It should have been raining.

  Around them, the river had flooded back into place, steaming against the shores of the barren island as it rushed past. The soil had grown fine and sandy, shimmering in marbled streaks of black and white that were hot or cold to the touch. But the sky itself was a cheerful blue, and the sun was shining down as brightly as ever, uncaring of anything below. So defiantly it seemed to insist that nothing had mattered, and that their struggles were as insignificant as the actions of ants in the eyes of the world.

  I couldn’t do anything but watch. Corrin wanted to scream again, but his throat was already raw. He’d never felt so frustrated in his entire life, so utterly weak.

  He couldn’t raise his head to look at the others, and no one spoke for a long time, but none were silent. Ragged breaths and choked sobs spilled out of them as tense fingers clenched and beat helplessly at the sand.

  However long that lasted, Corrin didn’t know, but as their tears finally dried, it was Luscien that rose first, drawing Corrin’s attention with the sound of his rustling clothes. Luscien pulled his elbow away from his reddened eyes, looking older than he had before, though it might have just been the glasses missing from his face. With great effort, he straightened his back.

  “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “We should return to the estate.”

  Corrin looked back at Eryndor’s body. “What about—”

  “I have to help you walk.” Luscien turned away, hiding his face. “I’ll come back after.”

  “Yeah… That makes sense.” Corrin nodded half-heartedly.

  Wyn got to his feet next, the wheel on his shoulder seeming to weigh him down. Still, he offered a hand to Corrin. “Come on.”

  Taking the hand, Corrin pulled himself up onto his good leg, then leaned on Luscien for support. As they began to walk away, he looked back one last time, and whispered a brief prayer, wishing Eryndor’s soul an easy time in the world beyond.

  And for the first time, he really hoped the spirits were listening.

  ***

  Only as they got closer to the manor did Corrin remember everything he’d left behind. He’d been so confident before, but now with each step, he imagined the worst waiting for them. Luscien’s gait was steady though, and so he couldn’t do anything but keep going.

  The estate had gotten hit hard. Parts of the roof had collapsed, and the walls were battered and scorched, as were the grounds, where carefully maintained grass and flowers had been ruined by the battle, and covered in the bodies of man and monster alike. His eyes darted quickly among them, trying to match the silhouettes of the sheet-covered bodies to people he knew.

  “Corrin! Wyn!” A large chunk of his worries unknotted as he heard Kei shouting their names, and saw her leap from the porch and run towards them.

  She threw her arms around them both, and Corrin winced as pain shot through his leg, but he didn’t complain. “Thank the kings you’re both alright… Is it over?”

  “Yeah.” Corrin nodded, trying not to fall over. “It’s over.”

  As she hugged them tighter, his eyes went further, towards the manor. Aria was slumped against the walls, her eyes distant and red, as though they’d run completely dry. Corrin’s gut twisted.

  “Bruno, is he—”

  Kei’s grip grew weaker, and she stepped away, downcast.

  With one look, Corrin knew. He clenched his fist as it trembled, and he couldn’t keep his head up any longer. “I understand.”

  More words were exchanged after that, but it was all a blur. Soon, a force of adventurers arrived from the guild, led by the guildmistress, who Wyn seemed to recognize. After confirming their own success, she let them know that monsters across the city were being culled, or retreating back into the dungeon. With the restoration of the tree, the mana levels were slowly thinning as well. Thankfully, the damage of the mana poisoning would be minimal.

  “I’ve got my teams sweeping the city now, though it’s going to take a day or two to cover everything. What’s frustrating is that some streets and districts were hit far lighter than others.”

  “Why’s that bad?” Corrin asked. “Isn’t it a good thing?”

  “It’s likely that a good number of the cultists are citizens here,” Luscien explained, his tone uncharacteristically spiteful. “They’ll actually benefit from all this. I’d imagine it’s difficult to discern luck from intent though.”

  “You’re right about that.” The guildmistress rubbed her neck. She seemed to be functioning well enough despite the loss of her arm. “When a whole neighborhood is untouched, it’s almost impossible to narrow down. They were smart about it. We’ll do our best though. We managed to catch a few of them alive, so it’s not like we have no leads.”

  After a moment, she turned to look at Wyn head on. “I recognized those flames when the tree caught. I assumed then that you were responsible. Seems I owe you a great deal. As a representative of the city, and as the sister of a sepal, thank you.” She bowed deeply, then straightened back up, speaking louder now. “And that goes for the rest of you as well. To all of you who put your own lives on the line, and to anyone else who contributed in some small way, I thank you. This victory could not have been won without you.”

  Corrin flinched at that word. The city was safe, and they’d stopped the cult, but it didn’t feel like a victory at all. In fact, he was certain that they’d lost. Though in the end, he kept it to himself.

  She turned away to bark some more orders to the adventurers, and Wyn started to say something.

  “Guildmistress, about your sister…”

  “What was that?” She turned around. “Did you need something Wyn?”

  He seemed to be battling himself, trying to get whatever he was thinking out into the world. But after a few moments’s indecision, he just shook his head. “Nevermind, it wasn’t important.”

  That’s a lie.

  Perhaps the guildmistress noticed it too, because she studied him closely, looking up and down for longer than was normal. Her poker face was better than Wyn’s though, so Corrin wasn’t able to read her much at all.

  “All three of you look terrible” she said eventually, turning back away. “Get some rest. It’s time to let the adults handle things from here.”

  Her tone brooked no argument, and as she took leadership over the estate, there was soon little for any of them to do. As Luscien went back for Eryndor, Corrin was shepherded to the infirmary to receive treatment for his leg. Oddly enough, Elis the healer had disappeared in the action. Corrin suspected he was alright though. He seemed wily.

  Instead, at Shani’s orders, it was a middle-aged woman that came to treat him. The process took several hours, needing to treat both the countless smaller wounds across his body, as well as his broken leg. By the end of the process, his whole body tingled with numbness from the pain relievers, and he’d been covered in bandages from head to toe.

  Finally, the healer finished stitching his leg, and wrapped the cast quickly after that. The bandages smelled rich and woody, soaked in some sort of resinous mixture so they hardened around the limb.

  “Your leg was fractured in three different places,” she explained as he leaned back against the wall. “The damage was extensive, but I did the best I could. If you were normal, frankly I’d expect you to walk the rest of your life with a limp. Though in your case, you’ll probably make a full recovery. It’s hard to give a time frame, but if I had to guess, it will at least be a few months before you can start running again.”

  A few months. That might as well be an eternity. He wondered if it would be healed by the time they got to Taravast. He wouldn’t be able to train properly until it was, and that thought hurt even more. It meant he would stay weak.

  “I see,” he rubbed the side of his leg gently, looking at the cast for a long time. “Thank you for doing your best.”

  She nodded. “Of course. In the meantime, you’ll need crutches. I’ll get those for you in a minute, but while we wait for the bandages to finish curing, let me mention a few more things…”

  ***

  The rest of the day passed like a waking dream, hazy and distant enough that he wasn’t sure he’d even remember much of it after sleeping. The estate grew quieter as estranged refugees slowly filtered out into proper shelters throughout the city, sometimes reunited with families they’d been separated from.

  Corrin was forced to stay in bed, so weak that even Kei could stop him when he tried to get up and move around. Enough of the manor’s bedrooms had remained intact that they didn’t have to leave with the rest, and so he’d taken to the bedroom he’d stayed in previously, where his bags still lay. Wyn lay in the bed next to his, similarly incapacitated. Though he didn’t have anything as debilitating as Corrin’s leg, the healers said his injuries were no less severe.

  Later, he heard that Luscien had given Eryndor’s body to the Kaelburn servants, who would ensure he received traditional funeral rites. Thankfully, they’d all survived, despite several taking to the battle. Corrin was sure that Eryndor would’ve been heartbroken to know any of them had died. Venish, the head servant, had even somehow found the time to bring Corrin tea, though he was more reserved than before.

  As night fell, Corrin watched the stars through the window, replaying everything over and over in his mind. What could he have done differently? How could he have changed the outcome? And yet no matter how he thought about it, nothing came to mind. The battle had been on a completely different level, so far above him it was hard to even imagine. Was it really possible that he could reach it?

  “Wyn?” he asked quietly.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Yeah?”

  “We lost, didn’t we? This isn’t what winning feels like.”

  Wyn’s voice cracked. “Yeah. We lost.”

  “I don’t ever want to feel this way again. I don’t ever want to just sit back and watch again.” He swallowed a thick lump in his throat, fighting back more tears. “We have to get stronger. Much, much stronger. Strong enough to stand at the front, so that others can watch us instead.”

  Before Wyn could reply, there was a gentle knock on the door. Then, Luscien’s voice came from the other side.

  “It’s me.”

  Corrin sniffled, wiping his face dry. “Come in.”

  Escaping the battle, the door’s hinges were well-oiled, and it swung open silently, soft light spilling into the room. Luscien closed it behind him and grabbed a chair from the dressing table, sitting between the two beds by the ends.

  “I’m sorry to bother you both,” he said. “But I figured we should probably talk. I’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow.”

  “So soon?” Wyn asked, surprise in his voice.

  Luscien nodded, flipping the chair around so he was leaning over the back while he talked. “Master Eryndor told me to report the news of what happened here to the headmaster. I have to fulfill that duty, and hurry back. But the truth is, I hardly even know what to say. There’s so much I still don’t understand.” His tone thickened with frustration. “All this death, what was it for?” He looked back up then, his eyes flickering in the candlelight. “I just want to compare notes, that’s all. Since I don’t know what’s important and what’s not, I’ll make sure to remember everything.”

  Corrin glanced at Wyn’s bed. Leaning to it was the heavy golden wheel he’d seen in the sanctum, its purpose opaque to either of them. It felt like an eternity since the two of them had talked, though it had only been a couple days. Still, the weight on Wyn’s shoulders seemed to have grown so much heavier in that short time. He’d talked to Haoma, but hadn’t said anything about what he’d learned.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “It’s fine, Corrin.” Wyn said quietly. “I’m sick of this. Secrets secrets secrets. I’m so tired of secrets.”

  “Then I’ll tell him too. About Azoth, I mean.” Corrin made up his mind to consider Luscien an ally. Though the idea would have been foreign to him even a day before, after everything that had happened, he found himself wanting to tell somebody.

  Wyn nodded, turning back to face Luscien directly. “In our hometown of Straetum, there lives a great spirit named Iillia. When I was a kid, she gave me a blessing. The blessing of spirit fire…”

  ***

  In the end, they told him everything as best they could. When they finally finished, Luscien leaned back, deep in thought.

  “Kings… That’s a lot to take in. The cult’s actions make more sense now at least. I have to wonder how much my master knew of it.”

  “I’m not sure,” Wyn admitted. “And I don’t know who else knows, except probably Sezim.”

  “The professor,” Luscien chuckled dryly. “I’d heard he used to be a big name in the war, but I figured they were probably just rumors. Master Eryndor told me to report to the headmaster, so he probably knows as well.”

  “What kind of man is he?” Corrin asked.

  “Headmaster Reinhardt? I’ve only met him a few times, but I don’t have anything bad to say. He’s been around a long time, since even before the war. He’s to thank for my being accepted into the academy, though I’m still not sure what his reasoning was. I suspect I’ll know more soon. This ‘apotheosis’ worries me though. I’ve never heard of anything quite like it.”

  “My blessing works on them the same as it does monsters,” Wyn said, studying his bandaged hand. “And they have cores. Iskareth called them ‘asura’.”

  As he said it, Wyn’s expression darkened, and Corrin didn’t miss it. Wyn had told them about what he’d learned in general terms, but he didn’t go into much detail. Whatever had happened with Iskareth, Corrin thought it had scarred Wyn unlike anything since his father had died.

  Luscien nodded. “That aligns with our encounter as well. Kieran described the elixir as ‘His blood’, and called it an ascension to divinity.”

  “That’s probably their god,” Corrin said. “I thought it was Azoth, but then how would they get his ‘blood’ while he’s locked away in the dungeon? Maybe there’s more demons like him? Or maybe we’re still missing something altogether.”

  “It's difficult to say for sure, but I’ll try to find out more when I return.”

  “Did anyone ever figure out where those shikigami came from?” Wyn asked. “The butterflies I mean.”

  “I assumed it was Haoma after a while,” Corrin shrugged.

  Wyn shook his head. “If it was, he didn’t mention it.”

  “I’ll be sure to bring it up in my report. That woman is a prime suspect, since she didn’t seem affiliated with the cult. Her aspect seemed different, but it could have been a spell.” Luscien tapped his finger thoughtfully against the chair. “Those are the two biggest unknowns I think—yet taking the lantern gives no distinct motive. The biggest question is how she knew? Moving on though, when I speak with the headmaster, would you like me to mention your encounter with Azoth? It may be prudent.”

  Corrin looked up at the ceiling, thinking about it. His memories of the whole event hadn’t faded even a little. He remembered each word. Azoth had implied he had a reason for saving him—it definitely wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart. As for what that reason was, he hadn’t said. He’d sworn not to harm Corrin, but what constituted harm? Whatever prison he was in, Corrin didn’t imagine it would be so easy to escape. But the truth was, he didn’t know.

  “Even if it’s probably more dangerous for me to live, I don’t want to die because of something a demon might have done. Telling you is one thing, but anyone else? It’s just…” He trailed off.

  I’m scared.

  Luscien smiled. “Then I’ll keep quiet for now. We can figure it out when you get to Taravast. I owe you that at least. And I trust you. You said he’d been imprisoned there for thousands of years, yes? I’m sure it can wait a few months.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “So what now?” Wyn asked.

  “As the guildmistress put it, we leave it to the adults,” Luscien said. “Right now, it’s on them to make the important decisions. We can only focus on the future.”

  “The future,” Corrin whispered, half-chuckling. “What does that even look like?”

  “You heard Master Eryndor didn’t you? We all need to get stronger, and to make allies. Aspiration, to see the road, and Diligence to walk it. Next time, we’ll be the ones who decide.”

  Corrin grabbed those words and held them close. Next time.

  “We can talk more tomorrow,” Luscien stood suddenly, turning to the door. His voice trembled. “As your senior, it’s only right that I give you both some advice before I leave. For now though, I think we all need to rest. It’s been… a long day.”

  “Luscien?” Corrin said. “Thanks.”

  Luscien didn’t look back, but he wiped at his eyes all the same. “Yeah.”

  ***

  Corrin eventually drifted off, but even without burning spirit fire, Wyn was still wide awake. He couldn’t get the day’s events out of his head—too much had happened. Even if he managed to fall asleep, he knew he’d just end up with nightmares again. Though, he wasn’t sure if that would be any different than he was already feeling. In the silence that filled the room, he could hear haunting screams. In the dark, he could see flashes of blood. Iskareth’s words whispered in his ears.

  The world isn’t kind to men like you and me, Wyn.

  On the nightstand, the seed Haoma had given him sat next to a small bowl of fruit, half-eaten, and a small paring knife. For a long time, he stared at the knife, thinking about a time when he was younger, and cut his hand open trying to peel an apple. He’d cried for hours after, thinking he was going to die. At the time, the pain had seemed like the worst thing in the world, but now, he wouldn’t be concerned at all.

  It will rip at you, and tear at your heart, over and over, until all that remains is a scarred, unfeeling husk.

  Slowly, he stood up, getting out of bed.

  ‘Wyn?’ Eia asked, concerned.

  I’m fine, he thought back. Just going for a walk.

  He slipped the seed into his pocket, and grabbed the wheel from next to his bed, hooking it on his shoulder.

  The estate was quiet as he left, but a few servants still mulled around in the dim light. Though he got a few inquisitive looks, he waved them off, and made his way out the gates and into the streets. Without a destination in mind, his body wandered as aimlessly as his mind, drifting on its own.

  He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Eldress Shani about her sister, or Sadirah. He couldn’t tell her she’d had family left all along, and he’d failed to protect her. No, it was better if he kept it to himself, and spared her the pain.

  I’m just guilty because I failed. Yes, that’s it.

  The streets were barren, lacking the nightlife they’d had before. Wherever he looked, only ghosts remained. Even the spirit song was different, slow and somber, like a mourning melody. His father, Terris, Jolaine, Bruno, Sadirah, Erydnor… Everyone he touched died, and he couldn’t protect anyone at all. Maybe it really was inevitable, or maybe he was just cursed.

  Without even realizing, he’d walked to the House of Spring, and stood now at the front gate. The courtyard and both buildings had been torn up even worse than the rest of the city—why? Remembering what the guildmistress had said, it was probably safer for Iskareth’s cover if the orphanage was destroyed, especially if all of the children went missing during the attack.

  Looking around at the rubble only made his chest hurt harder though. Why did I come here? Oh, that’s right. When Luscien had returned with Eryndor’s body, Wyn had thought he should do the same for Sadirah. It was all he could do now, and it seemed his body had remembered.

  ‘Wyn, you should go back. You need to rest,’ Eia insisted, and his footsteps slowed. ‘You can come here tomorrow after sleeping.’

  “Maybe you’re right…” he muttered. He always did this, drowning himself in pain even further. Hadn’t he been through this enough to know it wouldn’t help? He forced a deep breath, and his bruised ribs ached. “Thanks Eia.”

  Just as he turned to leave though, a faint sound pricked at his ears, and he froze.

  “Did you hear that?”

  ‘I did,’ Eia flew in a circle, then flitted towards the cellar entrance. ‘I think it was over here?’

  He followed, and the sound grew louder, turning into something he recognized. His pace picked up, almost tripping as he ran.

  Someone was crying.

  The door to the cellar was open, but only as he stumbled to a stop a few feet away could he make out the figure sitting at the top of the stairs, illuminated by Eia’s glow. His breath caught.

  The little girl turned at the sound, and he saw her face. Her eyes had changed, the whites gone, turned black as ink, with crimson irises trembling in the dark. Similarly, braided brown hair had unraveled, now stained a deep onyx. Black lines like ribbons spiraled up and down her arms, from her wrists to her shoulders, where they disappeared under the ragged clothes she had on.

  Despite everything that had changed, he recognized her all the same. It was almost familiar. Just like they’d met the first time, he’d found her lost, scared, and alone.

  He didn’t know how it was possible, but at that moment, he didn’t care in the slightest. A small flame sputtered to life in his chest.

  “Tine?”