Kapitel 2: This New Family Sucks
'A child born from darkness and light..how did this come to pass? Another reason for me to climb the tower of truth. My son..Jennh…bears the mark of the hybrid sigil, a permanent tattoo of a dark raven on his back, merged with the tattoo of a dove with a halo on its back. How did this come to be? Was it Nayla? She has an affinity for light magic, but tattoos signal forgotten deities, only deities hold either sigil, but never both. Nayla is human. She doesn't have any of the sigils. That's odd, but, I'll find out at the tower of truth.'
"BAGGH!" Jennh screamed in his baby form as Zenon was trying to change his stinky poopy ass bottoms.
Zenon's eye twitched, smiling maliciously, "Stop moving."
"BAGGGH BAGH! AGH!" Jennh yelled.
Translation: "Don't change me, bastard! I'll kill you brutally! Die! Die!"
Jennh kept trying to roll away, but Zenon kept bringing him back.
"Hold still, dammit!"
"BAGGH!"
'Tch! Stop trying to be my father! Bastard! I hate that I talk like a baby! Where's that woman?! She looks just like that Paladin from the arena after everything went down. But she's a human now. I gotta find a way to ask her questions!'
Jennh kept rolling away, trying to crawl, but Zenon grabbed him by his head, and brought him back, saying with another twitch in his eye, "Stop FUCKING RUNNING!"
"BAGGH!"
Translation: "Die!"
On the side leaning against the threshold of the door, Nayla was watching with her arms folded, and a charming grin on her face.
Me and 'Zenon have a little over 100 children, which fed into the Imperial Family of the Zenon group. But after all the children me and him have bore, he's never been this active with any other child other than Jennh. Why? It's endearing. To see a smile on his face after so many years of anger..years of him trying to climb the Tower Of Truth, not even getting past the first floor, which made him almost hate his entire existence, it's like he is finding solace in this child. Why? Jennh bears the mark of shadow and light, with the sigil of forgotten gods…could that mean he's a gift from them? From the deities of darkness and light? The Immortal Demon king or the Paladins..? Whatever it may be, If Jennh holds the mark, he is bound to limitless power, hybrid power.'
"BALGH! AGH! BAH!"
Translation: "I'll kill everything!" Jennh barked, as Zenon was holding his head, trying to keep him still.
"You squirmy brat! Stay still!"
Nayla said in a worried tone, "You're gonna crush his head!"
Zenon replied, "I got this under control!"
Jennh yelled, "BLAGH!"
Translation: "Let go you fucking oaf! Old man! Pervert!"
…
Within the grand dinner hall of the Zenon family estate, the lingering echoes of ambition danced amongst the gargantuan stone pillars soaring to embrace the arched ceiling overhead. The room was a testament to the might of the Imperial Zenon Family, its vastness adorned with the opulence befitting a dynasty that had long bent the arc of Kirvana's history to its will.
The table itself was an impressive stretch of polished elderwood, its surface glistening under the ambient light of floating crystalline orbs, their magic illuminating the hall with a steady, golden glow. Upon this centerpiece of the Empire's power, silver platters and goblets engraved with the family crest—a snaking dragon coiled around a stark mountain peak—were meticulously arranged, anticipating the feast.
Lining the length of the hall stood the young brothers and sisters of Jennh, garbed in black and gray shadow imperial outfits that whispered of their silent vigilance and unyielding resolve. Their garments flowed with ethereal grace, a visual representation of the family's connection to both the material realm and the shadows that stitched its hidden corners.
Around the table sat the august assembly of captains, leaders of the Five Orders of the Imperial Zenon family. Each was a personification of the order they commanded, their bearings a blend of martial might and regal authority. Though their titles were unspoken, their presence radiated the power vested within them, dominions forged in iron and sealed in blood.
"It is clear," whispered one of the brothers off to the side, his eyes flicking between the attentive captains and the infant Jennh nestled in a high chair at Zenon's right hand, "Father has never paraded any of us before the Orders in such a manner. Tch."
A sister, her hand poised like a raven's wing against her cheek, considered the observation. "Is Jennh supposed to be the chosen one or something?"
