Corvis Eralith
With the Elderwood Guardian's havoc as a backdrop—both as sound and sight—I stared at Soleil.
The creature of vine and wood continued its work behind us, uprooting corrupted trees, crushing the remains of the mutants, reshaping the forest with the casual power of a god tending a garden.
Its movements were slow, deliberate, almost gentle despite their violence, and the ground trembled with every step it took.
But I barely noticed.
My attention was fixed entirely on the woman kneeling before me, her golden eyes bright, her face lifted toward mine with an expression I could not read.
She raised her head as she patiently waited for me to speak. There was no impatience in her posture, no urgency, no fear. She had waited years for this moment. She could wait a few moments more.
As for me... I had many new things to think about.
This Caduchicil—clearly something the Vritra were moving in Elenoir. Maybe even Agrona himself, pulling strings from across the ocean, whispering poison into the ears of disaffected elves.
Just like he did through Draneeve in Xyrus in the novel, the Alacryan terrorist who had tried to instigate hate between humanity toward dwarves and elves, making propaganda for the Vritra's rule.
The pattern was the same. Corrupt the lessers. Turn them against each other. Soften the continent before the invasion began. I had known it was coming. I had prepared for it. But knowing and seeing were different things.
I had to find Alwyn and Tessia and return home. But I could not do it with Soleil right here in front of me. We needed to talk. We had agreed to talk, and that was my priority right now. The mutants were dying.
The Elderwood Guardian was cleansing the forest. Berna was protecting my sister and my best friend. For this moment, they were safe and the only thing I needed were answers.
"Can you tell me why you are calling me 'Lord'?" I asked.
I did not think it was because I was the Justiciar. The Justiciar was a figure of Djinnic mythology and folklore, and even if Soleil was an Asclepius—"saviours" and keepers of the culture of the folk of calm currents—she remained an Asura.
The Phoenixes had their own hierarchy, their own politics, their own reasons for bowing to someone. I needed to understand what those reasons were.
"Right, right!" Soleil exclaimed, and her voice was bright, almost giddy, like a child who had been waiting to share a secret and could finally let it out. "This must be all confusing to you, milord, but you seem to be remembering well of your past life."
She said all of this with a smile, like she was speaking with a person she knew well. Which, in a way, she did.
She had been a constant presence in mine and Tessia's lives for years, disguised as a robin, watching and waiting while she cares for flocks of birds across Zestier in yhe meantime.
But this was different. The fact that she was aware of me being reincarnated was not new—Great-aunt Rinia had known from the moment she first laid eyes on me, had seen the truth of my soul beneath the mask of a toddler's body—an Asclepius like her had a sort of sixth sense for reincarnated souls, or so I could guessed from what I knew from the novel and the proofs in front of my eyes.
But what did Soleil think of me? Who did she see when she looked at my face?
"Past life? Explain," I said, unsure how to speak to her. My tone was strangely neutral as I spoke, flat and careful, the voice I used when I was trying not to reveal too much. "And what is your name?"
"You already know my name, milord," Soleil said, and I felt my eyes widen.
It was impossible. There was no way she knew that I had read TBATE, that I had come to this world from another, that the only reason I knew her name was because of a story that should not exist.
"Soleil," I said, and the Asura smiled.
"Yes! You remember me, milord? I am Soleil!" She stood up and gestured to herself, spreading her arms as if presenting a gift.
Her robe was simple, white and grey, and her blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She was beautiful, in the way that all Asuras were beautiful—too perfect, too symmetrical, too much like something that had been designed rather than born.
I frowned. "Who do you think I am?" I asked.
Soleil coughed, and I saw the flush rise to her cheeks.
"Sorry, milord, my excitement got the better of me," the Asura said as she knelt again, lowering her head in a gesture of apology. "It took me a bit too long to recognize you, milord, but I am so glad I eventually did."
She had misunderstood my question. She thought my annoyance was at her behavior, not at the confusion of the situation.
Whoever I was to her eyes, I was someone above her. Someone who had reincarnated inside Corvis Eralith's body. Someone she was sworn to serve.
Is she seeing my Soul-Body? I asked myself, thinking about the young half-elf I had seen in the river—the figure with bicolored eyes and a divine body, the form that had stared back at me from the still waters of The Atoll.
If that was the case, telling her the truth was out of the question. I could not tell her that I had substituted the person she was so subservient toward.
Even if it was Fate that had forced that process, even if Fate had erased the original Corvis to make space for their Arbiter, their Justiciar—me.
Some Insight would be appreciated, Fate! I shouted inwardly, desperate for a wave of Insight to flood my mind and help me navigate this.
But the river did not answer. The golden threads above did not respond. I was alone with my questions and my doubts and the weight of a secret I could never share.
