Chapter 27: Allies and Enemies

The air on Eryndor shimmered with a faint hum, like the resonance of a struck bell, as Max Carter took his first steps across its alien soil. The ground beneath his boots was a mosaic of crystal and moss, glinting in hues of violet and teal under a sky streaked with twin moons. The pendant pulsed against his chest, its warmth a steady rhythm, as if greeting this new world—or warning him of it. Beside him, Lyra gripped her staff, her emerald eyes wide with wonder, while Zorin scanned the horizon, his amber gaze narrowing at the crystalline spires piercing the distance. Colonel Hughes adjusted the strap of his rifle, his weathered face set in a mask of wary focus.

"We're not on Mars anymore," Max said, his voice low, the words half-lost in the breeze that carried scents of ozone and blooming flora. "But Earth's not far behind. We need to move—find out who's here and what they know."

Lyra nodded, her staff's crystal tip glowing faintly as she tested the air. "The energy here—it's like the portal's, but stronger. The pendant's reacting to it."

Zorin tapped his staff against a crystal outcropping, the sound sharp and echoing. "If James came through, he'd have left a trail. Let's hope it's one we can follow before your Earth dogs catch up."

Hughes grunted, pointing toward the city's distant glow—a cluster of spires and domes nestled in a valley, their lights pulsing like a living heartbeat. "That's our best bet. Civilization means intel—and maybe allies."

Max squared his shoulders, the weight of leadership settling deeper with each step into the unknown. "Then we head there. Stay tight, eyes open. This isn't our turf."

The journey to the city took them through a landscape both beautiful and treacherous. Bioluminescent vines draped across crystal arches, their tendrils twitching as the team passed, as if sensing their presence. The air grew thick with mist, refracting the moons' light into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across their path. Max's pendant flared intermittently, guiding them through a maze of jagged formations, its light syncing with the faint pulse of the crystalline ground.

As they neared the city's edge, figures emerged from the mist—tall, humanoid, their skin a shimmering silver-blue, clad in flowing robes that rippled like liquid metal. Their eyes glowed softly, a pale gold, and they carried staffs topped with orbs that hummed with energy. The leader stepped forward, her voice melodic yet firm, speaking in a tongue that twisted like wind through reeds.

Lyra frowned, then raised her staff, its crystal flaring as she responded in halting Martian dialect. The leader tilted her head, then switched to a language Max could grasp—English, accented but clear. "You bear the Light of the Ancients," she said, her gaze locking on the pendant. "I am Veyra, Sentinel of Eryndor. Why have you crossed the bridge?"

Max held up the pendant, its glow steady. "I'm Max Carter. We're from Mars, fleeing Earth's forces. This led us here—my brother might've come before me. We need answers, and maybe help."

Veyra's eyes narrowed, studying the team. "The Light is known to us—a relic of the Makers, lost to time. If you wield it, you are either blessed or cursed. Come. The Council will decide."

The city, called Lirathen, was a marvel of crystal and light. Towers spiraled upward, their surfaces alive with shifting patterns, while hovering platforms ferried Eryndorians through the air. Veyra led them to a domed chamber at the city's heart, where the Council awaited—five figures seated in a semicircle, their robes adorned with glowing sigils. The air thrummed with power, the pendant's pulse quickening as Max faced them.

The central councilor, an elder named Tharion, leaned forward, his voice deep and resonant. "The Light of the Ancients has returned. Speak your purpose."

Max recounted their tale—the war on Mars, Earth's invasion, James' disappearance, and the portal's activation. Lyra added details of the pendant's power, while Zorin and Hughes stood silent, their presence a quiet show of strength. The Council listened, their expressions unreadable, until Tharion raised a hand.

"Your war is not ours," he said. "But the Light binds us. The Makers forged it to guard the bridges—the gates linking worlds. Earth's hunger threatens all. We will aid you, but you must aid us. Our eastern kin, the Drayith, wage war on our borders, wielding stolen Maker tech. End their raids, and our knowledge is yours."

Max exchanged glances with his team. Lyra's jaw tightened, Zorin smirked faintly, and Hughes gave a curt nod. "Deal," Max said. "Point us at the Drayith, and we'll handle it."

Veyra guided them to a barracks, equipping them with Eryndorian gear—lightweight armor that shimmered like their robes, and orbs that projected energy shields. As they prepared, Lyra pulled Max aside, her voice low. "This feels too easy. They're desperate—why?"

Max frowned, the pendant warm against his chest. "Maybe they're scared. If James came through, he might've stirred something up. We'll find out soon enough."

The mission began at dawn, Veyra leading them across Eryndor's plains toward the Drayith's stronghold—a fortress of black crystal embedded in a cliff face. The team moved swiftly, their new shields deflecting stray energy blasts as Drayith scouts ambushed them. Max's spear danced with shadows, Lyra's light seared through foes, Zorin's staff crushed armor, and Hughes' rifle picked off stragglers with precision.

But as they breached the fortress, chaos erupted within their ranks. Zorin froze mid-strike, his amber eyes widening as a Drayith warrior stepped forward—a female, her staff mirroring his, her voice sharp with recognition. "Brother," she hissed. "You'd fight your own blood for these outsiders?"

Max spun, spear raised. "Zorin—what the hell?"

Zorin's grip tightened, his voice raw. "Kalia. I thought you were dead—lost when the village fell."

Kalia sneered, her staff flaring. "I survived. Joined the Drayith to take back what's ours. You betrayed us, Zorin—siding with Mars, now this?"

Lyra stepped between them, light pulsing. "Zorin's with us. Stand down, or we end this."

But Zorin wavered, his staff lowering, doubt clouding his eyes. The Drayith seized the moment, surging forward, their weapons blazing. Max shouted, shadows lashing out, but a blast caught Hughes, sending him crashing against the wall. Lyra's light flared, shielding them, but the fortress trembled, crystal cracking under the strain.

"Zorin, decide!" Max roared, spear blocking a strike aimed at his chest. "With us or against us!"

Zorin's gaze locked on Kalia, then Max, torment twisting his features. With a guttural cry, he swung his staff, not at Max, but at Kalia's weapon, shattering its orb. She recoiled, fury blazing, but he turned, joining Lyra's defense, his staff a blur against the Drayith.

The battle tipped, Max's team driving the Drayith back, their leader retreating into the fortress depths. Hughes rose, grimacing, clutching his side, but alive. As silence fell, Zorin knelt, breathing hard, his staff planted in the ground.

Max approached, voice firm but not harsh. "You good?"

Zorin nodded, eyes shadowed. "She's my sister, Max. But you're my family now. I chose."

Lyra rested a hand on his shoulder, her touch steadying. "We all have pasts. It's what we do now that matters."

Veyra emerged from the chaos, her orb dimmed but intact. "The Drayith are broken—for now. You've earned our trust."

Max wiped sweat from his brow, the pendant's light steadying. "Then let's get back to Lirathen. I want answers—about James, the Makers, all of it."

As they withdrew, the twin moons cast long shadows over the battlefield, the pendant's pulse a quiet promise of more trials ahead. Zorin's choice had held them together, but the cracks of doubt lingered. Earth loomed on the horizon, and Eryndor's secrets were only beginning to unravel.

----