Corvis Eralith
Soleil's Phoenix form loomed over me like a feathered mountain, her scarlet plumage catching the light of the Hearth's artificial light, her golden crest brushing against the ceiling as if she were testing the limits of the chamber.
I tried to speak with Chul, but the sheer scale of her presence made my words feel small, insignificant. On the other side, Berna eyed the Asclepius hybrid suspiciously, her green eyes narrowed, her body tense. She did not like him.
Or perhaps she simply did not trust anyone who made me uncomfortable.
In other words: I was feeling a bit dwarfed. If by "a bit" you meant a lot.
Chul, just as the novel had described him, was a behemoth of a guy. He stood well over two meters tall, his dense muscles packed onto a frame that seemed designed to crush things.
His bicolored eyes (that, just like those of my Soul-Body, were the sign of his hybrid nature) orange and blue, were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
Our arrival at the Hearth had been nothing like I expected. One moment I was stepping through the portal in Azellio, the light swallowing me whole, the next I was somewhere else.
Then... I barely had time to register the large room before the world turned upside down. Soleil transformed with a burst of light and a rush of heat: the sudden, overwhelming presence of an Asura in her true form.
The portal collapsed behind us, the frame crumbling with a sound like thunder. Berna moved to shield me, her massive body pressing me against the floor, and then I was buried beneath dust and Phoenix feathers and Guardian Bear fur, choking, gasping, blind.
Now I stood in the aftermath, trying to piece together what had happened. Chul's orange and blue eyes bored into me, and a shock reverberated through the vast chamber—a chamber clearly built to comfortably house Phoenixes in their true forms, with ceilings that soared higher than any building in Zestier.
"Where are we?" I asked, my voice echoing in the vast space. I needed to ground myself. I needed to understand.
"The Portal Chamber," Chul replied.
I waited for him to explain further. He did not. That was all he said. Blunt. Direct. Efficient. I could appreciate that, even as I wished for more.
"When you asked me the location of the Hearth, I thought it would be wise to bring you here, milord," Soleil said, walking closer to us.
Her true form was massive: each step she took sent tremors through the floor, each breath stirred the air around her. Used as I was to seeing her as a robin, as Coco, seeing her now in all her Asuran glory was... something. I nodded at her, not trusting my voice.
"The rest of the Clan?" I asked, raising my head toward Chul. "Where are they?"
"All across the Hearth," Chul replied, quick and decisive. His eyes swept the chamber, as if he were counting heads, cataloging presences, keeping track of everyone.
"Milord, did you not want to speak with Evascir and ask him about the Titans' ways?" Soleil reminded me.
Without Mordain, Evascir was the best aid I could get from the Hearth. And having a Guardian Bear also required me to speak with an expert on Titans.
Berna was a mystery to me—her powers, her origins, her potential. I needed answers and guidance.
"Evascir is almost certainly in the Forge Chamber," Chul informed me, already turning, already moving.
"And how do I rea—" I could not finish my phrase.
Chul took me by the hand—the good one, the one that still ached from his too-hard handshake—and pulled me forward. Soleil walked happily toward the corridor leading out of the Portal Chamber, her feathers rustling with each step, her golden crest bobbing.
I called it a corridor, but "tunnel" would have been a better way to name it. It was large, many times larger than even the tallest corridor in the Royal Palace of Zestier.
The walls soared upward, disappearing into the artificial sky above, and the floor stretched wide enough for a dozen people to walk abreast. I wondered how many people the Hearth could host.
Did Mordain Asclepius plan to give refuge to all the inhabitants of Focularsa? Avicenna had never been able to answer that question, the Indraths had taken him before help could come; but perhaps someone like Evascir would know.
As we walked through the tunnels of the Hearth, I looked around me, trying to drink in every detail. The architecture was breathtaking. The stones were colored here, different from the white I was used to in Zestier's main buildings, different from the grey stones of Burim and Vildorial.
Orange, yellow, red—every shade and hue I knew and did not know made up the Hearth. And these colors helped compose intricate patterns on the walls, mosaics that told stories I could not read, histories I could not understand.
Above, instead of a ceiling, there were white clouds and stripes of blue sky that mimicked the heavens. Illumination came from this artificial firmament, soft and warm, like the light of a summer afternoon.
"That is not the real sky," Chul said, pointing upward. "We are actually underground!"
I saw Soleil make a strange expression—what I could only describe as second-hand embarrassment, but on the face of a Phoenix. But Chul had said that to guide me, to help me. The smile on his face and the brightness in his eyes told me so.