I could also kill myself and try again until I found a better answer, I reasoned. I could also have better chances at capturing Nylith.
But Soleil would never let me do it. I could not kill myself faster than a healer of the Asclepius Clan could rescue me. Just by pouring small drops of her immense mana pool, she had made me able to keep fighting while maintaining Inner Current, satiating REmould's need for mana to convert into Trucewater.
If I tried to die in front of her, she would stop me. And if I tried to explain why I needed to die, she would think I was mad.
Soleil looked at the Elderwood Guardian doing its work. It was now tending to the damages it had inflicted on the forest, using plant magic to heal the wounds it had carved into the earth.
Roots rewove themselves. Trees straightened. The ground settled. The Colour Timberland had an Elderwood Guardian hidden for who knows how long, and it had awakened only now. Did it awaken because of me? Just like with the Resets of the dungeons? Possible. Likely, even.
Whatever was the reason it was the forest had sensed the corruption, sensed the Vritra's poison, and it had called on its oldest protector.
"The Lady too is learning to use her powers again," Soleil whispered, her tone reverent now, almost worshipful.
"The Lady? You mean my sister?" I asked, frowning. That was the other question I needed answered. Why had Soleil Asclepius spent so much time with Tessia?
A girl who, without Arthur in this world, was not fated to have that great of a role in the history of the world. A girl who, in the novel, had been important only because of her connection to the protagonist.
But here, in this frayed timeline, she was just a princess. A talented mage, yes that awakened earlier because of me, but nothing more.
"Y-yes, milord! I mean Lady Tessia," Soleil said.
"What do you want from her?" I asked, unable to suppress my protectiveness for my twin. The words came out sharper than I intended, edged with a warning I did not bother to hide.
"Absolutely nothing, milord!" Soleil exclaimed, her hands rising in a gesture of innocence. "I swear it on the Hearth!"
Let's ignore it for now, I decided. I could not waste help from the Asclepius Clan. Whatever Soleil's intentions were, whatever she wanted from Tessia, she had proven herself an ally today. She had healed me, supported me, given me the mana I needed to fight.
And I needed the help she and her Clan could provide to save Dicathen.
"Soleil," I said. "I need to reach the Hearth and speak with Lord Mordain."
As I mentioned the name of the Asclepius patriarch, Soleil's expression twisted in pain. It was the most expressive pained face I had ever seen—her features crumpling, her eyes squeezing shut, her lips pressing together as if to hold back a sob.
Phoenixes seemed very expressive, I noted distantly, even as my heart clenched at the sight of her grief.
"Milord, I am so sorry," Soleil said. She reached out and hugged me, brushing her right cheek against my hair, just like she had done in her bird form when she pressed against my hands. The gesture was intimate, familiar, the gesture of someone who had known me for a very long time. "I—I cannot take you to him..."
"D-don't touch me," I said defensively, instincts kicking in. I pushed her away, keeping her at arm's length, and I saw the tears flowing down her eyes.
Golden tears, warm like the sun in summer, catching the dim light of the forest and scattering it like jewels.
"Soleil?" I asked, my voice softer now, confused by her reaction.
"Lord Mordain... he... he is... no longer in the Hearth," Soleil said.
"What do you mean?" I asked immediately, my heart hammering in my chest. The Hearth was the single most important ally Dicathen could have. Without its leader... no, it did not make any sense for Mordain Asclepius to leave the Hearth.
He had never done so in the novel, not until the very end of the story. Unless...
"Was it Agrona?" I asked, saying the name aloud for the first time in this life. The word felt like poison on my tongue, like something that should not be spoken in the open air, like a curse that would summon the very thing it named.
"Yes, milord," Soleil answered, lowering her head.
Mordain Asclepius had fallen? Mordain Asclepius? The Asura who could fight the Legacy, who had defied the Indrath Clan for millennia, who had hidden his people from the eyes of gods and kept them safe?
He was gone? The weight of it pressed against my chest, crushing, unbearable. If Mordain could fall, if the Lord of the Phoenixes could be defeated, then what hope did I have? What hope did any of us have?
"What happened to the rest of the Hearth?" I asked immediately, panic bleeding into my voice despite my efforts to contain it.
"Not many remain," Soleil said, and her voice was hollow, empty, the voice of someone who had seen too much death and could not forget it. "...I was the only one who returned from Alacrya. I need to bring you to the Hearth, milord!"
"What? No!" I said back, stepping away from her. I could not go to the Hearth right now. I could not leave Elenoir and Dicathen behind.
Knowing the Phoenixes, they would try to keep me inside the Hearth, especially seeing how Soleil was behaving around me. They would lock me away, protect me, hide me from the world. And I could not afford to be hidden. Not now. Not when there was so much to do.
