Volume I I
ARC V THE OBSIDIAN KNIGHT
Chapter 23 Snowy and the Boy
The ancient burial hall trembled. A wall of brilliant moonlight stood between the Obsidian Knight and the Luminous Fangs. Its silver surface shimmered like the reflection of a thousand stars upon still water. Three luminous owls circled above it, their broad white wings scattering magical feathers through the darkness. Behind the barrier, Celestine struggled to his feet. His silver armor was battered, his deep-blue cloak torn, and his platinum-blond hair hung loosely around his face. Lueur Sainte still shone in his hand, but the golden-white radiance surrounding him had weakened. Gor'Thrak was slowly rising beside the broken pillar. The enormous orc gripped his injured shoulder, his gray skin covered in scratches and bruises. His battle axe lay several paces away.
Tahir stood near the flooded steps, his black desert robes dripping with water. Blue magical symbols glimmered along his carved staff. Sand gathered around his boots, ready to rise at his command.
All of them watched Snowy. The slender celestial stood alone before the towering black knight. His flowing white robes fluttered in the magical wind. Long strands of glossy black hair framed his delicate, pale face. His silver eyes shone with determination. He was only five feet and five inches tall. Before him stood a nearly seven-foot warrior covered in supernatural armor, carrying a sword large enough to cleave a stone pillar.
Yet Snowy did not retreat.
“Snowy!” Celestine shouted. “Get away from him!”
The celestial did not look back.
His attention remained on the black helmet.
Inside it, Roan was screaming.
The Obsidian Knight raised his enormous sword. The crimson lines running across his armor brightened. Dark energy gathered around the blade, forming a smoky red aura that distorted the air.
The voice inside the ring whispered.
Destroy the barrier.
Destroy the light.
They are trying to take your strength.
Roan could barely distinguish the voices of his friends.
He could barely remember their faces.
He knew only that something stood in his way.
The sword descended.
BOOOOM!
The moonlight barrier shattered.
Silver fragments scattered across the chamber like falling stars. Snowy was thrown backward, but before his feet touched the water, the magic surrounding his body changed. His long black hair lifted. His white robes dissolved into a brilliant radiance. A tremendous burst of silver-white light filled the chamber.
Celestine raised an arm to shield his eyes.
Tahir stared.
“His celestial form…”
The light expanded.
For an instant, a magnificent white owl appeared within it, its wings spreading wider and wider until they seemed to fill the entire chamber. Then the radiance faded. Snowy had transformed. A magnificent snowy owl stood before the Obsidian Knight. His feathers were pure white, with only the faintest traces of silver markings across his wings. His rounded head turned with extraordinary precision. Large silver eyes glimmered beneath delicate feathered brows, and his hooked beak shone like polished ivory.
He looked beautiful. But there was nothing fragile about him. His body was small similar to that that of an ordinary snowy white owl, and his broad wings carried tremendous strength. His talons were powerful, his feathers remarkably dense, and his supernatural body possessed a resilience that ordinary weapons could scarcely penetrate.
But he possesed lunar magic and in owl form enhanced strength. He was a creature of the celestial heavens. A sky person. A being whose true nature had been hidden from the world beneath the form of an ordinary white owl.
The Obsidian Knight charged. Snowy opened his wings. The first beat sent a powerful gust and radiance through the burial hall. Black water surged away from him, and loose stones rolled across the floor.
Then he launched himself forward.
The two figures collided.
CRAAAAASH!
Snowy's talons struck the black armor, and his powerful wings beat against the knight's chest. The Obsidian Knight staggered. For the first time, Roan's enormous armored body was forced backward by something other than a weapon. The knight dug his boots into the stone. He pushed forward, attempting to overpower the owl. Snowy beat his wings again. The force was astonishing. The Obsidian Knight was driven several paces backward, his enormous sword dragged across the floor. The impact sent cracks spreading beneath his feet.
Gor'Thrak stared.
“Ha!”
The orc managed a painful grin.
“Little bird has claws.”
Tahir replied, watching the celestial carefully.
“His owl form possesses tremendous physical strength.”
The Obsidian Knight tried to swing his sword.
Snowy twisted in the air, avoided the blade, and struck the armor again with both feet. The black knight stumbled into a broken pillar. Stone crashed around him. Snowy did not attack his head or attempt to tear at his armor. He struck his chest and shoulders, pushing him away from the others. Every time Roan tried to turn toward Celestine or Gor'Thrak, Snowy intercepted him. He was not trying to defeat Roan. He was trying to keep him away from the people he loved.