"Yes," I said, not knowing what else to add.
"That was not very smart of me to say," Chul then said, looking down at his feet. "Sorry, Uncle. I did not mean it. I did not want to downplay you."
What?
"Uncle?" I echoed, certain I had misheard.
"Yes, you are my uncle," Chul explained, then a spark lit up his eyes. "An uncle is the brother of one of your parents."
"Yes, I know what 'uncle' means," I said, my voice flat.
Soleil—the oversized chicken with feathers that made her look like someone had painted her—chuckled. The sound was musical, almost melodic, completely at odds with her massive, predatory form.
But I connected the dots without Chul needing to say another word.
If Eralith Asclepius, the person I presented myself as, was Mordain's son, and Chul was Dawn's child, then that meant Dawn was Mordain's daughter. Soleil had never told me that.
She had often sung the praises of Chul's mother, but she had never gone into details about her, nor about other Phoenixes. She spoke little about herself, too.
The secrets of the Asclepius indeed ran deep.
We continued to follow Chul through the tunnels. Soleil moved slowly, savoring the feeling of being back in the sanctuary of her Clan, her feathers brushing against the walls, her eyes half-closed in contentment.
On the other hand, Chul was the very definition of restless. Every muscle in his body seemed ready to explode in a burst of energy.
Berna started to sniff the air. She growled, low and warning, her body tensing.
Chul stopped. At the end of the tunnel, right before the next room, stood two figures. One was clad in an armor of polished stone—Evascir, I recognized, from the descriptions I had read in the novel.
The other was a Guardian Bear with black fur and deep brown eyes, about half a meter taller than Berna.
Seeing him, Berna rose onto her two hind legs, her massive form towering over me. She growled again, a challenge or a greeting, I could not tell.
"Evascir!" Chul shouted. If we had been in a normal tunnel, his voice would have echoed, bouncing off the walls, returning to us in fragments.
But the Djinnic technology and Asuran architecture seemed to absorb unnecessary sound waves, leaving Chul's voice loud and clear, but contained.
Soleil transformed back into her humanoid form in a burst of light—the Narmanakaya, her Emanation Physique. She fixed her long blonde hair behind her head, tucking it into place with practiced ease.
The armor surrounding the figure crumbled to dust, dissolving as if it had never been there. From within, Evascir emerged.
He was tall. Bald. Muscular. His skin looked like limestone, pale and rough, as if he had been carved from the same stone as the walls around us but bleached.
He was more athletic than Chul, who had more width in his muscles, but no less intimidating. He remained still for a long moment, blinking slowly, as if he could not believe what he was seeing.
His Guardian Bear did the same, but while Evascir was frozen in disbelief, his bond was staring at mine and Berna stared back.
"Soleil? You are alive..." Evascir said. Then he shook his head and punched the wall beside him.
"Evascir!" Chul and Soleil both screamed, fear bleeding into their voices.
The whole atmospheric mana began to tremble. And then we all felt it; the pressure of Evascir's King's Force.
The mana signature of an Asura, forced upon those around him.
It was similar to how you could feel the difference in strength between a mage stronger than you—your survival instinct would scream that the opponent was deadly.
But Asuras had learned to weaponize even that instinct. That was how Soleil had explained it to me.
We were all pressed to the ground by Evascir's power. Even Soleil and Chul could not do much against it. Their knees buckled. Their bodies shook. Their faces paled. But Evascir did not have any killing intent—if he had, I would surely have died.
The Guardian Bear by Evascir's side growled something, perhaps in protest.
"No, Lugano," Evascir silenced his bond.
Another growl followed. It came from Berna, directed at the other bear. And then she stood up. She rose to her full height, ignoring the effects of Evascir's King's Force as if it were nothing more than a gentle breeze.
I tried to speak, but the King's Force was muting me. Chul and Soleil were similarly silenced. I saw my... nephew? looking around, searching for something with wild eyes.
Berna and Lugano growled at each other, a conversation I could not understand. Then they both turned to Evascir, their gazes judging.
The Titan looked down. Did he understand their language?
We were freed from the King's Force. I gasped, desperate for air, my lungs burning.
"Milord!" Soleil rushed to my side, her hands already glowing with her warm, calming, soothing magic. The tension in my chest eased. The panic in my mind quieted.
"Evascir, have you gone crazy?!" Chul bellowed, his voice reverberating despite the Hearth's sound-dampening architecture.
The Phoenix-Djinn hybrid closed the distance between himself and Evascir. He pulled back his fist. And he punched the Titan straight in the face.