"It irks me."
"Hmm? Are you jealous?"
"Maybe."
Their dialogue was interrupted by the arrival of stewards bearing dishes laced with exotic aromas, their appearance signaling the commencement of the evening's rite. A hush descended upon the hall as Zenon lifted his hand, and silence unfolded like a tapestry upon the gathered assembly.
"My children, my captains," Zenon's voice resounded with imperial resonance, "tonight we are not only a family, but a covenant of entities bound by the undying will to ascend. To nurture the seeds of dominion and cultivate the sprawl of our empire within the ever-changing garden of Kirvana."
The siblings exchanged glances, the unspoken words between them painting portraits of understanding - their place within the hierarchy was morphing, akin to the metamorphosis of the ages that had sculpted their fates from errant stone to statuesque lore.
Jennh, oblivious to the gravity of hisbeing, sat with the imperturbable quiet of infancy, his innocent gaze momentarily catching the flicker of the magic-lit orbs above. Zenon's hand gently brushed the baby's tuft of hair with a father's tenderness, a stark contrast to the ruler who had forged alliances and severed them as needed.
'I'm in shock.. I'm sitting here with Zenon as my father, and I'm just now knowing he's the head of the Zenon Imperial family?! Back then, I knew he was a part of it, because king Alaric and his advisors informed us he was allying with the Gunjo Delhalla Imperial Family. But I didn't know he was the head, just a member. The king's advisors secretly spent so much time trying to gain access to this estate, even blending in, but they couldn't, because they didn't have true proof of the conspiracies surrounding Zenon's name. And the Zenon Imperial Family had ties to powerful kingdoms that King Alaric was allied with, and he was afraid those kingdoms would turn on him.'
"As you all know," Zenon continued, eyes locking with those of his captains and then his elder children, "our history is rich with alliances formed, both fortuitous and doomed to fail. The Triumverifex Pact, the Harmonium Accord, the Glacial Entente—all were undertaken with hope, yet were undone by betrayal or misfortune."
The captains listened, their expressions a blend of reverence and rapt attention, as the master of the estate weaved the narrative of their past struggles and triumphs. "But these were but preludes," Zenon declared, a note of fervor to his voice, "to the symphony that Jennh's birth heralds."
"The aeons have whispered of a convergence, a unity of purpose and power, able to transcend the fickleness of temporal alliances," he spoke, gesturing magnanimously toward the baby, "and here, in Jennh, we see the embodiment of that portent."
In the shadow-imperial attired youths, the feeling of disquiet turned to an uneasy admiration. They could not deny the weave of destiny that seemed to enshroud their youngest sibling. Even as they grappled with their waning prominence, they recognized that something larger than themselves was at play.
"Father's gaze has never lingered so intently on the possibilities one child could bring forth," one sister confessed to her siblings, her voice low enough to be lost amidst the rustle of robes and the subtle clinking of fine tableware.
The notion of prophecy had always been entwined with their upbringing; constellations, omens, the yearning whispers of the void all pointed toward a culmination that was perhaps now embodied in the infant form of Jennh.
"The Court of Whispers, the Eldritch Assembly, the Duskwood Syndicate—all sought the advantage, pushing and pulling at the web of power," a brother recollected, his eyes sweeping over the historical banners lining the walls. "But none possessed the unity of purpose that Father envisions with Jennh."
Zenon, with a contented gleam in his eye, raised his goblet and proclaimed, "To the future of the Zenon dynasty, and the world-shaping destiny that awaits our precious Jennh."
The captains echoed his toast, and reluctantly, the siblings followed. In the eyes of each young brother and sister dwelled a blazing comet's tail of emotions—complex, dynamic, and ultimately subservient to the grand design that Zenon, their father, was orchestrating with the unwitting help of his youngest and most mysteriously favored child.
Jennh thinks, 'Stop toasting! I won't do anything for any of you! Just wait! Just wait until I'm able to fight! And for these captains of the imperial family order…they we're all killed by King Alaric himself before the final battle. But Alaric had used forbidden war god magic, which caused him to die in the process, because the captains were way too strong. I know of these people, but nothing about them, just who they are; their role in his empire.'
