Yes, your eyes tell the truth. Another chapter, and it didn't take a month+ this time! In fact, the rest of this installment of the Guardian Chronicles is done, so you'll be seeing a new chapter every day for the next few days. Call it a thank you from me for your patience in sticking with me through all the delays.
God bless, and enjoy the rest of the story!
DARKNESS IN CHIMA
Part Four: The World Under
Chapter XIV
Saturday June 22, 2019…
The Guardians stirred in the quiet of the Spinosaurus village as the first hints of light breached the horizon. Sleep had come sparingly, weighed down by the knowledge of all that was still left to accomplish. The tension in the air was palpable—time was no longer an ally but a ruthless adversary.
Mack stood apart from the others, watching as faint streaks of orange painted the swamp's dark waters. He felt it again—the gnawing pull of the visions that had haunted him ever since their descent into Lower Chima. They lingered at the edge of his mind like an unwelcome guest, threatening to distract him from the mission. He took a breath, centering himself. Focus, Mack. There's no room for doubt now.
The others began to gather their things, each reflecting the same urgency. Kai stretched with a groan, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "No offense to our hosts," he muttered, "but I won't miss this swamp."
"Same," Zee replied, rolling her shoulders. "I don't know what smells worse—this place or the Tyrannosaurus village."
"Enough chatter," Lloyd said, fastening his harness. "We leave now. The hills won't wait for us."
By the time the sun breached the horizon, the Guardians were airborne, their elemental dragons soaring high above the River of the Sail. Below them, the Howling Hills stretched like jagged scars, crowned by ominous clouds that churned with unrelenting winds. The sight of Storm Steeple in the distance—its jagged peak piercing the sky like a dagger—only deepened the sense of foreboding.
As they neared the Pteranodon Tribe's domain, their arrival did not go unnoticed. The dragons' descent was an awe-inspiring sight, their scales glinting against the storm-dimmed sky. Below, members of the Pteranodon Tribe, their sharp beaks and angular wings silhouetted against the dark cliffs, gathered to watch with a mix of caution and curiosity.
When the dragons touched down, the Guardians dismounted, their movements deliberate and measured. Mack led the way, his black sword sheathed but always within reach. As the wind howled around them, two Pteranodons emerged from the throng.
"Who are you?" one demanded, his voice cutting through the gale. His pale-blue skin and piercing yellow eyes marked him as a senior warrior, but his posture was weary, burdened by unseen weight.
Mack stepped forward, bowing slightly. "I'm Mack, leader of the Guardians. We've come to help."
"Help?" the second Pteranodon, a female with a sharper beak and fiery orange plumage, scoffed. "Outsiders never bring help. Only trouble."
"We've heard that before," Lloyd added, stepping to Mack's side. "But we're here to restore your tribe's power—and stop the enemy who's corrupted it."
The male Pteranodon, who introduced himself as Pteros, eyed the group warily. "You speak of the Wind Crystal?"
"Yes," Mack replied. "We need to speak with your elders."
Pteros stiffened, his wings folding closer to his body. "The elders see no one—not after the betrayal."
"What betrayal?" Zee asked, her tone careful but inquisitive.
Pteros's expression darkened. "One of our own, Ptaelim, a warrior of great renown, seized the Wind Crystal for himself. He sought to control its power and died for his hubris. Now, the crystal is corrupted—poisoned by his folly. The elders have sealed themselves away in mourning and will not grant an audience."
"That wasn't your warrior's doing," Zee countered, stepping forward. "It was our enemy, Tenebris. He's been corrupting the crystals of all the Dinosaur Tribes, sowing chaos wherever he goes. If we don't stop him, he'll destroy this whole world."
Pteros's eyes narrowed. "You expect us to take the word of strangers?"
Before Zee could respond, another voice cut through the conversation. "Maybe they're telling the truth."
The group turned to see a younger Pteranodon stepping forward. His bright-green plumage was disheveled, and he lacked the hardened glare of Pteros, though his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "If they can prove what they're saying, it's worth listening."
