The Sinful Young Master

Jolthar's piercing gaze settled on the enigmatic figure before him. He asked with a mixture of caution and curiosity, "And who are you exactly?"

The woman straightened, her golden eyes holding an ancient wisdom that seemed to peer into the very depths of his soul.

"I am Nytheria," she began, her voice calm yet resonating with a subtle power. "A being unbound by land, tied to no single place, but rather a watcher and a guardian of balance."

As she spoke, the brilliance around her began to shift. The ethereal form she had taken melted away like mist under sunlight, leaving behind a figure that appeared entirely human.

She now stood before Jolthar as a stunningly beautiful woman, seemingly in her forties, her features exuding maturity and grace. Her sharp, angular jawline softened by her almond-shaped eyes, which flickered like molten gold, hinted at her otherworldly origins despite her mortal guise.

Nytheria continued, her tone growing urgent, "We cannot linger here. These woods are no longer safe, not with creatures like that prowling. Their presence heralds far greater dangers."

"And the one earlier, I just pushed it back; it may come back again, so we need to make a move, and I can answer your questions later."

Jolthar studied her for a moment, weighing her words. Something about her presence reassured him; there was no deceit in her voice, no flicker of dishonesty in her posture. She seemed genuine—a rarity in his tumultuous life.

After a quick thought, he gave a curt nod and gestured toward his drake, its sleek, powerful frame waiting obediently nearby.

As Jolthar climbed onto the drake, Nytheria followed, her form shifting slightly once more.

The human vessel she inhabited seemed to adjust subtly to accommodate her power—her height now matched his, her shoulders broad and her physique strong, though her appearance retained its refined elegance. It was as though her mortal form recalibrated to ensure it could hold the immense energy contained within her.

The drake snorted as Nytheria settled behind Jolthar, its instincts alert to the unusual power she emanated, though it didn't resist her presence.

Jolthar gripped the reins, guiding the beast out of the clearing.

The woods, thick with shadows, seemed to whisper threats that the two left unchallenged. The darkness lingered like a beast in waiting, ready to consume them.

Jolthar urged the drake to move faster. It was the second time he felt such dread in the last few days, that creature and the darkness it brought out with it; it was like a strange, eerie sensation to him.

As they soared out of Alariden Woods, Jolthar couldn't help but glance over his shoulder at Nytheria. There were so many questions swirling in his mind, but he bit them back for now. Her presence raised countless mysteries, but the urgency of their escape demanded silence. He would question her later when they were no longer under threat.

The drake's powerful strides carried them swiftly, its wings folded tightly along its flanks as it galloped like a storm across the rugged terrain. The thick canopy of trees soon thinned, giving way to rolling plains under the moonlit sky.

Jolthar guided the drake with precision, his destination clear—Baroness Cleora's estate. He needed a place now, and Nora was the key to solidifying the next phase of his plans.

This wasn't a decision made on a whim or in a fit of anger. Jolthar had left the clan deliberately, knowing full well what it meant. It was time to carve out his own destiny. His ambitions extended far beyond revenge.

He would establish his own territory, a sanctuary where he could build his strength, gather his allies, and prepare for the trials that lay ahead. The clan's power was fading, its glory tarnished by time and misdeeds.

Jolthar had no intention of restoring it; he aimed to surpass it entirely.

Nytheria sat silently behind him, her gaze scanning the horizon as if watching for unseen threats. The drake's rhythmic movement lulled the tension slightly, though Jolthar's thoughts remained sharp.

The ride was long but uninterrupted. Jolthar's thoughts ran back to the meeting.

Jolthar hadn't expected Caelum to utter those words earlier, but they lingered in his mind for a fleeting moment before he dismissed them entirely.

It didn't matter.

Jolthar would do as he always did—follow his own path, regardless of what others thought or said. Riding through the changing landscapes, his resolve remained steadfast.

After several hours, they finally arrived at the outskirts of the barony of Tekkora, a region now governed by Baroness Cleora.

The town lay nestled against rolling hills, its stone buildings bearing the scars of time but exuding a humble charm.