The ring pulsed with crimson light.
Kill the bird!
It stands between you and your strength!
Roan raised his sword.
Snowy swept beneath the blade and struck his armored chest once more. The Obsidian Knight crashed onto one knee. The entire chamber shook. Snowy landed several paces away, his enormous white wings spread wide. He looked at Roan. His silver eyes softened. Then he lowered his wings. The fighting stopped.
Roan's sword remained raised. The red lights inside his helmet burned. The voice whispered urgently.
Strike him.
He is weak.
He is trying to control you.
But Snowy did not attack. He approached slowly. One step. Then another. The Obsidian Knight's helmet followed him. Snowy tilted his head. It was a familiar movement. A small, curious gesture that Roan had seen countless times before. The white owl approached until he stood directly before the towering knight. Then he spread his wings and leapt. His powerful wings carried him upward, and he landed gently on Roan's armored shoulder. The contrast was almost unbelievable.A small white owl perched upon the shoulder of a monstrous black knight. Snowy's talons settled carefully between the jagged plates of armor. His feathers brushed against the dark helmet. He made a soft, familiar sound. A quiet owl's call. Roan froze. The voice inside the ring fell silent for a moment. Snowy leaned closer. And in the depths of Roan's mind, a memory began to stir.
The memories of the Stable Boy
The cavern disappeared. For Roan, darkness became sunlight. Warm sunlight. He could smell grass. Hear birds. Hear distant voices. A village. Small. Quiet. Safe. He remembered walking through its streets. He remembered being hungry. Being alone. He remembered the feeling of having nobody waiting for him. Then an apple. A simple red apple. Roan remembered holding it. Remembered the strange white owl watching him. The bird had been sitting nearby. Watching. Quiet. Beautiful. Roan had looked at it.
"Are you lost too?"
The memory was faint. But real. The owl had tilted its head. Roan had smiled. It had been the first time in a long time that he had smiled at another living thing. Then came the stable. The smell of hay. The sound of horses. Roan remembered seeing the owl again. Except this time the owl had become a boy. A beautiful boy with pale skin, long black hair, silver eyes, and strange white clothing. Roan had been terrified. Then confused. Then curious.
He remembered Snowy's quiet voice.
He remembered thinking:
He's strange.
Then:
He's kind.
Then:
Maybe I don't have to be alone.
He remembered an apple tree. It stood behind a small stable in a quiet village, its branches stretching over a wooden fence. In spring, pale blossoms covered its limbs. In autumn, the ground beneath it was scattered with fallen leaves and bruised apples. Roan remembered the smell of hay. The warmth of the horses. The creaking stable doors. And the cold mornings when he had to rise before sunrise. He had been an orphan. His parents perished at the hands of Baalanian raiders. He had no parents waiting for him, no family home to return to, and no one who would notice if he disappeared for a day. He moved to a nearby village where he had lived in the village stable for years, earning his keep through hard work. He cleaned the stalls, carried hay, filled water troughs, brushed the horses, and repaired broken fences. He was small for his age, with bright red hair, freckles across his nose, and greenish eyes that often looked older than they should have. His clothes were simple and worn. A brown tunic, patched trousers, an old leather belt, and boots that had already seen too many winters. The other children rarely spoke to him. Some considered him strange. Others simply ignored him. He was the stable boy. The orphan. The child who worked while everyone else played. But Roan never complained. He loved the horses. He knew which ones disliked being brushed behind the ears, which ones became nervous during thunderstorms, and which ones would quietly steal apples if given the opportunity. He spoke to them as though they understood every word. Sometimes he talked to the old stablemaster's dog. Sometimes he spoke to the birds that nested beneath the roof. And sometimes, when the work was finished and the village grew quiet, he sat beneath the apple tree and watched the clouds drift across the sky. He had become accustomed to being alone. But that did not mean he liked it. Then, one autumn morning, he found the owl.
It was raining. Or thats how he remembered it Roan had been carrying a basket of apples from the orchard when he heard a faint fluttering beneath the old wooden fence.
He stopped. At first, he thought it was a wounded pigeon. Then he heard another sound. A soft, frightened hoot. He placed the basket on the ground and crouched beside the fence. There, beneath a tangle of wet leaves, lay a small white owl. Its feathers were soaked and dirty. One wing hung awkwardly at its side, and its silver eyes were half-closed. There was blood beneath its feathers.