"And who are you to question the elders' decisions, Ptirion?" Pteros snapped.
Ptirion shrugged, his tone even. "Someone who thinks we're running out of options. If these Guardians can give us proof, why not hear them out?"
A tense silence followed, broken only by the howling wind. Mack glanced at Zee, who met his gaze with quiet resolve.
Finally, Pteros relented. "Very well. If you can prove that this 'Tenebris' is the true cause of the Wind Crystal's corruption, I will take you to the elders. Until then, you remain strangers—and nothing more."
The Guardians nodded, though the weight of the task ahead settled heavily on their shoulders. As Pteros walked away, Ptirion lingered.
"Don't worry," he said, a hint of a smile breaking through his somber expression. "I'll help you find the proof you need. And for what it's worth, I believe you."
"Thanks," Mack said. "We're going to need all the help we can get."
The storm churned relentlessly above Storm Steeple, casting the village below in shifting shades of gray and silver. The air was thick with the tension of unresolved questions, and every gust of wind seemed to whisper that time was slipping through their fingers.
Ptirion led the Guardians through the village, weaving between clusters of curious Pteranodons who watched the strangers with suspicion and intrigue. The storm's constant howling made conversation difficult, but Ptirion spoke clearly and decisively as he guided them toward the warriors who had once guarded the Wind Crystal.
"They'll be at the watchtower," he said, gesturing toward a stone structure perched precariously on a cliff edge. "They were there the night the crystal was corrupted. If anyone knows what happened, it's them."
The Guardians exchanged tense glances. The stakes felt higher now, the air heavier with the feeling that Tenebris's influence had spread throughout the whole realm.
As they entered the watchtower, the wind gave way to the quiet murmurs of two Pteranodon warriors. Both looked up as Ptirion and the Guardians approached.
"These are the outsiders?" one of the warriors asked, his yellow eyes narrowing.
"They're here to help," Ptirion replied, his voice calm but firm. "And they need to know what you saw that night."
The older of the two warriors stepped forward, his expression grim. "It was Ptaelim," he began. "We were on duty when we saw him ascending toward the storm. He didn't look like himself—his movements were... unnatural. Like he was being pulled by something we couldn't see."
The younger warrior added, "We thought he was just testing his strength, trying to reach the crystal. But then the winds changed. The storm became violent, and we lost sight of him. Moments later, the sky darkened, and the Wind Crystal... it wasn't the same."
"What do you mean?" Zee asked, leaning forward.
"The crystal's light turned black," the older warrior said. "And the winds—it felt like they were alive, pushing us away from the steeple. When we searched for Ptaelim, we found him at the base of the steeple, twisted and burned. His body didn't look like his own anymore."
The Guardians fell silent, the weight of the story settling over them like the storm above. Ptirion folded his arms, his beak tightening. "This is why the tribe believed he had gone rogue," he said. "They thought he tried to take the crystal's power for himself and paid the price."
"But that's not what happened," Mack said, his voice firm. He turned to the group, his mind working through the pieces. "The scorch marks, the unnatural behavior—it all points to possession."
"Possession?" Ptirion echoed, his tone skeptical.
"It's a power of the Overlord and ghosts," Lloyd explained. "And Tenebris serves the Overlord. If Tenebris has this ability, he could have used Ptaelim to reach the crystal."
The idea sent a shiver through the room. "Tenebris possesses people?" the younger warrior asked, his voice trembling.
Mack nodded. "Seems that way."
"But possession doesn't normally kill the victim," Lloyd added, his past trauma on the subject coloring his tone.
"Which means Tenebris did what he needed with Ptaelim and then killed him," Mack muttered darkly.
The older Pteranodon warrior sighed. "You must stop this 'Tenebris.'"
Cole, who had been silent until now, stepped back, his face pale. The others noticed, but he avoided their gazes, lost in his thoughts. As a ghost, he knew the power of possession all too well (not to mention what Lloyd suffered at Morro's hands before he became reformed).