As Jolthar and Nytheria approached, it was not the towering figure of the drake that drew the first murmurs of attention, but rather the immense presence Jolthar himself carried.

However, the drake—massive, with its sinewy muscles and sleek, scaled hide—soon became the focal point of the townspeople's wide-eyed stares.

The creature strode slowly through the cobbled streets, its wings tucked against its flanks, each step resonating with a faint tremor. Jolthar walked alongside it, his steady gait in stark contrast to the flurry of whispers and gasps around him. He reached the centre of the town where now people have gathered.

The momentary stillness was broken by a sudden cry, high-pitched and filled with childish joy:

"Big brother!"

Jolthar turned sharply, his keen eyes scanning the bustling street.

A small figure darted through the throng, her laughter cutting through the tension like a ray of light. He recognised her instantly—it was Mira, the little girl he had rescued in the mines. She had grown slightly, her cheeks fuller, her complexion radiant with health, a far cry from the frail, soot-covered child he had pulled from the darkness.

Kneeling to her level, Jolthar allowed himself a rare, genuine smile. "You remember me?" he asked softly.

Mira's eyes sparkled as she nodded fervently. "Of course! Big brother saved me and Mama that day!"

Before he could respond, Mira's mother appeared, hurrying after her daughter with an anxious expression. Her gaze darted nervously between Jolthar, his drake, and Nytheria, whose poised, otherworldly demeanour only added to the townspeople's unease.

The massive creature beside them, with its hulking body and intimidating presence, had stirred whispers of fear among the gathered crowd.

Mira's mother called out, "Mira! Come here at once!" Her voice trembled slightly, her eyes wide as they lingered on the drake's imposing figure.

Sensing the growing tension, Jolthar turned to reassure her. "It's all right," he said, his voice calm but firm. "The drake won't harm anyone unless provoked."

But before Mira's mother could reply, another voice rang out, sharp and tinged with playful sarcasm.

"Well, if it isn't the great Kaezhlar clan's young master."

Jolthar straightened, turning toward the source of the voice. Striding toward him with an air of confidence was Nora, Baroness Cleora's daughter. She folded her arms as she approached, her gaze flicking between Jolthar, the drake, and Nytheria with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.

Mira, still clinging to Jolthar's pant leg, immediately recognised her.

"Sister Nora!" she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she began recounting the events of her rescue. The little girl's words tumbled out in a breathless rush, her admiration for Jolthar shining through every syllable. She thought Nora didn't like Jolthar as the way Nora looked at Jolthar and started talking about him.

Jolthar, sensing Mira's growing energy, lifted her into his arms with ease, holding her securely against his left side. "Calm down, Mira," he said with a chuckle.

"You're going to tire yourself out."

Nora's frown deepened as she stopped a few steps away. "How have you been, Miss Nora?" Jolthar asked, his tone polite but laced with the faintest hint of teasing.

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice clipped.

"But what are you doing here?"

Mira's mother, still standing nearby, hesitated before calling out again. "Mira, come to me." But the little girl shook her head stubbornly, clutching Jolthar's tunic with tiny, determined fists.

Jolthar sighed, shifting his grip on Mira. "She's fine with me," he assured her mother before turning his attention back to Nora.

"What's wrong? Am I unwelcome here?" His lips curled into a half-smile, but his tone carried a note of challenge.

Before Nora could muster a response, Mira chirped brightly, "Big brother is always welcome in our town!" Her declaration was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, drawing a few chuckles from onlookers.

Jolthar laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to lighten the atmosphere. "You heard her," he said, raising an eyebrow at Nora. "Seems like I have at least one ally here."

Nora sighed, exasperated but unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Fine," she said, gesturing for him to follow her. "Let's get you inside before you cause any more of a scene."

Jolthar nodded, his expression growing serious as he turned to guide the drake toward the shop. Behind him, Mira chattered excitedly in his ear, her mother trailing hesitantly, while Nora walked ahead, her sharp gaze flicking back occasionally to assess the strange pair Jolthar and Nytheria made.