Corvis Eralith
Now that Tessia was a mage, everything changed for the Eralith family.
Everything and yet, at the same time, nothing at all.
Dad was the least affected. I swear that elf was the very definition of stoicism—a mountain carved from patience and duty. Nothing could make Alduin Eralith change.
If the whole world came crashing down around him, he would simply adjust his crown and continue governing as if the apocalypse were merely an inconvenient scheduling conflict.
He administered the kingdom with the same quiet efficiency he always had, reviewing trade agreements and diplomatic correspondence while the rest of us reeled from Tessia's awakening.
The only difference? He helped maintain her secret. For now, only the family knew. Only those who had been in the temple that day and very few others like Alea and Alwyn. The wider world would learn in time, but not yet.
As for Grandpa...
Oh, he and Tessia were literally inseparable now.
"I won't take any brats as students," he had declared during the Greysunders' visit, waving off Jarnas Auddyr's suggestion with theatrical disdain.
And yet here he was, transformed into the most devoted tutor in all of Elenoir, trailing after his granddaughter like an old library that just realized its most important volume was a three-page crayon drawing.
The happiness radiating from him was almost painful to witness—a joy so pure, so unguarded, that it made my chest ache.
They spent every moment together. Mornings in the gardens, practicing very basic mana manipulation. Afternoons in the training yards, where Grandpa taught her stances and forms she couldn't possibly use yet but absorbed with frightening speed.
Evenings at the dinner table, where they discussed her progress while the rest of us pretended we weren't watching with identical expressions of fond exasperation.
It was beautiful. It was exactly what Tessia deserved.
And it made me wonder: had I made a mistake by hiding my own awakening?
No. No, I couldn't think like that. The choice had been made, and it was the right one. The more normal I seemed—the more unremarkable—the better my chances of operating in the shadows where I was most effective.
Tessia could be the public face of Eralith power, the beloved princess who would one day become a beloved queen. I would be the secret weapon, the unseen hand, the brother who worked in darkness so she could shine in light.
Between a Tessia who might become the Legacy's vessel—a fate I still didn't fully understand but feared with every fiber of my being—and a Tessia who awakened early and became a target for Alacryan operations... I would choose the latter every time.
Alacryans were a threat I could envision. I could plan against them, fight them, perhaps even defeat them.
The Legacy? Arthur had needed the very fabric of Fate itself to overcome her. The thought of facing something like that made my blood freeze, then boil, then freeze again in an endless cycle of primal terror.
So yes. I would remain hidden.
Tessia, however, had other plans. Her obsession with making me awaken had reached comical proportions. She cornered me in hallways, ambushed me at meals, even tried to sneak into my room at night from the very dangerous branch in front of my window—all in service of her grand mission to make her twin brother a mage.
This led me to two uncomfortable conclusions.
First, I needed to talk to Alwyn.
Second, there was clearly more to the awakening process than the breathing technique Arthur had developed in the novel. Something I had missed. Something fundamental.
The first problem wasn't really a problem. The second problem, though... the second problem gnawed at me.
I discovered that Feyrith Ivsaar had been attempting the exact same exercises as Tessia, guided by the same technique Alwyn had taught her. Tessia had awakened in two months. Feyrith, weeks later, still hadn't.
Talent, perhaps. Or maybe genetics. But if that were the case, Alwyn should have been a prodigy beyond anything Dicathen had ever seen. From what he told me, he had awakened in one month. Faster than Tessia.
Faster than me, and I had done it at age two with the advantage of a more mature consciousness and vast amounts of theoretical knowledge.
What made Alwyn special? I had guided him through the first steps, yes, but after that... nothing. He had done it himself. A commoner boy with no true magical heritage other than his older sister, no secret advantages, no hidden destiny—and he had awakened faster than anyone in recorded history, faster than even Arthur.
It didn't make sense. And things that didn't make sense in this world usually meant I was missing something crucial.
But back to the royal family.
Mom was probably even more affected than Grandpa. Seeing her baby girl—her baby, the daughter she had coddled and cherished and smothered with love—now too busy practicing magic with Grandpa to spend time with her... Mom became a completely different person.
She followed me now. Wherever I went, whatever I did, Mom was there, hovering, watching, waiting. It was as if she had decided that if Tessia no longer needed her, then Corvis would receive twice the attention. Twice the love. Twice the suffocating, overwhelming presence.
"Your Highness."
Alea's voice cut through my thoughts as I walked the palace corridors, my mind a tangled mess of theories and worries. She appeared beside me with that maid's grace, her expression carefully neutral.
