Corvis Eralith
I was strolling through the Royal Palace's corridors, searching for Alea, when I met him.
"Your Highness! You made a new hand!" Alwyn exclaimed, his peanut-brown eyes widening as he stared at the wooden appendage I had crafted just the other day.
The gears glinted in the morning light filtering through the tall windows, and I saw my reflection in the polished wood: a boy with a prosthetic, a prince with a missing hand, a soul that had died too many times to count.
"Yes, I did," I said, clenching the fingers of the wooden hand. The movement was clunky, mechanical, the gears grinding softly with each flex.
"That's amazing!" Alwyn's voice was filled with genuine wonder, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest despite myself.
"Do you know where Alea is?" I asked.
Since Alea had rescued me and Tessia in Azellio, I had not spoken with the Lance—a truth I now officially knew, as Dad could no longer keep it secret after everything that had happened. It was not much of a reveal, in the end.
Dad had told us in his usual stoic manner, without ceremony, without fanfare. Once, I had been unable to wait for Dad to tell me and Tessia about the Lances' existence, just so Alea would stop her insufferable game of pretending to be "just your average maid."
But I had not wanted it to happen like this. Alea was avoiding me. I feared she blamed herself for what had happened to my hand.
Damn. It was just a hand, just my hand, why did people make such a tragedy out of it? Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Tessia, Alwyn, Alea, everyone who knew about it made it sound like I had received a death sentence. I sighed inwardly.
That only meant that when my Lifework was complete, I would truly make something useful. Perhaps even worthy of a Dawn Prize... No, that was laughable. I would never be able to match even the least of the Djinn.
But, thinking about it more rationally, not even the Indrath Clan had been able to match them, so it was not a very fair comparison, measuring myself against someone that was of the same race as Avicenna Artira of Ramdad.
"Alea has been working very hard lately," Alwyn said, his brow furrowing. "I have not seen her in the last two days either."
"What?" I asked, surprised.
Alwyn nodded. "Usually she always comes back to the room we share in the servants' wing of the palace. But she did not return yesterday, or the day before." He looked at me, worry creeping into his voice. "Your Highness, do you fear something might have happened to her?"
"No," I said.
The only people who were a danger to Alea would hopefully not come to Dicathen for many more years. But for her to have isolated herself even from Alwyn?
That was bad. I wanted to at least thank her for what she had done for me and Tessia before departing for the Hearth.
"I am going to search for her," I said, raising my head. My gaze had been downcast, lost in thought, but now I met Alwyn's peanut-brown eyes directly. "Let us split up, alright?"
"As you wish, my prince," Alwyn confirmed, and I saw the happiness in his face, happiness that I had asked for his help.
As he left to search for his sister, I considered who else I could ask. Dad or Mom were the most obvious choices—they were the monarchs Alea was bound to by Asura-made artifacts—but I did not want to disturb them. They had enough to worry about.
"Master Kamiel..."
I never would have guessed that I would seek him out to find Alea.
—
I found Master Kamiel, and after I asked him where Alea was, the musician of Sister House Rennoux pointed me toward the southernmost area of the Royal Palace. That elf was unnervingly knowledgeable about people at times.
The Royal Palace had a cemetery built in its southern wing, directly connected to the most remote gardens.
The Royal Graveyard. It was where former members of House Eralith, trusted and devoted servants, and other illustrious elves were buried if they had no other burial ground, like members of the nobility.
This created a strange paradox. Commoners were buried alongside kings, receiving burial honors that lesser nobles—anyone who was not part of the Sister Houses—would never dream of.
Two tall Watchful Willows stood before me, giants that had sheltered Zestier for centuries. Between them, built from the same white stone and in the same style as the rest of the palace, was the entrance to the Royal Graveyard.
It was a small gate supported by two white columns that were directly married to the trunks of the Watchful Willows. Standing above the arched gate was the insignia of House Eralith.
A carefully curated path, with Lominels planted on both sides, led toward the gate.
"Your Royal Highness?" An old voice coughed, startled.
An elderly elf with a short white beard stood guard at the gate. His eyes were rheumy with age, but they held a sharpness that spoke of decades of service.
"Hello," I said. "I would like to enter the Royal Graveyard."
"Of course, Prince Corvis," the old man said, one hand on his back as he opened the gate for me, refusing my offer of help. "Please, take your time."
"Thank you. Is a woman in the cemetery currently? White hair? Light blue eyes?"
The old elf's eyes widened a fraction. "You mean young Alea, little prince? Yes, she is here." His voice was warm, fond. "That girl is a blessing, I tell you. Whenever she comes by, I can properly rest these old bones."
I frowned. "And yet you refused my help just now with the gate."
"You are a prince and a child, Your Highness." The old elf smiled, revealing missing teeth. "I am old, not rude."
"Whatever. Thank you for the answer." I hesitated, then added, "And elder, you seem to know Alea. Does she seem... different than usual?"
"I fear so," the old elf answered, his expression growing troubled. "Usually she does not linger for long. She helps around a bit, then leaves as quickly as she came. But these last days, she has been here far more. I do not complain about the help, but still I worry for the girl."