The five orders of the Zenon Imperial Family:
The Order of the Veiled Eclipse
The Veiled Eclipse is comprised of the most powerful shadow mages in The family. They are tasked with exploring the depths of shadow magic, developing spells that can manipulate darkness, summon shadowy creatures, and even alter the fabric of reality.
'I'm guessing the shadowy figures that stood with Zenon in the final battle were apart of this Order..'
The Order of the Silent Fang
The Silent Fang is the assassin's order of the Zenon family. Masters of stealth, poison, and infiltration, the Silent Fang eliminates the family's enemies with ruthless efficiency. They are the unseen terror of the night, feared by all who know of them.
'I've killed tons of these, they're annoying as hell, but strong. They move like snakes with overpowered stealth, those who can sense mana are the only ones who can really stand a chance against them and not get caught off guard. The Court of Whispers, the Eldritch Assembly, the Duskwood Syndicate…empires Zenon used to be allied with, used the Silent Fang to wipe them out because they were plotting on overthrowing his empire.'
The Order of the Duskborn
The Duskborn is an order of warlocks and necromancers who delve into the forbidden arts, communicating with spirits and reanimating the dead. They serve as both advisors and enforcers of the Zenon's rule, wielding their dark magic to quell any opposition.
'I don't know a DAMN thing about these people, not gonna lie. Only that the captain of it raised over 100 ancient dead warrior souls to try and fight king Alaric.'
The Order of the Umbral Court
The Umbral Court is a secretive council of The Zenon families most influential and devious politicians. They manipulate the political landscape to ensure the Zenon family remains in power, using blackmail, espionage, and sometimes darker means.
'King Alaric had tons of trouble with the Umbral Court order. His knights being in different kingdoms used to be courted and killed by the Imperial Family members just for being apart of that kingdom, and no one batted an eye. King Alaric was weak, he didn't want to storm in and start the killing, because of the ties he had with other kingdoms, seemingly had ties with the kingdoms Zenon had control over.'
The Order of the Nightshade
The Nightshade are the alchemists and potion masters of the family, experts in the creation of elixirs that can heal, transform, or destroy. They experiment with dangerous ingredients, often derived from the dark creatures of the forest, to craft their potent concoctions.
Lord Kael, At the table sits a man with piercing silver eyes that give off a sense of ancient wisdom and power. His hair is long, black, and tied back, revealing a high forehead and a strong jawline. He wears a deep midnight blue tunic embroidered with silver dragons, symbolizing his authority. His presence is commanding, exuding an aura of controlled strength. Captain of the Veiled Eclipse.
He grinned, "Oh? I think Jennh will do wonderful things for us, for Sir Hemdale once quoted: 'The one who shows the most promise—."
Lady Sylva. To his right, there is a woman with striking auburn hair that cascades in waves down her shoulders. Her eyes are a fierce emerald green, and her armor gleams with a hue of storm clouds, fitting for her reputation as a master of weather manipulation. She carries an air of confidence and grace, her gaze as sharp as the rapier at her side. Captain of the Silent Fang.
"—Stop quoting things from other philosophers all the time, come up with your own shit. All I hear is Blah blah blah—."
Kael replied, "Wisdom is to key to understanding all manners of lie. For King Venhu once told me—."
"No! Don't say it!"
"Wisdom is not for thine ears."
"Tch whatever."
Sir Gavrel, Next to her is a brooding figure, his hair a slick raven black, cut short to his scalp, with dark tattoos creeping up his neck onto his face – symbols of the covert arts he is master of. His eyes are a dark onyx, almost blending with his pupils, and his leather attire is fitted and silent, the garb of one who moves in the shadows. Captain is the Duskborn Order.
"Can we please…stop bickering…it's annoying…not in front of the child.."
Kael responded to Gavriel, "For a man whom has stolen the lives of many, you are too caring."
Sylva scoffed with a grin, "Yeah, cause' he's a sissy."
Gavriel sighed, "No..I'm not."
