Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Arthur Leywin
Relief like a hot balm settled across my body as I saw my childhood friend, a tension I didn't even know I'd been carrying washing away in a slow trickle.
Tess looked far, far better than the last time I'd seen her. Her gunmetal gray hair was damp as it clung to her shoulders, clearly just having been washed. No longer was her face covered in blood and bruises. Instead, milky pale skin stood out, the only bit of red remaining the flush on her cheeks from exertion.
As I saw Tessia, I remembered the words Elder Rinia had told me. That Spellsong would be targeting the princess of Elenoir in an upcoming attack, and that only I could stop it. The seer had informed me that I couldn't tell anyone about this, lest I risk upsetting the delicate future she'd foreseen.
And so I'd rushed to the place she had indicated, throwing caution to the wind. The last time I'd seen Tess, she'd been battered and defeated alongside her teammates as Toren Daen loomed over her.
But that image was nowhere to be seen now.
Tess lingered at the doorway as she met my eyes, hesitating for a reason I couldn't understand. Her turquoise eyes simmered with a bundle of emotions I didn't fully comprehend as she looked at me.
"What?" I eventually asked, a bit of a smile crossing my face. "Am I that shocking to look at? I didn't think anything happened to my head during that fight, but if you're looking at me like that…"
I jokingly patted my head, miming looking for scars or burns of some sort. The act seemed to break Tess from her nervous stare, and she rushed into the room as if carried by the wind itself.
The breath was pressed from my lungs as Tess enveloped me in a crushing hug. "Shut up, idiot," she said, burying her face into my shoulder. "You shouldn't even be talking right now, much less making stupid jokes that aren't even funny."
I returned Tess' hug the best I could, her smaller frame easily wrapped by my arms. "I thought it was pretty funny," I wheezed as her grip tightened. "And if you keep squeezing me like that, I don't think I'll ever be able to talk again," I eked out, tapping my childhood friend on the back in a sign of submission.
Tess sniffled as she released me, pulling away slightly and frowning at me as emotion writ itself over her face. "You can't have been awake for even an hour and you're already like this again? Do you know how worried we all were about you?" she asked, her hand squeezing my shoulder. I got the distinct impression Tess wanted to hug me again, but there was a worried cast to her expression that stopped her.
"Tessia has been checking on you constantly," Sylvie supplied helpfully from where she was curled on the edge of the bed. "We didn't know when you'd wake up, or what the effects on you would be. She took charge of caring for you, Arthur."
A bit of color flushed Tess' face as her eyes darted nervously to Sylvie. "Yeah, well… I was the one who was there, and we've known each other since forever. And we both know that he would've gone and run off to do something stupid if I wasn't here to curb his poor tendencies when he woke up."
Sylvie settled her head between her paws, her topaz eyes glimmering slightly in quiet amusement. "That much is true," she agreed. "He does have a habit of doing stupid things when you aren't around, doesn't he?"
Tessia nodded in agreement, a surprisingly serious look on her pristine face.
I looked between my bond and the elven princess, my brow creasing as I crossed my arms. "I don't think it's exactly fair that I've just woken up and you're both teaming up on me," I lamented. "I'm a wounded patient. Shouldn't I be given some–ow!"
Tessia socked me in the arm–hard. "You're only here because you have a horrible tendency to throw yourself at impossible situations and get yourself hurt all the time. And this time, the emitters couldn't even heal you."
I rubbed at my arm, wincing slightly. Same old Tessia, I thought, resorting to violence.
But my childhood friend's words called to mind why I was here in the first place. I remembered Toren Daen standing over Tessia, so far away. I'd engaged the First Phase of my Beast Will, stopping time and intervening in whatever he'd been trying to do.
"Tess," I said slowly, feeling a bit of my worry return, "when I last saw you, it was just after Spellsong was trying to perform that magic of his on you. I thought I stopped it, but are you certain you're okay?" I asked seriously.
