TriVerse: Bloom of the Forgotten soul

chapter 6 (Jena's journey )

Jena begins her journey as she waved goodbye to djurn and to his brother . As she made her journey she age abnormally to an age of 13

It didn't take long her to face a sandstorm that howled like a wrathful god as Jena pressed forward, her cloak flaring behind her like a banner of defiance.

The Huberian Desert was merciless — each gust sharper than knives, each roar louder than thunder. But through the chaos, she sensed a presence: a figure standing motionless, wrapped in crystal spikes

She formed a shield of pure energy, a radiant cocoon that shimmered like frost against fire. As the storm eased, she saw him clearly — a man cloaked in a crystal silk, his gaze ancient, sorrowful.

"You’re not human," she murmured, voice low but firm.

"No longer in this form," he said. "I am Vel’Seran, born of the Crystal Brood. This form… it is my desperate choice. Survival demands compromise."

His hands, claw-tipped and trembling, revealed an egg cradled in woven crystal mesh. Pale blue veins pulsed faintly within its shell — a rhythm too quiet to be coincidence.

"why are you here ?" Jena asked, her shield flickering as wind pressed against its edges.

Vel’Seran’s expression darkened. "We lived within the World Tree of Prismara, a place of boundless color and spirit-song. But the Null Basilisk came — a creature of silence and entropy. It did not speak, did not breathe. It unmade our world, not through war, but by unwinding the threads of what made us… us."

Vel’Seran continued, “I salvaged only this egg. The last soul with the potential to reawaken our crystal. But it must reach the Wyrmlings’ Nest — a sanctuary warded by ancient flame, where Null’s reach cannot pierce.”

Jena knelt, placing her hand on the egg. A spark passed between her fingers and the shell — warm, hopeful. "I’ll help you. Not because of prophecy or fate, but because someone must stand against forgetting."

As she spoke egg reacts with a glow

Vel’Seran’s eyes shimmered. “You carry more than energy, Jena. You carry dragon blood. That… is why the egg responded to you.”

The wind began to change, swirling around them with purpose. As the storm parted, revealing a path of obsidian glass leading toward the horizon, Jena rose.

"Let’s not waste what remains," she said. "Let’s preserve what was. And maybe… rebuild what could be."

Together, they stepped forward — a twin soul and a crystalborne, bearing the last dream of a dying lineage through the most unforgiving of lands.

In that sand storm they found a valley which led to a cave

As time passed Moonlight filtered weakly through a jagged crack in the cave ceiling, casting pale veins across the wall like ethereal tattoos. Outside, distant howls echoed across the barren cliffs,

but inside, silence hung sharp as a blade—because one now was.

Vel’Seran stood tense, arm extended, a crystalline knife in hand. Its edges glowed faintly, pulsing in sync with Jena’s heartbeat. His eyes—once clouded with weariness—now shimmered with wary calculation.

Vel’Seran: (low and controlled) Don’t move.

Jena froze mid-step. Her hand hovered inches from the soul egg resting in its silk cradle on a rock shelf.

Jena: (slowly) Vel… what are you doing?

Vel’Seran: (his voice coiled with tension) That soul egg hums for you. Like it knows you… better than it knows me. I felt it. The resonance. Your aura pulses with both dragon soul and energy soul—united.

Jena’s eyes widened. Her shoulders remained steady, but her fingers curled instinctively toward her side.

Jena: You know that’s impossible.

Vel’Seran: (stepping closer) Exactly. No magical being achieves soul fusion at that level—especially not in a human shell. You’re what—13 years old?

Jena: Yes. At least… here.

Vel’Seran: (brows arching) “Here”?

A tense pause settled between them. The blade caught moonlight. The egg pulsed again—this time brighter.

Jena: I’m not from this realm.

Vel’Seran: (his expression sharpened) You expect me to believe that?

Jena: Earth. Planet Earth. My world. I'm not just human—not anymore. I crossed into this dimension seeking something… something ancient.

Vel’Seran: And you expect me to just lower my blade because you’re a traveler?

Jena: No. I expect you to listen.

Her voice didn’t quake. It rang—clear, warm, and impossibly calm for someone facing a blade.

Jena: I came through a Pegasus. My body held the energy soul I was born with so as my dragon soul .

I'll help you to reach the your destination if you believe me

Vel’Seran’s jaw clenched, his grip faltering—but only slightly.

Vel’Seran: A soul like that should break you. Burn your mind to ash.

Jena: I wasn’t strong. I was chosen.

Vel’Seran: Chosen… by what?

Jena: By what’s left of the Pillar of Wisdom. That’s what I’m here to find. The pillar holds answers to soul evolution—why certain beings awaken before others. Why some destinies arrive early.