The thought of Tenebris wielding that same power—twisting it into something vile—was almost too much to bear.
As they left the watchtower, the storm seemed louder, as if reflecting the unease in their hearts. Ptirion walked in silence for a while before finally speaking.
"Perhaps this was always meant to happen," he said quietly.
"What do you mean?" Zee asked.
Ptirion glanced at her. "Our tribe believes that life is meaningless. Most things we do—these conflicts, our works—they amount to nothing. True purpose is only revealed at the moment of death. But by then, it's too late to share it."
"That's... bleak," Kai said, frowning.
"It's reality," Ptirion replied. "We're born, we live, we die. Meaning is an illusion."
Zee stopped walking, forcing Ptirion to pause and look back at her. "You're wrong," she said. "Meaning isn't something you find at the end. It's in the choices you make, the connections you build. Life has meaning because we give it meaning."
Ptirion tilted his head, considering her words. "Perhaps. But even if you're right, it doesn't change what happened to Ptaelim—or the danger we're in now."
"No," Zee said, her voice soft but resolute. "But it's why we keep fighting. Because it matters, even if you can't see it yet."
Back at the base of the steeple, the group examined the site where Ptaelim had fallen. Zee used the Daggers of Wind to clear the turbulent air, revealing claw marks gouged into the stone.
Ptirion knelt to examine them. "These... these aren't natural. They're too large, too deep. Whatever happened to Ptaelim—possession, or whatever… it twisted him into something else."
Lloyd and Mack both stepped closer, their eyes narrowing. "There's something else here," Lloyd murmured. He reached out, his hand hovering above the stone. "I can feel it—an echo of Tenebris's power."
Mack nodded. "It's faint, but it's there. He was here."
The confirmation sent a ripple of unease through the group. Ptirion rose, his expression grim. "We need to tell Pteros."
Back in the village, the Guardians and Ptirion presented their findings to Pteros. The warrior listened in silence, his expression hard to read. When they finished, he folded his wings tightly against his sides.
"You've given us much to consider," he said finally. "I don't trust easily—but it is clear that something sinister is at work here. I will take you to the elders. What happens after that is up to them."
The storm above Storm Steeple roared with relentless fury as the Guardians prepared to ascend. Rain lashed against the jagged spires, and the air buzzed with electric energy. On the ground, Jay and Cole stood near the village's edge, watching as the others readied their dragons.
Cole could not go to the top of Storm Steeple, as the rain would quickly destroy him and complicate their mission unnecessarily. Jay, still recovering from his injury, would stay behind and keep Cole company.
The two waved as the rest of the team mounted their dragons. Mack glanced back at Ptirion, who was organizing the Pteranodon escort. Pteros had gone ahead to prepare to announce their arrival.
"Let's go," Ptirion called, his wings flaring open against the rain. "The elders are waiting."
With a synchronized leap, the dragons and their riders took to the skies, following the Pteranodon warriors through the storm's swirling winds. The climb was steep and treacherous, each gust of wind a challenge to the dragons' steady ascent. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the steeple's jagged peak far above.
Finally, they breached the storm's core, reaching a plateau where the air felt almost still despite the storm raging below. Atop the steeple, a circle of ancient Pteranodons waited. Their feathers were faded, their forms stooped with age, yet their eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence.
The Guardians landed and dismounted, their boots crunching on the stone surface as they stepped forward. Zee tightened her grip on the Daggers of Wind, the storm's charged energy sending shivers through her.
One elder stepped forward, his wings extending with a measured grace. "Why have you come?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble that carried across the platform.
The Guardians gasped. These elders speak? they all thought.
"Ah," the elder spoke again. "You have encountered the other tribes' elders, it appears. Yes, we can speak. Now, why have you come before us?"
Zee stepped forward, taking a steadying breath. "We've come to restore the Wind Crystal and save your tribe," she said. "The corruption wasn't caused by one of your own. It was the work of Tenebris, our enemy."