Calm down, Corvis! I ordered myself, using REmould to make a bit of Trucewater to regain control of my emotions. The liquid flooded my nervous system, cooling the panic, steadying my thoughts. But I felt pain from my exhausted mana core, a deep ache that radiated outward like cracks in glass.
"Soleil, listen," I said, and the Asura stopped herself, her golden eyes fixed on my face. "I cannot come to the Hearth. Not now. Not with Windsom Indrath watching me, treating me like his dog."
At my reasoning, Soleil fell silent. She knew that bringing me to the Hearth could risk drawing the attention of the Indrath Clan. Something the Asclepius Clan had been trying to avoid for millennia, since the Djinn's slaughter.
If Windsom discovered that the Phoenixes were still alive, that they had been hiding in Dicathen all this time, he would not hesitate to destroy them. He would call down the fury of Epheotus, and the Hearth would burn.
However, I could not refuse such an opportunity. As my initial shock at the news that Mordain Asclepius was... dead? waned, I realized that the Hearth was still a place where I could gain invaluable help. The Phoenixes were still there. Their knowledge, their power, their ancient understanding of aether and mana—all of it was still waiting for me.
"But there are things I need from the Hearth," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Evascir, for example. I need to know what Ashmavasa is."
I thought about the strange term Windsom had used when he described Berna. Ashmavasa—Stone of Flesh, Flesh of Stone.
Learning how to make Guardian Beasts could end up as one of the mightiest weapons for Dicathen in the future. If I could understand the process, if I could replicate it, I could create an army of bonds. An army of creatures like Berna, loyal and powerful and willing to die for their partners.
"You remember Evascir too?" Soleil exclaimed, ecstatic. "He will surely help you, milord. Everyone will help you, everyone will be so happy to know we still have a leader for our flock."
"A leader? Me?!" I asked, dumbfounded.
Soleil cocked her head, very similarly to a chicken. The gesture was so incongruous, so unexpected, that I almost laughed.
"Yes? You are the only one left to truly be eligible as flock leader... other than little Chul, but I do not know what happened to him..." Soleil said, and I heard the nostalgia, guilt, sadness, and regret mixing in her voice.
"Eligible as flock leader?" I echoed, still struggling to process.
"We of the Asclepius Clan elect our leaders from among the members of the warmest nest," Soleil explained. "And seeing what happened to Lord Mordain and Lady Dawn... you are the most suitable candidate, milord."
"I am the Prince of Elenoir, Soleil," I said, shaking my head. A half-laugh escaped my lips, born of the absurdity of what the Asura was saying.
It did not make sense for the original Corvis Eralith to have been a member of this warmest nest—the equivalent of a royal family for the Phoenixes, I imagined.
"And the son of Lord Mordain, at least in your previous life," Soleil said, as if she were just commenting on the weather. "Eralith Asclepius."
Eralith Asclepius. That was the name of the owner of this body and soul before Fate's intervention.
Someone who was probably never meant to even be reincarnated in the first place, but that Fate had chosen to use because Arthur—the original chosen of Fate—was missing.
The weight of it settled into my chest, cold and heavy. I was not just wearing the face of a dead boy. I was wearing the identity of a prince. A Phoenix prince. The son of the Lord of the Asclepius himself.
"I... understand," I said, because I did not know what else to say.
There would be time for surprise later.
I imagined Olfred's voice, among all the voices I knew in my head. He had joked once about me being Throneholder of Darv, Prince of Elenoir, and now I imagined him saying Lord of the Asclepius. Absurd.
Truly, truly absurd. I was the lord of an Asura Clan that had once been second only to the Indrath in prestige and perhaps the Vritra in power. A Clan that might have lost most of its members to the Vritra in Alacrya when they tried to rescue one of their own—Dawn.
Just unbelievable.
The Elderwood Guardian calmed down then, as it planted back the trees it had uprooted. I felt like a small insect in the royal gardens while a plant mage tended to the plants. I felt small and yet protected, insignificant and yet central. The forest was healing, and I was watching it happen.
"We need to return to Tessia and Alwyn," I said, turning to Coco. "We will decide how to reach the Hearth after we have dealt with this. Okay?"
"Yes, milord!" Soleil said happily. In a flash of light, she returned to her robin form, settling on my shoulder. Her weight was light, familiar, the weight of a bird that had been with my family for years.
As the Elderwood Guardian slowly started to return to the ground, burying itself back beneath the undergrowth, waiting for the next threat to require its intervention, I walked through the newly renovated Colour Timberland.
The amber mist was gone, the usual fog of the Elshire Forest taking back dominion over the dungeon. The air was clean again, cool and damp, carrying the scent of moss and earth and something green.
Through my bond with Berna, I felt that she, Tessia, and Alwyn were at the center of this dungeon. I walked toward them, my steps steady, my mind still reeling from everything I had learned.