Across from him, was Commander Thorne, Further down sits a broad-shouldered warrior, his hair a fiery red, cropped close to his skull. Scars mark his tan skin, each one a testament to battles fought and won. His armor is a practical dull iron with red accents, and his steely gray eyes scan the room with tactical precision.
He stood up, raising a large shadow sword, exclaiming, "Alas! I will be the one to train this young warrior Into a fine being! I've never seen a young one raised into the family with both the sigils of forgotten gods!"
Sylva responded to Thorne, "Cool it, you oaf. I'm the one training the children, all of them. Remember?"
"Haha! But they all hate you!"
"But after I'm done with them, they'll be some dangerous bastards. We've gotten pretty far with my tactics."
Gavriel yawned, "Suicidal…tactics…"
Sylva scoffed, "Silence!"
Mistress Elara, Opposite him is an enigmatic figure, her long silver hair flowing like a river of moonlight, braided with nightshade flowers. Her eyes are a pale lilac, and her robes are of the darkest velvet, adorned with celestial motifs. She was the head of the Umbral Court Order.
"Everyone, stop all of this hostility around the newborn baby. Or be judged." Elara stood up, and dark shadowy glow surrounded her, her eyes glowed white, and she stuck her hand out, and a large shadow construct of a timepiece floated above her head, darkening the room in waves of whispering shadows.
Gavriel sighed, "I guess we're fighting again…"
Thorne exclaimed, "I guess I should show this young warrior how I battle! Showing him some experience!"
Sylva scoffed, "No one's judging me! Let's do it then!"
Kael didn't even bother to fight, he was continuing to eat his food, saying, "Fighting is pointless. For the great Conclave of the Greenfen Magistrate once said: ' War is always happening, so we can never stop it.'
Jennh thought, 'Shit. The pressure of dark magic is about to rip my skin off! I can't defend myself right now. What about that scythe I gained from the arena? Those skill points? Do I have to wait to get that?'
Suddenly, time stopped, and Jennh went, "Huh?"
The system window screen popped up again, saying:
[The dinner table is in a hostile environment. Option 1: Remain quiet, which will lead to Zenon slaughtering them all for their incompetence in front of you, but gains you 2 skill points. Option 2: Cry loudly, everyone will turn their attention towards you due to you already being the center of attention, Zenon will refrain from killing them, you gain 3 skill points. You have 5 seconds.]
'I'm not gonna lie, these choices are hard to make. Yeah, I planned to take out everyone, just to avoid all of the bullshit that comes later on. But that's too easy, isn't it? If Zenon kills them, he can just replace them, because the Orders function properly if they have a captain, a leader within it. And I've seen Zenon devour two of his own shadow soldiers to gain more power against me. I'll choose the second option.'
[Option 2 chosen. Failure to do the second option will result in immediate death.]
'So rude for what? Who even are you?'
Time resumed, and Jennh began to cry.
"BAGGHHH!" He whined, as the captains stopped, looking at him.
Thorne excliamed, "The warrior is crying! We shall tend to his needs!"
Sylva rolled her eyes, "See? This is all Elara's fault."
Elara stopped her dark magic, sitting back down, saying, "He saved you all from true judgment."
Gavriel sat down, saying, "Guess…we should stop.."
Nayla, sitting beside Zenon, thought, 'Thank goodness..'
Kael said, "I was about to inform you all that violence is unnecessary."
Sylva scoffed at Kael, "Huh?! You stood up too ready to fight!"
"Because only to defend myself. For Rodrick the Fourth once said—."
Zenon stood up, saying, "Now that we are all calm, just know that we are looking forward to a great year. And I will gain the knowledge needed to prevent our own destruction and downfall."
'Own destruction and downfall…does he think he'll lose in the end? Did he lose after he defeated me? He already beat the elves, the demons, the paladins who are known to be ancient deities, similar to the ones I fought in the arena, and he toppled kingdoms…who beat him? And who reset time? My guess is that whoever beat him reset time, but did he even lose after me? I know Zenon wanted complete domination, but I didn't know his motivations, true plans, or nothing. Just complete domination. He was like a generic villain from stories, but it's deeper than that. If I can know what he really wants, then that could probably help me beat him, and take down his entire legacy.' Jennh thought to himself.
