NOVEL NEXT Chapter 15: The Gathering
Chapter 15: The Gatherings
The horizon stretched wide before Lyra, the fading light of dusk casting long shadows across the plains. She could feel the pull of the Wyrmstone growing stronger, the faint hum inside her chest reverberating through every breath she took. It was as if the world was urging her forward, guiding her toward something, or someone. But who were these others that Alistair spoke of? And why did it feel like this moment was fated, like the entire course of her life had led to this very point?
Alistair had stopped several paces ahead of her, standing at the edge of the open plain. His back was to her, and the wind whipped his dark cloak around his frame. Despite his composed exterior, there was something tense in the air, as though he, too, could feel the weight of what was about to unfold.
Lyra took a deep breath, the cool air biting her lungs as she stepped forward, her boots crunching lightly against the earth. The Wyrmstone pulsed against her skin, a gentle reminder of what she had already come to realize: there was no turning back.
As she approached Alistair, her eyes caught a figure in the distance. Another shape—tall and cloaked—standing in the waning light. This one, unlike Alistair, was facing her. The figure's presence felt like a sharp contrast to the quiet serenity of the plains. It was as if they emanated a subtle, unspoken power, a gravity that drew her closer.
"Is that one of them?" Lyra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alistair didn't answer at first. He simply nodded, his gaze focused on the approaching figure. "This is where it begins," he said, his voice tinged with something almost melancholic. "The Wyrmstone does not bring us together without reason. But you must be ready for what you will learn tonight."
Lyra's heart raced as she followed his gaze. The figure before them was tall, their cloak a deep shade of crimson that shimmered faintly in the light. As the distance between them closed, Lyra could see that their features were obscured by the hood, but the faint glint of silver at their waist caught her attention.
"Stay alert," Alistair murmured, his expression darkening.
The figure reached them with slow, measured steps, until finally, they stopped. There was a long moment of silence before they spoke, their voice low and commanding. "I thought I would be the last one to arrive," the figure said, their tone cool but laced with a quiet strength. "But it seems we have an early arrival. Lyra, I presume?"
Lyra stiffened at the mention of her name. How did this stranger know her?
"Yes," Lyra replied carefully. "I'm Lyra. And you are?"
The figure lowered their hood, revealing a woman's face, sharp and regal, framed by long, silver hair that seemed to glow faintly in the twilight. Her eyes, however, were the most striking—a deep shade of green, almost otherworldly. They seemed to see right through Lyra, as if she were already part of some grand, unwritten story.
"My name is Elara," the woman said, her gaze steady and calculating. "I was one of the first to be chosen by the Wyrmstone. It has been... a long road to this point."
Lyra couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine. Elara's presence was unsettling in the most profound way, yet there was a wisdom in her eyes that Lyra couldn't deny. It was the kind of wisdom that came from knowing something deep, something ancient.
"Chosen?" Lyra repeated, stepping closer. "By the Wyrmstone?"
Elara nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "The Wyrmstone doesn't choose just anyone, Lyra. It marks those with the potential to wield its power. Those who can bear the weight of its magic. The stone calls to us, binds us together, and brings us to this place."
Alistair stepped forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the exchange between the two women. "The stone has brought you together for a reason, Lyra. You must learn from those who have been touched by its magic."
Lyra glanced at Alistair, confusion still swirling in her mind. "But... what does this mean? Why are we here?"
Elara's lips curled into a faint smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "The Wyrmstone's awakening is not a mere coincidence. It signals something much darker, something long forgotten, is beginning to stir."
Alistair spoke, his voice grave. "The world is changing, Lyra. The power of the Wyrmstone was never meant to stay dormant for so long. And now, those who seek to harness that power for their own ends are rising."
The tension in the air thickened, and Lyra could feel the weight of their words sinking in. There was more at play here than just her. The Wyrmstone was not just a relic; it was a key, a piece of something much larger. And she had been chosen to bear its weight.
A chill ran through her, but she stood firm. "What is it that you want from me? What is the Wyrmstone's purpose?"
Elara's gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained guarded. "We do not control the Wyrmstone. It controls us. And its purpose is not something we can easily define. The stone calls us to something—something that only a few understand. But we must find out what that is before it's too late."
Before Lyra could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Another figure emerged from the shadows, this one taller and broader than the others. His face was partially hidden by a rough-hewn hood, but his presence was unmistakable. His shoulders were squared, and his movements were deliberate, exuding a quiet strength.
"Elara," the new figure greeted, his voice deep and resonant. "Alistair. And you must be Lyra."
Lyra looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
The man pulled back his hood, revealing a strong, weathered face, his eyes a piercing blue that mirrored the glow of the Wyrmstone. "I am Kaelen," he said simply. "I am another chosen one. I have been waiting for you."
Lyra felt an unexpected sense of recognition, though she couldn't understand why. There was something about him—something in the way he held himself—that stirred something inside her.
Kaelen's eyes locked with hers for a moment before he spoke again. "We are the last of the Wyrmstone's chosen. Together, we must confront what lies ahead."
For the first time since this journey began, Lyra didn't feel alone. The presence of these others—Elara, Kaelen, and Alistair—was like a shield, a collective force that could face whatever the Wyrmstone had called them to do.
But the weight of it all still hung heavy on her shoulders. What did it mean to be chosen? What did it mean for the fate of the world?
And more importantly, what was the Wyrmstone's true purposes