Corvis Vritra
Sleep was a luxury, a dangerous indulgence. Yet, this weak body demanded its due. My limbs felt like lead weights fused to the cold stone floor I'd collapsed onto rather than the opulent bed. Every breath was a labor, every blink a battle against eyelids crusted with exhaustion.
I slept for half an hour, a stolen fragment of oblivion wrestled from the jaws of impending catastrophe. Being extra careful to place a timed spell—a simple puff of wind—to wake me up after exactly thirty minutes.
I wanted to stay up, Romulos' defiance screaming against the weakness of flesh and bone, but I was too weak to keep on without rest.
The silver core within me flickered like a guttering candle starved of fuel; the Asuran mind Romulos gifted me felt like a supercomputer housed in a cracked, overheating casing.
Thirty minutes seemed the best compromise. A gamble. Thirty minutes of vulnerability in the heart of the enemy's lair.
The wind spell, more a feeble sigh than a gust, brushed my cheek precisely on time. Jerking awake was like surfacing from drowning—gasping, disoriented, the cold dread of Taegrin Caelum slamming back into me with visceral force. I was bringing this body to its limits.
Aches radiated from deep within my marrow; my vision swam for a terrifying second before sharpening. A tremor threatened my hands, a physical echo of the fear and exhaustion warring inside.
But at least I wasn't dealing with direct fights—yet. The small mercy felt hollow. The battles I fought now were internal, psychic, a constant siege against Agrona's influence and the crushing weight of responsibility.
It was deep night in Alacrya, the fortress wrapped in an unnatural stillness. Moonlight, filtered through narrow windows, painted cold silver stripes on the obsidian floor. Which meant Taegrin Caelum had its inner defenses lowered paradoxically. Agrona's arrogance was his fortress's vulnerability.
Fewer eyes meant fewer witnesses, fewer obstacles. Without most of its employees present the only ones needing protection were Dad and Cadell as he was the Scythe present most of the times in Taegrin Caelum.
But Cadell was in Dicathen, unleashing horrors on my homeland. And the former was the strongest being in the world together with Kezess Indrath and Grey. The thought was a cold stone in my gut. The only guard needed was Ji-Ae, which was for now partially on my side.
Pushing myself up, the world tilted precariously. I leaned heavily against the cold stone wall, waiting for the dizziness to subside. I still feared she would be telling everything to Dad. Romulos's ingrained cynicism whispered warnings.
After all, in the novel while he was in the fourth relic, Arthur has tried to bargain with Cecilia and Nico, but they told Agrona about it.
Betrayal was the currency of this world.
Steeling myself, I stood up from my bed. Before heading to the door I raised a piece of paper on which I wrote I was heading to Lady Dawn's cell. A deliberate move. A test. So that Ji-Ae could act as a consequence. If she saw this, knew my destination, and chose to alert Agrona… if she told Dad? It meant I wasn't good enough to even try to counter Agrona Vritra.
The thought wasn't despair, but a grim acceptance. A failed gambit revealed early was better than catastrophic failure later. Romulos's pragmatism steadied the flutter of panic in my chest.
Moving through the fortress was a tense ballet of shadows and silence. The presence of less employees than usual didn't mean there were no employees. Occasional footsteps echoed in distant corridors; low murmurs drifted from behind closed doors where night-shift researchers toiled under Ji-Ae's watchful runes.
So I was forced to take the long route to Dawn's cell avoiding the most crowded corridors with scientists and guards hailing from the most influent Highbloods of Alacrya or the ones that have been granted access to the Obsidian Vault—the place where the bestowment ritual was held in Taegrin Caelum.
Being bestowed a rune in Taegrin Caelum was the highest honour for an Alacryan; it was receiving a gift from the High Sovereign himself. The thought sparked a flicker of contempt—Romulos's disdain for the "lessers" who groveled for scraps of power.
The people here if they were combatants were as strong as silver cores back in Dicathen, but if they were here it meant Dad wasn't trying to wipe Dicathen from the world.
Using Mirage Walk to cancel my mana signature, I became a ghost, a ripple in the ambient mana currents. The spell was taxing, another drain on my depleted core, but necessary. Every shadow became a potential hiding place, every distant sound a potential alarm.
