Chapter 20

Feyn turned around in his plush bed, the ceiling above seemingly more fascinating than ever. Even though Raybarn immediately succumbed to the embrace of sleep when he had returned from his undisclosed meeting, Feyn's mind raced with yesterday's events, refusing him the same comfort. He desperately wanted to connect the dots of everything that had unfolded, hoping to unveil a revelation that would awe Nerath, Naegissa, and, most importantly, his father. But doubt lingered, reminding him of the towering reputations of the academicians he hoped to impress.

As Feyn continued to drift in his thoughts, he barely registered the slight movement from his father's bed. Before he could react, a familiar yet unexpected sensation—a small prick—distracted him. He watched a minute orb of light dissipate into the shadows. A smile played on his lips, recognizing this playful gesture, a signature move of Raybarn's from their countless bonding moments.

Glancing at his father, Feyn saw Raybarn, apparently deep in slumber. Believing he had the upper paw, Feyn conjured a retaliation, a shimmering projectile aimed straight at his unsuspecting father. However, just as it was about to make contact, Raybarn's eyes snapped open. With a deft move of his wing, he deflected Feyn's playful assault.

Raybarn's smirk was evident even in the dim light. "You'll need to sharpen your skills if you hope to best me, my boy. The score's eighteen to one now."

Feyn's grin matched his father's. "I missed being by your side today, Dad. Who did you meet with?"

Raybarn's expression softened. "I know, Feyn. Some matters just required my attention, and regarding who I met, you'll know in due time. But tell me," he shifted to a more comfortable position, giving Feyn his full attention, "what did you uncover in my absence?"

Feyn's excitement bubbled over, and he sprang from his bed, pacing energetically as he began recounting the day's discoveries to his father.

"Firstly," Feyn began, pacing fervently, "we established that the spirit's magical signature remained intact."

Raybarn raised a brow. "Untouched?"

"Completely. There's no evidence of meddling or signs that anyone tried to manipulate its core essence. It's baffling and quite unprecedented."

Raybarn frowned in contemplation. "Then what's triggering its erratic behavior? There must be a reason."

Feyn's stride became more animated. "Ah, that's the fascinating part, Dad." Raybarn's eyes lit up at his son's enthusiasm, seeing reflections of his younger self, back when discoveries were fresh and every theory a new adventure. "Continue," he urged.

When Feyn mentioned the spirit's terror, a ripple of intrigue danced across Raybarn's countenance. His eyes, pools of shadow and light, sparkled with curiosity beneath the heavy brow that furrowed with concern. "Terror? Truly?" His voice, a low rumble, resonated with a mixture of disbelief and fascination.

Feyn nodded eagerly, his mane bristling with excitement. "Yes! While this is based on preliminary observations, the academicians are quite confident in this analysis." His voice, though steady, carried a hint of urgency, mirroring the specificity of his discovery.

Raybarn's response was measured, his nod conveying both acknowledgment and a thirst for more information. "Anything else of note?" He asked, punctuated by the rhythmic tapping of his front paw against the floor.

As Feyn hesitated, his movements betrayed the internal struggle to articulate his thoughts. His tail, a slender whip of fur, flicked nervously behind him, betraying his inner turmoil. "I developed a theory regarding the nature of the spirit's corruption." His voice, though soft, held a quiet determination.

Raybarn leaned in, his posture mirroring his son's intensity. "Go on," he encouraged, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"I surmise that the corruption within the spirit has reached the second degree." Feyn's gaze never wavered as he spoke, his eyes seeking validation from his father.

Raybarn's response was a measured inhale, a pause that hung heavy in the air. "What did Nerath and Naegissa make of this?" His words were laden with the weight of experience, tempered by a genuine desire to understand.

"They concurred. My observations were on point. And the best part? I actively assisted in the spirit's magical assessment." Feyn's voice, tinged with pride, carried a note of triumph as he shared his achievements with his father.

Raybarn's stern facade melted away, replaced by a proud smile that softened the lines of his face. He approached Feyn, drawing him into a gentle embrace that spoke volumes of paternal pride. "You've outdone yourself, Feyn. If you keep this up, you'll surpass me as an academician." His words, though spoken softly, carried the weight of a legacy passed down through generations.

Feyn's humility shone through as he pulled back slightly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "Dad, you've set quite a standard. Matching up to you is a daunting task." His words, though humble, resonated with a determination to carve out his own path in the world of academia.