Minutes later, everyone continued to eat, chatter spring about from the captains. Zenon and Nayla was trying to feed Jennh, but Jennh kept trying to reach for the knife, trying to stab Zenon.
"BAGH! BLAGH!"
Translation: "Die! Die unexpectedly!"
Zenon was dodging the jabs, grinning, "He's pretty strong for a baby, holding that knife like that, huh?"
Nayla replied with a worried tone, "Z-Zenon! That's dangerous. We can't let him hold that, what if he hurts himself?"
"My dear, he bears the sigil as of forgotten gods, meaning we've been blessed by them, and he holds their power. Each deity in the pantheon governs a specific aspect of the universe, such as time, space, elements, emotions, war, peace, life, death, etc. The deities are sources of divine magic, and their favor or disfavor directly influences a mage's ability to harness specific types of magic."
"Still…"
Zenon kissed her in the forehead, saying, "You're always worrying. Don't worry this time."
"O-Okay.."
Jennh thought, 'I'm gonna throw up. But about the magic he's talking about, he's always been knowledgeable in that. It's rare for people to just be BORN with magic, at least 20% of the world. And the other 80% is people who studied and developed the magic on their own. They do this through the Tree of Kirvana, the sentient tree that holds all the worlds together. The Kirvana is not just a physical entity but a cosmic nexus that connects all worlds and planes of existence. It is a source of immense power and the conduit through which all magic flows. Each branch of Kirvana represents a different world or plane. Mages can potentially access the energies of different branches, but this requires immense skill and often the cooperation of multiple deities. The roots of Kirvana tap into the raw magic of creation itself. Accessing this power is extremely dangerous and typically forbidden, as it can lead to catastrophic consequences. Each leaf of the world tree represents an individual spell or magical effect. Mages can learn these spells, but the most powerful leaves are guarded by celestial beings and can only be accessed through arduous quests or trials. In my case, I studied and developed being a swordmage, and it took years to develop it. The Paladins created the tree, they are the deites that govern magic itself. But now that I've been reborn into a baby and went back in time, I've acquired dark and light magic. What about my parents? Where are they? What happened to them if I'm not their son? My wife? I met her from an imperial family she was trying to escape from. Tch..Zenon…I'm not super pissed, because I went back in time, I can make things right and start over. But if I do change the future, will I ever see my parents, or my wife…? Fuck man. With this system thingy in my face every five seconds, I gotta make the right decisions..'
"Open up, Jennh." Zenon grinned, trying to feed him some more.
Jennh was jabbing the knife at Zenon with his baby hands, screaming, "BLAGH! AGH! AGHHH!"
Translation: "Die! Bastard! Stay still!"
…
Minutes later, Zenon strolled through the corridors of the estate palace with purposeful stride, the resounding clack of his boots against the marble floor a rhythmic declaration of his authority. Cradled in his arms was the infant Jennh, whose presence had become both a symbol of hope and a vessel of envy within the family.
The hallways were teeming with youths of the Zenon bloodline, clusters of them gathered in the shadowed alcoves and grand vestibules that adorned the grandiose passage. They were the future of the imperial lineage, vested in the intricacies of court politics and arcane mastery from a tender age.
Jennh spectated them, thinking, 'It's crazy how Zenon and that woman of his can have so many children. It's definitely magic, or a blessing, who knows. And he's turned it into an Imperial family. It's crowded, it's like an academy of some sorts. Fancy ass palace. I'm gonna bomb it to hell.'
A group of teen siblings stood locked in fervent conversation, their discussion veering towards the mastery of shadow arts—a craft as revered as it was feared. "I've nearly perfected the 'Whispering Umbrage,'" bragged a lanky boy with a mop of obsidian hair, his hands weaving through the air as if to draw the ephemeral strands of darkness into form. "It's all about finesse, not just flair."
A girl, her steely gaze flicking from her kin to her own shadow, retorted, "Impressive, but it pales next to the Hellstorm Veil.' It takes real control to wrap darkness around you like a second skin." Her voice carried a hint of smug satisfaction, the product of grueling hours spent in silent communion with the spirits of shadow.
