📖 The Book of Malvaron: Entry II — In Echoing Deep

🌅 Dawtha Farewell

The cliffside hangar of Dawtha glowed with morning light as the Starseeker’s Lament stood ready for departure. At the base of its lowered ramp, Malvaron paused, staff of Oathspark in hand.

Queen Syrinna approached, her sons at her side. Luximian’s golden hair caught the rising sun, while Noximus’s darker locks framed eyes already restless with fire. The twins stood in silence, watching the High Dawnbinder with equal parts reverence and unspoken questions.

“Leaving so soon, High Dawnbinder?” Syrinna asked, her voice caught between pride and sorrow.

“Yes, my Queen.” Malvaron bowed.

She stepped closer, her tone sharpening. “I bring the boys all the way from Lucidia for their lessons under you, and already you depart—for some… hunting excursion?”

“I would not leave so hastily,” Malvaron answered gently, “if the Radiance had not required it.”

As he spoke, Oathspark flared, burning with a golden-orange light, a harmonic tone cutting through the air. Syrinna’s gaze flicked to the staff, her breath tightening.

“Ah,” she whispered. “I forget at times that the Radiance speaks to you through Oathspark. Tell me, Malvaron—did it speak of them?” She glanced back at her sons, her voice low.

Malvaron’s eyes softened as he followed her gaze. “They are as dawn and dusk. Two horizons bound together. Their paths I cannot yet see, but the Radiance will not abandon them—even should shadows draw near.”

Syrinna placed her hand on his arm. “Then guard what you can. And return—not empty-handed.”

“I swear it,” he said.

The staff pulsed again as if sealing the vow. Syrinna drew her sons close as the Dawnbinder ascended the ramp.

The ramp of the Starseeker’s Lament hummed beneath Malvaron’s boots as he ascended into the belly of the ship. Behind him came the steady footfalls of his companions:

Sarien Rhale, calm and deliberate, his Lucidian mail gleaming like tempered light.

Velka Rynoss, broad and imposing, the orange glint in her scaled eyes fixed on every shadow.

Dr. Yeno Marris, slender and precise, cradling a case of instruments that hummed with faint bioluminescence.

Tyven Dross, swaggering, his coat half-buttoned, offering Syrinna a two-finger salute as he passed.

And Flareek, bounding from step to step, ears glowing faintly as though in rhythm with Oathspark itself.

The ramp sealed with a resonant clang, and the ship stirred as if waking from slumber.

Malvaron paused just inside the threshold, turning to the viewport beside the entry chamber. From within, the terrace lay spread below like a stage of memory. Syrinna stood flanked by her guards, arms wrapped protectively around her sons. Luximian’s hand gripped the rail with quiet strength; Noximus leaned forward, dark eyes burning, as though daring the stars themselves to resist him.

Malvaron’s hand tightened on Oathspark. “Radiance guard them,” he whispered, and bowed his head.

The deck shuddered as Tyven’s voice cut in over the comm. “Engines primed. Brace yourselves. The Lament flies best when you let her dance.”

The ship lifted with a roar, breaking free of the hangar’s moorings. From the ground, the Starseeker’s Lament rose like a blade of silver light, thrusters flaring against the cliffs of Dawtha. Wind whipped Syrinna’s gown; the boys’ hair streamed in the draft as they watched their teacher carried skyward.

Through the viewport, Malvaron saw the marble spires of Dawtha diminish, pale light cascading from their peaks. The seas beyond caught the rising sun, glittering like a basin of molten crystal. Higher still, the world curved away, clouds like slow rivers across a radiant sphere.

Tyven’s hands danced across the controls, his grin crooked. “Say your farewells now. Atmosphere break in five… four…”

The hull boomed as they breached the thin veil of air. Stars burst open around them—cold, endless, eternal. Dawtha spun beneath, a jewel of alabaster and silver set in the void.

Malvaron pressed a hand to the glass, his reflection caught against the planet’s curve. “Every horizon ends in Radiance,” he murmured, though only Flareek heard and chirruped in response.

“Coordinates locked,” Yeno reported, eyes fixed on the spiraling runes of his console. “Vector to Halorion is clear.”

Sarien shifted in his seat, his voice solemn. “Then may the Radiance light our passage.”

