"Do you all know about the Battle of Crimson Verge, young ones?" Vaelir asked, his voice rough like aged stone.
"Only a fool wouldn't, old man." Riven scoffed. "Who on this planet doesn't know about the Battle of Crimson Verge?"
"Yeah," Selira added. "I've been hearing that story since I was born."
"My father used to buy dragon action figures," Auren chimed in with a grin. "And get this—they weren't for me, but for himself."
Vaelir chuckled. "Your father must be quite the fan of dragons. Anyway, the myth I'm about to tell you is related to that war."
"Whoa… a myth about that war?" Cairen leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Hold on… were you alive back then, old man?"
"Wait—seriously?" Arinelle asked, poking his arm. "Don't tell me you're actually a dragon in disguise or something."
Vaelir chuckled again, amused by the barrage of questions. "No, young ones. I'm no dragon—and I'm certainly not five thousand years old. The average lifespan of a blessed human is around 200 to 300 years. I'm just a bit older than most—I'm 410. This myth has been passed down through my family for generations."
"Ugh, I thought you might be some legendary big shot," Riven muttered.
Arinelle smacked the back of his head. "Is that how you talk to elders, idiot?"
"Ouch! That hurt, you moron!" Riven winced, rubbing his head.
Vaelir laughed lightly and then cleared his throat. "So… shall I continue the story, young ones?"
All of them nodded eagerly.
"It's the usual tale parents tell their children," Vaelir began. "That there were five dragons—
Ignaroth, the Flame Warden, whose breath forged fire and molten earth.
Vaelyndros, the Stormbringer, who commanded winds and skies.
Thalrion, the Deep One, ruler of oceans and hidden depths.
Draxeris, the Stoneheart, eternal guardian of mountains and soil.
Chronarix, the Spirit King, master of the unseen essence that binds all life.
They say the dragons sought help from humans and together defeated the invaders. That's the history… but what if I told you this: Chronarix never existed."
Everyone's eyes widened.
"You're messing with us, old man," Riven said, frowning. "Quit feeding us fairy tales."
Vaelir chuckled. "Ah, my bad. Thought I could slip that lie past you."
"Old man, you actually scared us for a second!" Arinelle said, crossing her arms. "But now you owe us another myth."
"Yeah, you owe us," Selira agreed. "At least myths are somewhat believable. Just don't go outright lying to us again."
Everyone nodded in unison, clearly agreeing that they didn't appreciate being tricked.
Vaelir raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, young ones. I'm sorry for earlier. Let me make it up to you with another tale. This one's about the Blue Moon Night."
"There you go again!" Riven groaned. "There's no such thing as Blue Moon Night, old man. I'm already regretting saving you from fainting out there in the woods."
Vaelir chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I swear, I'm not lying this time. Just listen, will you?"
The kids exchanged glances, then nodded. Vaelir cleared his throat and continued.
"There's an old myth that once every 10,000 years, a Blue Moon rises. And the one who gazes upon it…" He paused dramatically. "…disappears the very next day."
"W-What?!" Arinelle gasped, clutching Riven tightly. "The person just vanishes?"
"A-Arinelle—! I-I can't breathe!" Riven wheezed, trying to pull away from her death grip. "I'm dying over here!"
"Is it really true, old man?" Cairen's voice trembled with curiosity.
"It really is... I told you I wouldn't lie, didn't I?" Vaelir replied with a mysterious glint in his eyes.
Riven folded his arms, his voice a mix of doubt and playfulness. "Well, fine. I believe you. It may be true."
"What?! You believe this liar?" Cairen and Auren burst out in disbelief, eyes wide.
Selira and Arinelle exchanged glances, both staring at Riven with raised brows.
Riven shrugged with a smirk. "What can we even do if it's true or false? All we can do is say yes to his yes."
Cairen scoffed, crossing his arms. "Whatever, I'm not believing anything this old man said."
"Yeah, me too," Auren chimed in, nodding. Selira and Arinelle followed, mirroring his expression.
