Corvis Eralith
The duties of a Highprince, which to me seemed more like those of a babysitter for Phoenixes, given the requests of my flock, eventually brought me back to the Hearth: to Avicenna and my nephew.
"Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!" Chul shouted for me, his voice reverberating through the Portal Chamber, but I wouldn't be surprised if his voice could be heard even in other parts of the sanctuary. "We have so many things to talk about! Uncle!"
Even before I fully stepped out of the portal's frame, Chul was in front of me, shoving Avicenna's bright blue Vaultlamp into my face.
'Peace to you, Justiciar,' Avicenna greeted me, oblivious to what was happening outside his crystalline prison. I took the Vaultlamp in my hands.
"Peace to you too, Avicenna," I said aloud. "Soleil told me you and Chul had an urgent matter to discuss with me."
"Yes! Uncle, Wise Avicenna found the source of all the problems with my failed core!" Chul beamed with excitement, both his fists clenched from the enthusiasm radiating from his very soul.
"And what is that?" I asked.
'Insight, Justiciar,' Avicenna replied. 'It is not because of his halfbreed nature that Chul cannot use magic like other Asuras; it is because he has Djinnic Insight. His is the way of Peace, and as such his body refuses to fight like an Asura.'
I pondered Avicenna's words. In the novel, Chul's problematic mana core was fixed only thanks to a Mourning Pearl that "rebooted" his organ, healing it completely and refining it even more than it already was.
"So it's Chul's mind that is the problem?" I asked, confused. "How do we even solve that?"
"With a Lifework!" Chul exclaimed before coughing and saying in a lower tone: "Sorry, I got ahead of myself."
'After I learned more about Chul's true origins,' Avicenna explained, 'I came to the realisation that his is the same problem as that of my race. The reason why we could not have fought back the Asuras even if we were all united about it.'
"Explain," I asked. "What did you learn about Chul? And what is this... reason?"
'Chul's mother was Lady Dawn, Justiciar,' Avicenna said with fascination. 'Not the Lady Dawn you know, not only at the very least. She was Sage Dawn, the creator of the Dawn Prize: Aisha Zuretta of Breskan.'
"A Djinn, you say, as in a full Djinn? Not just an Asura disguised as one?" I asked.
"That was my same question Uncle!" Chul exclaimed. "But Evascir revealed to us that Grandfather made Mother an Asclepius through some of his incredible powers."
My eyes widened. "That's dangerous," I managed to say, despite my thoughts already churning with what Avicenna's words entailed.
The only lesser made Asura I knew of was the Arthur Leywin from the novel, and that required Sylvie to sacrifice her own life to achieve it.
So, was Lady Dawn technically an Archon then? Only rather than being a Human-Dragon hybrid, she was a Djinn-Phoenix one. If I stretched the definition of an Archon to include any lesser-Asuran hybrid possessing primarily Asuran biology and abilities, then she certainly fit the term.
It seemed that every new revelation only wrapped Chul's parentage in thicker layers of myth.
On one side stood a mother whose very nature defied reality, a Djinn remade into a Phoenix.
On the other was a father who had cheated extinction itself, wandering the shadows of Dicathen for millennia until he shaped the path of Elder Rahdeas, only to disappear once again.
And they were both technically my soulsister and soulbrother-in-law? Was that even a term?
A fresh wave of Insight flooded my mind, and REtrocurrent confirmed that yes, soulbrother-in-law was a term used by Phoenixes, albeit a rare one.
"Explain to me this Lifework," I told Avicenna.
'There is a fundamental truth about your role as Justiciar that I haven't explained to you, Justiciar,' Avicenna said. 'You, as messenger, manifest will, and incarnation of Peace, are the only being allowed to wield violence following the philosophy and religion of the folk of calm currents.'
"Monopoly over violence, I see," I said. "I seem to understand that is what makes Chul's core so uncooperative; it hungers for combat like an Asura, while abhorring it like a Djinn."
Chul clicked his tongue at my explanation, frustration on his face, but I didn't share that sentiment. If Chul was this strong while living with such a limitation, how strong would he be without it? From the few fighting scenes I remembered of Chul from the novel, I knew the answer: very.
