CHAPTER TWO OSIRIS

“Don’t assume yourself my first summoner,” Osiris said, his voice steady as they walked the shadowed path. Birds were mere reinforcements, the stationed King’s guards at every point of egress the Crown’s olive branches.

King Byron didn’t even trust his own shadow.

“Father.” Princess Asteryn said with a decisive nod, “he gifted you to me.” She kept up, walking beside him. A first.

“Your family,” he nodded, his words as cutting as the cool night air. “Generations ago, your ancestors discovered us hidden within our scales. They bound us with Æssence. Forced us into subservience.”

She frowned, her gaze flickering from the castle—a surreal blend of ancient spires and neon-lit modernity—to him. “Where did you come from?”

“Perhaps Gaia’s very essence,” he said, his tone distant, as though recalling a half-forgotten dream. “Does it matter? You’re living off the slow decay of Gaia’s life-force as we speak, Princess.”

She flinched at the venom in his words.

“That’s not true.” She shook her head, her voice trembling. “Father said he’d found sustainable alternatives. He promised—”

Osiris stopped, turned to face her fully where she paled, stumbled back as his form eclipsed her. “After that farce of a ceremony,” he scoffed, “he’s to steal without consequence?”

His words struck her like a blow. Silence fell, heavy and unrelenting.

“Great,” she muttered, wrapping her arms round herself as the weight of his accusations sank in. “Father’s a thief and a dragon slaver. Happy birthday to me.”

Osiris exhaled, “I don’t mean to ruin your day,” though the edge in his voice remained. “But you’re the first to dent the cogs or at the very least, attempts were made.”

She studied him, searching his face.. “Is that why you haven’t left, when I returned your scale?”

“Were I a coward.”

Her breath hitched, realization sparked in her lilac eyes. “But you can’t.”

“You’re catching up.”

She cast a glance back toward the party. Taking a steadying breath, she turned away, her steps purposeful as she headed deeper into the garden toward the castle’s weathered brick walls. “If Father’s been lying to me, then we need proof—and fast.” Laced gloves off, she shoved them into a small satchel at her side. Plucked out a small piece of chalk, crouched by the wall, and sketched the rough outline of a door onto the ancient stone. The pale lines stood stark against the dark surface, a faint shimmer of Æssence rippled through them. Chalk stowed away, she snatched at his hand, drew his claw across her palm, pressed her palm to the rough surface in the center of the faint door. Her blood’s scent hit him with both its strangeness and yet it wasn’t unpleasant.

She whispered in Arcanys, Aperporta. Open door.

The word carried power. The Æssence surged in response.

Pale light traced the carved line until the stone rippled like dark water. The faint hum of energy filled the air, grew louder as the portal solidified.

Osiris’s gaze remained fixed on her. Not many could cast Æssence of this magnitude.

She grabbed his arm, her grip firm. “Hold on.”

He released his sword, which vanished into a wisp of shadowy smoke, and wrapped an arm around her waist. Together, they stepped into the shimmering void.

The world plunged into darkness.

A disorienting rush of sensations overwhelmed him—weightlessness, the hum of distant voices, flashes of muted light and shadow. It felt like plunging into deep water, where time bent and sound warped. Princess Asteryn tensed in his arms, but he held her against the force's push and pull.

Then, with a violent jolt, they were ejected from the portal. They hit the ground hard, a metallic clang echoing in the dim, cavernous space. His back took the brunt of their fall. He hardly felt it. The Princess groaned, pushing herself upright against his armoured form.

The air here chilled, sterile. A faint, rhythmic thrum vibrated through the floor—machines working in relentless precision. Overhead, faint blue lights illuminated rows of towering columns, each pulsing with Æssence, siphoned from the earth below. Every pulse and broken cry thrummed beneath his feet. A haunting sensation that sent bile up his throat. Churned the energy in his stomach, his Dragon’s Core coiled like nettles.

Osiris swallowed it down, he had to put a stop to this. Damnable King, as though breaking dragons weren’t enough. He had to go and break their only world too. He rose beside her, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the pinpricks of pain ghosting through him.

Princess Asteryn stilled as she took in the endless rows of machinery. The hum of Æssence extraction resonated through her, he sensed as much. Just like him, she felt it too.

Gaia bled for them all.

She glanced up to behold the first of the machines towering before them. It was a dark, monolithic structure, its gleaming steel body interlaced with veins of glowing neon, the light pulsating like the heartbeat of some monstrous creature. The edges of the machine were jagged, angular—sharp, like the spires of a cathedral, and yet devoid of any grace. Their form was both alien and mechanical, an unsettling fusion of steel with the industrial dread of a forgotten age. The sleek, polished surfaces of the machines were covered in a thin layer of condensation, glimmering in the dim light like distant stars obscured by a veil of fog. In the distance, the rhythmic hum of engines merged with the low rumbling of grinding gears.

