Chapter 57 Flicker
The Emberleaf Forest had always been a place of mystery, magic, and mild goat-related chaos. But lately, things had taken a turn for the worse—and not just because the goat had learned how to open doors.
My flame was changing.
It no longer responded to my will. Sometimes it surged without warning—igniting dreams, cracking stone, even warping time around me. The bridge pulsed erratically, and whispers from the veil grew louder.
Milo noticed first.
“You’re unraveling,” he said gently, adjusting his goggles as my flame flickered unnaturally.
I nodded. “I feel like I’m burning from the inside. I have been this way since the war and the fireball that I caught with my chest.”
We sought help in Aeloria, where the veil was thinnest and the magic oldest. But as they arrived, the skies darkened.
The Eerie attacked.
Naturally, this was the exact moment the goat decided to headbutt a portal tree, opening a rift. Our angry duck flew towards the rift, while Zeke tried to catch the feathery creature. The portal shut with the help of Aine, and the duck went straight for Narrin’s boots with the fury of a thousand suns.
“Why is there a duck attacking me?” Narrin shouted, hopping backward.
“It’s the Goat’s fault,” Milo said, as if that explained everything.
“That goat isn’t right,” Talon growled, drawing his blade. “He should not be experimenting.”
“He’s very passionate,” Lira added, petting goat, who was now chewing on a magical scroll.
Yuel, rolled his eyes. “We’re facing a veil breach, Mo’s flame is unstable, and we’re being pecked to death by a duck. This is not how I saw my day going.”
“Did you see any of this?” Zeke asked, dodging a flying feather.
“I saw brunch,” Yuel replied. “There were scones and those tiny little sandwiches. It was peaceful.”
Thess, who had just returned from scouting the borderlands, dropped a corrupted branch on the table. “The forest is rotting. Something’s warping the ley lines. Also, I stabbed a tree and it bled. That’s not normal.”
Kael examined the branch. “This is void-touched. Is the void back? Milo is Calyx… is he near?”
Ellira, gasped. “What is Veilborn?”
“No… it can’t be the Veilborn are rising. Born of vengeance and void. It seeks to consume the light of Emberleaf.”
“Great,” Zeke muttered. “So we’re fighting a cosmic horror, a duck and a goat that is practicing.”
“I am calling the duck Quacknor. The duck squawked in agreement, then pecked Zeke’s shin. “Hey, I named you.”
“Can someone please banish the duck?” Talon asked, exasperated.
“I tried,” Kael said. “He’s immune to sarcasm and magic.”
“Then we’re doomed,” Yuel sighed.
Meanwhile, Milo was growing increasingly worried about Mo. Her flame pulsed erratically, casting strange shadows that constantly whispered in the voice of Calyx.
“She’s becoming something else.” Aine mutters as she moves closer to Mo.
Ellira nodded. “The veil is thinning. If Mo crosses too far, she may not come back.”
I stood apart from the group. Aine was close but not within touching distance, and I was staring into the shifting sky. “I can hear them,” I whispered. “They’re calling me.”
The goat bleated dramatically, as if to say the same.
Narrin, ever the tactician, tried to refocus the group. “We need a plan. The Eerie are probing the veil. The Veilborn are approaching. And the Queen and King of Aeloria are still refusing to send aid.”
“Probably too busy polishing their egos,” Thess muttered.
“Or their thrones,” Zeke added. “I heard they had them enchanted to glow whenever someone compliments them.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Yuel said. “Imagine needing magical furniture to feel validated.”
“They once declared war on a neighboring kingdom because someone called their garden ‘adequate,’” Kael noted.
“Judgmental much?” Lira said. “Their idea of diplomacy is sending glitter bombs with passive-aggressive notes.”
“‘May your crops be as average as your manners,’” Zeke quoted, snorting.
Despite the humor, tension hung heavy. Mo’s flame surged again, and the bridge to the veil shook.
“We need to go to the Old Grove,” Ellira said. “Maybe it can end there.”
“But it’s guarded by the Thorned Ones,” Talon said. “They don’t like visitors.”
“They don’t like anything,” Thess added. “Especially ducks.”
Quacknor hissed.
“Maybe Gerald the goat can distract them,” Milo offered. “He’s good at chaos.”
Gerald bleated and headbutted a tree, which promptly turned into a mushroom.
“See?” Milo said proudly.
“Don’t know how I feel about the name Gerald,” Yuel mutters as he looks at the Gerald the goat.
The group set off toward the Old Grove, dodging corrupted vines, whispering shadows, and occasional duck ambushes. Along the way, sarcasm became their shield.
“Remember when we were just fairies and flameborn guardians?” Yuel said. “Now we’re veil-walking, duck-fighting, prophecy-chasing lunatics.”
“I miss the days when my biggest problem was squirrel theft,” Zeke replied.
“I miss brunch,” Yuel said again.
At the Grove, the Thorned Ones emerged—twisted beings of bark and bone. Gerald charged them with reckless abandon, bleating like a war horn. Quacknor followed, wings flapping like a battle banner.
The Thorned Ones paused, confused.
“Is this... diplomacy?” one asked.
“It’s Gerald,” Milo said. “You get used to it.”
Inside the Grove, I approached the ancient altar. My flame pulsed violently.
“This is where it began,” Ellira said. “The first Veilborn was sealed here.”
“And now it’s trying to unseal itself,” Kael added.
I stepped forward. The whispers grew louder.
“I can hold it,” I said. “But I need you all to anchor me.”
One by one, they placed their hands on the altar—channeling their magic, their memories, their strength.
Gerald placed a hoof.
Quacknor pecked the altar, then sat on it.
The veil shimmered. My flame surged—and then, slowly, began to stabilize.
The Hollow Star dimmed.
The Eerie retreated.
The forest sighed.
I collapsed, exhausted
“We need to close it,” Milo whispered, cradling her gently.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Even Quacknor is helping,” Zeke mutters as the pressure of the veilborn increases.
Quacknor squawked proudly.
Gerald bleated
“We can do this, we are the Emberleaf and the Flameborn,” Narrin says through gritted teeth.
The veilborn screech and the horizon burns.
“Some guardians you are,” The Thorned ones growl.