Verdam did not bother with portals, gates, or any sensible means of travel.
Instead, he stepped onto the open terrace at the edge of the citadel, spread his arms wide, and laughed.
"Ah" he said fondly. "It's been a while."
Caspian frowned. "A while since what?"
Verdam's smile widened. "Since I scared someone with this."
Light erupted from his body.
It wasn't blinding at first—no sudden flash—but a swelling brilliance, like dawn compressed into flesh. The air around him ignited, not with heat, but with living flame, golden and crimson interwoven. His silhouette stretched, bones cracking and reforming as wings burst from his back in an explosion of fire and feathers.
Caspian stumbled back, shielding his eyes.
Verdam grew—expanded—until he towered over the terrace, no longer a man, but a colossal beast of legend.
A griffin.
No, not quite, instead of having the upper half of an eagle, it was that of a phoenix.
His forequarters were leonine, sculpted from burning gold, muscles rolling beneath living flame. His wings were vast, feathered in fire and light, each plume trailing embers like falling stars. His head was avian, sharp and regal, crowned by a mane of blazing radiance that flowed like solar wind.
A luminous chicken indeed.
Caspian stared, mouth open.
"…That's why," he muttered.
Verdam tilted his massive head, amused. "Oh, it seems you know about the nickname my brother gave me."
The phoenix-griffin lowered its head, flames dimming just enough not to blind him.
"Get on"Verdam said, voice echoing with layered resonance. "And don't worry."
Caspian hesitated, staring at the burning feathers.
"I'm… not fireproof."
A low, amused rumble escaped the creature's chest.
"My fire does not burn what I do not wish to burn" Verdam said. "If it did, the citadel would already be ash."
Caspian swallowed.
"Well" he sighed, stepping closer. "Guess I'm trusting the sun not to cook me alive."
He climbed onto Verdam's back, gripping between blazing feathers that felt warm—but solid. Alive.
The moment Caspian settled—
Verdam leapt.
The world vanished like a mirage.
They tore through the sky like a falling star, acceleration slamming into Caspian's chest. Wind screamed past him, the landscape below blurring into streaks of shadow and light.
They climbed higher.
Faster.
Clouds evaporated in their wake.
Caspian pressed himself low, heart hammering—not from fear, but exhilaration.
Then—
It hit.
Hunger.
Not a whisper.
A scream.
His throat tightened, fangs aching as the thirst surged violently, sharper than before. His vision darkened at the edges, instincts clawing up from his blood.
Verdam felt the bloodlust.
The griffin slowed slightly, wings angling to steady their flight.
"Drink" Verdam said calmly. "Before you lose control."
Caspian stiffened. "I—"
"Now."
Verdam twisted his neck just enough, exposing a line of blazing-gold flesh beneath the feathers.
Caspian hesitated for only a second before instinct won.
He bit.
Light flooded his mouth.
Verdam's blood tasted like liquid dawn—warm, radiant, impossibly rich. Power surged through Caspian's veins, drowning hunger instantly, replacing it with something overwhelming.
Power flooded him.
Not frenzy. Not madness.
Strength.
But before he could he could even try to flex his muscles, the Citadel of the Moon appeared on the horizon beneath a veil of night.
It was vast.
Ancient.
And wrong.
Black stone towers pierced the sky like broken teeth, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly crimson. No lights shone from windows. No banners flew. No sound rose to greet them.
A dead city.
Verdam slowed as they approached the outer gates, then descended just beyond them, into the shadow of a twisted forest whose trees bent unnaturally toward the citadel.
Caspian slid down from his back.
Verdam shifted again, fire folding inward until the Saint stood once more in human form, dusting imaginary ash from his sleeves.
"This is where we part," he said.
"You can't enter," Caspian said.
Verdam nodded. "The spell would hurt me badly."
He gestured to the forest. "I'll wait. Remember, if you don't get the Guiding Moonlight, we will all die."
"…Comforting."
Verdam smiled. "Good luck, little knife."
Then he vanished into the trees.
Caspian turned toward the gate.
And walked in.
Nothing stopped him.
No resistance. No barrier. No guards.
The city swallowed him whole.
The streets were pristine—and utterly lifeless. No bodies. No decay. No animals. No insects. Even the air felt stagnant.
His footsteps echoed far too loudly.
The only movement came from a distant crimson glow, bleeding down from the highest tower at the heart of the castle.
Caspian reached the inner courtyard and froze.
Statues lined the walls.
Dozens of them.
Batlike figures crouched in grotesque poses, wings folded, claws dug into stone. Their faces were twisted, frozen mid-snarl, eyes carved with uncanny detail.
Gargoyles, Caspian remember seeing them in one of his father's old storybooks.
Caspian shuddered.
"…Lucky me" he muttered. "At least they don't move."
The castle doors stood open.
Inside, the halls felt… familiar.
Too familiar.
A pull tugged at his chest, a whisper urging him forward, guiding his steps as if he had walked these corridors a thousand times before. He moved without hesitation, turning corners before seeing them, climbing staircases without doubt.
Come.
The voice wasn't threatening.
It was inviting.
He found the passage to the high tower easily.
Too easily.
Caspian ran.
The climb felt endless, spiraling higher and higher, until at last he emerged into an open chamber beneath the night sky.
There, suspended above a runic altar, was the Guiding Moonlight.
It looked like a moon torn from the heavens.
Silver and crimson light bled from its surface, dripping like liquid luminescence into the air. It pulsed slowly, rhythmically—alive.
Caspian stepped forward, awe stealing his breath.
"So… this is it."
He reached out.
His fingers closed around the Guiding Moonlight, grabbing onto the ethereal light like it was handles
He had done it.
Then—
A cacophony of roars echoed through the night, breaking the silence, like a sharp blade.
Caspian's smile faded.
Slowly.
"…I had to talk..."