Velka only grunted, arms folded, though the corner of her mouth twitched as the stars sharpened.

Tyven pulled the levers back with a flourish. “Hold on to your breakfast, friends. The lanes don’t forgive the faint-hearted.”

The Starseeker’s Lament stretched forward, light gathering at its prow. In a breath, the stars tore into rivers of molten dawn and dusk, hyperspace blooming like a boundless cathedral of flame and shadow.

The crew sat in silence, each staring at the shimmering abyss. Malvaron closed his eyes, Oathspark alive against his palm. Somewhere beyond the streaking light, a whisper waited.

---

✨ Through the Star-Lanes

The Starseeker’s Lament cut through hyperspace like a needle of light threading the cosmos. Streams of molten silver and violet streaked past the viewports, stars drawn into ribbons by the ship’s velocity. The hum of the engines became a steady heartbeat, resonating through the deck and into the bones of those aboard.

Malvaron sat in the central chamber, Oathspark laid across his knees. The staff pulsed faintly, then brighter, until its glow filled the cabin with a dawn-colored light. Flareek chittered and pressed closer to his master’s side, ears flickering with soft blue sparks.

Without warning, the crystal flared like a sun breaking the horizon. Malvaron stiffened, his eyes glazing as if he looked through time itself. His lips moved, and a voice—his, yet not his alone—poured forth.

“The Harmony Core binds light and shadow.

It heals what is broken.

It unmakes what is whole.

In the wrong hands, it is ruin.

In the Radiance, it is refuge.”

The words rolled like thunder across stone. The crew froze.

Tyven’s fingers hovered above the controls. “That… wasn’t his usual lecture voice.” His attempt at levity carried no laugh.

Sarien bowed his head, reverence softening the lines of his face. “The Radiance speaks. Few living have heard it so directly.”

Velka shifted uneasily, her clawed gauntlets scraping against her seat. “Or perhaps something uses his staff to wear his voice. Not all whispers are holy.”

Yeno adjusted his instruments frantically, eyes darting to the readouts. “Energy spike—real, measurable. The crystal’s emitting frequencies I can’t even chart.” He glanced at Malvaron. “He’s channeling something beyond physical thresholds.”

The Prophet’s voice deepened, layered with echoes, as if another spoke through him. “The Harmony Core binds light and shadow. It heals what is broken. It unmakes what is whole. In the wrong hands, it is ruin. In the Radiance, it is refuge.”

His eyes flared open—glowing pale as dawnfire. The staff pulsed once, then stilled, leaving only silence and the steady hum of hyperspace.

Malvaron gasped, his shoulders sagging. He gripped Oathspark tightly, grounding himself in its weight. For a long moment, no one dared speak.

It was Tyven who broke the silence, his voice quieter than usual. “So we’re hauling ourselves into a trench to move some glowing rock because it… sings?”

“The Harmony Core is no mere relic,” Sarien said sharply. “It was forged before the Shattering. A crystal heart, bound to Radiance itself. If the Void corrupts it…” He shook his head. “Not just Halorion would suffer. Lucidia could fall. Perhaps more.”

Velka snorted, though unease flickered in her eyes. “Always the same story. Light versus Void. Yet relics don’t save people—warriors do.” She leaned forward, scaled brow furrowed. “If this Core is so powerful, why wasn’t it hidden long ago?”

Yeno interjected, adjusting his tuning crystal. “Because it’s not just powerful—it’s alive. It resonates with thought, with intent. The Halorathi left it untouched because even they feared what it might become in unworthy hands. But Malvaron’s vision is clear—the Void will come for it. Better we secure it in sanctum wards than leave it for Drexan Murr and his Creed.”

Velka folded her arms, unconvinced.

Malvaron raised his head. His eyes no longer glowed, but their depth carried the weight of what he’d seen. “The Radiance showed me a tide of shadow sweeping Halorion’s depths. The Abyssal Creed cannot breach the Echolevian guardian alone. But one is coming who will.” He looked at each of them in turn, his voice grave. “If the Core falls to the Void, all that we love may drown.”

Sarien’s voice was steady, prayer-soft. “Then we guard it, with blade and breath.”

