God's Tree-Chapter 139: The Spear That Broke the Silence

They flew in silence.

Toward something familiar. Toward something buried.

Toward a place where Argolaith's story had begun—

And where something else waited to begin again.

The sky was dull above, smeared with the ashen tones of perpetual overcast, while the ground below passed in a quiet, unchanging rhythm—plateaus of wind-scoured stone and fields of brittle frost broken by jagged rock.

The sound of wings filled the air, steady and powerful, as Thae'Zirak flew onward, carving a path through the cold.

Time passed slowly. The days stretched long, the scenery bleak and unwelcoming.

No tree called.

No message whispered in Argolaith's mind.

They flew in silence.

Argolaith kept to himself. Blue eyes forward, unmoving. He didn't speak of Seminah, didn't offer stories or memories.

Whatever the thought that had stirred him to return home, he kept it buried—protected, as if even naming it would unravel something he wasn't ready to face.

Kaelred had stopped complaining for once, though whether from boredom or some sense of approaching change, even he couldn't say. Malakar, as always, remained a quiet shadow, unmoved by wind or cold, flames flickering in his eye sockets beneath his hood.

Then—

A glint.

Argolaith saw it first—something shining on the ground, far ahead. Just a flicker of reflection.

He squinted, frowning. "Do you see that?"

Thae'Zirak narrowed his golden eyes, angling his body slightly to get a better view. The light caught again—a metallic glimmer, like polished steel catching the sun.

Dozens of miles away. Too distant to identify.

"Something shiny," Kaelred murmured. "Maybe a ruin?"

"No," Thae'Zirak growled.

The glint moved. Fast.

Toward them.

"Brace."

There was a crack like thunder as the object tore through the air, slicing past them in a blur. It narrowly missed Thae'Zirak's left wing, spinning off into the distance with impossible speed.

Argolaith twisted to follow its path—

A spear.

The head had been forged of obsidian-black steel, the shaft wrapped in metal coils glowing with heatless runes. The sheer velocity had made it seem like a glint on the ground—but it had been launched from a distance that defied belief.

"That wasn't thrown by any normal hand," Malakar said flatly.

Thae'Zirak's wings flared. "Prepare for battle."

Before anyone could respond, more figures began to emerge on the horizon. Not walking—soaring.

Dark shapes, sleek and armored, riding on wind-laced beasts or propelled by magic, rose from the rocky terrain far below. There were at least half a dozen, each glowing faintly with protective enchantments and wielding polearms, bows, or blades etched with strange glyphs.

Kaelred drew his twin daggers, already gritting his teeth. "Right. Of course. We can't go two weeks without someone trying to kill us."

Argolaith reached for his sword, eyes locked on the approaching attackers. "They're coming fast."

Thae'Zirak banked hard to the right, the rush of wind nearly tearing Kaelred from his perch. The hybrid's voice thundered across the sky: "They're using wind-forged gear. Elite sky mercenaries. Likely hired, not acting on vengeance."

Malakar raised one hand, violet magic swirling at his fingertips. "Then someone knows where we are… and does not want us to make it to Seminah."

Argolaith's jaw tightened. His sword flashed as he drew it. "Then let's show them what a mistake that was."

Wind tore through the air, wild and screaming as the sky ignited with motion.

The mercenaries came fast—six in total, clad in enchanted armor of blackened leather and dull, rune-etched iron.

Some rode winged mounts, others flew through magic alone, propelled by bursts of wind that coiled around their feet and palms.

Their weapons gleamed under the gray sky—blades shaped like crescents, spears pulsing with embedded glyphs, bows strung with shimmering cords of light.

And they were closing fast.

Thae'Zirak veered into a wide spiral, forcing their elevation higher, his wings buffeting the wind into violent eddies.

Argolaith knelt at the base of his shoulder, sword drawn, bracing for impact. Malakar stood calm and unreadable near the rear, his violet eyes burning brighter now, hands at his sides, ready to unleash.

Kaelred, crouched with daggers bared and feet dug into the scaled flesh, scowled. "Why do they always have the high ground?!"

Then—

A voice pierced the wind.

