NOVEL NEXT Chapter 40: Fragments of the Vanished
At the expiration of the two agreed weeks, Vacuros and Umbrazel were standing tall at the front of the entrance of the castle, their outlines shadowy against the shining backdrop of the enormous structure.
Glistening with brilliance, the castle stood like one colossal crystal kissed by gold as golden streaks of light tumbled upon it. The air stood still, carrying on itself unsaid expectations, while the duo remained awaiting Nyxander. Umbrazel, seizing the moment, placed a firm but gentle hand on Vacuros' shoulder, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of wisdom.
"You need to stop acting immature," Umbrazel began, his tone firm but fatherly, like the steady chime of a distant bell. "You've got to rise above that. Obsession won't take you anywhere-it only clouds the path ahead. Just do what you do best, execute your task with precision and clarity." His words were left hanging in the air, like a warm breeze cutting through the coolness of dawn.
Then, after a moment of silence, he added, "This may well turn out to be a great chance to learn something new by watching him from afar and observing how he conducts himself."
Vacuros grunted low, the sound gruff and throaty, but it was coupled with a faint smile-a fleeting vision of honesty. He nodded, his eyes locking with Umbrazel's in silent understanding. Their locked gazes spoke volumes of silent words, an interchange of faith and determination.
The heavy doors of the castle creaked open, splintering the stillness of the moment. They turned as one, the movement instinctive, their eyes drawn to the figure stepping out. Nyxander emerged, his form bathed in light spilling from within the castle walls. He paused for a moment at the threshold, the weight of the journey ahead reflected in his face. He breathed in deeply, lifting his head to drink in the crisp morning air; he exhaled slowly, his head bowing as his gaze fell upon the two waiting for him.
"The day has come," Nyxander muttered low to himself, almost as if he spoke only for the air around him to hear. "I don't know when I'll be back." His gaze shifted momentarily, falling back on the castle behind him.
A faint shadow of emotion crossed his face, a fleeting mixture of longing and determination. "I don't know when we'll meet again," he whispered under his breath, his words almost inaudible, "so stay healthy till then." With those words, he turned back and began walking toward Umbrazel and Vacuros.
"It would seem a decision has been made," Umbrazel said in a voice that, though encouraging, revealed its reluctant core.
"Yes," Nyxander nodded briefly, his tone firm and unwavering. "I shall indeed be causing you a great deal of bother, but I implore you: look after them, tend to the clan until I return."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Umbrazel's lips, but his eyes remained serious with the weight of his responsibilities. "That's something you don't have to worry about," he said firmly. "Just keep your head straight and focus on your mission."
Nyxander took one sure step closer toward Vacuros, deliberate in his gait. "If there is nothing more to discuss, then we shall take our leave," he said, a formality in his voice etched with an edge of determinism.
"Hmm," Vacuros grunted again, his reply simple but firm.
"Alright," called out Umbrazel after them as they began to move. "Be careful, and do not overexert yourself. If it does not go according to plan, you can always return and devise another strategy." His eyes followed them as his hand rose in a small wave, shining with hope and farewell.
"Ah," replied Nyxander, gesturing to the right with an incline of his wrist-soft and casual yet carrying meaning. As they pulled farther away, Vacuros's head turned partly at Umbrazel, his clear vision gluing to a vision to be etched upon memory before facing forward.
They crossed together beyond the precincts of the castle, their figures dwindling as they left the clan's locality into the unknown, carrying the weight of their mission upon their shoulders.
A few minutes later, nearly a kilometer from the clan, Nyxander and Vacuros stopped. The air was thick with the wind of the desert, a semi-desolate breeze that whispered across the barren landscape. Vacuros finally broke the silence, his voice sharp and swift, caught for a moment before being swept away by the wind. "So, what's next?"
Nyxander wheeled to him, his face suddenly flashing in false, exaggerated shock, as if Vacuros' words were a miracle. "Did you just say something?" he asked, an edge of a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he spread his massive arms wide, leaning forward in mock enthusiasm.
