NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: The Awakening of the Wyrmstone
Chapter 18:The Awakening of the Wyrmstones
The air around Lyra was thick with anticipation. The Wyrmstone hung heavy in her bag, pulsing with a light that grew brighter the closer they got to the mountain's peak. She could feel it calling to her, a soft hum resonating deep inside her bones. Despite the danger, despite the overwhelming weight of what was at stake, there was no turning back now.
Kaelen, Elara, and Alistair followed behind her, their faces a mixture of determination and fear. They had already come so far, and the thought of failure was unbearable.
As they neared the mountain's jagged edge, a chill descended. The wind howled through the craggy cliffs, sending icy gusts that bit into their skin. The sky had darkened, the clouds swirling with unnatural speed as if something was stirring deep within the earth. Lyra glanced back at her companions. Their faces were hard with resolve, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air
"How much further?" Alistair called, his voice strained from the climb. He was clutching his sword tightly, his gaze constantly scanning the shifting shadows of the mountain.
"Not much," Lyra responded, her voice distant as her eyes locked onto the path ahead. "I can feel it. We're close."
They pushed on, their pace quickening, until at last, they reached the summit—a wide plateau surrounded by steep cliffs, the earth trembling beneath their feet. In the center of the plateau stood an ancient stone pillar, its surface cracked and worn by time. It was here, Lyra knew, that the dragon had once been sealed.
The Wyrmstone pulsed violently in her bag, its light dazzling. The wind howled louder, pushing against them, as if warning them to turn back. But Lyra couldn't stop. She stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest.
"You should leave," a voice called from the shadows.
Kaelen's sword was drawn instantly, and Elara's hand went to her dagger. The air seemed to thicken, vibrating with a strange energy.
From the darkness of the cliffs emerged a figure cloaked in shadow, their features obscured beneath the heavy folds of a dark hood. They stood tall and unmoving, a faint blue glow emanating from beneath the cloak, just like the glow of the Wyrmstone.
The figure's eyes were the same piercing blue, glowing faintly in the dark. They seemed to see through Lyra, past her fears and doubts, straight into her soul.
"You've come," the figure said, their voice a low, resonating echo that seemed to come from all directions at once. "I knew you would. The Wyrmstone always finds its way to those who are meant to carry its power."
Lyra's breath hitched. "Who are you?"
The figure raised one long finger, pointing at the Wyrmstone. "You are not ready for what lies ahead, girl. You carry the power of the ancients, but you do not understand it. You will not survive what is coming."
"I'll survive," Lyra said, her voice firm despite the growing unease inside her. "I have to stop this."
The figure stepped forward, their shadow stretching unnaturally long. "You can't stop what has already begun. The dragon will rise, and the world will burn."
The figure's words struck Lyra like a blow to the chest. The Wyrmstone's pulse intensified, the hum within her chest growing louder. Something was stirring—something ancient—and Lyra knew, deep in her bones, that the time for hiding was over.
The ground shook beneath them, and in an instant, the silence was shattered by a deafening roar that seemed to come from the very heart of the mountain. The figure smiled, the gleam in their eyes widening as the roar grew louder
It was the dragon.
The stone pillar at the center of the plateau cracked open with a force that sent dust and rocks scattering in every direction. A surge of energy blasted outward, and the dragon's form began to emerge from the earth.
The figure's smile twisted. "The dragon has been waiting for this moment, Lyra. And now, it is yours to command. Or destroy."
Before Lyra could respond, the dragon's massive form broke free from the stone, its golden eyes blazing with fury.