"There are riders on the dragon!"

It came from one of the lead mercenaries—a tall woman in silver-threaded armor, her spear glowing with anticipation.

Another voice called out in disbelief.

"The target was supposed to be alone! That's the Construct of Zolgrich!"

Argolaith's eyes sharpened.

"They're after Thae'Zirak."

Kaelred blinked. "Wait. You mean for once… we're not the target?"

Thae'Zirak snarled mid-flight. "Apparently, someone else thinks I'm still Zolgrich's hound."

The mercenaries began to fan out, attempting to box them in. Two dove from above, another pair circled wide, while the last two flanked with bows already drawn. The glint of enchanted arrows shimmered in the light—each glowing with elemental fury.

The battle had begun.

The first to strike was a blade-wielder, rushing from above with unnatural speed. Her sword ignited as she descended, trailing streaks of green fire through the sky.

Argolaith moved before she reached them.

He stood and leapt forward, using Thae'Zirak's wing as a springboard. The air screamed past his ears as he met her mid-air, steel meeting steel in a savage clash.

Her eyes widened—just for a moment—at the force of his strike. The collision spun them apart, but not before Argolaith slashed across her shoulder, forcing her to retreat in a trail of flame and blood.

Kaelred followed up with a flurry of throwing knives, each laced with poison, catching another attacker off-guard. A mercenary on a winged beast veered to dodge—too late. The dagger struck the saddle, and the beast shrieked, twisting mid-flight and throwing its rider.

"Nice shot!" Argolaith shouted.

Kaelred grinned. "Just warming up."

The rider fell toward the ground—but a magic tether snapped into place and yanked him skyward again. Their gear was good. Professional.

And they were still coming.

A spear hurled through the wind, crackling with blue lightning. It spun end-over-end, aiming for Thae'Zirak's wing joint. Before it could strike, Malakar raised one bony hand and snapped his fingers.

A dome of translucent violet bone erupted from the air beside them, intercepting the spear with a crash of thunder. The projectile shattered.

Malakar's eyes flared.

"Now… my turn."

He extended both hands. A wave of death magic coiled outward, not a beam or tendril—but a field of decay.

The closest flier, a man with a runed glaive, was caught mid-swing. His armor rusted before their eyes, crumbling at the seams. His face went pale.

He tried to scream, but his voice broke apart, as his wind magic failed and he plummeted, armorless, toward the earth.

Kaelred whistled. "Remind me not to annoy you."

Realizing they were surrounded, Thae'Zirak twisted sharply in the air. His wings folded inward for a moment, sending them into a steep dive. Wind roared around them, Kaelred whooping in alarm and excitement.

Thae'Zirak opened his jaws.

A burst of black flame erupted, not fire—but aetherflame, a gift of Zolgrich's craftsmanship. It burned cold and chaotic, spiraling toward the center of the formation. One of the bow-wielders had just enough time to scream before she was engulfed, her magic shield disintegrating like paper.

The remaining attackers hesitated. Just a fraction of a second.

It was enough.

The commander, still aloft on a platform of coalesced air, snarled. "Fall back! We weren't told about combatants!"

"But the target—!"

"We'll return when he's alone!"

Three of them vanished in bursts of wind. The others scattered—two wounded, one badly burnt.

In moments, the sky was theirs again.

Thae'Zirak flapped twice, regaining a steadier rhythm in the air. The damage to his wing was minimal, a few shallow burns, but nothing that would hinder them.

Kaelred exhaled slowly, sitting back down. "Well. That was fun. I'd like to not do that again for a while."

Malakar's eyes still flickered, faint violet lightning trailing from his fingertips. "They were trained. Elite. Someone sent them knowing exactly what Thae'Zirak is."

Argolaith wiped his blade clean. "And they didn't expect us."

Thae'Zirak growled low. "They'll be back. Whoever wants me… won't stop with one attempt."

Argolaith nodded. "Then next time, we won't just survive."

"We'll send a message."

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And with that, the dragon climbed higher into the sky, smoke trailing in his wake as they continued their long path to Seminah—now knowing that something more had entered the game.