Vel’Seran: (softly) And elder said the pillar was legend…

He began to lower the blade—not fully, but enough that the tension in the cave began to breathe again.

Vel’Seran: Why did you hide it from me?

Jena: I wasn’t hiding. I didn’t think you’d believe me… not until the egg reacted.

Vel’Seran: (his voice tightens again) You spoke to it. You didn’t even flinch when it pulsed back. You sang to it, in a tongue dragons used before flight.

Jena: It remembered something in me. I’ve carried pieces of your world longer than I’ve known your name.

Vel’Seran stepped back, as if giving both of them room to breathe beneath the sheer weight of this revelation. The knife dimmed, now no longer aimed at her but loosely held.

Vel’Seran: That kind of union... it’s ancient. My people believed it only occurred in legends. When the breath of stars and voice of dead merge.

Jena: Then maybe the legends are waiting to be rewritten.

She finally stepped forward, her hand no longer cautious. Instead, she knelt beside the egg and looked up.

Jena: I didn’t come here to take your kind’s legacy. I came here to help preserve it. And maybe, to understand my own.

Vel’Seran: (watching her closely) And this Pillar of Wisdom—what does it do?

Jena: It reveals. Not through magic, but through memory. Echoes embedded in reality’s roots. I believe it can help restore my soul and help it to. Evolve —and tell us how to shield souls from Null corruption.

Vel’Seran: (slowly lowering the blade completely) If what you say is true… then you hold answers my kind died for.

Jena: Then let’s make sure their death wasn’t in vain.

The egg pulsed again, now humming steadily. Vel’Seran stared at it, then back at Jena, and finally sat beside her—crystal dagger sheathed with deliberate grace.

Vel’Seran: (with quiet awe) You carry both the dragon soul and the energy. Dragon-born and pure element's energy. I don’t understand it, but I feel it.

Jena: It’s not always clear to me either. Sometimes it hurts—like I’m stretching in two directions. But I can’t ignore it. Something bigger is pulling me forward.

Vel’Seran: The Null will sense you. You burn too brightly to hide.

Jena: Let them come. I didn’t cross dimensions to cower. I came here to awaken what’s sleeping beneath our fears.

Vel’Seran offered a slow, solemn nod—his earlier suspicion replaced by a mix of reverence and wary hope.

Vel’Seran: If you’re really seeking the Pillar… you won’t make it alone. It’s buried beyond Aiymer’s edge, past the kingdom's Trench. I once been there. I know its paths.

Jena: Then we walk together. A dragonborn and a girl with two souls stitched by fate.

The cave walls seemed to sigh in relief. Outside, the wind shifted direction—as if ready to carry them where destiny pointed.

Vel’Seran: One warning.

Jena: I’m listening.

Vel’Seran: If the Pillar shows you who you truly are… you might not want to return to Earth.

Jena: (gazing at the egg, calm but certain) I didn’t come here to return. I came to remember.

Jena lift the egg and placed in her lap in attempt to feel the pulse of egg

Jena: (softly) It’s changing… I can feel the pressure inside it.

Vel’Seran: (backing away, voice rising) No. Not yet. It’s too soon. The soul hasn’t fully aligned.

Jena: What's happening?

Vel’Seran: The egg is trying to hatch. But it’s not ready. If it ruptures now, it may emerge stillborn… a body with no spirit crystal

The air thickened around them. The egg pulsed again—this time a sharp flicker like a fading heartbeat.

Jena: (firm but worried) Then what do we do? We can’t hold it back, can we?

Vel’Seran: No. But we can give it a place. A vessel. The only thing that can stabilize its soul matrix is a Crystal Nest—formed in Drake’s territory. That’s at least three ridgelines away..

Jena: (eyes widen) that's too far away . do you think we have much time

Vel’Seran: I know. But it’s the only hope. The nests there were carved from soul crystal veins—fragments of the old crystal tree.

Jena: (nods quickly) Then we go. We take a detour.

Vel’Seran: (surprised) You’re sure? You don’t hesitate?

Jena: This egg isn’t just your kind’s last chance. It’s part of our fate now. If there’s a way to save it, I won’t turn away.

They moved fast. The desert blurred beneath their feet, and each hour the egg got dimmer—its shell glowing with frantic rhythm. Winds clawed at them as they crossed into hostile valleys, where creatures stirred beneath the dust.

Vel’Seran: (while running) Do you know what hatching should look like?

Jena: Enlighten me.

Vel’Seran: Normally, the soul awakens slowly. A heartbeat turns to breath, breath turns to sound. But this egg… it’s been touched by cosmic disruption. By you.