'I myself could not have explained it better,' Avicenna said. 'But using that same principle, one of my... colleagues, as Chul himself said, developed a Lifework meant to make us Djinns able to stand against the Asuras with our magic too—not only with our inventions.'
I hummed. That also explained why the Djinns didn't use Destruction, De-Construction, as they called it, to fight the Asuras. They just couldn't; their very Insight rebelled.
We arrived on one of the many balconies of the Hearth overlooking the magnificent Nexus Garden.
"This Lifework," I said. "How does it work? How do we make it? And who did it? I want to know the name of every Djinn whose Lifework helps us."
'That is an honour for my deceased friend,' Avicenna said, his voice carrying nostalgia, sadness, and grief. 'Kwarizmi Commora of Ramdad—the Warrant of War was the name of his Lifework.'
Chul coughed. "Wise Avicenna forgets something," the half-Phoenix said, eyes burning. "Wise Kwarizmi was a member of the Conventicle of Artira, just like Avicenna and other Wise Sages."
'Justiciar!' Avicenna's voice boomed in mine and Chul's heads, fear gripping it. 'Forget that name! I beg you, that organization's name is not something your ears should be polluted with!'
"Uncle! The Conventicle of Artira were heroes! Heroes who tried to fight back against the cruelty of the Indrath Clan!" Chul fiercely proclaimed. "And Wise Avicenna was their leader! Their founder! The greatest of them!"
'We were blasphemers! All of us!' Avicenna's voice tore through our minds in a deafening roar, revealing a depth of anguish I didn't know he harbored. 'Fools blinded by arrogance and pride, wielding the holy tenets of Peace, the Articles, to attempt something abhorrent! In our pride, we placed ourselves above the Justiciar—worse, we believed we were the Justiciar himself! And none fell further than me. I am the greatest sinner the folk of the calm currents have ever known.'
Silence followed Avicenna's admission of guilt for a crime I couldn't care less about, but that tore Avicenna's consciousness apart inside his Vaultlamp.
"Maybe we should speak about this another time," I said. "Let's get this Warrant of War done. I don't know anything about your friend, but if his Lifework helps me, it will right whatever wrong he has committed, right?"
'Yes, Justiciar. I am deeply ashamed for my behaviour,' Avicenna said, his old scholarly voice returning to normal. 'Let me assist you. First, we need to reach the place where Chul feels the most at Peace: his Awareroom.'
"Chul has an Awareroom?" I asked, unable to hold a smirk, but my nephew didn't seem to catch the amusement in my voice.
"My Nest, Uncle!" He exclaimed. "I'll lead the way!"
—
Stepping into Chul's Nest within the Hearth confirmed every expectation of mine: it looked like the living space of a gym rat, a gym rat that also happened to be a demigod.
The cavernous, open-plan chamber typical of the Hearth was cluttered with crude lifting weights forged from diverse metals and stones, clearly hammered out by Evascir.
On a reinforced wall bracket hung the mighty Suncrusher. Even at rest, the towering warmace radiated a rich, golden sheen, catching the room's sparse light and reflecting it back like burnished glass.
Tucked into the far corner was Chul's hammock. It turned out Mordain's Nest wasn't the only room to lack a conventional bed. It seemed Phoenixes naturally gravitated toward hammocks—suspended perches that felt just like roosts.
"Avicenna, how doe—" I turned to look at the Vaultlamp in Chul's hands, but the face of my nephew made me halt.
His cheeks, his forehead, all down his neck: he was red like an apple of the Hallowed Bountiful.
"Chul?" I called, and his reaction was priceless.
"Yes! The Warrant of War! I am ready, Uncle. Please don't look around too much!" Chul exclaimed, embarrassment taking control of his body, maybe for the first time in his life. "We need to defeat the Vritra Clan! We can't waste time! ...Please."
Avicenna, how does the Warrant of War work? I mentally asked, activating Inner Current.
'It mirrors the working of the Greatrunes, Justiciar,' Avicenna said. 'Kwarizmi was... the last holder of one of them, and as such he had more Insight on their working than most other Djinns.'
What exactly are Greatrunes? You told me they are spellforms obtainable by all, I said.