“Oh,” Roan whispered.
The owl tried to move.
It could not.
“Easy,” the boy said gently. “Don't be frightened.”
He removed his old brown cloak and carefully wrapped the little creature in it.
The owl struggled weakly.
“I know. I know. It hurts.”
Roan held it close to his chest.
“You're all right. I've got you.”
He carried the owl back to the stable.
The stablemaster was away, and the other workers had already left for the village.
Roan found a small wooden box, lined it with clean straw, and placed the owl inside. Then he fetched warm water, cleaned the blood from its feathers, and examined its injured wing as carefully as he could. He had no medicine. No healer. No knowledge of celestial creatures. He was just a stable boy. But he did what he could. He gave the owl a quiet corner away from the horses and placed a small dish of water beside it.
For the rest of the afternoon, he sat nearby.
“You'll get better,” he promised.
The owl watched him.
Roan smiled.
“I'm Roan, by the way.”
He waited.
The owl blinked.
“I suppose you don't have a name.”
He thought for a moment.
Then he looked at its beautiful white feathers.
“Snowy.”
The owl tilted its head.
“Because you're white. Like snow.”
Roan smiled again.
“Snowy. I like that.”
The owl made a soft sound. And the boy laughed. It was the first time in a long while that he had laughed without anyone telling him to be quiet.
The owl Snowy recovered slowly. For several days, Roan carried him everywhere. He fed him small pieces of meat, changed the straw in his box, and carefully checked his injured wing each morning. He spoke to him while working. He told him about the horses. He told him about the stablemaster, who was always complaining about the cost of feed. He told him about the village children who never invited him to play. He told him about the orchard and the apple tree. Sometimes he talked about things that did not matter. Sometimes he talked about things that hurt. Snowy listened. The owl rarely moved while Roan spoke. He would sit quietly, silver eyes fixed on the boy, occasionally turning his head or making a soft hoot.
Roan began to look forward to those conversations. When the other children laughed together in the village square, he no longer felt quite so lonely. He had someone to return to. Someone who would be waiting in the stable. Someone who listened.
When Snowy's wing finally healed, Roan carried him outside.
The sky was clear, and the afternoon sun shone through the branches of the apple tree.
Roan sat beneath it with the owl beside him.
“You can fly now,” he said.
Snowy looked at him.
Roan stroked the feathers along his head.
“You should go. You're a bird. You belong in the sky.”
The owl did not move.
“You don't have to stay here because of me.”
Snowy gave a soft hoot.
Roan smiled sadly.
“I'll miss you.”
The owl climbed onto his shoulder.
And stayed.
Roan laughed.
“All right. Just for a little longer.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a small apple.
He cut away a piece and ate it himself.
Then he held the remaining piece up to Snowy.
“Here. We can share.”
The owl tilted his head.
Roan took another bite.
For a while, they sat together beneath the tree.
The boy and the owl.
Neither of them quite belonging anywhere.
Neither of them wanting to be alone.
Roan did not know that Snowy was not an ordinary owl. He did not know that the creature he had rescued was a celestial being from a distant realm. He did not know that Snowy belonged to the Tenkujin, the people of the sky. He did not know that the beautiful white owl had crossed into Elyria from another world and had been hunted by the Baalanians. Snowy had been alone, too. He had been a foreigner in a strange land, pursued by people who wanted to capture him and use his celestial nature for their own purposes. He had known fear. He had known hunger. He had known what it meant to have no one. And then a small red-haired boy had found him. A boy with patched clothes and tired greenish eyes. A boy who had nothing of great value to offer. Yet Roan had given him warmth. Food. Shelter. And a name. Snowy remembered the first time he had heard it.
Snowy.
It had been a simple name. A name given without ceremony, without expectation, and without any knowledge of what he truly was. But it had been given with kindness. And for a celestial who had spent so long feeling like an outsider, that kindness meant more than Roan could ever have understood.
Snowy had embraced the name. He had allowed the boy to call him Snowy because it was the name given by someone who had treated him as a friend. Not a magical creature. Not a weapon. Not an object to be captured. Just a friend.
When Snowy revealed his humanoid form, Roan had been astonished.
The white owl he had cared for was actually a beautiful young man with long black hair, pale skin, delicate East Azuran features, and silver eyes. He had expected the boy to be frightened. Instead, Roan had stared at him for several seconds.
Then he had said:
“So… you're still Snowy?”
The celestial had looked at him. And smiled. That was how their friendship had continued.