Tess blinked, then her brows furrowed in confusion. She shared a look with Sylvie.
"He doesn't remember anything after he engaged that form of his," Sylvie informed my childhood friend.
"Tess–" I started, needing an answer to my earlier question.
"Are you hungry, Art?" she said instead.
"I mean–"
"Arthur," Tessia asked in a surprisingly soft, yet simultaneously demanding tone, "are you hungry?"
I cut off as Tess looked at me, something profoundly sad in the depths of her eyes that made me hesitate.
Maybe I can wait for her answer, I thought, swallowing as I drank in the emerald depths of my childhood friend's gaze.
And as I gave it a bit of thought, I realized that I was hungry. My stomach clenched and twisted as I finally paid it attention, the pangs rising up through my body. Belatedly, I realized I must not have eaten since my battle. "I am," I admitted weakly. "Famished, actually."
Then Tess did something I hadn't expected. She sat down on my bed, then swung her legs up so that she was sitting directly by my side. My eyebrows rose a little as she struggled to fit.
"Move over a bit, idiot," Tess said stubbornly, her long, pointed ears colored a deep red as they drooped slightly. "You're in the middle of the bed. There's no room."
I coughed, feeling strangely amused as I shifted under my covers so I was closer to the left side of the bed. My body, surprisingly, didn't even ache as I did so.
Tess used that opportunity to position herself more comfortably, huffing in a distinctly Tessia-like way. "You need to be more considerate of me, Art," she said, a faux loftiness in her tone. "Most people move before I have to ask them. It's one of the perks of being a princess, you know," she said, bumping my shoulder with hers playfully.
I huffed. "Well, next time you decide to so greedily hoard the space that is rightfully mine," I quipped, "then I suppose I'll have to surrender it to the conquering Princess of Elenoir, won't I?"
Tess chuckled lightly, bringing a slender hand to her lips. That laugh served to banish the last bits of darkness clinging to my mind in the wake of my dream of Grey, an emotion I'd rarely felt swelling in my chest.
Happiness.
The laughter of my childhood friend brought a smile to my face, the sheer light of it scouring away the solemn thoughts in my mind. It was soft and subtle, like the rustle of leaves in a breeze. Yet I thought I had never heard anything so sweet.
It reminded me of the simpler days long ago, of growing up in the Elshire forest under the care of the elven royal family. Of galavanting across the mist-shrouded forest with my friend in tow, living out childhood and innocence I'd thought permanently gone in my previous life.
Tess lowered her hand, looking at me once more. I saw a blush rising in her cheeks, and absently, I felt my own face start to burn as her jade eyes held my own azure ones. I turned away, coughing into my fist as I tried to settle the heightened pace of my heart, unable to maintain eye contact.
"Anyway," Tess said, bumping her shoulder against mine, "you said you were hungry. And I know it's not much, but I have a bit of leftovers from my last meal," she said, flourishing her hand and withdrawing something from her dimension ring.
Immediately, the earthy scent of herbs and spices brushed against my nose, interlaced with a bit of honeyed sweetness. I turned back to my childhood friend, noting the items she held in her hand.
It was an old elven treat–one I recognized from many years past. A specific kind of crisp, sugary leaf native to the Elshire Forest enveloped a filling of cream, honey, and spiced nuts in a traditional snack.
Tessia offered one to me, which I took gratefully. I bit into the snack, the sweet center enveloping my taste buds. I nearly groaned in pleasure as I devoured the treat, flashes of Tess and I stealing more than a few plates of these from the Eralith kitchens and running desperately away from the weary cooks flashing in my mind.
Before I knew it–and far, far too soon–I swallowed the last bite. I paused, feeling a swell of grief as I stared at my empty hands.
Quadra-elemental mage with two deviant elements, a Dragon's Will, whatever the hell Dawn's Ballad became, and two lives, I thought mournfully as I stared at the crumbs on my fingers, and for all your power, you can't summon another leafcrisp.
