NOVEL WEB Chapter 41 – Vernara Village (7)
Khael's eyes lingered on Eliryn just a moment too long.
She hadn't moved. Her arms were still folded neatly behind her back, her chin dipped slightly as if in thought. But it wasn't her posture that made Khael uneasy.
Something about her stillness felt... off.
(Eliryn… what are you hiding?)
The silence broke as Elder Lao's voice cut through, heavy with concern.
"Tonight's ritual is not only sacred—it's dangerous," he said.
"Voidflare activity has been increasing. And if the Crimson Roots truly plan to interfere… this won't just be about tradition anymore. Lives could be at risk."
His words lingered in the air like a thick fog.
Ceyla crossed her arms, her storm-affinity presence flickering faintly around her.
"So what, we just wait until nightfall and hope they don't attack?" she said coldly.
Juno's fingers tensed, brushing the rim of his belt.
"They will. And if they do, we handle them."
Khael didn't respond immediately. His thoughts spiraled, Voidflare, Lin, Crimson Roots, Eliryn's sealed affinity (Dragon knight system telling Khael that Eliryn have sealed affinity)… too many threads. Too many silences.
(Voidflare. Lin. The Crimson Roots. Eliryn's sealed affinity… There's too much we don't know.) (And this mission—it should've been A-rank, minimum.)
(This village… something is wrong here. And with her.)
But before he could voice the rising suspicion, Elder Lao bowed again, and said:
"Your presence is appreciated. We trust your Echo Arts will keep the balance tonight."
Noah didn't speak. His lips pressed into a thin line, guilt gnawing at the edges of his face.
(Why won't you look at me, Noah?) Khael thought again.
Meanwhile, Beyond the Blossomed Walls…
In the woods outside Vernara, beneath the twisted branches where petals didn't bloom, five figures moved like a rumor. Silent. Controlled. Predatory.
Raiquen Veylthorn (The Thorn That Turned) stood still as stone, his crimson cloak brushing the grass like blood on silk. His dual affinity hummed, Bloom and Flame opposing, and yet merged within him like a war he'd already won.
Kirell Shadepetal crouched beside him, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, the jagged scar across her forehead pulsing faintly with Shinrei.
"I still don't understand why we wait," she muttered. "We could storm the ritual tonight and be done."
Raiquen didn't answer right away. He stared ahead, eyes unreadable, fingers tightening around a vine-bound hilt.
"Because Eliryn will be there," he said at last. "And this isn't just sabotage.
It's liberation."
Nearby, Braggen Mossvale cracked his knuckles. His bark-covered skin creaked with the sound of splitting wood.
"Elders die. Village burns. We leave. Simple."
A few paces back, Sil Vorrun, the Whisperbloom sat cross-legged under a crooked tree. He drew glowing symbols into the air, each glyph shimmering, then vanishing.
One symbol floated behind him briefly like a whisper written in light.
Watchful. Listening. They know more than we thought.
Raiquen's eyes narrowed.
(So the guests have been told...)
Leaning lazily on a moss-covered rock was the last of them, Therys Nolemire—known as The Bloom That Hungered. His skin was pale, his smile ghost-like, and his presence sent a chill through the air.
"Let them protect the girl," Therys said, voice smooth and distant.
"Let them stand guard. It'll only make their grief more beautiful."
He let a flower petal fall from his fingers.
It touched the soil—and shriveled instantly.
Raiquen closed his eyes, a memory flashing behind his eyelids.
(Eliryn… tonight, I will shatter the cage they trapped you in.)
(Even if I have to burn this village to do it.)
…
Back to khael
BOOM.
The ground shuddered. A gust of dirt and petals flared past the open windows.
Everyone in the room turned toward the sound—eyes wide, instincts sharp.
Elder Lao's voice cracked like a whip:
"They're here!!"
Panic rippled.
Noah stumbled back, his face pale as chalk.
"W-We're going to die here!"
She stepped into the fading light, her Verdyn Guardian robes billowing—pale green and white, marked with curling thorn motifs. The fabric seemed untouched by dust, as if nature refused to stain her.
But it was the weapon she carried that made the room fall into silence.
A sleek black scythe, tall and elegant, veined with glowing silver etchings. Near the grip, a single unopened flower bud pulsed gently—not with light, but with Shinrei itself. Like it was waiting to bloom… or break.
Eliryn didn't speak.
She simply took her stance—one step ahead of them all.
Khael tightened his jaw, feeling the pressure shift.
Juno cracked his knuckles.
Ceyla pulled her storm-etched dagger from her belt, eyes narrowing.
Khael whispered, mostly to himself:
"…The Crimson Roots really came."
From beyond the gate, smoke rose.
And through it—silhouettes.
Tall. Armed. Echoes of a rebellion blooming far too late.
Khael turned to Juno and Ceyla.
"Let's go!!"
No hesitation.
Juno gave a sharp nod.
Ceyla scoffed, drawing her dagger.
"Tsk."
They dashed through the stone path, boots crunching against fallen petals and embers blowing from the blast site. Smoke curled through the air, choking the fading light.
Khael's mind raced.
(This whole thing is really suspicious… but I have to put that aside for now.)
As they emerged from the treeline—
There she was.
Lin.
Bound by thorn-vines. Kneeling.
Her head hung low as three Crimson Roots warriors stood around her.
Ceyla's voice cracked through the air:
"Take your hands off her, you bastards!!"
Lightning danced at her fingertips.
She dashed forward, her storm affinity crackling through her dagger. She lunged—
But—
CLANG!
A violet blur slammed into her path.
Ceyla was launched backwards, skidding across moss and stone. Sparks trailed from her blade as she hit the ground hard.
From the shadows stepped a figure—
Kirell Shadepetal.
Her arm still crackled from absorbing Ceyla's attack, eyes sharp as glass, the jagged scar on her forehead glowing faintly with Shinrei.
"Ceyla!!" Khael shouted.
She groaned and pushed herself up, lip bleeding, dagger still in hand, rage in her storm-filled eyes.
Kirell didn't speak. She only tilted her head and raised her arm again—fingers twitching with deadly calm, ready to crush anything that bloomed too close.
The forest held its breath.
Juno stepped beside Khael, tone quiet but heavy.
"They're strong"
Khael's eyes darted between Lin and Kirell's poised stance… then to the tree line.
From the gloom, they emerged.
Five of them.
Raiquen Veylthorn—The Thorn That Turned—walked forward like a man dragging fate behind him. His crimson cloak brushed the grass like blood on silk. His dual affinity—Bloom and Flame—pulsed beneath his skin, two forces in perfect war… and perfect harmony.
Kirell Shadepetal, already in front, crouched like a predator. Her every movement precise. Her Shinrei-scar pulsed with emotion too sharp to name.
Sil Vorrun, the Whisperbloom, stood silent behind them, drawing Shinrei glyphs into the air—symbols that shimmered and dissolved like breath in frost.
Braggen Mossvale, the towering brute, cracked his knuckles again. The sound echoed like splitting trees. His bark-plated arms flexed like living wood.
Therys Nolemire lounged at the edge of the clearing, pale as a ghost, eyes dreamy and detached. A single petal floated from his hand and withered before it hit the ground.
Five rebels. Each one infamous. Each one dangerous.
Khael's breath caught in his throat.
(Bad news. All of them.)
He stepped forward, just slightly.
But enough.
Enough to draw Raiquen's gaze.
And the Thorn That Turned… smiled.
To be continue