Corrin cried out as Wyn suddenly fell limp against the Sanctum’s heart. He pulled himself closer, splashing desperately through the water. Pain surged up from his leg, and he groaned, cursing Kieran again as he dragged himself further anyways.

  Almost as soon as he’d started, he stopped.

  Something was drifting over the air, a sound—no, a song. It was distant, but growing louder, reverberating off the inner walls of the tree, echoing and building in strength. The air began to tremble.

  Wyn burst alight, glowing with brilliant lavender flames. The spirit fire which engulfed him now was brighter and clearer than Corrin had ever seen before, and it quickly spread to the heart, and then into the flickering light shining into the false sky above. The flames wrapped around the beam, spiraling faster and faster, building like the song around them, until it was so bright Corrin had to look away.

  A wave blasted out from the heart, washing over the water in the pool and turning it into a crystalline blue, the likes of which Corrin had only seen once before—in the spirit glades, where Iillia had emerged.

  As the song crescendoed, the dismal Sanctum brightened, filling with light and warmth as the rot tore off of the walls, devoured by hungry flames. For several minutes, the battle raged, but the flames were inexorable. And as they finished with the Sanctum, they didn’t stop.

  ***

  The battle was over. The walls around the Kaelburn manor had been toppled, and flames still lingered in the yard, which was littered with corpses. Most of them were monsters, those that Lord Kaelburn hadn’t destroyed, or those that had wandered in and been killed after he’d left. The rest were human.

  On paper, they’d gotten off easy. Only a few dozen had died in the defense of the manor, the rest escaping with non-life threatening injuries that the healers were now scrambling to treat. She’d heard from one of them that Elis had apparently disappeared, slipping away in the chaos of the battle, though no one had seen him leave. But still, they were confident the death toll wouldn’t rise, at least from the monsters. They’d been lucky.

  The sentiment felt bitter.

  A white cloth had been thrown over Bruno’s body, but Kei’s eyes kept finding their way back all the same. Aria had hardly moved, slumped against a nearby wall, her face buried in her knees. Each time Kei saw her, she felt guilty that she felt any relief at all. As much as she’d tried to be confident in front of Corrin, she’d been terrified during the fighting, and had wanted to curl up into a ball and hide.

  But even though it was over, she still couldn’t relax. The pain was getting worse.

  At first, the strength had been intoxicating, but the rush of mana was now a hot stabbing in her chest and head. It was all she could do to keep her breathing steady as she fought mild dizziness along with it.

  Shouting nearby drew her attention, and she turned just in time to see the moon’s shadow slide over ground, moving far faster than she could have imagined before engulfing them all. The ethereal night was as terrifying as it was beautiful. But when she looked up and saw the ring of light around the moon, she decided that all she wanted was to see the sun again.

  Clenching her hands together, she thought of Corrin and Wyn. Her two best friends, whom she trusted with her very life. Were they fighting right now? Were they okay? Or would they end up like Bruno, beneath a white sheet on the ground?

  Please…

  Something shifted suddenly, and the city began to glow. All around her, the ground began to brighten.

  “What—” she spun around, and was met with a brilliant purple light. The dark of the eclipse was cast back as ghostly flames raced up the trunk of The Spirit Tree. In an instant, its entire body was inflamed. From the highest boughs, to the roots that ran throughout the city, the flames burned everything.

  A song split the air, louder than thunder, played on a thousand instruments she’d never heard, and sung by a million voices all at once. As it rang out across Liresil, it wrapped around her like a mother’s lullaby, warm and comforting.

  Some people, still, screamed, terrified by the sight of the flames.

  But Kei fell to her knees, finally letting the tears of relief fall. Because she knew, everything would be alright.

  ***

  Soft birdsong whistled in the gentle breeze that kissed Wyn’s skin. The sun was low, warm and red with the first sparks of twilight. Haoma’s branches rustled above, the tree far shorter than the present. The sharp, forested hills of the central valley teemed with life in the distance, filling the air with a distinct energy.

  It was a familiar scene—the one from Wyn’s last conversation with Haoma—looking down from the place where the adventurer’s guild would one day stand. There was no city surrounding it now though, just a small settlement at the base of the tree, surrounded by a short wall, only half-constructed. Down the hill, the same man and woman as before were resting under the shade of a massive sword driven into the ground. It felt relaxing, and yet also nostalgic, as though the time spent on such a nice summer day had already long faded away.

  With a start, Wyn realized those feelings weren’t his own. He turned, and saw Haoma standing next to him. The tree had taken on the form of an old man Wyn didn’t recognize save for the familiar golden eyes. He was smiling wistfully as he gazed down at the scene.

  “I feel strange…” Wyn patted his chest testingly. He didn’t feel any pain. It made sense since it wasn’t his physical body, but the sudden change was jarring. That wasn’t the strangest part though. “I shouldn’t be this calm.”

  His mind was clearer than it had been only moments before. The grief he felt was still there, along with the sense of loss. But it wasn’t as overpowering as it had been either. It was as though he’d been drowning, but had gained his bearings and began treading water.

  “It’s to be expected,” Haoma said, his gaze unmoving. “The body, mind, and soul are linked, and you had stressed all three past their breaking points. I’ve stabilized your soul, and your body is irrelevant here.”

  Wyn looked at his clean hands. Only a moment before, they’d been stained by dirt and blood. “You’ve stabilized my soul? I thought you said I would…”

  He trailed off as the weight of what he’d been doing crashed over him. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, taking a seat in the soft grass. He held his head in one hand, his eyes wide as breaths came slow and deep. Dying wasn’t something that scared Wyn, especially if it was for a good reason. But that had been different.

  “I actually wanted to… for a second. No, I just didn’t care anymore, at all. Spirits…”

  The grass rustled beside him as Haoma sat down as well. “You’ve been through a great ordeal, and you are still young. Do not judge yourself too harshly.”

  “Everything that happened… Did you see it?”

  “I am not omniscient, and the dungeon muddles my vision even further,” Haoma said. “But this realm of consciousness is even deeper than a normal bond, and in your state, your memories were unguarded.”

  “So, you know then.”

  “Yes. The lantern has been taken.”

  Wyn clenched his fist. Of course that was what the great spirit would care about. “Why?” he asked. “Why did she have it in the first place?”

  “I suppose there is no reason to hold this story any longer, though I believe you already understand much on your own.” Haoma looked upwards, his eyes reflecting the sky. “As I told you, the relics were created to assist the three blessing-holders, and they were stored in the Sanctum, guarded by myself and my sepals. However, while only the three of you can bring them to their fullest strength, they can be bound by anyone. Due to its unique abilities, in times of strife, The Traveler’s Lantern has often been wielded by the first sepal of Liresil, empowering them beyond what can be achieved naturally.”

  Visions of Sadirah’s power flashed through Wyn’s mind. That endless sea of mana, in the hands of someone who could properly wield it… It was easy to understand why it had been sought after, and why it was so valuable.

  “In order to allow such powers, each of the relics must form a deep bond with their wielder,” Haoma continued. “The bonds weave deeply with their own souls, becoming a part of them, and there becomes no way to cleanly separate the two, except in the case of death.”

  “I see…” Wyn’s throat was dry.

  “But the lantern’s purpose is greater than one person, or even this entire city. Sepal Nasrin, along with all those before her, understood this. Should the traveler arrive, seeking the lantern, they swore an oath to take their own life, so that it could be passed on to its rightful owner.”

  “What?” Wyn’s head snapped over. “That’s ridiculous! Why would you ever make them do that?”

  Haoma met his gaze, unyielding. “The lantern is not meant to be wielded by anyone other than the Traveler. That was the condition the sepals offered me a thousand years ago when they first removed the lantern. Do not dishonor their oath.”

  “Still…” Wyn grit his teeth, not wanting to say that he could understand. It was impossible not to, considering the worst-case scenario had already happened. Something came to him though, and he looked up. “But wait, you said Nasrin betrayed her duties.”

  “For her daughter.” Haoma nodded.

  It was true then. He hadn’t been sure, but Wyn had put the pieces together upon hearing Iskareth’s story. He didn’t imagine the sepal would have passed on the lantern to a random child.

  “Nasrin’s pregnancy was not public knowledge,” Haoma’s voice marched on, “and when the child was born, only she and a midwife, sworn to secrecy, were present. That girl, Sadirah, was born terribly weak. Without a miracle, she wouldn’t have survived the night. So, against my wishes, Nasrin ripped the lantern from her soul, and forcibly bound it to the child to strengthen her. But like I said, the lantern and its host are woven tightly together, and Nasrin’s own soul was irrevocably torn in the process. In the last hour of her life, she dropped the child off on the doorstep of an orphanage, and fled, covering her tracks so she would not be found.”

  Wyn couldn’t say anything as Haoma finished the story. The words settled over him heavily, and he sat with them for a long while, watching the sun slowly setting over the hills. But no matter how long he waited, it never seemed to actually get lower, as though it were frozen in time. After a while, he found his cheeks were wet, and still he just watched.

  “She thought the other sepals would've killed Sadirah to retrieve the lantern then?” He asked eventually.

  “She did. Knowing how it ended, knowing more died because that child lived, would you condemn them for it?”

  “Unequivocally,” Wyn said without hesitation. A second later, he set his jaw. “I would understand why they did it, but I couldn’t bring myself to ever approve.”

  “And if you found yourself in a situation where you had to choose between one innocent life, or many, what would you choose then?”

  “I…” Wyn faltered. If he hadn’t hesitated underground—if he’d used spirit fire without restraint, then maybe things would have turned out better. He wanted to say he would save them all, or at least, that he would try. But after everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure if he could really believe those words. And that thought scared him more than anything else.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Haoma watched him, his face etched with deep contemplation. “You’re wonderfully naive. Think carefully on your answer, Flamebearer. The path you tread will not be straight, nor will it be easy. I don’t believe you will succeed, and yet I find myself hoping you prove me wrong, as humans so often do.”

  “I really am going to live?” Wyn asked, realizing the implications in Haoma’s words.

  “Most likely, now that I have stabilized you.”

  With that, his mind turned back to the world as it had been. “Is everyone going to be alright? What about… well, you?”

  Haoma’s eyes wandered up and down the distant hills for a long time before replying. “The city is going to be fine.”

  Wyn let out a low breath, and some of the tension left his shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Only one of our stories need end here, after all.”

  “You don’t mean—”

  “This is the only way.” Haoma nodded. He held up a hand, and Wyn could see cracks beginning to form. “I took on the burden of purification, and this is the price I must pay. Even now, my soul is crumbling away. Though I will pass on, the tree will remain, and it will need nutrients after such an ordeal.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” Wyn apologized. This was all his fault. Again, he was too weak, and other people would pay for it.

  But Haoma’s expression showed not the barest hint of grief. “There is nothing to be sorry for. Just as the sepals take an oath to protect the city, so too, did we five take an oath to nurture the three of you. And without your intervention, both I and the city would have perished regardless. Let some good come of my passing, and perhaps your generation will finally end this long, long war.”

  “Still…”

  “Four thousand years is enough for anyone, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Wyn smiled weakly. “You have jokes?”

  “You’re not the first human I’ve bonded after all.”

  Just like before, the world began to crack, breaking apart at the seams as the vision came to an end.

  Haoma looked up. “When you leave the Sanctum, take the Eightfold Wheel with you. It’s designed specifically for your blessing, so I’m sure you will find it useful. Leave the mirror. The sanctum will remain locked after I’m gone, and you cannot bond both anyways. If the others deem it necessary, that brat Sezim can return and relocate it himself. I’ll have a few more words with you when you awaken, but this is the last time we’ll speak like this. I hope you will succeed.”

  That final barrage of information left Wyn reeling, trying to keep up. The Eightfold Wheel was his? And Haoma had named Sezim directly—was Wyn supposed to contact him? A thousand new questions sprang up in his mind, but their time was up. Instead, he only asked one.

  “You knew where Sadirah was all along, didn’t you? If you think she should’ve died, then why didn’t you say anything? You could’ve told the sepals from the very beginning.”

  Haoma’s golden eyes crinkled, but his voice trailed far behind. It was as though he lived on an entirely different timescale, which made sense, with him being a several-thousand-year-old tree. How fast did a human life pass to someone like him?

  “Why indeed? I’m not sure, even now. It seems to the very end, she understood me even better than I understood myself.”

  The world cracked across the middle as the dream came to an end, spiraling into the void.

  And suddenly, the scene changed entirely.

  He was standing up to his ankles in tranquil water, the surface of which stretched out as far as he could see, before melding seamlessly against a strange, golden horizon. Above him was a beautiful purple-blue sky, dotted with dreamlike clouds.

  There was no reflection in the water, but instead he could see into its endless depths, where countless tiny blue light spirits, like little stars, drifted around aimlessly. Looking around more, he realized they weren’t just below. All around him, they drifted and moved on unseen currents, some taking on even more complex shapes, or other colors.

  Nearby, a small, grassy island poked out of the water, the only shape breaking up the vast expanse. A thin dirt path led up to a wide-boughed tree, with violet flowers draping from its branches, shimmering like chimes of glass. From one branch, a wooden swing had been hung, the lone trace of human construction in the otherwise untouched space.

  Eia? He thought, trying to reach for his bond. There was no response.

  “Haoma?” he called out. “Are you there?”

  What is this place? Another memory? And even if it was a memory, where could it possibly be? Surely no place in Aeora looked like this. He’d never seen the ocean, true. But Kei had described large waves, and the water here was as tranquil as a lake’s.

  Without anything else in sight, he walked to the island, and as he stepped onto its shores, he saw an unfamiliar young girl curled up at the base of the tree. She was humming something to herself—the spirit song, though it had never sounded so lonely to him before.

  “Hello? Are you the one that brought me here?” he asked.

  The girl’s eyes shot open, her expression shocked, and her face wet with tears.

  “Excuse me?” he asked again when she didn’t respond. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “I…” her voice trembled with something like wonder. The girl wiped her eyes, nervously, as though worried he would disappear if she looked away too long. She took a deep breath, and a fragile smile formed on her lips. “I’m just as confused.”

  As the girl stood, he got a better look at her. She seemed younger than him, at least physically, but her eyes and hair that glimmered like pearls gave her away as something not entirely human. A soft, loose shirt draped gently over her thin frame, and a long skirt ran down to her ankles. Her feet were bare, but both they and her arms were unblemished, giving her the refined look of nobility.

  She took a hesitant step towards Wyn, then suddenly burst into a run, laughing with exuberant joy and throwing her arms around his shoulders.

  Wyn took a step back, “What are you—”

  But she passed right through him, as though nothing more than a mirage.

  He spun as she stumbled to a stop on the other side.

  “Ah… I see now,” she whispered. “You’re not here, not really.”

  “Is this another memory?” Wyn asked.

  She turned back to him, crestfallen. Whatever hopes she’d had, they’d been dashed. “What do you think?”

  “It feels different somehow,” he decided. The painted sky above, and the unreal terrain both didn’t fit either. “Who are you?”

  “My name is _____.” Her lips moved, but the words were stolen from his ears, and he couldn’t make them out. She must have seen the confusion on his face, because she smiled sadly, then turned away, walking out into the sea. “Nevermind. It was too much to hope for, after all. He really is cruel, isn’t he?”

  The horizon glimmered in the far distance as he chased her, each step sending small ripples across the glassy surface. “Wait!” He called out to the nameless girl, but though she was only walking, he couldn’t seem to close the gap. Something stirred inside him, and the dead embers of spirit fire crackled to life. With them came a rush of emotions—a well of sorrow deeper than he’d ever known. Tears sprang from his eyes unbidden, and he stumbled, falling to his knees in the water.

  Unable to understand what was happening, he lifted his head, and saw that the girl had stopped. She was looking at him again, and he knew that the feelings were hers. And he began to sink as the water finally embraced him, bubbles rushing up around him.

  “It’s you,” the girl said quietly. This time, her smile was real. “It’s really you, isn’t it, Wyn?”

  “How do you know who I am?” He tried to steady himself, but found no hold, slipping deeper with each second. “What’s going on! Just tell me, please!”

  She shook her head. “It’s pointless. I don’t know how you came here, but I really do hope I see you again, before the end.” With those words, she closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his body, even as he continued to sink.

  Now they touched, and in a moment, Wyn felt as though he’d known the girl for thousands of years. And as her hands slipped through his, he felt as though he could almost speak her name.

  The world grew blurry through the water, but he could still see the tears running down her face, collecting on the edges of her smile.

  “Wyn. When the time comes,” she said, her voice fading quickly. “Please… kill me.”

  Eyes widening, he sank into the depths, quickly losing sight of her. Those words, spoken so desperately, rang in his ears, and spirit fire swelled up against it. Once, Eia had told him it felt like their blessing had a will of its own, a distant longing for a hope it had once held. He felt that desire now, as it melded with his own.

  Wyn didn’t want to see anyone else cry. He didn’t want to hear anyone utter words like those. And somehow, he was certain that she was someone who needed him, more than anyone else in the world. So he reached upwards, scrounged up the broken pieces of his heart, and made an oath, forcing himself to believe it, regardless of his fear.

  “I swear… I’m going to save you.”

  Then the darkness rushed up and claimed him.

  ***

  “Well hello there. How did you find your way here? Oh, I remember you. The boy with the kindling flame. What a strange power it is. I see his hand in it, that meddlesome human—does he think this can kill me? Well, if you make it this far again, perhaps I’ll greet you directly. For now though, do try to keep my apostle safe. I’m counting on you.”

  ***

  “Wyn?”

  A familiar voice drifted into Wyn’s mind, distant. Then another.

  ‘Wyn!’

  Next came a rush of sensation. The grass beneath his back, the warmth of the air, and the pain in every inch of his body. He groaned quietly as consciousness returned, and his eyes fluttered open, filling with light.

  Corrin let out a breath of relief right onto his face. “Shit man, I was seriously worried. Your heart stopped beating for a minute!”

  It felt like it too. Wyn slowly got up onto his elbows, trying to sort his thoughts. To his relief, the sanctum seemed restored to its previously pristine state. It seemed Haoma had been right after all.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Eia asked, distress and relief coming in equal measure through their bond.

  I’m… fine. He sent back, putting a lid onto his own emotions. Thanks to Haoma, he could at least function again.

  “What happened?” Corrin asked.

  “I was purifying the tree,” Wyn said groggily. “I blacked out, and met with Haoma again. After that I…” he frowned, rubbing his forehead. He thought there’d been something else—a voice? A blurry face? No, there was nothing. “How long was I out?”

  “Maybe ten minutes? Enough that I was seriously worried.”

  Not actually that long then, Wyn thought to himself. He pushed himself to his feet, and realized that he was holding something in his left hand.

  “What’s that?” Corrin asked curiously as Wyn held it up.

  Clutched tightly in his palm was a small seed, no wider than his fingernail. A bond had been drawn between them, spirit fire coursing out of Wyn’s body and into it. At the same time, he realized his bond with Haoma was flickering, growing weaker and weaker with each moment.

  Are you there? Wyn asked.

  I am. Haoma’s voice was weak in his mind. Though it will not be much longer.

  “I have to leave,” Luscien announced abruptly. “Master Eryndor and that man are still fighting. I have to help.”

  “I know I’m not one to talk, but do you think you even can right now? You said you could barely manage two tails, let alone four,” Corrin said.

  Luscien shook his head, his eyes wide. “I’m a fool for not realizing it soon enough. If that man has a core like Kieran, then Master Eryndor needs to know. It will affect how he fights. With Haoma healed, this is how I can be the most useful.”

  Perhaps I can help, Haoma said. I’ll move the sanctum’s exit closer to the battle.

  “You can do that?” Wyn held up a hand. “Wait. Haoma says he can move the door to where they are.”

  Luscien hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. Then let’s go.” He picked Corrin up, and started for the exit.

  Wyn took a step to follow, but Haoma interrupted.

  That seed is the last aid I can render you. Take it with you, and be sure to water it regularly. Good luck Flamebearer—Wyn. I leave all my hopes with you.

  Wyn tried to respond, but the connection had already faded entirely. He felt a pang in his chest at the loss of the ancient being, but he stayed on his feet, and no more tears fell. Putting one foot in front of the other, he moved.

  “Goodbye, Haoma.”

  The Wheel was sticking out of the water—it hadn’t been there when he’d arrived, but he saw it now. The golden ring was almost three feet in diameter, and it weighed almost as much as a child. Too large to carry easily, Wyn put his arm in the gap between two spokes, and hefted it onto his shoulder with a grunt. He didn’t have time to inspect it, instead hurrying to follow the other two up the stairs, where the door awaited.

  ‘Wyn,’ Eia said concernedly. ‘That wheel—’

  Later, he thought back. I can’t explain right now.

  By the time he reached them, they’d already passed through. He stepped through the door, and out of one of Haoma’s distant roots. The root ran along a small ridge overlooking the river, and just across the water, a fierce battle raged. The earth churned, and steam billowed as molten rock rapidly cooled in the river's currents, leaving cracks and strange formations in the ground. Even just being nearby, the air burned at Wyn’s skin, and he winced as sweat dripped from his brow.

  Next to him, Luscien was clenching his fist so tight it almost seemed it would bleed, and as Wyn squinted, focusing his vision on the fight, he understood why.

  Eryndor was losing.