"Are you ready?"
"No." The word escaped before I could stop it. Then, with a sigh: "I have Mom trailing me now that Tessia has become Grandpa's private property."
Alea's lips twitched—the barest hint of amusement.
"Oh, I can imagine." She glanced through a nearby window, toward the innermost section of the gardens where Grandpa and Tessia were engaged in what could generously be called a training session.
It looked more like a game. A beautiful, joyful game that had transformed both of them.
When Grandpa had first proposed these sessions, he and Dad had fought for an entire day. They had hidden themselves where they thought no one could hear—a study in the oldest part of the palace, warded and sealed—but I had inherited my bad habit of eavesdropping from somewhere, and I put it to good use.
Their argument had been fierce, personal, and utterly revealing. That same strange friction I had first noticed during the Greysunders' visit had exploded into the open. Dad had said things I still didn't fully understand. Grandpa had responded with pain I couldn't interpret.
Another mystery. Another piece of the puzzle I was missing.
"Did you teach Her Highness how to awaken?" Alea's question pulled me back to the present. "Like you did with my brother?"
"It was Alwyn who did it!" The protest burst from me, genuine and unguarded. "I did nothing! He was the only one who knew the technique!"
Alea's eyes narrowed slightly. "So that's why Her Highness and Alwyn have been spending time together these past weeks..."
"It truly was him, then!" I couldn't keep the shock from my voice. Alwyn had taught Tessia behind my back?
"Please don't be angry at Alwyn, Your Highness." Alea's voice softened, losing its professional edge. "I'm sure he thought it would be in your best interests. He only ever wants to help you."
"I..." I started, then stopped. I looked at Alea and saw the worry beneath her composed exterior. "I'm not angry. I'm just... surprised. But now, how can I get to the Hallowed Hollow without Mom noticing? Before, she always pestered Tessia. Now she's focused entirely on me."
Alea's expression shifted. Something like confidence—no, something like certainty—settled over her features. "Let me deal with it."
"What? How?"
"Oh, are you doubting me, Your Highness?" A hint of playfulness crept into her voice. "I know Her Majesty better than most."
Before I could respond, she excused herself with a proper maid's bow and walked away.
I barely had time to process what had happened before she was back, and we were departing for the Hallowed Hollow.
As my feet touched down in the clearing surrounding the massive Watchful Willow, I turned to Alea. "Are you sure Mom won't notice we're gone?"
"I've made sure our stays here remained secret for over a year, Your Highness." Her voice was steady, absolute. "I won't fail you now."
I nodded and entered the great tree.
The beast core waited where I had left it, nestled in its hiding place. I took it in my hands, feeling its familiar weight, its familiar warmth. Then I began to absorb.
Nothing happened.
The pure mana—the vast, seemingly endless reservoir that had fueled my advancement for weeks—was gone.
Completely extinguished. Only the fire-attributed mana remained, pulsing with that dangerous, forbidden energy my elven body couldn't directly use.
"It ended before I could break into the solid stage of the orange core..."
The words tasted like ash in my mouth. So close. I had been so close.
There were few beast cores like this in all of Dicathen.
That flock of Phoenix Wyrms Olfred had faced, their leader had contained ungodly amounts of mana, far more than your average S-Class mana beast.
The only source of power I knew for certain that could surpass it was... the horn of a Basilisk. Something I wouldn't be able to obtain for many, many years. If ever.
"It means the Beast Will awaits." I said it aloud, trying to convince myself. Finally. I was finally ready.
"Your Highness." Alea's voice was hesitant—a tone I rarely heard from her. "Wouldn't it be better to ask Elder Virion for guidance? He's the greatest expert on Beast Wills in Elenoir. Probably in all of Dicathen."
"And reveal that I'm a mage? No, thank you. Not now. Not yet."
"Why?" The question was simple, but the weight behind it was enormous.
I sighed. "Tessia has been torturing me for weeks, trying to make me awaken. In her eyes, if I suddenly became a mage in a few days when it took her months... she would know something was wrong. She would ask questions I can't answer."
Alea's expression didn't change, but I could feel her disagreement like a physical presence. "I still fail to see the problem, Your Highness."
"Tessia is better than me." The words came out harsher than I intended. "She's the heir. She's the one everyone loves. She's the one Grandpa spends every waking moment with now. I can't let her think I've been a mage for most of my life while she struggled. I can't let her know I'm already an orange core while she's just beginning."
