Chapter 89: Descending From Wyvern Hills

The valley quieted as the winds settled for a brief respite, though the tension remained thick as molasses.

Alaric and Rosalind moved cautiously, winding their way through the thorny fields of azure lilies, whose delicate petals glimmered faintly even in the shadow of the Wyvern Hills.

The air still hummed with the residue of dark magic, though the cultists themselves had scattered, licking their wounds after the sabotage.

“Let’s not linger too long,” Rosalind muttered, brushing an errant lock of crimson hair from her face. Her purple eyes flickered with lingering wariness as they surveyed their surroundings. “Those Phantom Assembly lunatics might circle back, and I’m not exactly eager to test our luck.”

“Relax, Rosie.” Alaric flashed her a cocky grin, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light. “We outsmarted them once, didn’t we? If they’re stupid enough to return, I’ll just introduce them to my Frozen Barrage.”

Rosalind rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched into a small smile. “I swear, you’d pick a fight with a wyvern if it so much as sneezed in your direction.”

“Not true,” Alaric replied breezily. “I’d only fight it if it sneezed on you.”

She snorted softly, though a faint blush colored her cheeks as she looked away. “Charming.”

Alaric let the teasing go—for now—and gestured toward the hills looming ahead.

The three herbs they needed were scattered across treacherous ground: tucked between thorny cliffs, dangling precariously from ledges, or hidden among jagged rocks where wyverns had made their nests.

The combination of violent winds and territorial beasts made the task ten times harder than it needed to be.

“Alright,” Alaric said, slowing their pace as they reached a narrow path bordered by brittle stone walls. “We split up and—”

“No,” Rosalind interrupted firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. “You are not leaving me to deal with wyverns on my own, Alaric.”

Alaric grinned. “Fine, fine. Team effort, then.”

“That’s more like it,” Rosalind muttered, though her gaze softened just a little.

~~

The path was more perilous than either of them anticipated. The winds, once a distant howl, now roared with such ferocity that each step felt like a battle. Loose stones skittered across the ground, kicked up by sharp gusts, and Alaric instinctively reached out to steady Rosalind as she stumbled. His hands found purchase on her waist, fingers brushing the curve of her hips through the fabric of her cloak.

“Careful there,” he said casually, though he lingered longer than necessary. “Wind’s a real bastard today.”

Rosalind shot him a sidelong glance, though she didn’t pull away. “You’re lucky I don’t slap you.”

“But you like it when I catch you,” Alaric teased, his voice low.

Rosalind flushed but didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she pointed ahead toward a ledge where faint glimmers of blue light shone through the mist. “There. That looks like one of the herbs.”

Alaric squinted, his sharp vision cutting through the haze. “You’re right. Looks like Windshade Lavender—stubborn little things. They only grow in high winds.”

“And wyvern nests,” Rosalind added dryly. “Because of course they do.”

Reaching the lavender was no small feat. The ledge was narrow, and the winds howled mercilessly around them, threatening to send them both plummeting to the valley floor. Alaric led the way, his blonde hair whipping around his face as he crouched low for balance. Rosalind followed carefully, her fingers gripping the stone wall as she muttered under her breath about “suicidal mages.”

When they finally reached the herbs, Alaric conjured a Flame Orb to light the ledge. Sure enough, the Windshade Lavender sprouted in tight clusters, their petals shimmering like liquid sapphire under the fire’s glow.

“Watch my back,” Alaric said, already kneeling to carefully pluck the plants. “The last thing we need is a wyvern deciding we’re its next meal.”

“Trust me, I’ll scream loud enough to warn you,” Rosalind muttered, though she kept her Wind Sphere spell at the ready. The swirling currents of air formed around her hands, humming with restrained power.

As Alaric worked, he caught sight of a shadow shifting across the mist. His instincts screamed at him to move. “Rosie—!”

A deafening screech split the air as a wyvern swooped down, its wings cutting through the wind with thunderous force. Rosalind reacted immediately, launching a Gale Lance straight at the creature’s face. The spell struck true, disrupting the wyvern’s flight enough for it to veer off course, though it circled back with fury gleaming in its golden eyes.

“Get the herbs!” Rosalind shouted, spinning to face the beast head-on. She summoned twin Wind Blades, the sharp currents of air swirling around her hands as she prepared to fight.

Alaric swore under his breath. He stuffed the last of the lavender into his bag before rising to his feet. “Rosalind, move!”