They sat with the old man a while longer, laughter and chatter slowly fading into silence as dusk settled over them.
Vaelir tilted his head toward the darkening sky. "It's getting dark, young lads. Don't you all have to go home?"
All the kids froze mid-conversation, their cheerful faces draining of color.
"Damn, we totally forgot! My mom's gonna kill me!" Riven yelped, frantically gathering his things.
"Mine too!" Cairen echoed, equally panicked.
"I'm not any different here," Arinelle muttered, already fumbling with her inventory ring.
Riven looked up, eyes wide. "We gotta run! Old man, what about you?"
Vaelir gave a gentle smile. "You all can leave me here. I'll find my path."
"Bye, old man!" they all called as they lifted into the sky.
Vaelir waved slowly, his silhouette growing small beneath the tree as they soared away.
Vaelir waved slowly beneath the canopy, the shadows clinging to him like they didn't want him to go.
As they soared into the sky, dusk swallowed the woods below. But something… stayed.
A silence deeper than silence.
Midway home, Riven glanced back.
One. Last. Time.
And froze.
Vaelir still stood beneath the tree.
But now the light no longer touched him.
The branches above him were twisting, curling unnaturally, as though bending toward him.
And the shadow at his feet… was growing.
Stretching across the forest floor like a black tongue.
Riven swallowed hard.
"That myth about the Blue Moon… he was just messing with us, right?"
No one answered.
He turned to the others.
"You guys heard him too, right? Vaelir? The story about the Blue Moon?"
Cairen blinked. "Who?"
"The old guy under the tree."
Selira frowned. "There was no one there. You were mumbling to yourself the whole time."
"W-What?"
"You didn't say a word the whole picnic," Auren added. "Then you just stood up and started flying like a maniac."
A deep chill wrapped around Riven's heart.
What are they talking about? He was right there.
He whipped around.
The tree below was twisting, bark peeling in curls, like something underneath was trying to get out.
And under it—
The figure was still standing there.
But this time—
It had no face.
Only blackness.
A smooth void where features should be.
And yet…
It was smiling.
He felt it.
Not saw—felt.
It grinned straight into his mind, peeling open his thoughts like pages in a book.
And then it raised a hand.
Not to wave.
To point.
Right at him.
"Fly." Riven gasped. "FLY NOW!"
They stared at him.
So he screamed.
"FLY, DAMN IT!"
They obeyed.
No more questions.
The wind screamed in his ears, but louder still was the sound behind him. Not flapping wings.
Not footsteps.
It was like…
Cracking.
Like bone and time itself were splintering behind him.
He risked a glance.
The tree was gone.
No.
Everything was gone.
The forest. The hill. The shadow.
All gone.
As if someone had erased it with a single brushstroke.
He didn't breathe until his boots hit the ground back in town.
His friends waved goodbye casually, laughing, chatting—like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn't almost been—
What?
Taken?
Swallowed?
Erased?
He didn't wait to wonder.
He burst through his bedroom window, skidding across the floor.
His mother turned, startled.
Then stopped.
The color drained from her face.
"Riven…?" she whispered. "Why do you look like you've seen death?"
He couldn't answer.
Not because he was tired.
Because something was still there.
In his head.
At the edge of thought.
A smile.
He tried to say the name.
Vaelir.
But his tongue wouldn't move.
His throat closed.
The name was rotting in his brain.
Unreachable.
Like it had never existed.
"I… I'm fine," he rasped. "We… we raced home."
She stared at him.
Then, without warning, grabbed his face.
"Don't you lie to me," she whispered. "Your eyes… they're not looking at me. They're looking through me."
And Riven realized—
She was right.
Because even now… he could see something standing behind her.
In the hallway.
Watching.
Smiling.
That night, he dreamed of blue moons.
And black trees with laughing faces.
And every time he blinked, the tree got closer.
Until—
He was under it.
Again.
And it was whispering.
But not with a voice.
With his own thoughts.
"You remember me. Even if no one else does."
"You saw me."
"And now… I see you."