The Obsidian Knight's fingers tightened. The black sword lowered.
Snowy continued speaking.
"You remember the stable."
Roan's vision flickered.
He remembered sitting in the hay.
Snowy beside him. Neither of them saying much. The first real conversation. The first time Roan had felt safe around someone. The first time he had realized that someone could simply stay.
Snowy's voice echoed through his mind.
"You don't have to be afraid."
Roan's eyes widened behind the helmet.
A crack appeared across the armor.
CRK.
Snowy looked down.
The crack was tiny.
But it was there.
"That's it."
The owl's feathers began glowing brighter.
"Come back."
The memory began to fade. Roan stood in the flooded burial hall, his black armor still covering his body. Snowy remained perched on his shoulder. The white owl leaned gently against the side of the helmet.
Snowy transformed back into his humanoid form, fair with long black hair in all white robes.
The ring stirred.
No.
Its voice was no longer confident.
Do not listen.
Roan's fingers trembled around the sword.
The memory of the stable returned.
The smell of hay.
The warmth of the apple.
The little white owl sitting beside him.
The first time he had laughed because someone had stayed.
You are strong because of me, the ring insisted.
But another memory appeared.
He remembered the first time Snowy had walked beside him in his beautiful humanoid form.
He remembered the celestial standing quietly beneath the stars, his long black hair moving in the evening breeze.
He remembered the way Snowy had looked at him when he said that the name was still his.
And he remembered something else.
He had not been alone since then.
Not really.
He had travelled with Celestine.
He had trained beside Gor'Thrak.
He had learned from Tahir.
He had fought beside the Luminous Fangs.
He had been welcomed into a guild.
A family.
His family.
The voice inside the ring became louder.
They do not need you.
They only protect you because you are weak.
You were nothing before me.
Roan shook his head.
“No…”
The word came out as a deep, broken whisper.
Snowy gently pressed his head against the helmet.
Roan remembered the first time he had seen the Luminous Fangs gathered around a campfire.
Celestine had offered him food and a place beside him.
Gor'Thrak had grumbled about the boy being too small to carry a proper shield, then helped him strengthen his stance.
Tahir had complained about his lack of discipline but had still taken the time to teach him.
Snowy had stayed beside him, just as he had beneath the apple tree.
They had given him a place.
They had given him purpose.
They had given him people to protect.
And when the ring had promised him strength, Roan had believed he needed it because he was afraid of losing them.
But the truth was different.
He had already been given something greater.
He had been given a family.
The black armor trembled.
A thin crack appeared across the crimson lines on his chest.
“Roan…”
Celestine stepped forward.
The golden-white light of his Unicorn Blessing returned, softly illuminating his battered silver armor.
He did not raise Lueur Sainte.
He held the sword lowered at his side.
“Roan, can you hear me?”
The Obsidian Knight's helmet turned.
For the first time, the red lights were not steady.
They flickered.
Gor'Thrak slowly approached, still holding his injured shoulder.
“Come on, pup,” the orc said. “You've frightened us enough.”
Tahir watched the armor carefully.
His expression was tense.
“The ring is resisting,” he warned. “Whatever this relic has bound itself to, it is attempting to preserve its hold over him.”
“Can it be broken?” Celestine asked.
“Not by force alone.”
Tahir's eyes moved toward Snowy.
“His magic is reaching Roan. The memories are weakening the ring's influence.”
Snowy remained on Roan's shoulder.
His feathers glowed faintly.
A gentle stream of moonlight flowed from his body into the black armor.
It did not burn.
It did not attack.
It simply surrounded the knight, filling the cracks with soft silver light.
The crimson glow fought back.
Dark energy crawled across the armor like living veins.
The ring whispered again.
You need me.
Roan's sword trembled.
Without me, you are nothing.
Roan looked at the others.
He saw Celestine.
He saw Gor'Thrak.
He saw Tahir.
And he felt Snowy's feathers against his helmet.
“No,” he said.
The word was clearer this time.
The ring pulsed violently.
You are weak!
Roan's armored hand clenched.
“I was weak.”
The crimson light flared.
“I was scared.”
The armor cracked across his shoulder.
“I was alone.”
Another crack spread down his chest.
“But I am not alone anymore!”
The words echoed through the burial hall.
Snowy spread his wings.
A brilliant wave of moonlight flowed over the black armor.
The three luminous owls joined him. They circled Roan, their glowing feathers leaving trails of silver light. One flew around his helmet, another around his sword arm, and the third settled briefly against his chest.