Raybarn's touch was gentle yet firm as he cradled Feyn's face with his wings, ensuring their eyes locked in a shared moment of connection. In the dim glow of the moonlight, their alicorn features were cast in a soft, ethereal light, accentuating the bond between father and son.

"Feyn, I've had my time. But your potential? It's boundless. Your journey has only just begun, and I've no doubt you'll soar beyond my achievements." Raybarn's voice, a melodic rumble, carried a note of genuine pride as he spoke, his wings enfolding Feyn in a protective embrace.

As Feyn's eyes welled up with emotion, Raybarn gave him a playful nudge, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "After all, we need some edge against the ladies in our lives, don't we?" His words were tinged with humor, a lightness that hid the weight of their conversation, and he punctuated them with a playful wink.

Feyn chuckled softly, the sound a warm counterpoint to the seriousness of their discussion. "We certainly do," he agreed, his voice carrying a hint of fondness for their female family members. But as he cleared his throat, the levity of the moment gave way to the gravity of their discoveries.

"Presently, we've observed that the magic's impact is notably evident on the mind." Feyn's tone was measured, his words weighted with the implications of their findings.

Raybarn furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to one of deep contemplation. "There haven't been any physical manifestations or injuries?"

"Strangely, no. Any harm observed stems from the individuals under its influence. They seem to inflict damage upon themselves, not as a direct result of the external force." Feyn's observations were clinical, his analysis devoid of emotion as he relayed the facts to his father.

Raybarn's expression darkened, his thoughts racing as he processed the information. "This new insight aligns with certain pieces I've been attempting to put together." His words carried a weighty significance, hinting at knowledge beyond the scope of their current discussion.

Feyn's keen gaze lingered on his father, a silent question hanging in the air. "What are you thinking, Dad?"

Raybarn offered a reassuring smile, though it did little to dispel the uncertainty in Feyn's eyes. "Nothing for you to fret over, Feyn. Trust me."

But Feyn's skepticism was evident, his gaze probing as he sought reassurance. "Are you certain? You seem…preoccupied."

Raybarn's smile softened, a glimmer of affection shining in his eyes. "All will be revealed in due time," he promised, his voice steady with conviction.

As Feyn turned away, a fleeting thought snagged his attention, prompting him to pivot back toward his father with a sense of urgency. The outside light cast intricate patterns across the room, illuminating the subtle contours of their alicorn forms as they engaged in their discourse.

"Oh, there's another peculiar detail," Feyn interjected, his voice carrying a note of intrigue that mirrored the flickering shadows dancing across the walls.

Raybarn, ever the attentive listener, leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What might that be?"

"It concerns Naegissa," Feyn began, noting the immediate shift in Raybarn's demeanor at the mention of her name. "Her reaction to today's revelations was…atypical, to say the least."

"In what manner?" Raybarn's voice, a steady rumble, betrayed a hint of concern beneath its measured tone.

Feyn proceeded to recount the events, his words punctuated by the rhythmic tapping of his front paw against the floor. "She summoned the trio of Protectors responsible for the spirit's retrieval. At first, her fury was unmistakable. She interrogated them with a palpable intensity."

Raybarn nodded knowingly, his expression a mask of contemplation. "Sounds characteristic of her."

"Indeed," Feyn agreed, his gaze unwavering. "But the anomaly arose when they corroborated my hypothesis regarding the second-degree corruption. Her anger vanished instantaneously, replaced by an unreadable expression. It's unlike her to change so drastically."

Raybarn's brow furrowed in thought, the furrowed lines casting intricate patterns in the moonlight. "Curious," he murmured, his mind undoubtedly turning over the implications of Naegissa's behavior.

Raybarn, contemplative, moved toward the window, observing the bustling activity of the alicorns below. His thoughts seemingly miles away.

As Raybarn stood, consumed by the unfolding panorama outside the window, Feyn approached him cautiously, sensing the depth of his father's contemplation. Raybarn's usually lucid and piercing gaze seemed distant, his mind clearly processing myriad thoughts.

The information about Naegissa's unexpected shift in demeanor wasn't just intriguing for Raybarn—it was alarming. While the revelations about the spirit and its untampered magical signature were undoubtedly significant, it was Naegissa's reaction to Feyn's theory that deeply unsettled Raybarn. He had admired Naegissa's sharp intellect and unwavering demeanor, but the sudden change in her behavior was uncharacteristic, to say the least.

