Chapter 9: The Connection

 Chapter 9: The Connection

The Wyvern crouched low, its golden eyes fixed on Zed with an unrelenting intensity. The shadows of Ember Hollows seemed to lean in, dark tendrils wrapping the scene in a suffocating stillness. Each sound—the snapping of twigs beneath its claws, the labored hiss of its breath—seemed amplified. Smoke curled from its nostrils, glowing faintly in the dim light, and despite its injury, the beast advanced with a relentless determination.

Ariel’s heart hammered in her chest. The weight of the moment was crushing, but she refused to crumble. She crouched next to Zed, her fingers trembling as she touched his mane. “Run, boy,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. Then louder, with all the strength she could muster, “RUN!”

Zed snorted and took a step back, his expressive eyes locking onto hers. He planted his hooves firmly, his horn glowing with a steady, unwavering light. His message was clear—he wasn’t going anywhere.

“No!” Ariel pleaded, pushing against his side. “Zed, you’ll die trying to fight this! Please, listen to me. RUN!”

But Zed stood his ground, his jaw set with a stubborn resolve that mirrored her own. His luminous horn cast an ethereal glow over Ariel’s tear-streaked face. She dropped her hands and sighed, equal parts in awe of his bravery and frustrated at his refusal to flee. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

The Wyvern, hobbling on three good legs, suddenly reared up and released a piercing shriek that rattled the air. Its cry was one of fury and anguish, a sound that seemed to pierce the soul. Before Ariel could react, another shriek echoed in reply, this one coming from the stone barn behind them. The Wyvern froze mid-step, its eyes flicking toward the barn. Its expression shifted, its fierce resolve giving way to something else entirely—recognition, disbelief, and then anguish.

“They’re... talking?” Ariel whispered, her breath catching. She could see it in the Wyvern’s eyes: the sharp, emotional spark of someone hearing a loved one’s voice after far too long. “Maybe they know each other!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with wonder.

But the moment was fleeting. The Wyvern turned back to Ariel and Zed, its anger rekindled. Smoke curled thicker from its nostrils, and with a deep inhale, it exhaled a plume of flame that roared over Ariel’s head, close enough to singe her hair. The heat washed over her, searing and oppressive. She flinched, her knees nearly giving way.

“Ariel, RUN!” Beka’s voice rang out as she sprinted toward her daughter, her face pale with panic.

But Ariel didn’t move. She wasn’t frozen in fear—she was tethered by something deeper, a connection she couldn’t explain. She began to hum, a low, steady drone that resonated deep in her chest. Zed’s tense stance softened, his head tilting toward her, his confusion evident. Even the Wyvern hesitated, its claws digging into the earth as it emitted a low growl.

The hum grew louder, more deliberate, and with it came an overwhelming wave of emotion. Ariel could feel it emanating from the Wyvern like heat from a fire: fear, pain, desperation. The beast wasn’t just angry—it was terrified. It felt trapped and alone, ripped from its home, and overwhelmed by the unfamiliar world it had been thrust into.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ariel whispered, her voice trembling. She stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. “We don’t want to hurt you. What can we do to help?”

Beka reached Ariel’s side, her breaths ragged from running. She watched in stunned silence as her daughter, barely more than a child, stood face-to-face with one of the most feared creatures in the land. The connection between Ariel and the Wyvern was palpable, a living, glowing thread that Beka couldn’t see but could feel in the air.

“You hear him, don’t you?” Beka asked, tears brimming in her eyes. “Ariel, you’re connecting to him.”

Ariel nodded, her voice hushed with wonder. “He’s scared, Mom. He doesn’t want to be here. None of them do. That Wyvern in the barn—it’s his sibling.”

Beka gasped, the enormity of what her daughter was saying crashing over her. “Ariel... no one’s ever done this. No one’s ever... connected to a Wyvern.”

Before Beka could say more, a flash of light streaked through the sky. A star fragment, fired from Nick’s sling, struck the Wyvern at the base of its neck. The beast roared in agony, twisting violently and losing its balance on its injured limb. The sudden shift broke the delicate connection between Ariel and the creature. Its fury returned tenfold, and it turned toward the source of the attack.

Nick and Noah emerged from the shadows of Ember Hollows, their faces pale but determined. “Get away from them!” Nick shouted, his unicorn blade glinting in the faint light.

“STOP!” Ariel screamed, running toward them, ignoring the pain in her legs. “Stop! He’s not what you think he is!”

But the Wyvern, now seeing Nick and Noah as the aggressors, inhaled deeply and unleashed a torrent of flame that forced the two to retreat into the brush. The fire lit the forest briefly, casting eerie shadows and illuminating the beast’s enraged form.

“Tell them to stop!” Ariel cried to her mother. “We just need to understand each other! Please!”

Beka stepped forward, raising her hands. “Nick, Noah, stand down!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Listen to Ariel!”

The Wyvern, torn between its pain and the conflicting signals from those around it, crouched low, its tail thrashing. Zed, glowing brighter now, stepped forward, his hooves steady, his horn gleaming like a beacon. The two creatures were only feet apart, their breaths fogging the cool night air.

“No!” Ariel yelled, throwing herself between them. “TALK. Don’t fight. TALK!”

The Wyvern lunged, its jaws snapping inches from Zed’s side. Ariel stepped closer, placing a trembling hand on one of its horns and her other hand on Zed’s forehead. The world seemed to stop.

A surge of magic, raw and electric, coursed through Ariel. Her vision blurred as she was thrown into a whirlwind of memories—the Wyvern’s memories. She saw three young Wyverns playing in Drakeclaw Vale, their cries echoing through the cliffs. She felt the sharp pain of a trap snapping shut, the terror of being hauled away by strange men, the helplessness of being prodded and chained.

When the magic subsided, Ariel collapsed to her knees, her energy spent. The glow faded from Zed’s horn, and the Wyvern staggered back, its anger replaced by a deep, aching sorrow.

Nick rushed to Ariel’s side, unicorn blade still drawn. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

Ariel looked up at her family, her face streaked with tears. “We did this,” she sobbed. “We attacked them. We hurt them. They’re just... trying to survive.”

The Wyvern emitted a mournful cry, low and heart-wrenching, as Zed nickered softly in response. For a moment, the creatures shared an unspoken understanding, and the night fell silent once more.