I ventured towards the dungeons of Taegrin Caelum. The air grew colder, damper, smelling of ozone and something older, like petrified lightning. The opulence gave way to stark functionality, the walls rougher, the light dimmer, emanating from faintly glowing runes etched into the stone itself.
The path to Lady Dawn's cell was much shorter than the one to Ji-Ae's chamber and safer, so it didn't take as long for me to arrive. Relief warred with heightened tension. The most dangerous part was beginning.
I perceived a subtle shift in the runes of Taegrin Caelum. A slight easing of pressure, a localized dimming of the omnipresent surveillance aura. Ji-Ae was really helping me by 'closing' this room from the rest of the fortress.
Dad would be furious if he discovered it. The image of his cold, calculating rage was a visceral deterrent. A treacherous whisper slithered into my mind: I should stop right here and go to Dad begging for forgiveness. After everything he has done for me I was repaying him with treason... treason... the only thing I was able to do.
The sentiment felt alien, invasive—Corvis! This isn't you speaking! A silent snarl ripped through the doubt. It's the spell!
Whatever spell Dad used on me it still clung to my mind whispering me how to behave. How to be Dad's loyal puppy.
I arrived in front of a cage made of condensed mana which got stronger the more you tried to resist—something Dad reverse engineered from a relic left behind by the Djinn, making it perfect to hold even asuras.
"A cage that looks exactly like a bird cage, a bit too much even from our beloved Dad." I imagined Romulos saying.
Within it, stood her. Lady Dawn Asclepius.
Lady Dawn, despite her age eclipsing the story of my entire family—at least my biological family, not Romulos and Dad—had the appearance of a young phoenix. Time seemed to have brushed her lightly.
Her hair was a cascade of vibrant crimson, falling like molten feathers over her shoulders. Even in captivity, an innate vibrancy clung to her, a stark contrast to the oppressive gloom. If I didn't know any better I could mistake her for the sister of her son—Chul.
The resemblance was striking, a pang of familiarity cutting through the tension. I smirked thinking at Chul, the memory of his fiery spirit, his blunt honesty, a fleeting warmth in the cold dungeon. I wondered how he was doing too.
He probably hates me now, I thought. After everything I told Lord Mordain about neutrality, pacifism and the impossibility to remain impassible in front of the Vritra's threat what have I done? I have surrendered.
Chul deserved to hate me.
He was the best defense Dicathen had against the Scythes, but now that I wasn't there anymore... The burden felt heavier. I needed to speak with Lord Mordain and Lady Dawn was my only hope to reach for him and Dicathen at the same time.
Her eyes were closed, long lashes resting against pale cheeks. She had orange eyes, I knew, but now they were hidden. Mana deprivation caused her to have her eyes closed; it must have been an insufferable torture for an Asura like her.
Worse than any sleep deprivation, worse than any overworked mind, malnutrition, worse than thirst and scarier than certain death.
To be severed from the vital energy that was her birthright, weakened, caged—the cruelty of it resonated with Romulos's memories of Agrona's methods and my own outrage.
"Lady Dawn," I called, my voice low but firm, cutting through the hum of the cage. It echoed slightly in the confined space. Her eyes opened slightly. Not fully, just slits of brilliant, fiery orange, focusing on me with an intensity that belied her weakened state.
"I am here to help you," I stated, dispensing with preamble. "I am a friend of your son—Chul."
The name was a spark. Lady Dawn woke up immediately. Her eyes snapped fully open, blazing with sudden intensity, locking onto mine. Her expression was a mixture of surprise and disdain, the surprise at hearing Chul's name in this place, the disdain reserved for a lesser daring to invoke it, and likely for my presence itself.
"Agrona now has a pet elf with him?" Lady Dawn said, her voice raspy from disuse but laced with a sharp, regal condescension.
Beneath the sharpness, I sensed something else—a core of unbroken defiance. Lady Dawn wasn't Chul's mother for nothing; Dad didn't break her. The realization bolstered my resolve.
"No," I replied, keeping my voice level, forcing down the defensive retort Romulos's pride urged. "I am not a pet. I want to free you so you can return to the Hearth."
The reaction was immediate. Lady Dawn flinched slightly. A minute tightening around her fiery eyes. If I knew about the Hearth there was a possibility that Agrona too knew its location from her point of view.