Their magic gathered around the ring.
The crimson light began to weaken.
Roan's sword dropped.
It struck the stone floor with a heavy clang.
The voice screamed.
NO!
YOU BELONG TO ME!
Roan staggered.
The armor tightened around his body.
Crimson energy burst from his chest, throwing Snowy into the air.
But the celestial caught himself with a powerful beat of his wings.
He returned immediately.
He landed on Roan's shoulder once more.
And stayed.
Roan heard the familiar soft hoot.
The same sound he had heard beneath the apple tree.
The same sound that had comforted him on lonely nights.
He remembered the stable.
He remembered the little white owl.
He remembered sharing an apple.
He remembered giving his friend a name.
And he remembered the promise he had made without ever speaking it.
You won't have to be alone anymore.
Roan lifted his head.
“I don't need you.”
The ring's crimson stone flashed.
“I have my friends.”
The armor began to split.
“I have my family.”
A deep crack ran from the helmet down to the chest.
“And I have Snowy.”
The black armor shuddered.
Then the first plate broke.
A tremendous burst of silver light erupted from Roan's chest.
KRAAAASH!
The black armor cracked open.
Crimson lines shattered into hundreds of glowing fragments. Dark energy spilled from the gaps, twisting like smoke as it struggled to hold its shape.
Roan dropped to one knee.
His enormous sword dissolved into black particles.
The jagged shoulder plates broke apart. The helmet split down the middle, and the crimson lights inside it flickered wildly.
The ring screamed.
YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT ME!
Roan gritted his teeth.
“I am Roan.”
The helmet shattered.
His red hair appeared beneath the broken pieces.
His pale face emerged, covered in sweat and tears. Freckles stood out across his cheeks, and his greenish eyes were wide with pain and exhaustion.
He looked like a boy again.
Not a monster.
Not a dark knight.
Just Roan.
The remaining armor began to dissolve.
Black fragments fell from his arms and chest, scattering across the flooded stone floor. The enormous figure shrank as the supernatural strength drained away.
Roan's knees gave out.
He fell forward.
But Snowy was already moving.
The snowy owl spread his powerful wings and caught him, slowing his fall with a burst of moonlight.
Roan landed on the wet floor, no longer covered in black armor.
His brown tunic and leather vest had returned, torn and soaked from the battle. His red hair fell across his forehead. His hands trembled.
The black ring remained on his finger.
Its red stone was dim.
It had not been destroyed.
But its hold over him had been broken.
For now.
No Longer Alone
For several moments, nobody moved.
The chamber was quiet except for the slow dripping of water from the broken ceiling.
Celestine lowered Lueur Sainte.
His expression softened.
“Roan…”
The boy looked up.
His greenish eyes filled with tears.
“I… I hurt Gor'Thrak.”
The orc approached slowly.
He was still bruised and breathing heavily, but he knelt beside the boy.
“You hit like a charging mountain goat,” Gor'Thrak grumbled.
Roan looked at him.
“I could have killed you.”
“But you didn't.”
“I tried to.”
Gor'Thrak gave a rough snort.
“You also tried to split a hydra in half. You have been having a very busy day.”
Roan let out a small, broken laugh.
Then he began to cry.
Gor'Thrak placed one enormous hand on his shoulder.
“Enough. You are here now.”
Celestine approached and knelt beside them.
He placed one hand gently on Roan's other shoulder.
“You came back.”
Roan lowered his head.
“I almost didn't.”
“But you did.”
“I couldn't hear you. I couldn't stop myself. I thought…”
He struggled to find the words.
“I thought you were all trying to take something away from me.”
Celestine looked at the black ring.
“The relic used your fear against you.”
Roan's hands trembled.
“I wanted to be strong enough to protect everyone.”
Celestine's expression softened.
“You do not need to become a monster to protect your friends.”
Roan looked at him.
“I was afraid of being useless.”
“You have never been useless.”
Celestine gave him a tired but genuine smile.
“You carried messages through enemy territory. You helped refugees escape. You stood against creatures far larger than yourself. You have saved lives, Roan. And you did those things long before that ring ever touched your hand.”
Roan looked down.
Snowy approached.
The white owl stood beside him, his feathers glowing softly in the darkness.
Roan reached out.
His trembling fingers touched the feathers beneath Snowy's head.
“Snowy…”
The owl leaned into his hand.
Roan laughed through his tears.
“You remember the apple tree?”