Raybarn's pride in Feyn's astute insights was palpable. Yet, there was also a hint of regret. If Feyn hadn't shared his observations with Naegissa, perhaps she wouldn't have turned her scrutinizing gaze toward him. Raybarn's instincts as a seasoned researcher told him to approach the situation analytically, dissecting each nuance to discern the truth. However, the paternal instinct within him overpowered all else. All he wanted was to shield Feyn from any unforeseen complications or dangers that might arise from this predicament.

Raybarn fixed his gaze on Feyn, his eyes intense and earnest. "Listen closely, Feyn. The information I'm about to share with you must never leave this room. It stays between us. Understood?" The gravity in Raybarn's tone was unlike anything Feyn had heard before, and it immediately set him on edge.

"I understand, Dad," Feyn replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You must swear it, Feyn."

"I swear, Dad. I swear," he responded without hesitation.

Raybarn took a deep breath, steeling himself. "The enigmatic alicorn I met was none other than Her Majesty Python." Feyn's eyes bulged in disbelief. He had imagined many possibilities, but meeting the Queen of Arcane had not been one of them.

"You…you met the queen?" Feyn stammered, attempting to process the weight of the revelation.

"Yes, and it is crucial that this remains a secret. No one, absolutely no one, should learn of this."

"I won't utter a word, Dad."

Raybarn's eyes softened, "I trust you, Feyn. I always have. My priority is to ensure your safety."

"What do you mean by that, Dad? What's happening?"

Raybarn hesitated for a moment, "I pray you never have to find out. But for now, there's a critical task I need you to undertake." Feyn's posture straightened, ready to assist in any capacity. But what came next was not what he expected. "You must leave Alykarn and deliver a message to King Fulmen. As the son of Leyla and I, it shouldn't be difficult to convince the High-Priestesses to have an audience with him."

Feyn's initial eagerness faded as if a shadow had passed over his face, darkening the bright spark in his eyes. The thought of being away from his father, especially during such uncertain times, sent a pang of sorrow through his heart.

Every fiber of Feyn's being rebelled against the notion, like iron repelling a lodestone, resisting the pull of separation. Yet, beneath the surface tumult of his emotions, a sense of duty asserted itself, weighing heavy upon his shoulders. He grasped the gravity of the task before him, understanding the significance it held, particularly given the esteemed recipient of his missive—the very King of Fulmenia.

With a laden sigh, Feyn subdued the rising tide of his conflicting emotions, his countenance a tableau of subdued resignation. His face, etched with the lines of solemn contemplation, betrayed the storm of thoughts and feelings churning within him. And with a reluctant nod, he acquiesced his acceptance, a testament to the burden he bore and the path he must tread.

Raybarn handed him a shimmering communication crystal. "The message is sealed within. Only the king can access it. It's attuned to his unique magical signature." Feyn took the crystal, its intricate facets gleaming under the dim light, and stored it with utmost care. Sensing his son's unease, Raybarn approached him, laying a reassuring paw on his shoulder. "Remember, it seeks him and only him."

Feyn's gaze remained burdened, his eyes echoing the depth of emotion churning within him. Sensing his son's inner turmoil, Raybarn drew him into a tender, reassuring embrace. The younger alicorn leaned into the comfort of his father's touch, soaking in the fleeting moment of warmth and safety.

"Always remember this, Feyn," Raybarn began, his voice soft and earnest, "Every day, I am in awe of the alicorn you've become and the one you're still evolving into. The potential I see in you goes beyond what I've ever achieved. You have the makings of not just a good researcher but an exceptional one."

Tears shimmered in Feyn's eyes as they met his father's. He took a moment, then gently withdrew from the embrace. The weight of the task before him loomed large. "Is there something I need to do before going back to Fulmenia?"

Raybarn's affirmative nod only intensified Feyn's curiosity. "Your path leads to Aemna, our capital. And before going there…go back to the Guild Inn and ask for your examiner already. It's sooner than expected, but that way, you'll already be able to learn to be a Protector and, in the meantime, hire them to escort you during your journey."

The mention of his examiner seemed to ignite a newfound resolve in Feyn. He leaned in, wrapping his father in another heartfelt embrace. "Alright, I'll do just that. I love you, Dad."

