Dane's heart pounded as he held the beast form steady. He had been training hard for the last eight days, and the clock was ticking down on the timer for the crucible. Only 9 weeks until he had to report to the capital of Shattered Reach. The beast form was strong, and while his stats stayed the same in the form, he was one and a half times faster and stronger. Though when he took on the form, it drained his mana quickly. Even with Mana spyhon, he could only hold it for a maximum of ten minutes.

  The transformation was not complex; he just had to infuse his body with mana. It was like when he had to pilot his body with mana ropes so long ago. Only this time, he let the mana disperse into the muscles instead of keeping it in a tight form. The shards were doing their job efficiently, but he still felt that when he took on the beast, a fraction of the corruption would slip past and go to the pit where he killed the devil.

  It was getting stronger, and the more he used the power, the faster the Devil would regenerate.

  "Again, focus, Dane, you are so close." Draka encouraged him; her tone had changed drastically from when they started. He could almost feel a sense of pride behind her cold, calculated eyes.

  Jagged black-glass wings spread from his shoulder blades, spanning wider than his frame, the shards along his limbs humming with fractured light. Horns spiraled back from his skull, each pulse of mana a song in his veins, a note of power he had never truly touched before. For the first time, it felt stable. Ten minutes, then fifteen, his lungs burned and his muscles screamed, yet the form remained.

  Draka watched quietly from the edge of the training yard. Her amber eyes glimmered like molten metal, reflecting each shard.

  "You have done well," she said finally, her voice soft but carrying weight. "Fifteen minutes. That is not mastery, but it is the minimum for what comes next.”

  Dane sagged to one knee, letting the wings fold slowly, horns retracting, shards spinning back into his soul space. His entire body tingled with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

  Draka stepped closer, claws brushing through the air as if cutting an invisible ribbon. "The wilderness awaits. You will gather three sacred gifts. Only when you return with them will you be allowed to take the Rite."

  The words struck him, sharp as the edges of his wings. Wasn't he already taking the rite? What was all the chanting and sealing his magic if he wasn't already taking the rite? "Sacred gifts?" he asked.

  She said nothing, only inclined her head toward the camp's edge.

  Draka led Dane to the totem in the center of the camp. A crowd gathered around them.

  "This man, though he is not of the Beast Tide. He will search for the ancient ones and request their favor. After he returns, he will be given the ceremony. He will not be a part of the Beast Tide, but he will be an ally. Does any step forward to claim this one as their own." Draka said to the growing crowd of beastmen.

  A ripple of whispers passed through the Beast Tide, and then Zephyros stepped forward. The eagle beastman's wings folded neatly behind him, feathers glinting in the low lantern light. His hawkish eyes, usually calm and distant, fixed on Dane.

  "I will aid the human," Zephyros said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a gust.

  Shock flared across the camp. Whispers erupted. "A human… aided by one of the Aurion?"

  Draka's gaze sharpened, claws tapping the ground. "Do you understand what this will cost?"

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Zephyros bowed his head slightly, talons scraping lightly against the wooden floor. "Yes, and I give it freely. My sword will slay his foes. My wings will rudder his path. And my mind will guide him. I give up my surname and claim the title of Vrynath.”

  Do you accept Zephyros Aurion's oath to be your Air Guardian? Y/N

  Dane mentally selected yes but the usual words didnt come from accepting his oath.

  Draka's claws snatched at the medallion around his neck, the symbol of his station and heritage among the Beast Tide. With a rip and a flick, it was gone, leaving his bare chest marked only by feathers and muscle.

  Dane's jaw went slack. "Wait… you're giving that up? Why?”

  Zephyros inclined his head toward the wilderness beyond the camp. "Because honor is nothing without inspiration. My fate is your path now." He paused, a sly smile curving beneath his beak-like nose.

  Dane blinked, trying to reconcile the calm pride in Zephyros' voice with the magnitude of his sacrifice. "So… you're leaving all of that behind just to… be a servant?"

  Zephyros was silent, but there was something unreadable in the eagle's eyes.

  With that, the two of them stepped beyond the edges of the camp, leaving the murmurs and wide eyes of the Beast Tide behind. The wilderness sprawled before them in a haze of early dawn, trees silhouetted against the first light, wind carrying the faint, sharp scent of distant mountains and untamed rivers.

  Dane let out a low breath. "So… what exactly was all that?"

  Zephyros glanced at him, talons brushing against a low-hanging branch as he led the way along a narrow ridge. "A bunch of bullshit if you ask me. All this acting like nobility stuff really keeps a bird tied down, you know?"

  Dane stared at him, a mix of disbelief and awe tangled together. "Where did your regal accent go?"

  "That's just how my parents taught me to conduct myself in public," Zephyros said with a shrug, and a flicker of humor in his amber eyes. "To answer your question from the square, I am not following you to be a servant. I am following you because it was the easiest way out of becoming the next war leader."

  They fell into silence for a moment, the only sound the rustle of wind through the trees. Dane had to try hard to move his normal body fast enough to keep up with the birdman.

  "Why don't you want to be the war leader?" Dane finally asked.

  Zephyros' eyes brightened, "I love combat and I have selected War Poet as my class. This place, Shattered Reach, has held a century-long truce between the five factions. I need to fight and experience the battlefield; she is my muse, but if I stay here, my quill will remain uninspired. What is a bard without his instrument. What point is being a war chief with no war?"

  Dane nodded. He understood the feeling of being drawn in a direction he didn't want to go; it felt like he was only able to watch others grasp the things they truly desired and he wouldn't have that for himself.

  "I heard someone in the crowd mention that you are one of the Aurion. What does that mean?"

  "Nothing anymore, what with me giving up my last name to become Vrynath. But, Aurion, as the legends go, was the first monster to gain sentience. He designed the ritual to tame the beast within and purify it from corruption with the soul shards. His climb to power formed the Beast Tide on our home planet, Thyras. After he ascended to godhood, it is said that he became the primal accord." Zephyros paused for dramatic effect.

  "I am the last descendant of Aurion." He said, pausing longer and holding his stare on the plains, striking a heroic pose. Dane knew for sure that he wasn't lying about being a poet and decided to humble the bird a little.

  "Got it, so you are the last descendant of some monster god that became your system," Dane said, and Zeph was bewildered.

  "How are you taking this so calmly?"

  "You probably should have gotten to know me before hitching your wagon to me. I'm on a quest to kill the Imperial System. A piece of my soul was ripped out, and that became the system that my barony uses." Dane said with a wry smile. Zeph stopped, ruffled his feathers, and sped up to keep pace with Dane.

  They didn't speak for a long time. Zeph seemed to gather his thoughts only for them to fall apart when he tried to bridge the silence.

  "I think I have rested long enough. I remember you saying something about teaching me to fly?" Dane finally broke the hour-long silence.

  Zepheryos finally pushed through his disillusionment of grandeur and pruned his flight feathers.

  "Yeah, we have to go see a Dragon at the top of that mountain. How long can you hold your beast form?" He said point to a snow capped mountain that looked to be where the sands ended.

  "About fifteen minutes each hour."

  The bird looked more shocked than when he told him his mission, and just shook his head.

  "We have plenty more walking to do if you can only fly for ten minutes. That's not even enough time to get to altitude."

  The hunt for the sacred gifts had begun.