The massive, dome-shaped tanks—almost like corrupted altars—were set into the earth, their insides churning with the Æssence. The liquid energy was drawn from deep beneath the soil, flowing upward through glass tubes and copper cables, glowing with an ethereal, sickly green hue. Long, spindly pipes wrapped around the columns, twisting upward like the skeletal fingers of a forgotten deity. Every few moments, a violent hiss of steam echoed through the cavern, followed by the creak of metal as it shifted or settled, a reminder of the relentless extraction process that was consuming the earth’s heart.

The walls of the cavern were dotted with conduits, veins of raw energy pulsing through the rock, their faint hum filling the otherwise silent space. Above, the stone arches of the Elysium castle loomed, the weight of its ancient foundation pushing down on the modern monstrosity beneath it.

Princess Asteryn swallowed her unease as she walked along the rows of these machines—these abominable things that her father had promised would be nothing more than a passing phase. Now they loomed as the grim truth of his failure.

Each machine seemed more alive than the last—its strange fusion of technology and nature weaving together an atmosphere of suffocating dread.

She came upon a large glowing holographic console, its interface flashing streams of data. A red EMERGENCY STOP button rested on the keyboard, inset behind a small protective cover.

"That’s it," she murmured, stepping closer.

Osiris eyed the button warily. “You wanted your proof, what more than this?” He could feel the weight of the decision hanging in the air, and his instinct to hold back grew sharper.

"Obviously," she said, her voice brimming with impatience. "But if we can stop this now—"

“And incite that bastard’s ire? No. Just take a photo or a video, for now.” He made no effort to hide his annoyance. The timing wasn’t right—not yet.

They froze at the sound of approaching footsteps. A man in a white lab coat appeared, his face immediately twisting into alarm.

"You can’t be here!" the scientist exclaimed, striding toward them. "This area is restricted—what are you—" His gaze froze as he recognized the Princess. "Your Royal Highness!" He bowed hastily. "Apologies, but you must leave immediately. This area is unsafe."

Princess Asteryn stepped forward, her authority cutting through the air. "If it’s unsafe, then why continue this farce? We’re shutting this down."

The scientist hesitated, his gaze darting between her and Osiris, whose towering presence loomed like a dark shadow.

"But the system is automated," the scientist stammered, "Any manual intervention sends a notification directly to the King—"

"Good," Asteryn interrupted, her tone icy, "That’s the plan."

The scientist paled. "Your Highness, please—"

Osiris’ talons extended with a subtle metallic scrape as he moved closer, his presence a reminder of the consequences. He took hold of her wrist with a quiet warning. “Don’t be daft, girl.”

The scientist gulped and raised trembling hands. "Even if you press it, there’s a delay. The system will require a second confirmation to prevent false triggers—"

“But we should stop it. Not like it’d be my first time—”

“Fortunate for you, hm?” Osiris’ grip tightened, his golden eyes flaring brighter with cold fire. “He won’t forgive your transgressions twice. Just listen, and you—” He latched onto the scientist’s lab coat, his voice dangerously low, “Speak a word of this to anyone—”

“You’ve my word, please don’t kill me,” the man begged, trembling with the fear of God in him.

So easy to break, Osiris’ eyes narrowed on the man. Pathetic.

Princess Asteryn tugged her wrist free, and activated the recording feature on her bracelet. The device emitted a blue holographic screen, her fingers tapped the interface as she captured the scene. After a few moments, she saved the footage and stepped away. “Let’s go.”

Osiris released the scientist’s collar and smoothed out the man’s coat, patting his shoulder with a mockingly friendly gesture. “We were never here, deep breaths.”

Together, they left the facility the way they came, crashing back into the garden where Osiris took the lead, guiding them back toward the main event.

“The birds, do you think they—”

“Hardly matters now, Princess.” He caught sight of the King’s guardsmen standing sentry at the entrance to the main event. They would’ve already tipped the King off about their disappearance. And knowing King Byron, this was nothing more than a new twisted game waiting to unfold.

“I won’t let him get away with this.”

A bitter laugh threatened to escape his lips, but he held it back, focusing instead on the task at hand. She was naive, stubborn, and driven by emotions she didn't yet fully understand. He’d seen it before—seen it in countless others who thought they could defeat a monster by simply wanting to. But Osiris knew better. “I’m afraid you don’t have much of an option, dear Princess.” His voice held no sympathy.

She grabbed his wrist, hardened from the weight of his draconian armor, and met his gaze. Under the stark moonlight, her eyes shone like twin pools of silver. “I will stop him, no matter what.”

Osiris didn’t answer immediately. The weight of those words, of that promise, felt almost too heavy, too childish. Yet, somehow, he could see it in her.

A glimmer of something real.

Something human.

Something worth protecting, if only for a while.

"Then it’s about time you wake, and bring your wits," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. His eyes locked onto hers for a heartbeat longer, before he turned toward the gathering noise in the distance. The party, the facade, all of it. "For reality is a cruel mistress."

She didn’t flinch. Her resolve was as steel, unyielding. Her next words cut through the air like a blade.

"Red pill it is."

He couldn't help but feel something stir within him, but he quickly quashed it. This wasn’t his fight, not really. He was a weapon, a tool—a dragon who had long since abandoned the notion of heroism. But for the briefest of moments, just as they walked back into the lion's den of the gathering, he wondered if, just maybe, he was about to be part of something that might change everything.