The elder tilted his head, studying Zee for a long moment. The silence stretched until finally, he spoke. "The Wind Crystal cannot be restored by words alone. Are you prepared to face the evil that has corrupted our power?"
Zee straightened, determination shining in her eyes. "Yes."
"Then brace yourself," the elder said.
Before Zee could respond, two elders surged forward, their talons gripping her arms with surprising strength. With a powerful thrust of their wings, they lifted her off the platform and carried her higher into the storm.
The air grew colder as they ascended, the winds sharper and more erratic. Zee squinted against the stinging rain, her heart pounding as they broke through the storm clouds.
Above them, a floating platform hovered in the eye of the storm, illuminated by a faint yellow glow. At its center, the Wind Crystal shimmered, its light obscured by the dark, swirling shadow that surrounded it. The elders released Zee, leaving her to land lightly on the platform.
"Good luck," one elder said before they disappeared into the clouds, leaving Zee alone with the storm.
The shadow around the crystal pulsed and twisted, coalescing into the form of a massive Pteranodon. Its wings were jagged and unnatural, its eyes glowing a vivid, malevolent purple. It screeched, the sound reverberating through Zee's chest, and the wind around her exploded into chaos.
Zee summoned the Daggers of Wind, gripping them tightly. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to focus. You can do this. You've trained for this.
The creature lunged, its razor-edged wings slicing through the air. Zee dove to the side, summoning a gust of wind to propel herself out of harm's way. The platform beneath her trembled as the creature's claws raked across its surface.
Zee launched into the air, wings of wind carrying her as she met the shadow Pteranodon on its own terms. It moved with terrifying speed, circling her in dizzying patterns and forcing her to stay constantly on the move.
The wind howled as the two clashed, trading blows in a high-speed dance above the platform. The shadow creature's talons struck like lightning, and Zee countered with sharp blasts of wind from her daggers, aiming to disrupt its flight.
The Pteranodon screeched again, the sound so piercing that Zee faltered, wobbling as she struggled to stay airborne. The creature dove at her, claws outstretched, but Zee recovered just in time, creating a protective wind barrier around herself. The creature's attack glanced off the barrier, giving her a moment to regain her composure.
Stay calm, she told herself, drawing on the lessons Mack had drilled into her. Control the wind. Don't let it control you.
She focused, using the daggers to create focused gusts of wind that struck the creature's wings. It screeched in frustration, its movements growing more erratic as she disrupted its flight path.
The battle raged on, the platform trembling under the force of their clashes. Zee noticed the cracks spreading across its surface, an idea forming in her mind.
She baited the creature, drawing it into a dive aimed directly at the platform. At the last moment, she summoned a massive upward draft, propelling herself above the shadow Pteranodon as it slammed into the platform. The impact sent shards of stone flying, and the creature roared in pain.
Charging the Daggers of Wind with elemental energy, Zee dove, striking the creature between its wings. It screeched one final time as the shadow began to dissipate, its form unraveling into black mist.
Zee hovered above the platform, breathing heavily as the Wind Crystal's light began to shine through the darkness. She summoned one last whirlwind, using the force of the surrounding wind currents to plunge the daggers into the creature one more time, this time stabbing through its neck.
The creature exploded into a dark mist, and the crystal's golden glow flooded the sky, melting the shadows away.
As the last light of the restored Wind Crystal faded into the storm-dappled sky, the Guardians gathered in the shadow of Storm Steeple. Exhaustion clung to them, but they stood resolute, watching the horizon as a sense of finality settled over the group.
The restored power of the Dinosaur Tribes radiated across Chima. In distant territories, the tribal elders—united at last—focused their energies to sever Tenebris's connection to their stolen power.
Far away, in the heart of the Lion Temple, the countless Dark Chi Tenebris had created reverted to their natural state. Streams of light broke through the corrupted energy, and Tenebris's lieutenants could only watch as the transformation unraveled their master's work.
Milites froze mid-stride. With a resounding clatter, its great sword fell to the stone floor. The glowing runes on its blackened metal faded, leaving it nothing more than an empty husk.