'That's right, Justiciar. I told you once that Greatrunes are spellforms obtainable by all Djinns,' Avicenna said. 'While certainly true, that answer is simplistic. Consider Greatrunes like Lifeworks in the form of spellforms, cultivated throughout all the life of a Djinn only to be passed down to their student or to one chosen by the Grand Tribunal.'
That explanation was similar to another phenomenon of this world.
Hold on, Avicenna, I interrupted. From how you are describing them, Greatrunes seem to work a lot like Beast Wills!
'Correct observation, Justiciar,' Avicenna said. 'To transcend the limits of our limited lifespans, we Djinns developed a different way to further the continuous improvement of the Greatrunes and the Beast Wills proved a useful example.'
That's incredible! You literally created artificial Beast Wills! I exclaimed in my head.
'My people would be honoured to hear your words, Justiciar,' Avicenna said, his voice turning nostalgic. 'But enough about that. I think you understand now how the Warrant of War works.'
I actually didn't, however REtrocurrent proved itself a saviour once more as it fed me the necessary Insight: the vision of the Djinn known as Kwarizmi Commora of Ramdad, member of the Conventicle of Artira, beached on the shores of my mind.
"Chul, what is your favourite wall?" I asked my nephew, a smirk on my lips. "We will seal your Warrant of War on the walls of your Awareroom."
Chul turned around, looking at the four walls of his Nest and contemplating the bathroom too. He skipped the left one, his eyes immediately landing on the right wall, the most barren of the four.
"That one, Uncle!" He exclaimed.
—
Let it be known that, by my will and by the sacred words of this relic, I appoint Chul Asclepius Navafarethra of the Hearth as bearer of the Warrant of War.
Upon him I bestow this great Lifework: to stand as a paragon of Peace, unbroken in his Balance; to be a champion of Freedom; to forge Unity and deliver Justice for all that was lost; to triumph with Solidarity burning in his heart; to grasp boldly the threads of Fate and chart an unyielding course across the river of time—rising through suffering into greatness
The words, written in codex with the Articles of Peace, flowed from my pen—Mordain's plume—as I inscribed the wall of Chul's choosing.
Only one thing was missing, the one necessary to validate this strange spellform that seemed so superfluous and yet carried so much meaning, so much Insight. It lacked the signature of the Justiciar.
I never truly understood just how different the culture of the folk of calm currents was from those I knew.
Elves, humans, dwarves... we had our differences, but we had far more things in common than not. Asuras, while differing in appearance and power, remained the beings who shaped our society, the people modern Dicathen mirrored.
The Djinns were not. They had almost nothing in common with the Asuras despite the slight influence of the Vritra and Asclepius Clans.
This Warrant of War before my eyes was the proof of this difference between us and the Djinns.
I couldn't sign this as Corvis Eralith or any other identity I might have identified myself with. I had to be like a Djinn.
I used REmould and I was Eralith Asclepius. No, no longer would the Highprince of the Asclepius Clan be Eralith Asclepius. It was time for him to have a new, Djinnic name.
When the Lost Prince of the Phoenixes decided to save as many Djinns as possible, he sealed the Fate that the Asclepius Clan would become the folk of calm currents' successors.
He changed his name in doing so too, taking the name of the god of the ancient Djinnic religion.
It was time for the son to follow Mordain's footsteps. And moreover, by doing that, I would no longer have the confusion of being called by my sapname by my flock.
Avicenna, what is the name of the Justiciar in your language? I asked the Sage.
'Nabyun, Justiciar,' Avicenna said. 'Translated from the dialect of Asuran known as Common Dicathian, Justiciar is: Nabyun.'
I thanked the consciousness residing in the Vaultlamp, and then Mordain's plume touched the wall. In that gesture, I engraved the Highprince's new name:
Justiciar, Nabyun Asclepius Navafarethra of Focularsa.
Justiciar: my title. Nabyun: the Highprince's new name. Asclepius: my Clan. Navafarethra: where I was born in another life. Focularsa: my Dicathen.
I smiled happily at that. Nothing changed on the outside. I was still Eralith Asclepius, only the name changed. But that was the true meaning of being a Djinn. Great changes weren't always about obtaining new powers or reaching a new stage of your mana core. At times they were simple things. A name. A title.