"Is there a particular reason why she visits the Royal Graveyard? If I may ask, of course."
"Her parents." The old elf's voice was gentle, but firm. "But it is not my place to tell you more. I apologize."
"Do not worry about it. I wish you a good day."
I entered the Royal Graveyard and was welcomed by more Lominels, other flowers, and the white headstones. The burial ground itself was limited by the two Watchful Willows and white walls where the trees did not close the space.
At the far end stood the crypt of the Eralith family.
I spotted a couple of people crouched in front of headstones—those belonging to the commoners who had served House Eralith honorably. The only sounds came from the wind above and the crows.
Following the Verticil, it was the Summer Crow, the manifestation of summer, that guided the souls of dead elves to Everbosk, which I knew was Epheotus.
Among the mourners, I spotted a familiar woman wearing the standard maid uniform of the palace's servants.
I approached silently, respectfully. Alea was crouched before two headstones, tenderly tending to the flowers around them. If Tessia were here, she could surely name each bloom.
I stood in silence while Alea mourned.
"You do not need to stand there, Your Highness," Alea said, her voice sorrowful despite her attempt to hide it. She had obviously felt my presence.
"I... I wanted to thank you, Alea," I said.
"For what? For having served my duty? Or for having lied to you all these years?"
"I do not really care about that."
"Still, I think I should apologize." Alea's shoulders were tense, her hands still on the flowers.
I took a step closer. "Were they your and Alwyn's parents?"
The Lance nodded. Her jaw was tight.
"Alwyn never told me they were buried here," I said.
"Because he never visits. It would serve no purpose. He does not even remember them."
I looked at the names etched into the headstones: Asfira and Liron Triscan. The letters were worn, smoothed by weather and time, but still legible.
"How did they die?" I dared to ask.
Alea clenched her fists. "They were killed. They died in an accident caused by a Caduchicilist." Her voice was flat, emptied of emotion. "I became what I am because of that. Because..." She stopped. "Sorry, Your Highness."
"I am listening," I said. "You can tell me. Everything you want."
Alea let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Are you sure you are ten years old?"
"I have always been mature, have I not?" I asked, feeling the absurdity of the question. I was a universal corrector, placed by Fate in a doomed world. I was not a comforter. And yet, here I was.
"I suppose so," Alea said. "I think I saw the culprit of my parents' death when I came to help you and Her Highness. I think it was her. I would recognize that figure anywhere."
Nylith had killed Alea's parents? And I had let her escape—not once, but twice. How pathetic.
"Nylith," I said. "That is her name."
Alea turned to look at me, her eyes wide. "She spoke to you?"
I nodded. "She spoke her nonsense about the Caduchicil. About the coming of her dark gods."
Alea turned back to face the headstones. Her hands had stopped moving. She was very still.
"Your parents did not need to die, Alea," I said. In the back of my mind, I prepared myself to die—to use REtrocurrent—for what I was about to say, if things went badly. "But I intend to stop it. I need you to bring me to Azellio. To that valley. There, I will be able to get the help we need to destroy the Caduchicil and, most importantly, whoever backs it."
"Who backs it?" Alea asked. She did not seem to think me crazy.
"Yes. The Vritra. They are a Clan of Asuras—a clan of gods. They want nothing more than to see us dead. I can reach someone who can help us. In Azellio."
"What are you saying?" Alea asked. Again, she seemed to believe me.
"I am the reincarnation of Eralith Asclepius, Alea." The words felt strange on my tongue, too large for my mouth. "I know what awaits Dicathen if I do nothing. You are the only one I can trust with this."
"Me? Why not your parents? Why not Elder Virion?"
"The Spring Lizard, Alea." I let the words hang in the air. "All gods. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. They are all playing their games, and we are the pawns. We will slaughter each other for their politics."
I paused, letting that sink in. "It has already happened once, Alea. The Ancient Mages. They were not destroyed by war or by some magical cataclysm. They were slaughtered by these gods, by the Asuras. All that remains are ruins. The dungeons. The portals."
My voice dropped lower, more intense. "The Asclepius Clan tried to save them. And what did they accomplish? They were forced to hide. To run from their home, from Everbosk, to avoid being slaughtered as well."
Alea was silent for a long while. I had spoken carefully, using sound magic to weave my voice so that no one else could hear. Together with it, I had used Ars Ariamorph, dispersing the sound waves as simple wind.
"When do you need to go?" Alea asked finally.
"You... you are fine with this?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
"It will not be very different from our excursions to the Hallowed Hollow, will it?" Alea asked.
Her smile, her jokes, her playfulness, had all returned. The mask was back in place, but this time, I thought I saw something real beneath it.
It was time to meet the Asclepius Clan.
—
I was set down in front of the Djinnic portal in Azellio, the archway standing tall before me.
The trip had gone smoothly, save for Soleil giving Alea strange glances. Was she jealous because Alea was the one carrying me? It was not as if she could do so herself—to do that, she would need to shed her Sambhogakaya and reveal too much of her Asuran nature to the world, risking Windsom's attention.