"And no." I cut in swiftly, anticipating her fear. "Da—Agrona doesn't know about its location if that's what you are worrying about, Lady Dawn."
"The Djinn survivors as well as the Asclepius Clan... they are Dicathians." I imbued the word with weight, claiming them as my responsibility. "That means their safety and wellbeing is my responsibility."
"Pretty arrogant from a lesser to say that," Lady Dawn scoffed, but the edge had softened slightly. Dealing with Lady Dawn was just like dealing with Chul.
I just needed to be direct and speak the truth.
"Maybe," I conceded, a ghost of a wry smile touching my lips before vanishing. "But I talked with Lord Mordain."
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
"He and I have agreed on helping each other's people in case of need." Stretching the truth slightly, but the core agreement existed. "That includes you, Lady Dawn, and moreover you are my friend's mother and can help me against Agrona."
The deal between me and Mordain wasn't concluded as I had to come here to Taegrin Caelum before Lord Mordain could decide on what to do, but the seed was planted.
I hoped that freeing Lady Dawn would be enough to make the Hearth take position in this war. It was the linchpin.
"Your words are very beautiful, elf," she said, her voice regaining some of its natural timbre, though suspicion remained. "But I think you are forgetting the most important part. You are here in Taegrin Caelum."
"True," I acknowledged, meeting her gaze squarely. "But I mean everything I am saying and knowing your son," I added, a subtle reminder of the connection, "I know that words, no matter how curated, won't get your trust, Lady Dawn."
Action was the only currency she would accept.
"Ji-Ae," I ordered, pitching my voice to carry, speaking not just to the air but to the consciousness woven into the stone. "Lower the mana cloak over Lady Dawn's cell and divert more mana towards her so she can recover."
The command was a test, a leap of faith. I could have done so myself, with Ji-Ae's runic access granted, but I wanted to test Ji-Ae and how much she was really disposed to help me.
The response was near-instantaneous. As it seemed she really wanted to end our bargain. The oppressive hum of the cage lessened noticeably.
More profoundly, I felt it—a subtle but powerful shift in the ambient mana. It coalesced, drawn like iron filings to a magnet, not only augmenting, but being drawn by Lady Dawn towards her core. Visible energy, like faint wisps of golden light, began to seep into her form.
Color flooded back into her skin; her posture straightened imperceptibly; her fiery eyes blazed with renewed intensity. Life surged back into the captive phoenix.
"You are either suicidal or this is just one of Agrona's games," Lady Dawn said, her voice stronger now, resonant, tinged with deep suspicion.
I couldn't let hope bloom prematurely. I raised my hand. A silent command to Ji-Ae. The mana flow ceased abruptly. The reinforcing hum of the cage snapped back into place with a palpable thrum. Lady Dawn gritted her teeth, a low growl escaping her as the sudden deprivation bit deep, sharper after the brief taste of freedom.
"What's the meaning of this!?" Lady Dawn asked, her voice tight with anger and confusion, the fiery gaze locked onto me, demanding an explanation.
"You can't escape now, Lady Dawn," I stated calmly, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "With Ji-Ae's help you would probably escape Taegrin Caelum..." I saw the flicker of agreement, of fierce determination in her eyes. "...but Agrona would discover it soon."
The certainty was chilling. "And send his Wraiths to catch you." The elite hunters, trained for Asura. "And even if you somehow escaped trained asura killers..." I emphasized the difficulty, "...they would follow you and discover the Hearth, exposing it both to the Vritra and probably the Indrath too."
Kezess wouldn't tolerate a hidden enclave of Djinn and rebel Asura. The Hearth would be obliterated.
"What? Are you worrying about an Asura, lesser?" she asked, the condescension back, but laced now with genuine perplexity.
"You share the same recklessness as your son, Lady Dawn," I said, the observation slipping out, laced with a fond exasperation I usually reserved for Chul.
Trying to smile at the memory, but my facial muscles felt stiff, unresponsive. It was hard to smile since I woke up in Taegrin Caelum, even when I thought about my friends and family. Joy felt like a forgotten language.
"You don't know nothing about my son!" Lady Dawn exclaimed, her maternal pride flaring, anger replacing confusion. Her fiery aura seemed to intensify within the cage.
The flash of anger was predictable. "Lady Dawn," I said, my voice dropping, infused with a sudden, chilling authority that wasn't entirely my own—Romulos's ancient pride surfacing, the Vritra heir confronting perceived disrespect.
"While my respect for the Asclepius Clan and Lord Mordain is great," the words were precise, cold, "I won't allow you to even question the bond I have with my friends. To even think that what I am saying is false."
The statement hung in the air, absolute. It wasn't a boast; it was a declaration of fact. Chul was my friend and her doubt was an insult to that. An insult that I couldn't tolerate.
Lady Dawn stared back at me as I met her gaze—for the first time in my life I wasn't afraid. The anger in her eyes warred with surprise, then a grudging reassessment. The cold certainty in my voice, the unnatural authority emanating from the young elf, gave her pause.
"Fine," she conceded, the tension easing slightly. "I admit that I have underestimated you, lesser—no, Corvis."
"What's your plan?" The demand was back, but the condescension was gone, replaced by the sharp focus of a warrior assessing an unexpected ally.
"In less than ten hours Agrona will reincarnate the Legacy," I stated, the deadline hanging heavy between us. "I am sure a phoenix like you perfectly knows what I am talking about, Lady Dawn."
"Yeah," Lady Dawn said, her expression instantly grim, shadows deepening in her fiery eyes. Memories of pain, of violation, surfaced.
"That coward of Agrona used me to experiment on reincarnation... to think it was for the Legacy..." The bitterness was profound, a fresh wave of hatred directed at her captor.
"That's why I need you," I said, seizing the shared animosity. "To improve both our chances to escape Taegrin Caelum we will do everything in unison."
"Wait," she countered, practical, "how do you mean to escape? If I am confined here until the reincarnation of the Legacy, I can't help you."
"That's because you have more important things to do," I clarified. "Return to the Hearth." Her eyes widened slightly. "Alert Lord Mordain and force him to take positions."
Neutrality was no longer an option. My actions would force Mordain's hand. It wasn't a request or an order; it was the inevitable consequence of her freedom.
"I would have done that nonetheless," Lady Dawn said, a fierce light returning to her gaze. "My honour demands it."
A pause, then a gesture of profound significance: "I thank you for what you are doing." Gratitude, raw and unexpected. "I can bring you to the Hearth."
"No," I said, the refusal firm but not unkind. "I need to escape with the Legacy." The burden was mine alone. "And I don't want to drag Kezess' attentions to the Hearth."
To prove my point, I asked:
"What do you think the Lord of the Dragons will do if he sees the Legacy?" The image of Aldir's World Eater, but directed at the hidden valley, was answer enough. I didn't need to explain further.
Lady Dawn nodded solemnly, understanding the terrible calculus. Protecting the Hearth meant letting me walk my path alone.
"If you want to do something for me, however," I said, the stiffness momentarily leaving my voice, replaced by simple warmth, "you can say hi to Chul from me."
"Amongst lessers, Djinn, and Asuras," she said, her fiery gaze holding mine with a new intensity—respect mingled with disbelief, "you are the most crazy one I have ever met."
"There are always things greater than us, Lady Dawn," I replied. "I do what I must to make this world a better place and bring justice to it. I died when I came here in Taegrin Caelum, my survival isn't a priority."
It wasn't grandstanding; it was the simple, terrifying truth that drove me. Justice for the Djinn, for Dicathen, for Romulos, for Tessia, for Grey, for everyone caught in the crossfire of ancient egos clashing to appease their petty pride.
"You will understand when it's time to act as Ji-Ae will lower the cage," I said, turning towards the exit. The interview was over. "It's been an honour to speak with you, Lady Dawn."
"Now I better go before Agrona starts suspecting something." Every second here increased the risk.
All this conversation lasted less than ten minutes. A whirlwind negotiation in the dank silence of the dungeon. Perfect considering the time limits constraining me. As I slipped back into the shadows, the cold stone against my palm a grim anchor, a sliver of hard-won satisfaction pierced the exhaustion and fear.
Even if I failed with the Legacy now, the thought crystallized, I was almost certain I had secured the Hearth's collaboration to help Dicathen. Lady Dawn's freedom, her return, her testimony—it would shatter the last remnants of Mordain's isolation.
The Asclepius Clan and the Djinn survivors would enter the fray.