In the dim light of the corrupted Chi chamber, Tenebris tapped his gauntleted fingers on the arm of his shadowy throne, his glowing purple eyes narrowing in annoyance.
"So, they've reclaimed their power," he muttered, his voice low and cold. "Annoying."
A faint smile curved his lips. "But not unexpected."
He stood and walked outside, gazing up toward Mount Cavora. His own darkness continued to strangle the mountain's source, growing stronger the longer he remained unchallenged.
Even with the loss of the Dinosaur Tribes' power, Cavora would fall in mere hours.
At the base of Storm Steeple, Mack staggered suddenly, clutching his head as an intense wave of visions overwhelmed him. The same dream that had haunted him since the morning of the Chi discovery at Swift Creek replayed with searing clarity, but this time, dozens of other images flashed through his mind as well—disjointed and incomprehensible.
Just as when he touched the Chi, Mack saw a darkness from the center of the realms expand to consume the universe. Stars winked out of existence, worlds went dark, and death and fear ruled over all.
The overwhelming force of the visions sent him to his knees.
"Mack!" Zee rushed to his side, gripping his shoulders as Lloyd knelt beside him.
"I'm fine," Mack gasped, though his pale face said otherwise. The visions faded, leaving behind an ominous weight that pressed on his chest. "It's... getting worse."
Lloyd frowned. "The dream again?"
Mack nodded, still catching his breath. "More of them this time. I feel like... the universe is unraveling."
No one spoke, the implications settling heavily over the group.
Despite Mack's shaken state, the Guardians pressed on, drawn by a force they couldn't explain. They crossed the Howling Hills and the Serpent Sea, following a winding path that led them to a massive bridge carved from ancient stone: Ascension Bridge.
The bridge arched high above the sea, leading to a solitary island shrouded in mist. As they reached the island's edge, they found a smoldering bonfire surrounded by strange carvings etched into the ground.
The moment they stepped closer, the fire roared to life. Sparks danced upward, and from the flames, an ethereal figure began to take shape.
"I am Ananias of the Anaconda Tribe," the figure intoned, its voice deep and resonant. "King of the Serpents. I speak for my friends gathered here: the prophets Raphael of the Rattler Tribe, Vincent of the Vipers, Bazil of the Boas, and Caius of the Cobra Tribe."
The Guardians stood in stunned silence as the figures of four other Serpent prophets emerged alongside Ananias. Their forms were regal, ancient, and filled with an aura of wisdom.
Ananias continued, "The prophets have come to understand that a great change will soon befall our world, and our dominion will be dissolved. Another will rise to challenge the balance we have long guarded, and you, our successors, must take up our mantle. Heed our warnings, for they may yet guide you in preserving what remains."
One by one, the prophets stepped forward, delivering their warnings in voices that resonated with timeless authority.
"I am Prophet Raphael of the Rattler Tribe, and I offer this warning: take care that you do not allow your path to be defined by unbridled ambition."
"In a quiet forest, an ivy plant grew at the base of a mighty oak. The ivy admired the oak's towering height and dreamed of reaching the top to see the world as the oak did. Day by day, the ivy climbed higher, wrapping itself tightly around the oak's trunk. "I will touch the sky," it thought, "and surpass even the tallest trees."
"But as the ivy grew more ambitious, it tightened its grip, choking the oak's bark. The oak began to weaken, its branches withering under the strain. Eventually, the ivy reached the top, only to find the oak too fragile to hold it. With a crack, the oak fell, and the ivy tumbled with it, left tangled and broken on the forest floor.
"The forest creatures shook their heads. 'In trying to rise too quickly,' they said, 'the ivy destroyed the very support it needed to succeed.'
"In seeking ever greater power to vanquish ever greater evils, be ever more careful not to destroy that which is precious and admirable in your life, for then you will find yourself broken and alone.
"May Hypnoris preserve in you a spirit of humility."