Jena: You mean the my soul's energy?

Vel’Seran: Yes. It’s mirroring your resonance. Trying to evolve too fast—because it recognizes you.

Jena: Then let’s make sure I’m there when it opens its eyes.

Jena: (watching the egg) It’s growing louder. Is it… feeling the storm?

Vel’Seran: Not a storm. A choice. The hatchling senses we’re nearing Drake territory.

He stopped abruptly, eyes scanning the horizon. There, across a molten stretch of dust, towers rose from the ground—sharp spires, scarred by claw marks and fire.

Jena: That’s… a city?

Vel’Seran: If you can call a battlefield “home.” Welcome to Drakhalon, citadel of the Drakes.

Jena: (frowning) I’ve read about dragon but Fighters, blood rituals, soul-forging... And they grant wishes?

Vel’Seran: Yes. If you survive their Colosseum. The victor earns a single wish, granted by the King himself. But failure means enslavement—mind, soul, and flame.

Jena took a long breath. The egg pulsed again—faster now.

Jena: You really want to enter there? With a hatchling this fragile?

Vel’Seran: We won’t fight. We’re not fools. But there’s someone I trust—a favor owed.

Jena: From a Drake?

Vel’Seran: (nods) Long ago, the elder of the Crystal Dragons—my elder—healed a mortal wound in King Kaelor during the Fangsun War. He swore an oath in the old tongue: one favor, one truth, undenied.

Jena: You think he’ll honor it?

Vel’Seran: Drakes don’t break oaths. They shatter bones, devour pride… but oaths? They’re sacred.

They descended slowly toward the city. Lava veins pulsed beneath the obsidian steps. Winged sentries circled overhead, eyes glowing like forge fire.

Jena: You said there are twelve types of dragons here.

Vel’Seran: (as they walk) Yes. Veslen breeds diversity—each dragon tailored to a soul and heart-thread.

Common Dragons — Flame-bound and proud, scattered across mountain regions.

Sea Arcs — Tide-callers and storm riders, ruling the Pelagon trenches.

Drakes — Brutal, honor-driven warriors of ash and steel.

Coatyls — Serpent-winged mystics, keepers of wind and memory.

Wyrms — Earth-burrowers, slow but wise, with voices like rumbling stone. The common dragon and wyrms united and formed a kingdom

Hydras — Multiplicitous beings, bonded to chaos and regeneration.

Basilisks — Gaze-weavers, corruption incarnate. Often exiled.

Amphipteres — Agile, fragile flyers—messengers of storm.

Dragonettes — Small, clever, often used as spies or tacticians.

Wyverns — Venomous and reckless, favored by warlords.

Feydragons — Rare, surreal beings—half in this world, half dream-bound.

and last one is crystal dragons - the protector of World Tree of Prismara

Jena: That’s… incredible.

Vel’Seran: But why do so few enter Drakhalon .

Because the Colosseum isn’t just a test—it’s a trap. Drakes lure you with honor. Then watch you break.

Jena: (thoughtful) What’s the chance we’ll be mistaken for challengers?

Vel’Seran: I’ll wear my elder's crest. It marks me as Crystalborn. King Kaelor will remember.

As they approached the gate, a pair of guards descended—their scales crimson, their eyes ember-bright. One sniffed the air near Jena.

Drake Guard: (growls) Strange aura, this one. Not dragon. Not mortal.

Vel’Seran: She is Chosen. Bound to cosmic soul threads. A guest.

Drake Guard: Guest or prey?

Vel’Seran: Send word to Kaelor. Tell him Vel’Seran carries a soul promise.

After tense silence, the guards retreated. The gates yawned open, revealing halls carved from volcanic glass and arenas drenched in forgotten roars.

Within the citadel, the temperature rose. Jena touched the egg and found its pulse steadier, drawn to the energy here.

Jena: It’s responding… Why?

Vel’Seran: Drakes don’t cradle hatchlings. But their forges spark soul crystal nests. It’s resonating.

They reached the throne hall—a towering space filled with banners made of dragonhide. Upon the dais sat King olka. His horns curled like blade-wings, eyes like molten mirrors.

Olka: (rumbling) Vel’Seran. Son of flame-fractured memory.

Vel’Seran: (kneeling) I call on the vow spoken beneath Fangsun’s eclipse.

Olka stood, descending like a cliff come alive. He stopped before the egg, then turned his gaze to Jena.

Kaelor: What soul dares live within you?

Jena: One of energy. One of dragon. Both stitched in a shell not born to fire.

Olka: And you seek a cradle?

Vel’Seran: A Crystal Nest. Forged pure. Your king Kaelor owes us.