"Why is Her Highness's robin following us?" Alea asked, breathing in the fresh mountain air. The breeze carried the scent of pine and damp earth, the whisper of the forest that had given birth to my people.
"She is... she is not a normal robin," I said. "But that might be too much to explain right now."
"I understand," Alea said, completely compliant.
Every passing second, I was more certain that the Triscan siblings had a serious problem. Why were they so loyal? Damn; Soleil thought me the reincarnation of her lord's son—his only heir—which, to an Asura, was a perfectly fine reason for devotion.
Berna? Berna was my bond, my Guardian Bear. With her, it was not a matter of loyalty so much as a matter of life or death.
Speaking of Berna... her control over her own weight, thanks to gravity magic, was so refined that she had spent the entire journey perched on Alea's shoulder like the largest fur cloak ever made. Alea had not felt the slightest tiredness from carrying her.
"Do you want me to wait for you here?" Alea asked.
I shook my head. "I do not want to make my family worry too much. I am already the worst of sons, departing for who knows how long just after what happened." I took a breath. "Go to my Great-aunt. Come up with an excuse—that I decided to visit her early, perhaps. I am sure Great-aunt Rinia will think of something."
"She knows about what you told me?" Alea asked.
"More or less..."
"Perfect." Alea crouched and ruffled my hair with a smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Soleil puff her chest, annoyed. She was jealous, then. "I will come to check every once in a while."
"If everything goes according to plan, I will return home through the portal," I said, hands on my hips as I admired the Djinnic gateway.
"His Majesty is planning to send scholars, mages, and other experts to connect this portal to Zestier," Alea said. "And seeing how important portals are in our continent's politics, they will be escorted by a contingent of the Treeful Phalanx led by Jarnas Auddyr."
"Dad fears information about Azellio might reach Sapin?" I asked, and Alea nodded.
Whenever a new portal built by the Ancient Mages was discovered, there was a true race for control. A gold rush to found a new city that would surely become one of the main centers of the kingdom that claimed it.
There was always the risk that Sapin would send their own colonizers from the other side of the Grand Mountains if news of Azellio reached Etistin. After all, Azellio was not that far from other Sapinese cities like Marlow.
"Anyway, I do not think explorers from Sapin can find Azellio," I said. "The only reason we found it was because of Tessia."
"I wish you good luck, Corvis," Alea said. "Stay safe."
With that, Alea took flight and left.
"What arrogance," Soleil exclaimed, flying onto my shoulder, flapping her wings in annoyance. "To even think danger could fall upon you in the home of your Clan."
Berna growled and moved toward the portal, standing on her haunches and touching the pillars with her claws.
"I think we need to turn it on first," I said.
Avicenna, I called, taking his Vaultlamp. How do I use a portal?
'That is simple, Justiciar,' Avicenna said. 'Portals—as they are more commonly called—were the most celebrated Lifework of Aetherology ever made.'
Aetherology? Even if they work with mana?
'Mana and aether communicate with each other, Justiciar. Now, use the Article of Unity, and the portal shall be unlocked.'
Article of Unity? I cannot use aether! I exclaimed, before I remembered the Alphabet; Avicenna's unfinished Lifework.
I formed a Bubblespell above my left hand—something I was unused to, as I had always used my right—and engraved in it an O of Orvandal, Justice.
The Bubblespell spun, and the portal accepted the mana as fuel instead of aether.
Obviously it worked; otherwise, no one in Dicathen would ever be able to use portals if they required aether alone. The Article of Justice was simply needed to run it as an administrator, let us say.
And as I thought, the portal ignited. Luminous energy filled the frame, which now awaited only a command.
Avicenna... how do I tell the portal where I want to go?
'Portals have fixed destinations, but your current use of Justice has restored that position,' Avicenna said. It worked similarly to dungeon Resets. 'Now, order the portal to fix its new destination.'
Can I assign more than one?
'It depends on the portal, but yes. You can choose as many destinations as the portal supports.'
So the Dicathian theories and knowledge about the portals' mechanisms were correct. It was nice to have confirmation.
"Soleil, where is the Hearth?" I asked the Asura in disguise.
"You do not remember it, milord?" Soleil asked, sounding saddened.
"Ehm... no," I replied. The "memories" she hoped me to have were all about reading a novel that described the Hearth. I would not call them true and lived experiences.
"Then let me help," Soleil said, hopping from my shoulder to my left arm. My hand was already touching the portal. Berna watched all of this with curious eyes.
Soleil let out a tiny drop of her immense Asuran mana reserves and fed it to the portal. The light filling the frame shifted in color and stabilized into a solid panel of soft, glowing white.
"It worked!" I exclaimed, feeling the robin trembling on my arm. "Soleil?"
"I am fine, milord. I—I am just a bit nervous. I apologize for the spectacle," Soleil said.
Then, with Berna behind me, Soleil back on my shoulder, and Avicenna's Vaultlamp tied to my belt, I stepped into the portal.