Velka’s jaw tightened, but she gave a curt nod. “I’ll smash whatever tries to take it.”

Yeno’s frill pulsed with nervous light. “If we live long enough to reach it.”

Tyven gave a crooked grin, though his eyes betrayed unease. “Then I suppose I’ll make sure this old bird keeps us flying. If doom’s waiting in the trench, it won’t be because we didn’t get there.”

Flareek trilled, hopping from Malvaron’s lap to Tyven’s shoulder as if to punctuate the point. The pilot chuckled despite himself and scratched behind the creature’s glowing ear.

Malvaron set Oathspark upright, its base ringing against the deck like a temple bell. “So we are agreed. We descend not for glory, not for conquest, but for guardianship. The Harmony Core must be hidden in a sanctuary the Void cannot breach.”

The light of hyperspace flowed across their faces, painting them in shifting bands of gold and violet. For a moment, none spoke—only the hum of the Lament carried through the silence.

Then Sarien whispered, more to himself than to the others: “Into the deep, then. May the Radiance hold us fast.”

And with that, the Starseeker’s Lament flew on, a silver spear cast into the endless river of stars.

---

🌊 Halorion Revealed

The rivers of hyperspace tore apart into stars. The Starseeker’s Lament lurched as realspace embraced her, and there before the viewport stretched Halorion.

A vast oceanic world unfurled beneath them, a sapphire jewel wrapped in veils of mist and cloud. Sunlight spilled across the surface, scattering into waves of radiant blues and silvers. Bioluminescent currents traced luminous patterns across the deep, like rivers of starlight beneath the sea. Towering coral ridges breached the surface here and there, rising like living cathedrals, their crystalline crowns glittering in the upper atmosphere.

Tyven let out a low whistle, hands hovering over the controls. “By the stars… she’s singing.”

And she was. Through the hull came a low, steady hum—the sound of the planet itself, resonating in some deep frequency that touched bone and blood. Sarien bowed his head. Velka shifted uneasily. Yeno fumbled for instruments, desperate to capture it all.

The Lament pierced the cloud veil. The roar of the upper winds gave way to the hush of heavy atmosphere. The ocean sprawled endlessly below, broken only by a single vast structure floating upon the waves: the crystalline amphitheater-city of Auralyn, the seat of the Echo Conclave.

Spiraled towers rose from the surface like luminous shells, humming with faint harmonic tones. Causeways of translucent coral glimmered as schools of silver fish darted beneath them. Bells chimed, not of metal but of shifting resonance, as the ship descended to the landing platform.

Waiting there was a woman marked by the sea. Her skin was a luminous violet, traced with glowing cyan lines that pulsed faintly like tidal currents. Filament hair rippled about her head, shimmering with every breath. She wore robes embedded with crystal glyphs that thrummed softly with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Liraya Thalen bowed as the ramp of the Lament descended. “Welcome to Halorion. The Conclave awaits.”

---

🌀 The Echo Conclave

The amphitheater’s open tiers looked out across the ocean, waves crashing softly against the coral foundations. Nine elders stood in a circle, their voices blending faintly in harmonic undertones.

High Voice Eluran Thalys, robed in sea-white, stepped forward. “You come to disturb what has long been safeguarded. Why should the Harmony Core be taken from its vault? No hand has passed the Echolevian in an age.”

Malvaron strode forward, Oathspark burning faintly in his grasp. “Because the Core will not remain safe. The Radiance has spoken—someone will come who can break the guardian. If the Void lays claim to the Core, Halorion will drown, and Lucidia with it.”

Elder Korrun Drenhaal, a grim Nyrrak’thari with deep-set eyes, narrowed his gaze. “Words of fear. The Creed has tried and failed. Why should we believe another will succeed?”

Liraya’s voice cut in, steady and reverent. “Because the prophecy stirs. Malvaron’s visions echo the songs my brother once sang before he vanished into the trench. This is not fear—it is foretelling.”

The elders murmured, the chamber trembling faintly with the weight of their voices.

At last, Eluran raised his hand. “Very well. If prophecy drives you, then we will not hinder the Radiance. Take with you a vessel fitted for the trench, and Halorathi escorts to guide your descent. But know this—if the Core resists you, it is not ours to give.”

