"Ithlinne's treasure?"
Behind the bronze door, her figure nearly melting into the night, Tissaia de Vries paused for a moment before understanding what Vera meant, then smiled softly.
"I would dearly love to have found the treasure we searched for throughout our childhood. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. Ithlinne may indeed once have come to this island, lived here, gazed up at the sky in the dead of night, and sought traces of the future amid the tangled patterns of the stars."
"It's even possible that Tor Lara was originally Ithlinne's own domain…"
"Unfortunately…" Tissaia de Vries shook her head.
"Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien was a legendary Sage and prophetess. An Elder Elven Sage could hardly be called poor, but neither would she care about worldly possessions."
"The latest archaeological findings have proven that they were all priestesses of the Elder Elven gods. Unlike an elven king such as Divethaf, they would not have possessed vast wealth…"
Tissaia de Vries continued upward along the clearly renovated stone steps on the exterior of the tower.
To the left were cold, cracked walls; to the right, the howling sea wind and the dark silhouettes of Thanedd Island and Cidaris Bay.
"If these findings had been published a century or two earlier, we wouldn't have been punished so many times," Vera sighed regretfully, her gaze falling upon the bay below, which shimmered like broken silver once the moon emerged. She then asked, "What about the portal? Is there 'hope' beyond it?"
Tissaia de Vries shook her head. "The runes engraved on the Benavent's Portal are ancient, but still relatively intact—no different from the portals excavated at other Elder Elven ruins."
"There may still be some secrets hidden there…" She pressed her thin lips together, speaking with care.
"But when the evil god descended at Ellander a few months ago and used teleportation arrays to relocate, instability was already detected…"
The Tor Lara tower had always been extremely famous in the supernatural world. Even sorcerers who had never set foot on Thanedd Island knew of its existence.
Because of works such as Geoffrey Monck's Magic of the Elder Races, Immanuel Benavent's The Portal of Tor Lara, Nina Fioravanti's Theory and Practice of Teleportation, Lansant Alvaro's The Arcane Gates…
A great many legendary mages, each prominent in the history of sorcery, had conducted research on Tor Lara and the Benavent's Portal atop it.
More importantly, the Benavent's Portal of Tor Lara was also listed in the Register of Prohibitions (the Catalogue of Forbidden Artifacts).
Its description read as follows:
The Lara Portal, also known as the Benavent's Portal, is located on Thanedd Island, at the very top of the Tower of the Gull. It is a fixed-location teleportation gate that activates periodically.
Operational principle: unknown.
Destination: unknown, though likely deviated due to damage. Multiple branches may exist.
Important Notice: This portal is highly unstable and extremely dangerous. All forms of experimentation are forbidden. No spells—especially teleportation magic—may be cast upon the Tower of the Gull or its surrounding area.
Under special circumstances, mages may review applications to enter Tor Lara and inspect the portal. Applications must be accompanied by demonstrated research progress and relevant professional expertise as theoretical justification.
Yes.
Under normal circumstances, the Benavent's Portal was strictly forbidden. But clearly, whether due to Tissaia de Vries's status or the descent of an evil god, the situation was far from normal.
Moreover, through centuries of study, certain unique applications of the Benavent's Portal had been discovered—enough to justify overlooking its dangers.
Large-scale short-distance teleportation was merely its most basic use.
"The Benavent's Portal has now been sealed for maintenance and repair. However, Aretuza lacks specialists in this area. In the end, it will most likely follow the fate of other Elder Elven ruins—tentatively preserved, then gradually abandoned."
"If Ithlinne truly intended to rely on a single portal to prevent the apocalypse and stop the coming of the White Frost, that would be highly unlikely."
"And as a great prophetess, Ithlinne could not possibly have failed to foresee this. So…"
Tissaia de Vries shrugged elegantly and did not continue.
"I see…" Vera gazed at the towering, ruin-like stone gate drawing ever closer, recalling something Allen had once said. "If the Benavent's Portal can avoid being abandoned, it should."
"The Conjunction of the Spheres, the Wild Hunt, beast tides, evil gods… You don't need prophecy to feel that a dangerous tide is about to surge. It's already enough to make one shudder."
"The Benavent's Portal is important—extremely important."
She paused, thinking. "The Free Elves may have lost many of their techniques, but portal construction is one of their specialties."
"The Wolf School can find a way to ask for their help."
"The Wolf School—or Allen?" Tissaia de Vries stopped and asked with a hint of amusement.
Vera's expression froze. She stared coldly at Tissaia de Vries's back. "There's no difference. Allen is the Wolf School."
Her voice was soft, yet on the exposed stone steps, amid the roar of waves and the fierce sea wind at such heights, it struck with unmistakable force.
Tissaia de Vries paused and turned back, only to see wariness in Vera's expression—like a she-wolf baring her fangs to protect her cub from a hyena.
So I'm the hyena… Tissaia de Vries found the metaphor amusing.
No—more like a child-stealing hag.
She sighed quietly to herself.
The stone steps fell silent for a long while.
"Tap, tap, tap—"
To the sound of footsteps, Tissaia de Vries turned back and continued upward in silence.
Vera's dark crimson pupils flickered in the moonlight for a moment before she followed.
They walked on without speaking, until thick clouds obscured the moon and the roar of the waves grew fierce and thunderous.
At last, atop the tower platform where violent winds tore across the stone floor, a colossal stone gate stood upright. Mysterious runes and the marks of time were etched upon it; the air warped faintly, and a shimmering magical glow covered the gate's surface.
Had Allen been here, he would have been astonished—for this stone gate standing at the summit of Tor Lara bore a striking resemblance to one of the illusory gates he possessed.
Unfortunately, Allen was not here.
Or rather, at least his body was not.
Tissaia de Vries and Vera did not approach the faintly glowing stone gate. Instead, they walked toward the edge of the tower roof, away from it.
Along the battlements was an ancient breach.
The opening was large enough for two sorceresses to sit, though it was cramped. If their frames had been slightly smaller, it might have fit perfectly.
Neither Tissaia de Vries nor Vera seemed to mind. Supporting themselves on the battlements, they sat shoulder to shoulder in the gap.
What should have been an intimate posture now carried an unspoken distance—what separated them was not flesh, but soul.
Beneath their feet lay Thanedd Island, black and devoid of detail. Had it been daytime—or even a little earlier—Aretuza's sorceresses would have been training magic in some grove or palace corner, their spelllight illuminating the darkness.
But now, with even the moonlight swallowed by heavy clouds, all that could be seen was one abyss staring into another, darker abyss.
A fall would mean having one's soul devoured by demons.
"Ianna has always known, hasn't she?" Tissaia de Vries suddenly spoke, gazing down at the silent darkness of Thanedd Island.
Vera withdrew her gaze from the clouds above, glanced at Tissaia de Vries, then after a few seconds nodded and answered honestly.
"Ianna has always known. The Temple of Melitele is the best maternity house in this world—and it has the best midwives."
"After learning I was pregnant, Sol and I both panicked. I stayed at the Temple of Melitele for a long time, only leaving after Allen was born."
She paused. "Ianna helped deliver him. She saw Allen even earlier than Sol or I did."
"No wonder Ianna dotes on him so much," Tissaia de Vries smiled. "I heard that next spring, the Temple of Melitele will officially grant Allen the title of Holy Son. That's not something the identity of an alchemy apprentice under Vera could accomplish."
"It's a pity I didn't think too deeply back then. Otherwise, I would have figured it out much earlier."
Vera seemed to recall something, her expression softening. "Ianna truly cherishes Allen."
"When Allen was just born, Sol and I had no experience—we were completely flustered. It was Ianna who arranged everything: the baby clothes, swaddling cloths, the cradle. Later, it was also Ianna who found a wet nurse. And later still…"
Her eyes dimmed.
Vera continued, "Later, something happened. While completing a commission, Sol encountered the High Priest of Kreve at the time…"
"Ymir Isaac?" Tissaia de Vries paused, interjecting.
Ymir Isaac was the High Priest of the Temple of Kreve. Because the followers of the Goddess Melitele were more numerous, his standing in the minds of ordinary people on the Northern Continent was slightly inferior to that of Ianna.
However, among the true high nobility—or more precisely, among the kings at the core of power on the Northern Continent, and even among the leaders of other extraordinary organizations—Ymir Isaac was the one with the higher status.
This was because, in addition to being the High Priest of Kreve, he possessed another identity—
One of the very few Great Prophets still alive in the world, also known as a Prophet of Humanity.
Moreover, due to the special nature of prophecy, most other prophets preferred seclusion.
As a result, Ymir Isaac was, for the majority of the time, the only prophet who could be found openly.
Vera nodded. "Yes, it was Ymir Isaac. He told Sol that Allen's future lay in the bitterly cold lands of the North…"
"Kaer Morhen?" Tissaia de Vries raised an eyebrow. "So you obediently listened and sent him to become a witcher? That doesn't seem very—"
"How could that be?!!"
Vera's voice suddenly turned sharp. Her dark crimson pupils contracted violently as she glared at Tissaia de Vries, cutting her off.
"He is the child of Sol and me, the flesh and blood I carried for ten months, a direct descendant of the Henrietta and Triennes bloodlines. Even if Sol and I had both left our respective families, as long as we revealed Allen's identity back then, he would still have ranked high in the line of succession of the Duchy of Toussaint."
"Countless nights—before Allen was born, and countless nights after—Sol and I imagined Allen's future…"
Vera lowered her head, gazing into the dark abyss below. Yet her eyes were filled with a gentle, warm maternal glow.
Tissaia de Vries had never seen Vera like this.
Cold, arrogant, cruel… There were countless legends about Vera across the Northern Continent, some true, some false. But one thing was undeniable—the title 'Crimson Fox' was not misplaced. Vera had never been a good-tempered sorceress.
She possessed the arrogance of noble birth. Becoming a sorceress did not lessen it; her extraordinary magical power and exceptional talent only deepened it.
And because of her distinctive personality, and her naturally exquisite beauty like that of a fairy-tale nymph (a demi-human being modeled after the nymphs of Greek mythology, sometimes translated as elves or fairies),
Even in the years when sorceresses held the lowest status, Vera was still an honored guest of nobles and extraordinary organizations across all kingdoms.
But now…
Tissaia de Vries could no longer see Vera's former pride and brilliance—of course, she was still as beautiful as she had been fifty or a hundred years ago, perhaps even more so with the weight of time adding charm—but what she saw instead was only a mother.
A mother—an identity exceedingly rare among sorceresses.
A smile curved Vera's lips, as if she had returned to more than a decade ago.
"He might inherit my aptitude for magic and grow like a male sorcerer. Ban Ard doesn't have a good relationship with Sol, but I know Hen Gedymdeith. I would ask the most powerful sorcerer to be his mentor and pave his future path…"
"He would graduate from Ban Ard at the fastest possible speed, become a member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, then enter the Lower Council, the Middle Council, the Upper Council, and finally Chapter of the Gift and the Art…"
"But I also hoped that he would have no talent at all—just an ordinary man, untouched by chaotic magic."
"He could inherit the duchy of Toussaint and become a grand duke with real authority. The Henrietta family has always struggled with heirs. The current duke's two sons both died young, leaving only a daughter about Allen's age. Even if Allen's place in the succession wasn't sufficient, it wouldn't matter…"
"He could marry that Henrietta girl. Douglas—the Duke of Toussaint—would never refuse a powerful witcher and a master alchemist. Allen would grow up along the banks of the Sansretour River, amid scenery as enchanting as a fairy tale, marry, have children, and live a life of wealth and honor…"
"But only one thing—only one thing—only one thing was never a possibility…"
"Becoming a witcher."
"But Allen is now a witcher," Tissaia de Vries said.
Vera fell silent for a few seconds, lowering her head as she stared into the trembling abyss beneath the howling wind, and let out a soft sigh.
"Yes. Allen is a witcher."
"And he will always be a witcher."
..........
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