The two-headed prophet spoke in perfect unison. "I am Prophet Vincent of the Viper Tribe, and I offer this warning: take care that you do not allow the actions you take together to be sullied by division among you."
"There were two armies that found themselves in conflict.
"The first army was filled with strong warriors, but they could never agree. They argued over strategies, questioned their generals, and debated every decision. By the time they decided their course, the enemy was always one step ahead.
"The second army was smaller but united. They trusted their leader, who was wise and decisive. Without hesitation, they followed his commands, moving swiftly and striking with precision.
"When the two armies met, the second overwhelmed the first. Their unity and discipline made them unstoppable. The second army went on to conquer vast lands and establish a great empire that endured for a thousand years, while the first army faded into forgotten history, remembered only as a cautionary tale.
"Strength does not always determine victory. A discordant force will be toppled, but a unified one endures."
"May Fangpyra preserve in you a spirit of unity.""
"I am Prophet Bazil of the Boa Tribe, and I offer this warning: you have been given great power, so take care that you do not abuse it for selfish gain.
"There were two serpents, one great and one small. Although the great serpent had strength, the small serpent was a hard worker and gathered much wealth. Full of envy, the great serpent came upon the small serpent and demanded a share of his wealth. The small serpent was defiant, but the great serpent broke one of his hands. Finally, the small serpent relented and gave the great serpent a one-fifth share of his entire wealth.
"Later, the small serpent considered another serpent wealthier than him and, seeking to make back what he had lost to the great serpent, hired strong hands to seize money from the other serpent equaling what the small serpent had lost earlier.
"The local lord heard of all this evil and called both the great and small serpents to his castle. The small serpent blamed the great serpent, and the townspeople provided witness to the events that had unfolded.
"The local lord ordered the great serpent executed; he would answer for his abuse of his physical power by being shown the physical power of justice. The small serpent celebrated, but the local lord had him sold into slavery in the house of the serpent he had stolen from. He would answer for his abuse of financial power by working the rest of his days and gaining nothing for himself.
"Both serpents were punished for abusing the power they had to hurt others. Be, instead, intent on using the power you have to defend and serve those around you, and you will be blessed."
"May Constricus preserve in you a spirit of service."
"I am Prophet Caius of the Cobra Tribe, and I offer this warning: take care that you always exercise patience, especially when burdened with leadership."
"Two shepherds each led a flock. The first, impatient, drove his sheep harshly, shouting and prodding them to move faster. Frightened and confused, his flock scattered, some lost in the wilderness.
"The second shepherd was patient, guiding his sheep gently and waiting when they strayed. With his calm hand, the flock stayed together, reaching green pastures safely.
"In the end, the impatient shepherd had little to show, while the patient one thrived.
"A leader must be patient, lest those entrusted to him become lost and the goal be forfeit.
"A leader must be patient, lest those entrusted to him become lost.
"May Venomilia preserve in you a spirit of patience."
As the fire began to fade, Ananias spoke once more. "Now that you have heard the wisdom of the Serpent prophets, I leave you to go forth and become the new protectors of our beloved world. May all the Serpent kings and prophets go with you, and may our world prosper forever."
With that, the fire burned out, leaving the Guardians in solemn reflection.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the Lion Temple, Tenebris listened as Scorm, the Scorpion King, voiced his concerns.
"Our plans are falling apart," Scorm hissed. "The Chima tribes have united, our power has diminished—"
"Everything," Tenebris interrupted coldly, "is going according to plan."
Scorm hesitated, his pincers clicking nervously. "But how—?"
"The Guardians could have stormed this temple and killed us, but their precious morality compelled them to restore the power of the Dinosaur Tribes instead," Tenebris said, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction.
"Soon, you will have your revenge against Chima, and I will honor my master with the sacrifice of this realm. And when my master returns, he will reward you with a share in the kingdom of darkness. But you must have patience, Scorm."
Scorm bowed reluctantly, retreating into the shadows as Tenebris turned his gaze skyward again, his eyes gleaming with malevolence.