It did not take too long. I spotted them as I walked over a massive root that formed a sort of fencing around a very well-maintained ground that was now the newly recovered Colour Timberland.
Berna immediately rushed at me, her massive body slamming into mine, pinning me to the ground. She started licking my face, her tongue rough and warm, and I laughed despite myself, despite everything. She was happy. She was relieved. I was alive, and that was all that mattered to her.
As for Soleil—Coco now—she flew back toward Tessia, landing on the back of her hand. Her golden eyes were bright, and I saw her brush her head lightly against Tessia's fingers, so similar and yet so different to how she behaved with me.
"Corvis! Corvis!" Tessia shouted, and I heard a fear and worry I had never heard from my sister before. Her face was pale, her eyes were red, and she looked like she had been crying.
"Your Highness!" Alwyn was just behind her, his face streaked with sweat and dirt, his wounded leg bleeding but already beginning to heal as he already patched himself up—surely something Alea, as the "ordinary maid" she was, taught him.
Tessia tried to move Berna away from me, and when my Guardian Bear finally decided to leave me be, I felt Tessia's arms closing around me. She hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, her face buried in my shoulder, her body shaking.
"Don't leave me alone again like this!" She... begged. Tessia did not beg. Tessia commanded. Tessia demanded. Tessia took what she wanted and dared anyone to stop her.
But here, in the Colour Timberland, with the echo of the Elderwood Guardian's footsteps still fading in the distance, she was just my sister. Just a girl who had been afraid.
"Weren't you supposed to be protecting me?" I asked, trying to make a joke, to lighten the mood, to pretend that everything was normal.
But Tessia did not take it lightly. "I am sorry," she said, and her voice cracked on the words. "I was a fool!"
She cried, burying her face in my shoulder, and I patted her back. Her armor was cold beneath my fingers, her cloak was damp, and she was trembling. I held her, and I let her cry, and I did not say anything. There was nothing to say.
"It is done," I said finally. "That Elderwood Guardian fixed everything." I still had a hard time believing what had happened.
The creature had risen from the earth, cleansed the forest, and returned to its slumber. It was like something out of a myth—it was like the story of the Old Guardian of the Woods Great-aunt like to tell to me and Tessia when we were toddlers.
"It was Her Highness who summoned that Elderwood Guardian," Alwyn informed me, and I turned to look at him, surprised. "It came straight from the ground after she did something with her magic."
"I did not know what to do..." Tessia said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "I just poured mana into the land and begged... I did nothing..."
I looked at Alwyn, and many words passed between us in just a single glance. Tessia had summoned an Elderwood Guardian. An S-Class mana beast, one of the most powerful creatures in the Elshire Forest, and she had called it forth without even realizing what she was doing.
Soleil hopped onto Tessia's head, and I saw her golden eyes fixed on my sister.
"Tessia, are you okay?" I asked.
Tessia Eralith, not bragging about having summoned an S-Class mana beast to protect me and Alwyn? Was this really my sister? I must have underestimated the effects this unraveling had on her.
"Y-yes, I am fine," Tessia said, drying her tears. She pulled back, her face blotchy, her eyes puffy, but there was something new in her expression. Something harder. Something more certain. "Let's go home. I do not want to remain in front of a... tomb any longer."
I nodded. We started to walk back to where Hoofy was tied, leaving behind the strange dungeon with its large structures and its well-maintained ground. I gave a last look behind my back as we left.
It was not a Djinnic ruin. Of that, I was certain. It looked too elven, too organic, too much like something that had grown from the earth rather than being built upon it.
But at the same time, it was too ancient to be a product of the Kingdom of Elenoir as we knew it. The architecture was wrong, the symbols were unfamiliar, and the structure itself—large and ornate and strangely beautiful—seemed to belong to another age entirely.
Moreover, no one knew about the existence of such a thing inside of the Colour Timberland.
Was this what the Caduchicil was after?
Was it what the Elderwood Guardian was protecting alongside the forest?
Was it made by the ancient elves?
The elves Avicenna had told me about, who had inhabited the Forest of Gaia during the time of the folk of calm currents?
The ones who had lived in harmony with the Djinn, who had been spared from the genocide because they were too primitive to be a threat?
I glanced at Soleil. She looked back at me. And she nodded.
I did not know what that nod meant. But I knew I would need to return to the Colour Timberland. Alone. There were answers here, buried beneath the roots and the fog and the ancient stone.
Answers about the elves, about the history of my people that had been erased from every book and every memory.
But too many things had happened in just one day. My mind was overflowing, my core was exhausted, and my body was beginning to feel the weight of everything I had done. Now, I just wanted to return to the Capital.
We walked through the Colour Timberland, the fog closing around us, and I did not look back again.