Laughter ebbed, attention turning toward Zenon as his approach became imminent. Silence fell like a shroud over the previous fervor. The young Zenons straightened, their eyes darting between each other, the undercurrents of jealousy and intrigue mingling in the air like the subtle poison of invisible ink.
"I don't get it," muttered a burly teen under his breath to his compatriots, an edge to his tone. "Zenon parades that babe around like he's the damn savior of Kirvana. What about the rest of us?"
"You're just sore because he hasn't noticed your 'Shadow's Bane' technique or whatever you call it," teased a sibling, lips curling in a playful sneer. The response earned them a glower, but the tension was undercut by a shared and unspoken acknowledgment of their individual yearnings for recognition.
An older sister, her voice tinged with a worldly wisdom earned through experience rather than years, spoke up. "It's strategic, obviously. He's not just showing off Jennh. He's reshaping the narrative, making sure every whisper in these halls is about that child."
Her words hung heavy, a tangible truth that settled upon the shoulders of the gathered kin like an unwelcome mantle. "Well, if Zenon thinks he can shape destiny like a potter with clay, he might be surprised. We're not just going to step aside." The declaration came from a particularly defiant cousin, his stance as much a challenge as a proclamation. "We're important too ya know."
"This isn't about stepping aside," interjected another, eyes sharp as flint. "It's about playing the long game. Let's focus on what we can control, like honing our techniques and the captains of the Orders to join a good order."
Zenon passed by the young congregations, his expression inscrutable, the soft cooing of Jennh the only sound to breach the respectful silence. Some of the assembled youth bowed their heads, a gesture of forced deference undercut with burgeoning schemes.
Zenon says to Jennh, "These are your brothers and sisters, along with many more to come. You all will grow together, train together, battle together, and make me proud."
'Make you proud? He must've lost his mind. The first chance I get, I'll cleaving him in half with my scythe. But..he beat me when I was at my peak in strength, at least I thought I was at my peak. Right when I knew I was defeated, I felt hopeless, ruined as all hell. They all counted on me. Ever since I was a child, I struggled with developing magic for myself, I picked fights just to lose them and get laughed at the next day. I won't let that happen again, I'll be smart about this…'
Silently perched atop the colossal shadow raven, Zenon held the infant Jennh close to his chest. With a mere mental command, the mystical bird unfolded its ebon wings and took flight, soaring effortlessly over the magical tapestry that was the kingdom of Kirvana.
As the shadow raven cut through the cerulean expanse, beneath them unfurled landscapes rich with the pulse of life and the toil of fantastical existence. Zenon's sharp eyes caught sight of elven herdsmen, their silvery hair glinting in the sun, guiding flocks of woolen windrunners across the golden fields of Emberglade.
Below, a clutch of burly dwarven stone-shapers busily coaxed a new watchtower from the living rock, their hammers echoing a rhythm that resonated with the mountain's soul. Vibrant runes danced along the emerging structure, a testament to the arcane and the artisan's combined prowess.
"Noble deeds beneath us unfold, Jennh. Each hammer blow strikes for the protection of kin and kingdom," Zenon murmured to the baby, whose gaze was lost in the wild blur of the world.
They veered towards the misty coasts where a congregation of siren-like creatures rose from the sea's embrace, their songs weaving an ensnaring harmony that bent the coastal winds to their whimsical fancy.
"Even the seas whisper to us, little one," Zenon intoned, "if one only knows how to listen."
The raven's shadow trailed over the sprawling Pyreforge, where human blacksmiths and fire-sensitive draconiars worked molten metal with an intimacy borne of an age-old alliance. Sparks flew skyward like a swarm of fireflies, each spark a star birthed from sweat and flame.
"A forge of legends, where the mightiest of blades are kissed by flame and fury," he pointed to Jennh, who watched with wide, innocent eyes.
Their journey took them high above a skirmish on the fringes of the Darkenwood, where armored knights riding griffons clashed in the air with a writhing mass of harpies, their screeches piercing even at this distance.