Snowy gave a quiet hoot.
“I used to talk to you about everything.”
Another soft hoot.
Roan smiled.
“I thought you were just a bird.”
Snowy's silver eyes softened.
For a moment, the celestial's form shimmered.
White feathers dissolved into silver light.
His wings became arms, and his body grew slender and graceful. The light faded, revealing the young celestial in his humanoid form.
Snowy stood before Roan in his flowing white robes.
His long black hair fell around his shoulders, and his silver eyes were as gentle as the moon.
He was beautiful, almost otherworldly, but his expression was familiar.
Roan looked up at him.
“You stayed.”
Snowy nodded.
Roan's eyes filled again.
“You could have flown away.”
Snowy lowered himself beside him.
He gently placed a hand on Roan's shoulder.
He did not need to speak.
Roan understood.
Snowy had stayed beneath the apple tree.
He had stayed through the long journeys.
He had stayed through battles, imprisonment, danger, and fear.
And he had stayed now.
Roan leaned forward and embraced him.
Snowy wrapped his arms around the boy.
The embrace was quiet and gentle.
The three luminous owls circled above them, their soft silver light illuminating the broken chamber.
For the first time since putting on the ring, Roan felt no hunger inside his mind.
No voice telling him he was weak.
No darkness demanding that he become stronger.
Only the warmth of his friend's arms.
Only the sound of familiar breathing.
Only the knowledge that he was not alone.
Celestine rose slowly. He looked around the chamber. The hydra lay dead in the flooded hall, its enormous body motionless. Its blue core had finally gone dark. Broken chains lay scattered across the floor, and the ancient prison chamber had been reduced to rubble. The battle was over. But the danger had not disappeared. Tahir approached Roan and examined the ring.
The crimson stone gave a faint pulse.
His expression darkened.
“The relic remains bound to him.”
Roan looked down at his hand.
“Can you remove it?”
“Not safely,” Tahir replied. “The ring has attached itself to something deeper than your skin. Attempting to tear it away without understanding its structure could be fatal.”
Roan swallowed.
“So it's still there?”
“Yes.”
Celestine looked at Tahir.
“Then we will find a way.”
Tahir nodded slowly.
“I will study it. But we must be careful. The ring is ancient, and I do not yet understand what created it.”
Gor'Thrak retrieved Vorrak-Duum from the water and rested the enormous axe against his shoulder.
He looked down at Roan.
“Next time you find a magical ring, ask before putting it on.”
Roan gave a weak laugh.
“I will.”
“Good.”
The orc grunted.
“I am too old to keep being thrown into walls by children.”
Celestine smiled.
Snowy remained beside Roan.
The boy looked at the others.
At Celestine, who had tried to reach him even when he had raised his sword against him.
At Gor'Thrak, who had refused to kill him despite being attacked.
At Tahir, who had warned them of the danger and never stopped searching for a way to help.
And at Snowy.
His oldest friend.
His first companion.
The one who had made the loneliness bearable.
Roan looked at his hands.
They were small again.
Human.
He could still feel the memory of the black armor, the terrible strength, and the anger that had consumed him.
He knew the ring had not been defeated forever.
Somewhere beneath its crimson stone, something was still waiting.
But he was no longer facing it alone.
Celestine extended a hand.
“Come on, squire.”
Roan looked up.
The knight smiled.
“We have a long way to go.”
Roan took his hand.
Celestine pulled him gently to his feet.
Snowy stood on his other side, close enough that their shoulders touched.
Gor'Thrak moved ahead, his great axe resting across his back. Tahir followed, already studying the strange symbols carved into the broken walls. Above them, the three luminous owls circled through the cold blue light. The Luminous Fangs had entered Garthuun to uncover an ancient prison. They had fought the dead, faced a terrible hydra, and awakened a power that had nearly destroyed them from within. They had lost much of their strength. They had suffered injuries. And one of their own now carried an ancient darkness upon his hand. But they had not lost each other.
Roan glanced at Snowy.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Snowy looked at him and smiled.
It was the same gentle smile Roan remembered from the stable. The same smile beneath the apple tree. The same smile that had reminded him, time and time again, that he did not have to be alone.
Together, the companions began their journey out of the burial hall. Behind them, in the darkness beneath Garthuun, the broken pieces of the Obsidian armor slowly dissolved into black dust. And upon Roan's finger, the small crimson stone gave one faint, almost imperceptible pulse. The boy had returned. But the ring had not surrendered.
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