Chul crossed his arms, thoughtful.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"Good," Chul said, raising his head and reading the Warrant of War. "Chul Asclepius Navafarethra of the Hearth! What is Navafarethra?"
"The name of the city that was meant to be in the place of the Nexus Garden in the Hearth's original plans. Where you were born, and I too in another life," I said. "Mordain told me it once. It seems I always have had a thing for cities. The Clan kind of recycled it with Zestier, calling it New Farethra. They mean the same thing, actually—New Featherwalk Aerie."
Well, he told me in another life, but REtrocurrent brought that memory back.
"Now that you say it, I think I heard Evascir talk about Navafarethra some decades ago too..." Chul said, squinting his eyes trying to remember it.
I gave another glance to the Warrant of War and started wondering. Could it be upgraded? Made to suit non-Djinns? Could I use it to help the Lances break free from the seals on their mana cores?
I would need to try with Olfred first, and when the war came and I wouldn't risk my parents thinking I was trying to take the Lances from them, on Aya and Alea too—until eventually the human Lances would also be freed from the yokes of their Artifacts.
And then I would need to find a place to keep the Warrants of War safe. I didn't trust even the Hearth with keeping these sacred relics; it was far too detached from the rest of Dicathen, no matter the existence of the Portal Chamber and my Portal Frogs.
Suddenly, a burst of light erupted from Chul. Instead of my muscular nephew with heterochromia and clear Phoenix ancestry, an elven version of Chul stood before me.
"I shapeshifted! Uncle, I morphed my Narmanakaya! Like a true Asura!" Chul exclaimed, looking at his hands and touching his body and face. "And my mana core doesn't hurt! Nor does it strain my energies!"
"You know what that means, right Chul?" I asked, feeling my own heart beat frantically with barely contained happiness for him.
"I can leave the Hearth! I can join you!" Chul exclaimed. "I can"—he looked at the Warrant of War—"be a paragon of Peace!"
Yet Fate, as always, had other designs for their Arbiter; the peace of the Hearth shattered without warning. A cacophony of wailing sirens, screeching like the disaster alarms of my past life on Earth, echoed violently through the Asclepius sanctuary.
"Chul?!" I called loudly, turning to my nephew, who had already moved to grab Suncrusher, the warmace now flaring with flames in his hands as he headed toward the exit of his Nest, marching like a soldier. "What is happening?!"
"Someone has breached the Hearth! An intruder is in our home, Uncle!" He growled in rage, his whole body taut woth anger. "An intruder dares to step in the Hearth! And they come not through the Portal Chamber!"
Evascir was away in Azellio, or somewhere deep in the Elshire Forest playing the part of the Sornèvaine leader and inviting elven nomads to the Holy City in the name of the crown. He couldn't help.
Evascir Gigante, the guardian of the Hearth wasn't here when the sanctuary needed him the most, and it was entirely my fault, damn it!
But Berna was with him!
Turning my full concentration inward, I latched onto the bond tethering me to my Guardian Bear. I strained with everything I had, pouring raw panic and intent through the connection to convey the crisis consuming the Hearth—pleading for her to warn Evascir directly, or reach Lugano so he could pass the alarm to his bond.
Anything, so long as word reached Evascir in time.
Eventually, I opened my eyes again, but Chul was already gone.
"Fuck!" I cursed and drawing on the powers of the Arbiter of Fate, I cast: "Capture!"
A teal Bubblespell imploded, and the moment was sealed in the river of time, ready to be returned to upon me uttering the command: "Unleash."
Avicenna, I fear the Warrant of War will turn helpful sooner than we expected, I told the Djinn, securing his Vaultlamp to my waist and running in search of Chul and the intruder.
—
Running through the vast, bucolic tunnels of the Hearth with the screeching alarms resounding from the Manatech embedded in every centimetre of my Clan's sanctuary was an eerie feeling.
The Hearth was beautiful, but now, with all these noises meant to alert and put people on edge, the beauty felt tainted, twisted into something threatening.
I ran barefoot as befitting of the Highprince, Fiorwato's emerald blade already free of its sheath.