"I didn't answer your question earlier," Tess said all of a sudden, "on whether I'm doing okay or not."
I turned, feeling my mood shift at the inflection in her tone. "You're okay, right, Tess?" I said, more than a little worried.
Tess had pulled in her legs as she sat on the bed beside me, wrapping her arms around her knees as she rested her cheek on her kneecaps. Her gunmetal silver hair covered most of her face, and only her eyes glimmered like green gemstones from where she stared at me sideways.
"I'm fine, Art," Tess said. "More than fine, actually. When you found Spellsong, he wasn't infecting me. He was… cleansing my core, my Beast Will, of corruption. He was helping me."
Tessia's words were not what I was expecting. I shifted, trying to make sense of her words. "What exactly are you saying?" I asked, utterly bewildered. "I mean… I heard you scream."
And Rinia's words that Tess was in danger reverberated through my mind. It didn't make sense.
Tess took a minute to respond. "After your fight with Spellsong–he called himself Norgan, but I suppose that's not his real name–he explained to us what he'd been doing to me. Apparently, my Beast Will was tainted in a way that allowed me to be tracked. To be used. That black substance was taken from my core, not primed to be injected."
Tessia's words sent a cold shiver along my spine. I'd given her the beast core that held her Elderwood Guardian Will. The Elderwood Guardian had been strange, sure, but I hadn't detected anything wrong with it when giving it to her. And usually, the cores of corrupted beasts would crumble away to dust.
"Tess, are you absolutely sure?" I asked seriously, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder as my throat constricted.
Tess nodded slowly, making the guilt in my chest twist deeply. "I can feel the difference," she said softly. "In my magic; in my Will. It's not so ravenous now. I don't know what changes will come from this or what it means for my powers, but it feels as if a weight has been lifted from my soul."
My shoulders slumped as her words registered with me. "I'm sorry, Tess," I said after a moment. "I didn't think… If I had known–"
Tess shook her head, her silver tresses swaying. "It's fine, dummy," she said softly. "I'm safe now. And you are too, because of Spellsong. He saved us both, I suppose." My childhood friend furrowed her brows. "But he still left Darvus and Caria in a bad state."
My spinning thoughts centered on that one word. Right, Spellsong! I thought, feeling energy in my veins. "What happened with Spellsong?" I said hastily, realizing I didn't even know the outcome of our fight. Apparently, I'd engaged some sort of hidden power within Sylvia's Will, and Sylvie had told me that it had started to kill me. "We fought, didn't we? And what do you mean I'm safe because of him?"
Belatedly, I started to realize the implications of Tessia's words. If Spellsong had been healing her of a malady we hadn't even known existed, that threw all our assumptions about him and Seris Vritra into even further disarray.
"Your fight was… inconclusive," Sylvie said, trudging forward on the bed. "Because that power you used–it practically killed you, Arthur. It tore apart your body on a cellular level because of the wash of power. Toren Daen managed to survive the onslaught, but at the end…"
"You fell," Tess said, her voice somber. Her body tensed as memories flashed in her eyes. "Fell from the sky."
I focused on Tess' words. "You came back?" I said, feeling my brow furrow. "I told you to run, Princess, and report to the Council. Why did you come back?"
Tess scoffed, a wash of anger overcoming her features. "That's what you heard of my entire sentence? That I was present, not that you nearly killed yourself?"
I recoiled slightly at the venom in my childhood friend's tone. "Tess, I–"
"And you wouldn't be alive if I hadn't returned, idiot," she said, her voice turning a bit watery. "With how Spellsong needed to heal you, you wouldn't have made it if not for my presence. So don't just jump to conclusions."
I blinked, Tess' tirade washing over me. I felt a surge of irritation–but that quickly shifted into guilt as I felt my bond's scathing emotions agreeing with the princess.
There are people in this world whose lives I value over my own, I remembered saying to Windsom. And Tess… Tess was one of those people.
I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable at this sore spot. "You said that Spellsong healed me?" I finally croaked. "Not you, Sylvie?"
"Toren Daen stepped forward to heal you after you fell," Sylvie said, her voice serious. "But his insight into aether–his touch on that transcendental power–is fundamentally different from my insight. He used it directly–manipulating the aether within him as if it belonged to him."
I focused on Sylvie, who seemed to curl inward on herself. We'd discussed the intricacies of aether before–the energy that allowed the dragons of the Indrath Clan to reign supreme over all the other clans of Epheotus. We'd long since realized that Toren Daen had some sort of aetheric power considering the energy in his heart.
But the way Sylvie spoke–her own confusion and bafflement radiating both in tone and in mental link–it made me feel even more uncertain.
"But his arts had their own limitations. Where we dragons call on the aether in the world around us, he used his very lifeforce," Sylvie said, pausing at the last moment. I felt as her emotions began to retreat from me, causing a spike of worry to surge within my mind. "Except there wasn't enough to actually fuel your rejuvenation. He needed another source."
I blinked. Once. Twice. Then it clicked. The strange weakness I sensed over our bond–as if the dragon I called my companion was somehow diminished. As if she'd given away part of herself to something.
"No," I said, reeling backward. "No, you didn't. You shouldn't have had to sacrifice for me. There had to be another way. One that didn't involve… whatever this was!"
Sylvie simply stared up at me, her white fox form resolute. "There was no other way, Arthur," she said dismissively. "It was either let you die, or give up a bit of my lifespan. And you are my bond. My papa. I didn't hesitate."
My fists clenched by my sides as my breathing became a bit uneven. My bond had given away years of her life–her future–for me. That was wrong. She shouldn't have to. Should never have to. I felt my mana swell as I gnashed my teeth. "There is always another way. Something you could have–"
"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Tessia interrupted from my side, pulling herself back and glaring at me. "What, do you think only you can sacrifice yourself for others, Art? That it's all on your shoulders to bear these burdens? Do you think we're all just children for you to protect?"
I ignored the emotions of my bond, embracing the swell of irrational anger in my gut. "There are people I value more than my life, Tess," I said sharply. "It doesn't matter what I do as long as you're safe."
My childhood friend scoffed, turning away from me. "And why do you think you're alone in those thoughts? she snapped. "You don't think that Sylvie views you as someone more important than her life? That I view you as someone that precious?"
My retort died on my lips as a convoluted mixture of shame and anger took the place of my earlier disbelief. My mouth slowly closed as I worked my jaw, trying to find some sort of retort as I stewed.
That's the entire reason I've been training so hard, I thought angrily. So Tess and my loved ones don't have to put themselves in harm's way. And I've failed.
A tense silence settled over the room as this impasse was reached. I was reminded painfully of my last conversation with my parents as they resolved themselves to go off to war. I remembered Dad's eyes as they flashed, the news of Adam's death in the Twin Horns spurring him to put himself at risk. Mom's quiet resolution to finally use her deviant magic again and heal those that needed it dug through my brain like old wounds.
Why can't I ever keep the ones I love safe? I thought, memories of my life as Grey threatening to resurface once more. I was afraid that if I opened my eyes, Cecilia's blood would still stain my hands. Why do I always fail to protect them?
"Spellsong needed us," Sylvie said, moving forward and curling up next to me as she sensed my thoughts. "His healing–the way he used his aether arts–it operated on some sort of… empathy. Of a connection I didn't quite understand. But to fully heal you, Art, he needed Tessia and me. Your anchors."
I remembered those three fires in that deepest darkness, how they'd seemed to call to me. Beckon me like an exhausted man to his hearth after a long day of work. The rhythm of each was like water flowing through my soul, the gentle lull telling me it wasn't yet time to sleep.
I swallowed, burying my face in my hands as I tried to process this information. I tried to recall everything that Spellsong had said to me. I vaguely recalled…
"I can simply kill you, King Grey," a phantom voice echoed, eyes like twin suns flaring like the corona of a star.
My hands clenched my bedsheets as the memory returned. Spellsong knew my identity, I thought with sudden clarity as my eyes dilated. He knew of my past life. But how? Why did he heal me? What does he know?!
Sylvie sensed my turbulent thoughts, felt my questions boiling. She spared Tess a glance, who in turn was still turned away from me in quiet anger.
"And then Spellsong started to leave after his work was done," Sylvie continued, her voice starting to grow quiet. I felt her emotions retreat as a wall of uncharacteristic fear and terror surged up, pushing past her own control. "But he had more to say to us. He said… said that Tessia had been infected and tracked. That she was needed for…"
Sylvie's voice cut off as our bond went fully dark. I felt goosebumps rise along my flesh as the words settled. Tessia slowly turned back to me, her turquoise eyes glimmering with an emotion I didn't understand. The air in the room seemed to still, the jovial atmosphere enveloping us earlier washing away like a scab being torn from an injury.
"Sylvie," I said slowly, feeling my heart clench painfully. "Sylvie, what did Spellsong say?"
My bond didn't reply. She slammed shut her fox-like eyes, trembling visibly. She seemed unable to say the words, too shaken by whatever they might mean.
What could have scared her so deeply? I wondered, feeling my own worry grow. My bond was an asura, granddaughter to perhaps the most powerful being in this world. And together, we had faced down Retainers and Scythes–yet very few things had ever managed to truly terrify her.
But whatever it was that Spellsong had said–whatever warning he had uttered–had managed to instill an existential dread within my young dragon that made her hesitate to even speak.
Instead, it was the elven princess at my side who took up the mantle, her shoulders squaring. She looked me in the eye, a simultaneous seriousness and courage writ across her features as if in ink.
"He said that I was needed," Tess said quietly, "to be the Vessel for–"
The door to my room burst open, and Virion strode into the room as if his robes were aflame. He paused when he saw Tess, his harsh expression softening somewhat.
I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding as Tess mechanically pulled herself away from me. I hadn't realized it, but the elven princess had been leaning toward me as she'd prepared herself to speak, closing the distance in more than one way.
"It's good to see you awake, General Arthur," Virion said sharply. "The emitters in the castle weren't able to perform any diagnostic spells on you, which according to Lady Indrath," the Commander nodded respectfully to Sylvie's demure fox form, "was a result of your asuran weapon manifesting, so we weren't able to get a read on how long it would take for you to awaken."
I sighed, shelving the existential questions Spellsong had left me with for a bare moment. I could ask my bond about them later, and I could only focus on so many things at once.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," I said, forcing a tired smile onto my face. "Sylvie and Tess have been filling me in on what happened after my fight."
Gramps' eyes sparkled mischievously as a slight grin stretched across his face. "My dear granddaughter has done nothing but worry over your body for the past few days, Arthur," he said. "You should really thank her for that."
Tess' long ears drooped slightly at Virion's words, a light blush covering her cheeks as she shifted nervously. But the response wasn't as… animated as usual. Gramps seemed to belatedly sense the tension that had pervaded the room right before his entrance, his expression falling.
Virion heaved a deep, deep sigh. It was the world-weary kind of sigh I'd grown accustomed to in my life as King Grey. I had never allowed myself to display such expressions for fear of appearing weak–appearing human–but the councilors and nobles that I kept close to my power block always did. I remembered Marlorn in particular heaving that exact sort of sigh more than a few times as the war with Trayden ramped upward and death tolls skyrocketed.
"I'm afraid you won't have very much time to rest, Arthur," Virion said sadly. "We've received reports from an escaped prisoner of the Alacryans–a boy I know named Albold Chaffer. Furthermore, there have been contacts that suggest that Olfred Warend–as acting leader of the dwarven rebellion–wishes to parlay; likely for an exchange of prisoners. Not to mention all the complications that Spellsong created in his most recent… acts."
I thumped my head against my pillows, closing my eyes as I felt a headache building in the confines of my skull. This past month and a half or so, I'd done nothing but train. I was in the flying castle with my sister, but I'd barely had the chance to interact with her as I'd wished. I felt something in me creak at the pressure that continued to pile on.
"That is the reality of war," I said somberly, laying an arm over my eyes. "No rest will come to those at the forefront until it is done."
Virion sighed again. "You speak as if this isn't your first war, Arthur," the elderly elf said with a humorless chuckle. "It makes me wonder how you got so wise at such a young age. For a human, too," he snorted.
I've been through war, I thought, my mind flashing back to the conflict between Etharia and Trayden. And as Trayden's allies had tried to step in? They'd simply become fodder to fertilize the earth they'd once called home. As Grey, I'd been nothing but a machine. A harvester reaping lives in the hundreds of thousands.
In the millions.
Surprisingly, I felt Tess' hand on my shoulder. I moved my arm from my face, feeling as she ran her fingers along my arm in a surprisingly comforting gesture. Her eyes were questioning as they stared into my own.
And out of the corner of my eye, I noticed how Virion turned away, a flash of guilt on his face as he did so. "And I bring other news from the Council," he said softly. "In regards to Tessia in particular."
Tess' hand tightened on my shoulder. Her silver brows furrowed as Gramps' hesitance–his guilt–bled through his words.
"Grandpa?" she asked, shifting on the bed to face the former king of Elenoir. "What is this about?"
Virion didn't sigh this time. I wasn't sure he had it in him. "By order of the Triunion Council–as ratified by a majority vote–Tessia Eralith is to be discharged from duty as Head of her unit," he said somberly. "Effective immediately. She is to be taken back to Elshire and held under guard in Zestier until further notice to tend to her safety."
Tess' jaw dropped, momentarily too stunned to utter words. I felt my eyes widen in shock and disbelief as the words were uttered.
"What?" Tess asked, stumbling from the bed and lurching toward her grandfather. "Grandpa, you're joking, aren't you? This is just a… just a prank. Or some sort of misread order. Right?"
Virion kept his back to his daughter as he stared out a nearby window, the clouds far beyond holding his attention. "The order was signed by three out of four of the councilmembers," he said. "Your parents and Priscilla Glayder agreed unanimously to pull you from battle. For fear of what your capture–or death–could mean for the integrity of the Council itself."
And finally, rage subsumed the princess' disbelief. "No, they have no right!" she snapped, grabbing her grandfather's arm. "I've proven myself a capable commander! I've fought hundreds of beasts, led so many expeditions in the Beast Glades! I earned the position I reached! Fought for it, for my continent!" She tugged on her grandfather's arms, tears gathering in her eyes. "Grandpa, you're the Commander of the council! You can overturn this, can't you? You have the authority! Tell them not to just… shove me into a box like a glass sculpture!"
Virion still refused to look his granddaughter in the eye. "I may be acting head of the Council, but I must remain impartial," he said, repeating the words as if to convince himself. "Were I to overturn this decision–made by a majority–I'd undermine the integrity of the entire Triunion as a whole. I can't be a dictator, little one, even if it pains me."
Oh, no, I thought, recognizing the guilt in Virion's wizened eyes. The pain that subsumed them, the restrained acknowledgment of the real reason he didn't reject the Council's decision. Because for all his logical words, he didn't want to lose his granddaughter, either.
And Tess saw it too.
"Grandpa," she said quietly, tears streaming down her face. I felt something in my chest shift as I saw the grief play out on my childhood friend's features. "Grandpa, you promised me," she said in a small voice. "Promised me that I could fight in this war. I fought you–proved myself. Didn't I?"
Virion didn't respond, his shoulders trembling as he blocked out his granddaughter's pleas.
I expected Tessia to rage. To throw fists, maybe hurl accusations that would no doubt land right on the mark. That was what she had done in the wake of learning of Cynthia Goodsky's death, after all. Instead, the princess of Elshire simply took a few steps backward. "That's how it is then," she said, her voice hollow. "That's what it all amounts to?"
She turned away, striding toward the door with a strange sort of grace. The resigned acceptance in her voice seemed to hurt Virion far more than any outburst could have.
"We'll need to have a talk about Spellsong, Arthur," Virion said, his voice shaking. The old elf had carried the weight of this war as Commander on his shoulders for years, but that single interaction seemed to compound the weight of it all tenfold as he drooped. He looked like some sort of scarecrow cast to the wind. "About what his healing of you meant and why he tried to attack the princess."
The old elf stumbled out of the room as if he were half asleep, leaving me numb atop my bed.
I should go to her, I thought, preparing myself to try and leave my bed. Tess was hurting from this. But what could I say? For all that the decision of the Council to withdraw her from battle hurt my childhood friend, I couldn't bring myself to disagree with them.
I found myself in Virion's shoes, the logic of it fitting so, so neatly with my own selfish desires. Of course, keeping one of the princesses of the Triunion in the war would be detrimental.
I groaned, rubbing my face with my hands. It was all so complicated.
"The Council was right to do what they did," Sylvie said. I belatedly realized she'd still been keeping her emotions quiet from me, her white fox form hunkered in a ball as if to ward off the cold. "Withdrawing her from battle and danger."
I blinked in surprise. I hadn't expected Sylvie to agree with me on that front–she was the one who pushed me in better directions. Directions that supported the growth of those around me and myself. For her to agree with an action that limited Tessia's freedom…
"It is the most sensible tactical decision," I said with a sigh, "but it's unfortunate that Tess–"
"That's not what I mean," Sylvie interrupted. "This goes beyond what even the Council knows. What Virion knows."
Confused, I looked down at my foxy dragon bond. "What do you mean, then?" I inquired, feeling a strange numbness across my body.
Sylvie was silent for a long, long moment. That short span of time seemed to stretch like taffy as she circled on the bed, trying and failing to figure out a way to word her next sentence. "Arthur, before Spellsong finally left us, he told us why he'd gone out of his way to confront Tessia. And before he told us, he made us swear an oath. Me on my mother; and Tessia on her grandfather."
Sylvie turned to look at me, a trembling fear in her draconic pupils as they held mine. Her control of her emotions slipped as they began to flood into mine of their own accord. "You were brought to this world as a means to an end, Art. A stepping stone in understanding what it took to reincarnate a soul. Because Agrona planned to use Tessia's body as a Vessel, Arthur," she said quietly. "So he can bring another from the Beyond."
I felt my mana core itself freeze in the center of my chest.
"You came to this world so the High Sovereign could bring the soul of a woman that King Grey knew long ago, before he ended her life. One who commanded the world as she pleased," Sylvie said with an air of dread quotation, staring up at me.
I thought of my own rebirth into this world. I'd rebelled against the idea that it was pure, cosmic chance. It felt too purposeful, too right. But as Sylvie's words settled against my bones, I felt a different kind of fear.
Cecilia had thrown herself onto my blade in an act of sacrifice, so she would never have to be controlled by another again. Yet if Agrona–the maniacal head of the Vritra clan–had reincarnated my soul just to gain an understanding of the process, to pull another into this world under his whims?
I tried to imagine what sort of power Cecilia might have if she were brought to this world. And I found that I could not fathom it.
Yet as the implications of my bond's words swam within my mind like a tempest, bashing and decimating any sense of peace I might have ever found, it was strangely something else that rose to the surface first.
Because if Spellsong–however he knew of my past life and the reasons for my reincarnation into this world–had said this to both Sylvie and Tess, that meant the elven princess knew my greatest held secret.
She knew of my past life.