellow like gold. Her nails were crimson, sharp as talons. Lucas held his breath as she approached. Ydric's voice echoed in his mind. "Don't trust her," The sword warned. Lucas's heart raced. The forest had already revealed its secrets; now it seemed to offer salvation—or perhaps another test.