"Chul!" I called, passing in front of Nests and the various rooms of the Hearth, but the Djinn hybrid was nowhere to be found. "Where are you?!"
The alarm continued to ring, a relentless shriek that seemed to come from everywhere at once, as I delved deep into REtrocurrent, hoping to find any useful memories from my former life. At the edge of consciousness, like a boat coming to shore, the map of the Hearth presented itself before my mind.
There existed only three connections between the external world and the Hearth:
The Portal Chamber, but I, with Avicenna's help, had made sure that the gateway there could be used only by the Clan.
The Welcome Gates—the entrance Arthur had used to arrive at the Hearth for the first time in the novel, which opened up to the dungeon known as Hollow's Edge—but that entrance had been sealed by Evascir.
And lastly, there were the Library Lobbies, where the access to the Grand Library of Mausoleia, the Relictombs, was located. That last entrance had to be the intruder's breach point!
Snapping the emerald blade back into its sheath, I threw Fiorwato forward into the open air. Rushing currents began to whistle and shriek around me as I channeled Wind Surfing.
Springing onto the shaft of my wand-cane, I rode the howling winds, hurtling at reckless speed toward the Library Lobbies of the Hearth.
The Library Lobbies, as the name suggested, were a series of large halls with towering bookshelves instead of walls.
Each lobby was its own separate chamber, a sanctuary of knowledge where the denizens of the Hearth could retreat to read the treasury that was the book collection the Asclepius Clan had brought to their sanctuary.
I surfed on the air currents through them, gliding through the tall, round rooms that composed this section of the Hearth. The bookshelves that made the walls of the Library Lobbies rose high, taller than most ceilings within the Hearth, able to make even the Nexus Garden have a run for its money.
The cacophonous noise of the alarm continued to echo even in these silent rooms. The access to the Relictombs was at the centre of it all—the first lobby where the greatest pieces of Phoenix and Djinn literature were stored, as well as...
REtrocurrent provided me with a memory of Eralith Asclepius in his youth, and for the first time, I saw her: the person who I should call my soulmother, the woman who was the bride of the Lost Prince—an ancient elf.
I shook my head, sending the river away as I crouched slightly on the shaft of Fiorwato and made a tight curve, passing under an arched passage between the walls of bookshelves to enter a new lobby.
I felt a mana signature rise in anger, followed by a loud boom coming from the heart of the Library Lobbies.
Chul?! I shouted in my head.
At the max speed my Ars Ariamorph could produce, I rushed through lobby after lobby until the central one came into sight, with the majestic portal to the Relictombs at its centre.
The gateway was a massive picture frame of precious metals, as if it was meant to immortalise the most beautiful of paintings.
I stomped on Fiorwato, halting Wind Surfing, and landed many meters forward. I could clearly see Chul, Suncrusher held high above his head, the warmace's head blazing like the core of a star, its weight causing cracks to form under Chul's feet.
"Begone!" Chul roared to someone, something, in front of him that I couldn't see due to the inferno surrounding my nephew. "Foul Vritra!"
Suncrusher came down on the floor of the Hearth, a meteor crashing in all but size.
Everything shook, and books came down from the tall shelves in a shower of damaged knowledge, their covers—masterpieces of practicality and design—and their paper pages catching fire spontaneously.
"Chul!" I shouted, but my voice was the least of the sounds echoing through the Hearth right now.
I conjured a Bubblespell around me as a shield, engraving the Article of Solidarity and Ars Terramorph, creating a secondary dome of earth beneath the Bubblespell's edge. Even surrounded by this protection, I felt the water magic evaporating immediately, dispelling my Bubblespell in an instant.
Chul, what are you doing? I hissed in my head, fracturing the dome of earth I had conjured into a thousand smithereens with a kick.
The alarm was over, and Chul stood above whoever was below him, crouching to take something in his hands.
"Uncle! This wretched Vritra had a Djinn with him!" Chul exclaimed, his breath heavy, but otherwise unfazed by what he had just done—an attack that would have left him without energy before the Warrant of War. "P-peace to you?"
"It seems the Warrant works," I said, informing Avicenna too.
The ancient Manatech of the Hearth then reacted, repairing the damages dealt by Chul with surreal efficiency.