Vacuros always seemed to keep his stoic ease and evaded the hug completely. Nyxander staggered from the sudden dodging, his footing going forward as if caught off guard by the rejection. "Hmph," he muttered low in his throat, his voice well over the moment. In a flicker, his manner shifted, his eyes sharpened just like an edge, leaving the gleam of seriousness instead of playful sparks inside them.
"Just wait here. I'll be back soon," Nyxander said, his words growing quieter with each syllable until they dissolved into the wind.
Vacuros turned his head to respond but stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing. Nyxander was no longer beside him. In the blink of an eye, Nyxander's massive frame had shrunk, his once-gigantic figure now reduced to the size of an average fifteen-year-old human.
His lean muscled body shone under the intense desert light, while his white hair glowing like strands of pure light that flowed behind him as if carried by an unseen current. The hair swayed gracefully, like joyful eels swimming freely in the depths of an ocean.
Nyxander strode quickly, the length of his legs eating ground, but silent, the sound of his footsteps dissolving into the distance from the clan. He moved with deliberate, calculated steps, each one obscuring him partially from other points of view as his eyes covered every inch of terrain.
Finally, he saw something: a set of footprints pressed shallowly into the ground, faint and almost not there. Dropping low, he followed the trail with unwavering focus, his heart pounding with anticipation and determination.
But the trail ended too quickly. The faint marks faded out to nothing, leaving Nyxander standing amidst uncertainty. A shadow of frustration crossed his face, his resolve momentarily shaken. Just as the seed of doubt began to grow, his sharp gaze caught something: a small, discarded fragment of a device, weathered by the elements but still intact. A glimmer of hope sparked within him, and he clenched his fist around the object.
"This will have to do," he grumbled to himself, choosing to gamble on the direction where the device part was found. He straightened, expanding back to his towering, colossal figure in one smooth motion. He turned toward the direction he had left Vacuros in and raised his massive arms to his sides.
With a swift, powerful motion, he slammed them together, sending a forceful wave of energy roaring through the air. The gust swept across the desert-a turbulent surge of wind that raced toward Vacuros.
The force reached Vacuros, rustling his clothes and stirring the sand around him, though it left him unscathed. This sudden wave drew his attention abruptly toward the source. With no thought, he began a firm stride across the desert toward Nyxander, each step firm and steady. Moments later, he was by his side.
"This is where the last trace ends," Nyxander explained, exasperation heavy in his voice as he gestured toward the ground. Vacuros's eyes, sharp as cold knives, scoured the ground, his face hardened and thoughtful.
"Then that voids the plan," said Vacuros without mincing words-clear-cut and incisive, like a hammer nailing the issue into place.
Nyxander said nothing immediately. His gaze wandered, drifting around them, out to the landscape and resting on a far-off hill, its uneven form poking above the desert expanse, like a sentry. Then an inspiring light seemed to flash in his eyes.
"I have an idea," he said suddenly, his voice tinged with both excitement and urgency. Without waiting for a response, he darted toward the hill. Vacuros hesitated for only a moment before following behind, his strides purposeful but laced with faint curiosity as he tried to piece together what Nyxander was planning.
He went down-cross-legged-at the top of the hill. His colossal body was still, like a boulder on the crown of the hill. "Protect me. Hopefully, this does work," he said as if with his eyes closed.
Vacuros watched in quietness, not changing the defensive stand one eye scanned the horizon for possible invasion.
A moment later from Nyxander's person, a low hum did begin to emit. "Aetherial Shroud Manipulation: Void Web," he called out with a composed, yet firm voice. Then energies burst forth from his body; shining threads of light suddenly burst from his body and flew about like living tentacles.
The threads of light threaded their way into the void crossing one another and stretching in all ways, spreading out like the threads of a spider's web, reaching out to be an intricate network three kilometres in diameter. The glowing net pulsed faintly, shimmering like starlight cast upon the ocean's surface.
The threads seemed to weave through the fabric of the unseen world, spreading far and wide, as if Nyxander were a fisherman casting his net into the vast and mysterious waters of the void, waiting for a catch. The air around them grew tense, humming with latent energy, while Vacuros stood silently at readiness, his presence a steadfast shield against whatever might come.