The sound of impact was sickening—flesh against flesh, bone against bone. Lugano did nothing to stop Chul; the Guardian Bear feigned ignorance, turning his attention instead to Berna.
Berna nudged my side and growled. I interpreted it as her telling me that everything was resolved. That the threat had passed. That I was safe.
I stood up. Chul was still punching Evascir, pure rage emanating from him. Each blow landed with a sound like thunder. Each blow was a release of decades of grief, of loneliness, of the desperate hope that someone would come back.
"Chul! Stop!" I ordered, hoping that whatever theoretical authority I had would work.
It did as Chul stopped. He stepped back, his fists still clenched, his chest heaving. He looked away, ashamed, his eyes fixed on the floor.
He seemed a bit short-tempered. Or perhaps he was simply on edge, having lived his entire life in the Hearth, having watched his whole family leave and never return.
Evascir's face—as pristine as well-polished marble, no hair, no beard, the only thing on his face being very thin grey eyebrows—was bruised, but he did not seem to care.
Lugano padded toward Berna, growling very amicably. The two Guardian Bears sniffed each other, circled each other, began the slow, careful dance of introduction.
"Evascir, do you realize what you have just done?!" Soleil shouted, walking closer to the Titan, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing.
But beneath the tension, the agitation, and the anger of the moment, I saw an underlying sadness in Soleil, Chul, and Evascir. A grief that had been festering for centuries. A wound that had never healed.
"I do," Evascir said. His voice was quiet, almost gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of his King's Force. "And I apologize for how I welcomed you back to the Hearth. Soleil."
"You should apologize to your lord," Soleil said, crossing her arms and turning to me.
"Lord? This elf?" Evascir asked, dumbfounded. "Why did you bring an elf to the Hearth in the first place... is he... your son?"
"By the Samsara, no!" Soleil's voice rose, scandalized.
I stepped forward, placing myself between the two Asuras. "I am the reincarnation of Eralith Asclepius," I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. "I have come here to meet the rest of the Clan."
Soleil nodded while Evascir sighed—a long, heavy exhalation, as if he had been holding his breath for centuries.
"I do apologize to you as well, then, milord," he said, bowing his head. "To welcome you back to where you rightfully belong in such a way... Mordain would never forgive me."
"You believe me that easily?" I asked, skeptical.
"I am no fool to mistrust the judgment of not one, but two Phoenixes in matters of reincarnation," Evascir said. "Furthermore, you bring with you a Guardian Bear. That speaks to the value of your character—something Eralith certainly possessed."
Good. Continue to keep this front, Corvis, a part of me whispered. I did not feel comfortable calling myself Eralith Asclepius. A part of me still felt like an imposter, a thief who had stolen the life of the original Corvis when Fate had decided to erase him and put me in his place.
"I will try not to disappoint you all," I said. The words felt hollow, inadequate, but they were all I had.
Evascir looked at me for a long moment. Then he nodded. "You already have not, milord. You came back. Like a true Phoenix you have returned from the dead when we need you the most."
I had come home. Or at least, I had come to the place that was supposed to be a home.
Now I just had to figure out how to stay.
—
The chamber we now occupied was just one of the hundreds within the Hearth—a fact Evascir had explained to me as we walked, his voice echoing off walls that had been old when my ancestors were still learning to shape stone.
It was a theatre-like meeting room, intimate despite its scale, the same room where, in the novel I had read in another life, Arthur had spoken with Chul and Mordain before bringing Sylvie back from the brink of death.
The memory of those pages flickered at the edge of my consciousness, ghostly and insubstantial, like heat rising off summer stone.
Parliament Theatre, they called it.
I sat at the head of a long table, and beneath my wooden fingers, I traced the contours of a map etched into the wood.
Faircity Zhoroa of the Pillars—the capital of the Legal Body of Sandand, as Avicenna had taught me. The detail was exquisite, each building, each street, each tower rendered with a precision that spoke of hands that had loved their work.
The eyes of the three Asuras were on me, waiting for me to speak. Soleil's gaze was warm, almost maternal. Chul's was intense, hungry, as if he were trying to devour every word before I even said it. Evascir's was... patient.
Only Lugano and Berna seemed to be enjoying themselves. Well, Lugano certainly was. He was chatting very happily with my bond, his growls a strange, almost musical counterpoint to the silence of the room.
His deep brown eyes were fixed on Berna with something that might have been admiration.
Who knows what they are saying? I wondered, watching the two bears. I tried not to think about whether Lugano was trying to court my Guardian Bear.