The elder alicorn's voice quivered slightly as he replied, "And my heart holds endless love for you, too, my son."

Taking a deep breath, Feyn declared, "I must begin my journey, then." He swiftly gathered a few essentials and, with a mix of determination and melancholy, exited the room, ready to fulfill his newfound purpose.

Raybarn's gaze turned upward, searching the vastness of the sky that began a new day. The sun, a magnificent celestial entity brought to life by Python, started to cast its radiant glow upon Equestera. For a fleeting moment, it offered Raybarn a semblance of peace. He watched the beginning of the sun's dance, lost in the rhythmic ebb and flow of its brilliance, but eventually, a profound sigh escaped him. He left the sanctuary of his room.

The corridors of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn bustled with youthful alicorns, each brimming with fervor, eager to cement their place to prove their prowess. Their ambitions were palpable, their desires evident in every stride. Raybarn couldn't help but let a wistful smile cross his face, memories flooding back of a time when he, too, sought acknowledgment in those very halls.

With each step, Raybarn's paws echoed a rhythmic beat, punctuating his resolute march toward one of the hearts of the Academy—the Arcane section library. His eyes scanned the vast cathedral-like room, with its towering shelves casting elongated shadows on the mosaic floor, hoping to find Nerath and Naegissa absorbed in their scholarly pursuits. But the dancing candlelight revealed only one figure amidst the rows of parchment and ink. Naegissa, with her raven-black mane cascading down, sat poised, her hoof delicately tracing lines of an arcanic script.

Drawing a steadying breath, Raybarn addressed her, every word weighted with intent. "Naegissa," he began, allowing a hint of softness to lace his otherwise stern tone, "Where might I find Nerath?"

Without breaking her connection with the tome, as if entranced by its words, she answered in a voice as smooth as velvet, "She's deep within the lab, tending to the newly discovered spirit."

Undeterred by her initial aloofness, Raybarn strode closer, the pools of light from overhead chandeliers reflecting in his earnest eyes. "I've been contemplating a venture," he declared, choosing his words with care. "A journey to the location where the spirit was found. I believe it would be beneficial to witness it firsthand. Your insights would be invaluable. Care to accompany me?"

The weight of his proposal hung in the air, causing even the dust motes to seem suspended in time. Naegissa, her demeanor typically cloaked in suspicion, paused. The rhythm of her breathing was the sole sound, almost synchronized with the flickering candle flames. Then, with a graceful movement, she closed her tome, and her face was lit by a smile that danced between mischief and mystery. "Such an adventure holds allure," she mused, her voice tinged with anticipation. "It promises to be intriguing. Count me in."

As they moved toward the Storm wing's magical circle, side by side, their mutual determination created an aura of unspoken camaraderie. Raybarn's gaze momentarily rested on Naegissa, and the memory of Feyn's observation echoed in his mind. Her smile, a beguiling juxtaposition of allure and menace, held him captive. It was a bewitching vision, but one that hinted at depths of enigma, like a serene lake hiding treacherous undercurrents.

As the pair ventured into the twilight beyond, a palpable tension embraced them, a prelude to the tempest of uncertainty that lurked ahead, waiting to unfurl its mysteries.

***

After a journey that seemed to stretch into eternity, Feyn finally reached the Guild Inn of Alykarn. With a tentative push, he entered the establishment, his steps muted by the raucous revelry that filled the air. The clamor of Protectors, lost in their merriment, drowned out any sound he might have made upon entry.

Navigating through the bustling throng of alicorns, Feyn managed to reach the receptionist's desk without incident. "Excuse me?" he ventured, his voice barely audible above the din.

Noticing his presence, the receptionist, a small, gray-furred Pythonian, turned her attention to him with a warm smile. "Hello, mister! How can I help you?" she inquired, her tone friendly despite the chaos around them.

"I'm looking to hire a Protector to become my examiner and, in the meantime, to escort me to Aemna for an important and urgent private mission," Feyn explained, his voice tinged with shyness but bolstered by determination.

The receptionist's expression shifted to one of surprise. "Oh! I see. Unfortunately, many of the high-ranked Protectors are currently occupied with other duties or already have disciples," she lamented, her apology evident in her gaze.