Malvaron bowed, staff aglow. “So be it. The Radiance will guide us.”

---

⚔️ Into the Deep

The Starseeker’s Lament eased into docking position against a waiting Halorathi vessel—sleek and sculpted from pearl-coral alloy, its surface alive with flowing glyph-light. This was The Nerevalis, a submersible gifted by the Echo Conclave for the journey into Halos-En’Kar. Its hull shimmered like moonlit tides, every line of its design breathing with the harmony of Halorion itself.

Malvaron and his companions crossed into the vessel’s interior, greeted by walls that pulsed faintly with living resonance. The ship hummed like a great seashell tuned to an unseen song, a perfect fusion of Halorathi craft and radiant sanctity.

Flanking The Nerevalis were two Thalyssan Guardians, manta-winged escort vessels whose fins glowed with lines of sapphire glyphs. They drifted into formation like silent sentinels, their resonance lances armed and ready, a reminder that even the Conclave did not trust the trench unguarded.

With a low choral hum, the fleet slipped beneath the waves. The sea closed overhead in a curtain of silver light, then gave way to silence and darkness.

Forests of bioluminescent coral stretched below like luminous cathedrals. Schools of radiant fish scattered in trails of fire, and great jelly-creatures floated like lanterns in the deep. The farther they descended, the more the surface light vanished, until only the pulse of glyph wards and the escort’s glow lit their way.

“It’s beautiful,” Sarien whispered, awe filling his voice.

“Beautiful,” Velka muttered, hand tightening on her blade, “and deadly.”

---

🔥 Ambush of the Abyssal Creed

The silence of the deep shattered.

From the trench walls, black shapes streaked forward—Voidfang subs, their coral-metal hulls twisted with Void corruption, fins jagged like serrated blades. Sickly violet glyphs burned across their flanks, trailing wakes of dissonant resonance that soured the water around them.

The comm crackled alive, Drexan Murr’s voice echoing with venom and ritual cadence:

“Turn back, Dawnbinder. The Core belongs to the Deep. None shall steal its song.”

The Nerevalis jolted as the first salvo struck—Void-forged harpoons clamping into the hull with screeching force. The two Thalyssan Guardians surged to intercept, manta-like wings flaring as they fired resonance lances. Beams of harmonic light lanced through the dark, tearing one Voidfang apart in a storm of imploding glyphs.

But the Creed were many. Bio-mines drifted in clouds, pulsing with voidlight. One detonated against a Guardian’s flank, the shockwave cracking its pearl-metal plating. Still, the escort fought on, its partner circling to unleash a choral pulse, a harmonic wave that rippled through the trench and scattered several attackers.

Inside The Nerevalis, the crew braced against the impact.

“Shields at seventy!” Yeno barked, claws flying over the controls.

Tyven wrestled the helm, teeth clenched. “They’ve boxed us in—we’ll be crushed if we don’t break through!”

Sarien placed both hands on the shield matrix, pouring Radiant will into the grid. “Then we do not break. We hold!”

Another impact rattled the hull. Velka roared, slamming her gauntleted fist against the weapons console. “Target the harpoons! Let’s tear their teeth out!” The sub’s pulse cannons blazed, shattering the clamps that bound them.

Flareek pressed himself to Malvaron’s shoulder, glowing brighter as the creature released a high, pure tone that steadied the crew’s nerves. The Prophet rose, planting Oathspark to the deck. The staff’s crystal flared with dawnfire, and the glow cascaded through the ship’s resonance wards.

The next volley of harpoons struck—and dissolved into harmless motes of light.

Still, Drexan’s laughter filled the comms, dark and triumphant.

“You may pass this fight, Dawnbinder. But the Core will never leave these waters. The Deep keeps what is His.”

The trench trembled. A Guardian’s hull groaned under the assault, but the escorts pressed on, driving the Creed back into shadow. Ahead, the waters darkened further—the yawning abyss of Halos-En’Kar waiting, vast and silent.

And in that silence, something stirred.

---

🌑 To Be Continued…

The journey has only just begun. Ahead lies the drowned sanctum of Halos-En’Kar, the guardian Echolevian, and the Creed’s unyielding pursuit. The Harmony Core waits in silence, and perhaps not all will return.