"Ehm... this is quite new for me," I admitted, the words feeling inadequate for the weight of the moment.
Authority was not new to me—technically, at least.
I remained a prince, even if I was still a child not yet in my teens. But this was different. These beings, older than my entire nation, were looking at me as a beacon. As a leader. As someone who could save them from their grief.
Time for some questions, then.
"The Hearth," I began, forcing my voice steady. "For how many people was it built?"
"All the Djinn who lived in Dicathen," Evascir replied, his voice flat, matter-of-fact. "More or less one and a half billion."
My eyes widened. One and a half what? Those numbers were a hundred times greater than all the people currently living in Dicathen.
I had studied the most recent censuses of both Elenoir and Darv and the total population reached perhaps twenty million. Counting Sapin, we might reach thirty million. But a billion and a half?
By now, I should have stopped being surprised by the folk of calm currents and everything about them. Every time I uncovered a breathtaking discovery, another lay just beneath, waiting to dwarf my understanding.
"How many are left?" I asked.
Silence fell like a shroud.
"None," Chul said, voicing what Soleil and Evascir were telling me with their stillness.
I swallowed. The word hung in the air, heavy and final. An entire civilization, erased. A billion and a half souls, reduced to dust and memory.
"And how many of the Clan remain?" I asked.
This question seemed even worse for the mood in the room. Soleil looked at Evascir and Chul, awaiting confirmation of what she had suspected for years, during her long absence from the Hearth.
"Not counting Soleil," Evascir began, his voice barely above a whisper, "there remain only fourteen pureblood Asclepius. Sixteen, counting the hybrids: Chul and yourself, seventeen counting Soleil too."
"And where are they?" I asked. "I would like to meet them."
Evascir's face relaxed. He must have been happy that I had made that decision without being asked. It was the least I could do.
And at the end of the day, this was why I was here—to meet the Asclepius Clan, to recruit them for my cause.
"They should all be in Nexus Garden," Evascir said. "When the Hearth sensed someone entering through the Portal Chamber, I told everyone to gather in the same place."
"Nexus Garden?" I asked.
"The main hall of the Hearth, Uncle!" Chul explained, his voice brightening. "It is an enormous, lush garden full of plants. You will love it."
Evascir nodded firmly. "That it is." He paused, his stone-like face unreadable. "Eralith, may we speak privately before you go? I also think it would be better for Soleil to meet with the Clan before news as revolutionary as your return is shared with the rest of the Asclepius."
"Why delay it?" Chul asked, crossing his arms, his orange and blue eyes fixed on Evascir with a questioning look.
"I wish to speak with Lord Eralith in private," Evascir said, his tone even. "Soleil, do you agree?"
"Yes." Soleil smiled—a bittersweet expression, full of longing and loss. "I am going to enjoy meeting the Clan again. Even if so few of us remain."
—
Evascir guided me through the tunnels of the Hearth. Each corridor was a masterpiece: of engineering, of gardening, of architecture, of every discipline that had to do with building.
"Your Guardian Bear..." I started, breaking the ice. The Titan did not seem a man of many words—something I wondered was a cultural trait of all Titans. "He seems very fond of Berna."
"I agree," Evascir said. "I ask you to understand Lugano. The last time he ever met one of his kind was millennia ago. And she is a lady." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "You may draw your own conclusions."
"Species... I have a question," I continued, remembering Windsom's words about Berna. "What are Guardian Bears exactly? I know they are something called Ashmavasa."
Evascir turned to look at me, smirking. It was strange seeing a smirk on a face that seemed made of hard stone rather than living flesh. "And who taught you that word?"
"Windsom Indrath," I replied.
Evascir seemed surprised for a moment, then, he nodded in acknowledgment. "That is something I would expect from that arrogant Dragon. Using complicated words in a language he does not even truly comprehend, to sound more divine to you."
"Complicated words?"
"Ashmavasa is a term in Oldest Asuran—a language used very rarely in our time." Evascir's voice was dry, almost lecturing. "Learn this, milord: those who think themselves intellectually superior to you without actually possessing such methods will use complicated, ancient words to sound smarter."
"You are calling the Overseer of Dicathen a fake intellectual?" I asked.
"That title means nothing, milord." Evascir's lip curled. "But it suits a big-headed Dragon like Windsom perfectly."
"So, what is Ashmavasa?" I pressed.
"We call it Fleshstone." Evascir's expression softened, as if he were speaking of something sacred. "It is a peculiar type of stone mined in Epheotus, later worked by expert Titans to create Guardian Beasts."