Before Feyn could respond, the receptionist's gaze flicked toward a lone alicorn seated at a nearby table, engrossed in reading a parchment. "Wait a moment, mister. There might be someone available," she said, her eyes alight with newfound hope. "Follow me, and you can speak with her directly about your situation."

Heart pounding like a war drum, Feyn trailed behind the Pythonian receptionist, his nerves jangling with anticipation. They approached a table where a formidable figure sat, engrossed in a parchment. Feyn's gaze swept over the Virtusian before him—an alicorn of silver fur and a mane of metallic blue—a seasoned Protector, unmistakably. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her presence bearing down upon him.

"Lady Velzael, I've brought a potential client for you," the receptionist announced before retreating to her duties, leaving Feyn to face the formidable Protector alone.

Velzael continued reading, seemingly unperturbed by their presence. Feyn stood before her, a mere mortal in the shadow of her prowess, his pulse thrumming with the urgency of his mission.

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the din of the Inn. Feyn struggled to find his voice, his tongue heavy with the weight of his apprehension.

Finally, Velzael rolled up her parchment and cast a penetrating gaze upon him. "So? What do you want?" she demanded, her sapphire eyes boring into his soul like twin daggers.

Feyn found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Velzael, his front paws rubbing together nervously. "Um…well, I need to hire you for a highly urgent mission to Aemna," he stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Velzael's reaction was swift and decisive. "Ah! Perfect timing. I'm headed there myself," she declared, slamming her pint down on the table with a force that sent beer sloshing over the rim. "But what's the mission, and what's the pay?"

Feyn's anxiety began to ease in the face of Velzael's enthusiasm, rough though it may be. "I have an important message for King Fulmen, but there's more to it—"

"Alright, my guy," Velzael cut in, rising from her seat. "No need to spill the beans. I'm guessing this is top-secret stuff. I'm Velzael of Beltodir, Ruby-ranked Bounty Hunter. You can call me Vel." With a confident smile, she extended her right hoof, expecting Feyn to reciprocate the greeting.

The young Fulmenian hesitated briefly, unsure of the protocol, before joining his paw to her hoof in greeting. "I'm Feyn…from Aemna, I suppose?" he offered tentatively.

"Ah, not familiar with Virtusian customs, are you? We just mention our hometowns," Velzael explained, her demeanor relaxed despite the urgency of their mission. "Anyway, if you're ready, let's hit the road!"

With a sense of urgency that left Feyn reeling, he followed Velzael out of the Guild Inn, the clink of coins on the table marking her swift departure.

Feyn struggled to keep pace with Velzael as they traversed the bustling streets of Alykarn, the Virtusian's long strides leaving him breathless. "Wait up, Miss Velzael," he gasped, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Vel, remember? I told you," she reminded him, forging ahead without a backward glance, heedless of Feyn's struggle to keep pace.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the city gates, Feyn trailing behind, his breath ragged. Velzael cast a scrutinizing glance at him, her eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Aren't Fulmenians supposed to be swift? Especially with those 'speed' paws of yours," she remarked, gesturing to his canine front limbs with a pointed hoof.

Feyn took a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Let's just say I'm not as seasoned as you are," he managed between gasps. "Not yet, at least."

"Oh? You want to be a Protector?" Velzael's grin was sly, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"And I'd like to hire you as my examiner," Feyn added, mustering his resolve and meeting her gaze head-on.

But his determination wavered as Velzael's expression shifted, her smile vanishing to be replaced by a steely glare. "Me? Your examiner?" she echoed, her tone heavy with a foreboding weight.

This time, Feyn stood his ground, his gaze unwavering as he sought to meet Velzael's formidable stare. "With just one glance, I could tell you're a formidable Protector," he stated, his tone solemn. "So yes, I want you as my examiner."

Velzael closed the distance between them with a deliberate, predatory grace. "Do you truly believe you're worthy of being my disciple?" Her voice held the same weighty intensity as before, challenging Feyn to prove himself.

As Velzael drew near, Feyn couldn't help but notice the sheer size and muscular body she possessed. Yet, he refused to yield, drawing strength from memories of pranking his even more formidable sister. He held his ground, unflinching in the face of her imposing presence.

Having witnessed his sister's training under their mother's tutelage, Feyn understood the importance of demonstrating his abilities to Velzael. Though a twinge of fear tugged at his resolve, he masked it with a facade of confidence. "Try me," he replied, his smile strained but determined.