Alea was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. "If you truly don't want to ask your grandfather for help, then I will ask around. There are other Legacy Tamers in Elenoir. I can find someone discreet."
I laughed despite myself. "A maid with connections to Legacy Tamers? That's very un-maid-like, Alea."
"You'd be surprised how useful Beast and Legacy Tamers can be around the Royal Palace." Her expression remained perfectly blank, but I caught the barest glint of humor in her eyes.
I rolled my eyes. "Of course."
From what I remembered of the novel, absorbing a Beast Will shouldn't be much different from absorbing mana from the same core. The Beast Will was just another form of energy, another piece of the beast core's essence waiting to be claimed.
And I had felt it. Every time I absorbed mana from this core, I felt it watching me. That strange, metaphysical presence—that heat that wasn't physical—studying me, waiting, judging.
Now I just needed to welcome it within.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my consciousness, seeking that presence. It responded immediately, surging toward me like a tide of molten gold. And suddenly I was there—standing in that moment again, facing the Phoenix Wyrm in the resurrected observatory.
Its eyes fixed on me. Its scales blazed with internal fire. Its wings blotted out the sun.
And its name was... Cherry. How anticlimactic.
The name resonated in my very soul, imprinted on the Beast Will itself. Phoenix Wyrms had names? They were far more intelligent than I had ever imagined. And this one—this magnificent, terrible creature—had chosen to share its essence with me.
Heat. The stench of sulfur. The colors of living flame. I felt them all as the Will approached my mana core, seeking entrance.
Then the pain began.
Fire. Pure fire, searing through my mana veins, scorching my mana channels, threatening to consume everything I had built.
I had forgotten—how could I have forgotten?!—that Beast Wills were supposed to match their mage's affinities! Cherry was a creature of flame and rebirth, and I was an elf who couldn't touch fire without destroying myself!
I screamed silently, my body convulsing on the floor of the Hallowed Hollow. The beast core rolled from my nerveless fingers, forgotten.
"Your Highness!" Alea's voice was distant, muffled by the roar of flames in my ears.
"D-don't—" I managed to stutter, my vision narrowing to a pinhole of pain-filled light. "Don't touch me!"
My mana core protested. I felt it strain, felt the cracks beginning to form, felt the imminent disaster of a four-year-old mage having his core shattered by forces he couldn't control.
But then—something else.
Wind. Cherry also had an affinity for wind. I had sensed it in the core, those small reserves I had absorbed first. If fire would destroy me, wind might save me.
I activated Pseudo-Mana Rotation with desperate urgency. Water magic flooded my system, cool and calming, battling the inferno of the Beast Will. It wasn't enough—it would never be enough—but it bought me seconds. Precious, agonizing seconds.
Please. The prayer was wordless, formless, directed at the presence I could feel pressing against my core. Please, Cherry. Help me.
And Cherry responded.
The Beast Will pushed forward, but not destructively. It guided. It shaped itself, adapting, changing, finding a path through my mana channels that wouldn't destroy them.
I remembered something—a fragment from the novel, a throwaway line about Phoenixes and their connection to reincarnated souls. Dawn Asclepius had mentioned it. Phoenixes could sense reincarnates, could recognize them, could help them.
Cherry knew what I was. Cherry understood.
The pain began to subside. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. But definitely. The fire receded, not defeated but accepted. The Will touched my mana core, and instead of shattering, my core opened.
For one perfect, eternal moment, our souls synchronized. Mine—young, weary and desperate.
Cherry's—ancient and proud and somehow willing. I felt his essence merge with mine, felt his understanding of fire and wind and rebirth become part of my very being.
Then—
A scream. Cherry's scream. A sound of agony and betrayal and loss that tore through me like claws.
The Beast Will ripped away from my core with the speed of lightning, torn from my grasp by some force I couldn't see or understand. One moment it was there, merging, becoming part of me. The next—
Gone.
I lay on the floor of the Hallowed Hollow, gasping, shaking, my body covered in sweat and my mind reeling from what had just happened. The beast core sat a few paces away, dark and inert, its power spent and its essence fled.
"Your Highness?" Alea's voice was terrified. "Your Highness, are you alright? What happened? What was that?"
I couldn't answer. I could only stare at the ceiling, at the ancient branches of the Watchful Willow, at the fading echoes of a Phoenix Wyrm's final scream.
Cherry was gone.
And I was left with nothing but questions, and pain, and the terrible certainty that something far beyond my understanding had just intervened.