"Yes, it does!" Chul shouted, but his eyes were on the red Vaultlamp in his hands, identical to Avicenna's.
Avicenna... we have found another member of the folk of calm currents, I said mentally to the Sage.
They are in a Vaultlamp like yours, a red one.
I then looked down at the cadaver of the Vritra that had burst inside the Hearth. It was unrecognisable—burnt to a crisp by Chul's fire and reduced to paste by Suncrusher. I had to look away to avoid throwing up.
'A red Vaultlamp?' Avicenna echoed. 'I do wonder what Djinn, what Sage, they could be. I know of few of us that had time to flee their consciousness inside a Vaultlamp, or that had the capacity to do it. Or that were willing to suffer such a grim destiny.'
Avicenna paused for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was full of dread and, oxymoronically, hope:
'Oh, Peace... Fatima!'
"Uncle! The Djinn doesn't answer!" Chul exclaimed, holding the Vaultlamp to me, regret on his face. "Was it my fault?"
"Don't worry," I said, reassuring Chul. "I had the same problem with Avicenna the first time I met him too. I needed to repair his Vaultlamp to speak to him."
I had used REmould to connect myself with Avicenna after I retrieved the crystals making his Vaultlamp from the Sea Den.
The red Vaultlamp appeared entirely unharmed, an uncanny contrast against the ruin left in the wake of Chul's berserk fury.
My eyes drifted back toward the Vritra-blooded intruder—or what little was left of them: a set of cracked, carbonized horns and several twisted plates of scorched armor.
Did they try to protect the Vaultlamp before dying? But why? Why would a Vritra protect anything?
Maybe they were an Ascender who thought they found a Relic and was trying to bring it back from the Relictombs.
But if that was the case... how could they come to the Hearth? If there was the risk of an army of Ascenders, the strongest mages Alacrya could field after Scythes and Retainers, invading the Hearth I had to know!
"Uncle?"
'Justiciar?'
"Unleash," I ordered, triggering REtrocurrent. A teal Bubblespell of Trucewater exploded around me.
—
This time I didn't waste a single second. I shoved Fiorwato in front of me, jumped on its shaft, and used Wind Surfing to reach the Library Lobbies—I had to stop Chul from killing that Vritra-blooded mage.
As I had learned with Kai, a living source of information was worth infinitely more than a dead one.
I glided through the tunnels, taking the best path possible. How fast was Chul for me to not be able to catch him?
You should just cover the Hearth with Portal Frogs, Corvis, I told myself. The Hearth was immense, and a single lonely Portal Frog in the Nexus Garden was not nearly enough.
I reached the Library Lobbies when I heard Chul's voice in the distance, shouting above the noise of the alarms. I had to hurry!
I arrived at the central lobby in time this loop. Chul, wielding Suncrusher more like a heavy scythe than a warmace, mowed the space in front of him as he fought the Vritra-blooded mage.
"Leave it! Beast!" Chul roared in rage, Suncrusher flaring as he lunged against the intruder, who was already badly injured from wounds certainly not inflicted by Chul.
The mage had black horns and red eyes—the clear sign of his Vritra ancestry. Ash-black hair, roughly cropped, covered his head, as well as a just-as-black unruly beard.
He seemed more like a renegade bandit than a warrior with divine blood in his veins.
But what surprised me, other than the red Vaultlamp he kept around his arm, protecting it from Chul who desperately tried to take it from him, was the armour he was wearing.
It was identical to Arthur's Relic Armour, the one the Second Djinn Remnant had given him.
"Uncle, get away!" Chul shouted my way as he noticed me, his attention taken away from the fight, giving the Vritra-blooded mage time to breathe.
"I am not here to fight!" the Ascender cried out.
The sheer willpower required from him to shout was staggering. In his broken state, only the Relic Armour kept him breathing—I had no doubt about that.
Each word tore from his chest, rasping painfully against ravaged lungs and drips of blood escaping his mouth with each breath.
"I'm not your enemy! I am on your side!"
He searched for my eyes, understanding perhaps that I was the supposed leader, and when he did, I immediately understood who he was.
That sent a shiver of equal parts expectation and dread through me:
"Cylrit?"