Epheotus; the name of the Asuran home continent landed like a stone in my chest. Gone were my dreams of supplying the Dicathian Army with a legion of Guardian Beasts. The Asuras would never allow it.
The tunnel eventually ended at a large circular door made of steel—it looked like a watertight door one might find on a ship on Earth, very different from the rest of the Hearth's organic, flowing architecture.
"Here lie my forge and my personal living quarters," Evascir said, placing his hands on the door and feeding it mana. The metal groaned, then began to open at his command.
"The Forge Room," Evascir declared as the door swung open, revealing an immense space behind it.
I had been stunned by the size and complexity of Burim's forges. But all of Burim's forges were nothing compared to a single forge belonging to a Titan. The space stretched high above, forming a vast room that was the wildest dream of every metalworker who had ever lived.
"You say this is your personal room, but I see only machinery," I said, looking around.
"Furniture is summoned when I need it." Evascir lightly stomped the floor with his foot, and a table with two chairs rose from the ground, smooth and silent. "Like now."
I sat down on the chair closest to me. All around us, the manufacturing core of the Hearth pulsed with heat, with magic, with the heartbeat of a Titan who was the closest thing to a leader this sanctuary now had.
"It is very impressive," I said, admiring my surroundings.
"I took inspiration from our Djinn friends, their Awarerooms," Evascir said. "And from eons of Titan craftsmanship."
Silence fell for a long time. Evascir waited, patient as stone, giving me space to feel at ease in this place that was so far from anything I had ever known.
"Anyway," I said at last, "what did you want to talk to me about?"
Evascir nodded, his expression growing heavy. "I do not know what happened outside, but Soleil has surely told you." He paused, his eyes cast down at the table. "Before the rest of the Asclepius Clan departed for Alacrya—to lay siege to Taegrin Caelum—Mordain, your soulfather, gave me something."
His tone was melancholic, weighted with centuries of grief. He pressed his foot against the floor, and a square section beside the table began to part. From below, a large cube of polished steel emerged, soundless, seamless. It looked like a safe box, but without any visible handle.
Evascir's palm moved in a precise sequence on the wall of the box until something appeared in his hand.
"This is a Titan safe I modified with Djinnic storage technology," he said, answering the unspoken questions in my head.
In his hands rested a single quill, as long as my forearm. Its plumage shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow—beautiful, alive, pulsing with a light that seemed to come from somewhere beyond the physical.
"This is one of Lord Mordain's own plumes," Evascir said. "A plume from his Real Physique. Should he never return to the Hearth, he asked me to give it to his son; if he was ever reincarnated."
"You do not seem very happy about it," I noticed, seeing the way Evascir's monolithic face grimaced.
"I am not." He did not bother to hide it. "To relinquish it would be to accept that Mordain Asclepius has been defeated."
"You cared about him?"
"I care about him, milord." Evascir's voice was fierce, sudden, a crack in his stony facade. "He was the best friend one could ever wish for. I am what I am only because of him. I would be a rogue Titan, forgotten in some remote region of Epheotus without a Clan of my own, if not for him."
"You do not need to give me that plume," I said quietly. "If you do not think it is time."
"No." Evascir shook his head. "That was Mordain's last request. I shall oblige."
He tossed the plume. The rainbow-colored feather flew as if caught by a current, spinning through the air, catching the light, landing right in front of me on the table with a soft whisper.
Evascir nodded, satisfied. "Then you are truly Eralith Asclepius."
"You did not believe so before?" I asked, taking the plume in my hands. It was warm, alive, pulsing with a heartbeat that was not my own.
"I trusted Soleil's and Chul's judgments. As I said, I am no Phoenix." Evascir's gaze was steady. "And the fact that you are an elf strengthened that."
"What do you mean?"
"It may sound shocking to you, but elves and Asuras are very similar." Evascir repeated what I already knew from the novel. "Using Mordain's words, the souls of Asuras and elves resonate more than those of any other race in known history."
"Is there a reason for that?" I asked. "The Djinn were more in tune with aether than even the Dragons. If that is not a feat worthy of Asuras, I fail to see what makes elves so different."
Evascir was silent for a long moment. "That is a question I have no knowledge of how to answer."
I sighed and returned my attention to the plume. It seemed to call to me, to reach out across the space between us, to beckon my mana forward. The colors shifted, pulsed, danced.
"Proceed as your heart tells you, Eralith," I heard Evascir say, his voice distant, reverent.
And so I did.
I fed mana into the plume. And flames—nourishing flames, warm, golden and alive—enveloped me whole.