Before she could argue, Alaric thrust his hands forward, summoning a torrent of freezing energy. “Frozen Barrage!” Shards of razor-sharp ice erupted in a wide arc, pelting the wyvern’s wings and forcing it back with an angry screech. Its scales crackled with frost, and it struggled to maintain altitude.

“It’s still coming!” Rosalind warned, her voice sharp.

“Not for long.” Alaric’s eyes glowed faintly as he clenched his fist. “Glacier Spike.”

A massive spear of ice erupted from the ground, impaling the wyvern’s wing and pinning it against the cliffside. The creature roared in pain, its tail thrashing as frost spread across its scales. Alaric’s chest heaved, but his red eyes shone with satisfaction.

“That should keep it busy,” he muttered.

Rosalind stared at him, her expression caught between awe and irritation. “You really like showing off, don’t you?”

“I aim to impress,” Alaric replied smugly, though his fingers brushed hers as he led her back toward safer ground. “Let’s move before its friends show up.”

~~

The second herb—Emberroot Blossom—proved equally challenging. It grew only near the base of the hills where lava vents bubbled and spewed plumes of molten rock. The ground here was cracked and blistering, with pools of magma glowing ominously beneath the surface.

“Why is everything here designed to kill us?” Rosalind grumbled, sweat beading on her brow as she conjured small Flame Orbs to keep the path lit. “I mean, lava? Really?”

Alaric laughed, though he was also sweating through his shirt. “Think of it as nature’s way of testing us.”

“Nature can kiss my—”

A sudden tremor interrupted her, and Alaric grabbed her arm, pulling her back just as a Flame Salamander erupted from a nearby vent. Its scales shimmered like molten iron, and fire dripped from its mouth as it hissed at them.

“Oh, wonderful,” Rosalind muttered.

Alaric grinned. “I’ve got this one.”

Before the salamander could strike, Alaric summoned a Tidal Surge, a roaring wave of water that crashed over the creature and extinguished its flames. The salamander screeched, its scales steaming as the water sizzled and cooled the molten surface.

“Nice work, Master Mage,” Rosalind teased, smirking.

Alaric shot her a wink. “I try.”

~~

The third and final herb, Wyvernthorn, grew only in the highest reaches of the hills, clinging stubbornly to jagged cliffs. By this point, both Alaric and Rosalind were exhausted, though neither of them was willing to admit it.

“Almost there,” Alaric said as they scrambled up the steep incline, his hand lingering on Rosalind’s waist to help steady her.

“Hands higher, Alaric,” she warned, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. “It’s a tough climb.”

She shot him a look but didn’t push him away. If anything, she leaned into him a little as they ascended.

The Wyvernthorn was exactly as its name suggested: thorny and guarded by none other than a wyvern nest. Three smaller wyverns—likely the offspring of the Wyvern Lord—perched nearby, their keen eyes watching the intruders with suspicion.

“Stealth?” Rosalind suggested, her voice barely a whisper.

Alaric smirked. “Stealth.”

Together, they moved carefully, sticking to the shadows as they approached the herbs. Alaric’s enhanced vision made it easier for him to spot the safest path, and he guided Rosalind silently, his hand never leaving hers.

Once they reached the Wyvernthorn, Rosalind knelt to pluck the plants, her fingers moving quickly and efficiently. “Almost done,” she murmured.

But as they turned to leave, one of the wyverns let out a warning cry, its wings spreading wide.

“Run,” Alaric said, his voice low and urgent.

They bolted down the cliffside, the wyverns screeching behind them. Alaric conjured an Air Burst to propel them forward, while Rosalind used her Gale Sphere to create a barrier of wind that slowed the pursuing creatures.

When they finally reached the valley floor, both of them were out of breath but alive. Alaric couldn’t help but laugh, the adrenaline making him giddy.

“You’re insane,” Rosalind muttered, though her lips twitched into a smile.

“You love it,” Alaric replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

She didn’t deny it.

As they mounted their horse and began their descent from the Wyvern Hills, Alaric’s thoughts lingered on the Phantom Assembly and their cryptic plans. The herbs were safely tucked away in his satchel, but the weight of unanswered questions pressed heavily on his mind.

’What are they really after?’ he wondered, glancing at Rosalind, who leaned comfortably against him as they rode. For now, he pushed the thoughts aside. The journey was far from over.