Something he didn’t wish to name, but was willing to see through.

For now.

As they returned to the party, slipping back into the role they’d assumed without a single hint of their earlier actions, Osiris couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was coming. And when her siblings approached, each accompanied by their own loyal guards, he knew the game had just begun.

It would be a dangerous one.

A cruel one.

And yet, as they stood side by side, the Princess's hand resting lightly against his armored wrist, he couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, they were already in it together.

A part of him, the part that had long abandoned any notion of protection, would have to decide: just how far he was willing to go.

And what he was willing to lose.

Prince Rey and Princess Radiant crowded around Princess Asteryn, filling her ears with all manner of gossip about the event while she’d been away.

Both Orion and Typhon flanked Osiris, each exchanged knowing looks.

“The King has been watching up from his perch, dear brother.” Orion muttered as he spoke behind a glass of champagne.

“You were gone awhile, and going by that look, you’re scheming again.” Typhon said, edgewise.

“I’ll get your scales, you won’t have to endure anymore of it.” Osiris plucked at the many assortment of treats at the food table, gaze focused on what he might tolerate amongst the vast strange and colourful sweets. “You can endure these brats a few more hours, hm?”

“And what, miss out on the main event?” Typhon picked up a blue cupcake, “this one’s got real blueberries, not so bad.” He dropped it over the little plate Osiris held in his clawed hand.

“I doubt I can take anymore of Radiant’s sparkling personality,” Orion admitted, as he cast the younger royal a chilling stare.

“We’ve held out this long,” Osiris lifted a gelatinous substance in a cup a little closer, sniffed but once, returned it among the others. “Don’t give in now.”

“I want in.” Typhon murmured low enough so that only Osiris and Orion could hear. “So what’s the plan?”

“You’ll just have to be patient.” Osiris ended up taking a small fruit cup instead, left the table and felt a familiar chill along his spine. One he attributed to a certain King. He glanced back, and there was King Byron perched in his elegant chair set in the middle of the large space, replete with unnecessary neon lighting.

The King’s face seemed tense, but those dark eyes bore into him.

He already knew.

Osiris barely flinched at the King’s piercing gaze, the tension between them like an invisible thread pulling tighter with every passing moment. He was used to it—the sharp weight of King Byron’s attention, the subtle menace in the air whenever the King’s presence lingered. But tonight, it felt different. King Byron was aware, and that could only mean one thing: the game had officially begun.

His talons brushed over the fruit cup he had chosen, though his focus remained sharp. The others were speaking, but their words barely registered over the hum of his own thoughts. Typhon’s murmured question about the plan—Osiris wasn’t ready to give anything away, not yet. Not with the King watching.

Orion, ever the perceptive one, leaned in slightly, his eyes flicking between Osiris and the royal table where King Byron sat, still staring. “You think he knows?”

“I know he does.” Osiris kept his voice low, his gaze locked on the King, who was now in the midst of a conversation with a few advisors. "And he’s waiting for the next move. A king with too much time on his hands is a dangerous thing."

Typhon snorted softly, popping a few berries from his cupcake into his mouth. “Then we'll just have to entertain his cruel delights a touch longer, eh?”

“We’re all pawns in his game, it’s how he’s designed it. How we've played it.” Osiris tilted his head slightly, "but his daughter may be promising." 

Orion, never one for idle chatter, narrowed his eyes. “You trust that girl?”

Osiris gave him a sharp look, the briefest flicker of a grin on his lips. "That girl is one hell of a motivator." His eyes briefly flashed toward the door, where several of the King’s guards were strategically placed, their stoic expressions betraying nothing of what they might know or suspect. "But for now, play your roles."

Typhon rolled his eyes, clearly bored with the lack of immediate action. “When do we strike?”

Osiris’s sharp gaze returned to the King, who had yet to break his intense stare. For a moment, it almost felt like a challenge, one he couldn’t refuse, even if he wanted to.

“When I tell you to,” Osiris said, his voice lower now, the weight of his words settling between them. “Those brats will fall asleep eventually, hm?”

“And what if the waiting ends up costing us?” Orion’s voice was tinged with concern now, an edge of impatience creeping in. “You know how dangerous it is to underestimate him. What he did last time...”

“I know,” Osiris muttered, his eyes darkening as he scanned the room once more. "Let him keep his heavy crown." He let the words linger in the air between them, then turned, offering a slight smirk. "One thing at a time.”

Typhon was silent for a moment, clearly contemplating the situation, then let out a low chuckle. "we'll do our best, brother.”

Osiris glanced at him, a faint glint of amusement in his golden eyes. "Wait for my signal."

As he turned away from his brothers, Osiris’ senses prickled once more, the chill of the King's stare still hanging heavy in the air. The King hadn’t moved from his perch, but Osiris could feel the weight of his awareness, like a predator watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

For all these years, it's what he believed himself to be. But he no longer held Osiris' scale. 

They were in this now, whether they liked it or not. And the only way out was through.

One thing was certain—the game was set, this time with new players on the field. And maybe, it'd be enough to turn the unrelenting tides.