"See how valor and viciousness are but two sides of the same coin in our world," Zenon explained to the observing babe, his voice hushed yet firm.
Beyond the fray, nestled on the edge of the Northern Steppes, they sailed above the secluded town of Glimmerdale. Here, the chatter of commerce blended with the arcane as alchemists peddled potions while shimmering phantoms assisted carrying goods; serene coexistence was the essence of everyday life.
Amidst Glimmerdale's bustling streets, a town crier's voice boomed, clashing with the gentle din around. "Hear ye! An alliance forms in the east as the kingdoms of Rivenlock and Dawnhaven unite against the common blight!"
Zenon gestured below, "Such tidings shift the very ground upon which destiny strides."
The crier's news continued, resolute despite the cacophony of daily life. "Dread spreads across Lyrian Fields as the unhallowed beast, Nightfang, roams unchallenged!"
"Troubles ever grow, little one. Even as we gaze from afar, shadows creep upon lands near and far," whispered Zenon, the wind a subtle accomplice to his words.
As they crossed the bustling locality, an arcane bazaar unfolded below, with sorcerers displaying wonders to rival the stars. A mage levitated, her cloak a constellation of flickering lights, while she crafted orbs of illumination for the enchanted awestruck crowd.
"The world's magic is vast and varied, as are its bearers," he murmured to Jennh, the child's upbringing marked by these aerial lessons.
The journey carried them on, over a grand coliseum where a centaur champion brandished its lance against a formidable chimera. The chorus of the crowd became a surge of triumph and tragedy mixed into one.
"A stage where glory and doom dance hand in hand," Zenon said, a somber note laced within his teachings.
Over endless orchards, they passed where dryads tended trees with motherly care, their songs nurturing the fruits to unnatural sweetness.
"Even the gentlest touch can yield a bounty beyond imagination," he noted, urging the young mind to ponder the facets of strength.
Zenon steered the shadow raven with a silent command over the Whispering Canyon, where wingless fae glided on swirling air currents, their laughter echoing off the stone, a melody of raw freedom.
"There is magic in joy, Jennh. Let us not forget the lighter cadence in the song of ages," Zenon's voice softened, reflecting a rare warmth.
As evening began to claim the sky, the first lights of Wayfarer's Rest came into view, lanterns and glow-stones casting their welcoming glow across travelers' faces, each carrying tales as myriadas the stars themselves.
"Look, Jennh," Zenon pointed with a gentle nudge, "the inn's hearth is a crossroads of stories, where journeyers from every corner of our world share their lore."
They flew over a verdant grove where druids stood in a circle, their arms raised as they whispered ancient words. Before Jennh's gaze, a slumbering canopy bloomed with luminous flowers, a nocturnal wonder awakened by will and word.
"Power lies not only in bending the world to one's wishes," Zenon said, watching the druids' display, "but also in harmony with it."
The shadow raven's path led them above the City of Ivory Spires, its alabaster walls aglow with spells of protection. Gargoyles perched motionless, their stone eyes vigilant and knowing.
"Even beauty can be a fortress, little one. Every spire, a silent sentinel against the encroachment of darkness," he intoned, teaching Jennh of fortitude beyond the battlefield.
As twilight embraced the land, they skimmed over the Mirror Lakes, where naiads emerged to dance upon the glassy surface, and water sprites sprinkled dew upon the blooms that rested on the water's edge.
"The beauty of the fleeting moment, that is what they cherish. Life, Jennh, is a series of such moments," Zenon whispered, nostalgia fleeting across his features.
Their flight came to a close as the first stars appeared, the shadow raven descending towards the Zenon estate. Zenon's expression was contemplative, the weight of kingdoms on his shoulders lightened by the presence of young Jennh—the future of their family, their dynasty, and perhaps even their world.
"Remember all you have seen, child of mine," Zenon spoke as they touched down. "I'm showing you this to prepare you for what's to come. Now then, there's one more place to go."
Jennh thought, 'One more?'
"The Tower Of Truth." Zenon grinned.
— Bald kommt ein neues Kapitel — Schreiben Sie eine Rezension
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein