Corvis Eralith
The teleportation gate hummed before me, a shimmering pool staring into the heart of Zestier. My home. Fifteen minutes.
The numbers pulsed in my mind like a dying heartbeat, each second measured against the agonizing preparation Romulos required for the Parasite Spell.
Fifteen minutes until I cease to be Corvis Eralith. My knuckles ached, bone-white against the worn, familiar wood of my walking cane. I gripped it like the last spar of a shipwreck, the only solid thing in a world dissolving into nightmare.
One terrible task remained. The most personal desecration. I still needed to disown the bond with Berna. The thought was a physical sickness, a cold void opening in my chest where her warm, loyal presence had always resided.
How could I inflict this? How could I betray that pure, trusting spirit sleeping innocently in my room? The memory of her hazel fur, the soft rhythm of her breath, was a knife twisting.
"Corvis," Romulos's voice was softer now, stripped of its usual sharpness, filled only with a profound, aching sorrow. "Are you sure you don't want to see your grandfather and Grey for one last time?"
If I see them, especially Grampa... The image of Grandfather Virion's wise, weathered face, the love and pride in his eyes… I would just curl into a ball and start crying until tomorrow. The dam would break.
The sheer, childish need for comfort, for one last embrace, would overwhelm everything. I am already lucky that I didn't wake up anyone. The fragile silence of the sleeping Castle and Mirage Walk were my only allies.
I used Mirage Walk to go unnoticed, the subtle magic a final shroud, making me a ghost in my own home, unseen, unheard, already halfway gone. As I finished preparing everything before I had to go. Preparing my own erasure.
The moment couldn't be delayed. Not with the gate's hum growing louder, a hungry maw. Without a second thought… A lie.
Every thought screamed protest. But thought was paralysis now. Action, however brutal, was the only path forward. I closed my eyes, not against the sight, but against the tidal wave of grief.
Deep within my core, where the thread of our bond pulsed with life and shared warmth, I found it. The connection to Berna. Not a cord to be cut, but a living root, intertwined with the very essence of my being.
With a mental wrench that felt like tearing out my own heart, ripping muscle and soul, I pulled.
"Goodbye Corvis," Romulos said. "See you."
I knew Romulos was saying that only to soothe me, to calm down his little brother, but still I clung to that hope.
"Yeah, Romulos." I said, aloud. "See you."
I felt it. A searing, silent snap deep inside, a psychic rupture that stole my breath. A wave of cold, absolute emptiness flooded the space where Berna's presence had been. It wasn't just absence; it was a void, a sucking wound in my spirit. I felt my bond with Berna leaving my core. Gone. Extinguished. I'd abandoned her.
Weakness threatened to buckle my knees. The cane was the only thing holding me upright. As I left control to Romulos. The final act of the old Corvis was this ultimate betrayal of unconditional love. This could have been Corvis Eralith's last action.
The thought was a funeral bell tolling in the hollow space of my heart and soul.
Romulos Vritra
I will miss you Corvis. I will miss you dearly, this is what I told to myself as I activated thr Parasite Spell injecting my own mana signature within Corvis.
It will be dispelled when I will move on and let the next instance of the Thwart guide Corvis. With it I will give my sweet little brother all the knowledge regarding Taegrin Caelum and Anti-Matter.
Dicathen will be able to hold for a while, that fake Agrona Vritra will never waste so many resources taking a continent he doesn't even need. He just threatened Corvis, it was mostly empty, but the threat to his family was true.
Making Corvis' sister—Tessia—the vessel of Cecilia was enough of a threat to bend Corvis, instead he promised him to kill all his family and friends.
I would desire nothing more than to grab my mother's mana core and show these Vritras what a real Vritra is able to do, but I would destroy Corvis' body in the process.
Even killing Cadell, a trivial task with enough mana, would cripple Corvis. This was really the safest path for him if you didn't take into accountance fleeing or pleading Epheotus' help.
But I was sure Corvis will permanently ruin Agroan's plan once in Taegrin Caelum. Such a shame I won't be witnessing it. If he managed to get the help of Seris then he will do great.
Ironic isn't it? I respected the Scythe of Sehz-Clar greatly, but I still was the one who killed her in my life—well, I tried to kill her before Arthur and Sylvie stopped me. Now I was hoping she would help my little brother in the hell of Taegrin Caelum.
I felt as Corvis' control over his own body lowered more and more. It was different from when I controlled his body with his consent, it was more deep now. It was almost unrecognisable from having my original body, minus the obvious differences in aspect.
I stepped through the portal.
———
Zestier. The name resonated within the borrowed confines of Corvis's mind, a bittersweet chime against the cold purpose driving me. The capital of the Kingdom of Elenoir ruled by the Eralith Family since the birth of this nation.
A cradle of legacy, nestled like a precious jewel in the heart of the Elshire Forest. And yet, for me, it was a phantom city. I have never seen it directly as in my own reality it was destroyed by Aldir's World Eater before I could fully live it.
The echo of that cataclysm, the blinding light that erased millennia of history in an instant, was a scar on my soul, a constant reminder of Grandfather casual brutality. My only connection was through the memories of Corvis and some rare inspections I made in my miniature form back when I was under Windsom's tutelage as a young dragon.
Now, walking these streets in Corvis's body, the sensory flood was overwhelming, poignant, and deeply melancholic. It was the mid of night, a silvered darkness where the moon filtered through the foliage of the ancient trees of the Elshire Forest, casting intricate, shifting patterns on the pristine white pathways.
I sighed, the sound escaping Corvis's lips, a vent for the tumultuous storm within me—Romulos Vritra, a ghost guiding his brother towards damnation. As I moved towards the location where Cadell was waiting.
He thought himself hidden. Well he was hiding his mana signature as he waited in the sky, hidden by clouds and dark. A shadow amongst shadows. Truly a nice control over one's own mana, for a lesser.
The condescension was reflexive, ingrained by centuries of superiority. Yet, even filtered through Corvis's senses, it was almost like he was shouting. A crude beacon of decay and arrogance against the refined, natural mana tapestry of Elenoir.
Ironically, Corvis would be much more difficult to spot. Not through finesse alone, though his control over mana was as good as an asuraa. No. It was his silver core giving him less mana that made him theoretically harder to locate.
A subtle knife compared to Cadell's bludgeoning presence. But enough about fantasies.
I stopped. I stood in the middle of the main road of Zestier, the one in front of the Eralith Palace. I tilted Corvis's head back, staring unerringly upwards, piercing the veil of cloud and night. Staring at Cadell high in the clouds. No one could look at Corvis like they were superior to him.
Despite the dozens of meters and the darkness separating us I still noticed Cadell's slight surprise as I looked at him. A flicker of unease in the stagnant pond of his arrogance. Disgusting lesser.
How much I would like to carve away those horns, grind them to dust beneath my heel. Blew off that disgusting smile out of his inhuman face. My father's bloodline, debased and twisted into this servile monster.
Oh well, I forced the fury down, channeling it into icy resolve. I hope Corvis will think about me when he will kill Cadell. A final, grim wish. And when he will kill the Sovereigns of Alacrya, and every single Scythe and Retainer. A purging fire. Those filthy lessurans who dared to think themselves as worthy of serving my Dad.
They served a phantom, a hollow echo of the magnificent Agrona Vritra I revered: my father, my sire, my god. In the end they were unworthy even of this pale mockery.
Knowing that Cadell was watching me, a predator observing its cornered prey, I turned my back on the sky and walked towards the palace gates. They opened silently as I pushed them avoiding the guards making their nocturnal shift.
Agrona didn't tell Corvis a specific location, leaving the cruelty of choice. But knowing how my Dad can be melodramatic at times, I understood the unspoken directive. I would think the garden where Corvis watched his Virion train his Tessia would be perfect.
The same place where this Agrona noticed my little brother for the first time as the genius he is. Where Corvis taught Mana Rotation to Tessia. A place of teaching, of growth, of profound connection.
Agrona's choice was exquisitely cruel, a final twist of the knife in Corvis's soul. Perfect for the theatrics of surrender. I would have done the same.
I took my time. Deliberate, measured steps echoed in the vast, silent halls of Zestier Palace. Moonlight streamed through windows, illuminating tapestries depicting portraits of ancestors whose blood now flowed through Corvis's veins.
I had to impersonate Corvis, capture his essence in this last walk. And he would surely walk slowly while enjoying what could be his last walk through his home. I let the borrowed eyes linger on familiar doorways, on the polished gleam of elven wood, on the soft glow of mana-infused crystals.
I made him breathe deep, drawing in the unique scent of home. It was an indulgence, a torment. Idiocy, I chided myself internally, the old arrogance flaring. Corvis will win in the end. This wasn't an end, but a brutal transition.
My resolve solidified. With Meta-awareness he won't have problems with using aether without being a dragon. He'd surpassed every limitation.
And with a good enough body. An asuran one I will leave him the knowledge on how to make—a vessel worthy of his spirit.
He will have enough strength to win. This sacrifice wasn't extinction; it was investment. My final, greatest lesson.
The garden unfolded before me, a moonlit sanctuary. And there he stood. Cadell already landed giving his back to me. The sheer, staggering audacity! How does he dare? To turn his back on my borther? On me, the Sovereign of Epheotus?
The ancient Vritra fury threatened to erupt, to incinerate this insolent worm where he stood. I forced myself to not seethe in rage. The borrowed muscles in Corvis's jaw clenched painfully. I wondered what would happen if I fought Cadell, unleashed a fraction of the power coiled within this fragile elven form.
The image was delicious, cathartic… and utterly catastrophic. But obviously it would only put Corvis in danger. My purpose wasn't vengeance. Not here. Not now.
As I approached Cadell, the scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine filled Corvis's senses, a stark, cruel counterpoint to the aura emanating from the Scythe. I felt a strange mix of emotions whirling up inside my body.
Hatred, yes, molten and ancient. But also a profound sadness for what had been lost—my Agrona, Sylvie's innocence, the peace of this realm... Arthur—and what might yet be lost.
This place, this moment, was a crossroads of destinies, threads of fate tangling violently under the moonlight. And I was merely playing my part in the drama of my little brother. A supporting actor in Corvis Eralith's epic tragedy and, I prayed, ultimate triumph.
It was time for me to make him spread his wings. The fledgling dragon, forced from the nest by fire. Sacrifice... pfft, the thought would have elicited cold, mocking laughter from the Romulos of old. The only people I would sacrifice my life for were my Dad and Sylvie.
But Corvis... The name echoed with a warmth that still startled me. He grew so much on me... from an infuriating, obnoxious lesser brat to… a brother. He had given me purpose beyond ancient grief, a reason to engage with the world again.
It was time to put an end to this last chapter of Romulos Vritra's life. My long story, stretching back to the dawn of the Vritra's exile—when I was abandoned by Mother so she could chase behind Dad—reached its final paragraph here, in this moonlit garden.
Corvis has given me a second chance at life, a new role to play in this world which now reached its culmination.
I would play my part well. Flawlessly. Deceiving the deceivers. And when the time came, Corvis would have everything he needed to ensure that the Eralith legacy—and by extension, my own legacy—would endure. Through him, a fragment of Romulos Vritra would survive.
Through him, Agrona Vritra's true legacy might yet be redeemed.
Cadell turned. Slowly. His expressionless mask was firmly in place, but his eyes held a glint of cold appraisal.
"It seems Lord Agrona's judgement of your intelligence was not wrong," he intoned, the voice like gravel scraping bone. That disgusting tone of superiority.
"I thought I would have needed to fight some lessers as you tried to ambush me, Corvis Eralith."
"Spare me that, Scythe Cadell," I replied, forcing Corvis's voice into a flat, weary dismissiveness.
Cadell didn't pay mind to my comment, a slight I felt like a physical sting. Which made me again force a normal expression. No. I won't spend the last minutes in this world annoyed by a lesser. These precious, final moments were mine. I would much prefer rethink to everything I have done with Corvis.
The memories flooded in, vivid and bittersweet. I appeared in front of him when he wasn't even thirteen—a terrified yet arrogant boy grappling with impossible knowledge. And now he was few months from being seventeen.
At first he was the most obnoxious lesser I have ever met in my life after Nico and Cecilia. And to think we were the same person, two instances of the Thwart. Different melodies played on the same fundamental chord on fate's script. He came a long way.
Cadell raised his hand. The Tempus Warp glinted dully in the moonlight and he activated it. Reality twisted, the familiar lurch of spatial displacement seizing Corvis's body. The familiar device used so much by my Dad's Wraiths swallowed us.
As the garden dissolved, replaced by the featureless grey of the portal, a final, profound sorrow washed over me, distinct from the anger and the pride.
I am sorry, Agrona. Not this shadow wearing my father's name, but the Agrona I remembered. The brilliant mind, the ambitious dreamer who dared challenge the dragons.
I would have really wanted for us to be family once more. To rebuild what was shattered. But you are nothing like my Agrona. You are not my Dad—he would never lower himself to such cheap tricks like a mere threat. He would have seen Corvis's worth, his potential, his defiance.
However he was still an instance of my Dad. In my reality Agrona Vritra was the change that caused Fate the need to put the Thwart—me—into the timeline.
From the simple interaction I witnessed between Agrona and Corvis and from Corvis' novel I had the certainty that his love for his children—me and Sylvie—was what made him different from the 'normal' Agrona.
My Dad would really be a fan of Corvis and would negotiate with him easily. He would have recognized a kindred spirit, another force striving against the ordained.
But if that didn't work my Dad would still use less orthodox tactics. Corvis' greatest weakness was love. That was the reason why my role was so important: the most efficient chain for Corvis was love. And if Agrona played with his mind he could easily exploit that weakness.
With Cecilia Dad had his promise of bringing her and Nico back to Arthur's Earth to control her. But with Corvis? Fear wouldn't work, he would win over it.
Love on the other hand... it was the same thing that made me betray Epheotus, betray Arthur and eventually even my Dad—love has always been the deadliest weapon.
The final truth settled upon my consciousness, heavy and absolute. After all, nothing ever goes how we—the Thwart—want it to be. We are the spanners in the works, the unforeseen variables.
Yet, paradoxically, we are the aspect of Fate representing the Slave, representing the act of being totally submitted to fate and destiny. Bound to its grand, indifferent design, even as we struggle against it. The ultimate irony.
Happiness was never meant to be ours. Not lasting happiness. Only fleeting moments of connection, of purpose, snatched amidst the struggle. Like these years with Corvis. Like the fierce, protective love I felt for Sylvie. Like the undying reverence for my true father.
Moments of light in an eternity of cosmic servitude.
The grey light intensified, signaling the journey's end. Taegrin Caelum awaited. My final performance was about to begin. I closed Corvis's eyes, not in fear, but in quiet acceptance.
I had played my part. Now, it was Corvis Vritra's turn.
Fly, little brother. Fly.