No envoys showed up for the rest of the night, even conversations between the servants were normal enough for Alain to dismiss them.
He couldn't sleep that night.
The Revelation allowed the appearance of rest—soft sheets, a dim lamp, and a window that overlooked the courtyard. But everytime he closed his eyes, the arrow would appear in his head.
By dawn, the sky over the world shifted from pearl blue to the gold of early sun. Alain stood at the window beside his bed, fingers tapping absently against the ledge.
Day 2.
The Revelation had begun moving again.
A soft knock sounded before Lia eased into the room. She had washed her face, but tiredness clung to her like dew.
"Morning," she said, stepping in fully. "You didn't look like you slept."
"I didn't," Alain answered.
She paused, then nodded — already used to his bluntness.
"The envoy still hasn't collected the case," she said. "One of the servants mentioned he requested an extension before attending the morning gathering."
Perfect.
Exactly where Alain wanted to begin.
"Let's go," he said.
They walked through the manor's eastern wing, passing servants arranging tables, polishing banners, and sweeping stray petals left from last night's reception. Everything felt slightly… different. Not enough to be called wrong, but enough to catch the edge of Alain's awareness.
Revelations always remembered your mistakes after all.
They stepped into the corridor near the envoy's quarters. Two guards flanking the door straightened as Alain approached.
"Sir," one greeted. "You're here to question the representative?"
Lia blinked. "I… didn't know we had that authority."
"You do today," the guard said simply. "The host's instructions."
Alain held back the chill that crawled up his spine. The Revelation was guiding him. But whether it was guiding him correctly — he couldn't know yet.
"Let us in," Alain said.
The guard opened the door.
As soon as they passed, the doors closed behind them with a soft thud, sealing the envoy inside the room with Alain and Lia.
The chamber was small, cramped by travel chests and half-unpacked luggage. A single lantern flickered on the desk, casting long shadows against the walls.
Inside, the Jotnar envoy stood hunched over a travel chest, shoulders trembling with the strain of holding himself together. He turned at the sound of their entry — and stopped dead when he saw Alain.
His pupils contracted. Not with aggression, but fear instead.
Lia stiffened beside Alain. "He's scared," she whispered.
Alain ignored that for now. Fear and guilt were easy to confuse. Easier still when someone had something to hide.
The envoy swallowed. "Is… something wrong?"
"We're reviewing the ceremonial items you brought," Alain said, measured. "Particularly the dark wood case."
The envoy's face tightened. "Ah. Yes. Of course. It's— it's a family heirloom. Tradition for safe passage."
Lia stepped forward a little, voice soft. "We just need to understand its significance."
The envoy nodded rapidly, almost gratefully. "Of course. Of course. I can explain. My clan believes mistletoe wards off ill intent, so we—"
Alain cut in gently. "You carried it personally."
The envoy blinked. "Yes— yes, I always do. It's fragile and—"
"And you refused to let the servants help with it."
The envoy hesitated.
A small thing. But hesitation always said more than words.
Lia glanced at Alain. "He's nervous, not deceptive—"
"I'm not accusing you," Alain said. "I'm asking why."
The envoy's breath faltered. "It's… complicated. I didn't want it mishandled. The rune was always— unstable. My family warned me."
Alain's eyes narrowed. "You knew it was unstable."
"I— not like that," the envoy stammered. "Not dangerous, just— reactive. Sensitive to emotion."
Lia stiffened. "Alain…"
Alain stepped closer. "Why bring it here? To a peace summit? Why risk an unstable artifact around envoys and Aesir guards?"
The envoy backed up until he hit the desk.
"I just did what my elders told me." His voice cracked. "I swear on my clan—I didn't mean any harm."
"You hesitated again," Alain said quietly.
The envoy's breathing turned shallow. Fear spiked off him like heat.
"I'm telling you the truth," he whispered.
"But not all of it."
"I— I'm trying—"
"Try harder."
"Alain," Lia warned, voice barely audible, "stop pushing—"
Something inside the envoy broke.
The cloth in his hands slipped. His fingers spasmed. He doubled over with a wet gasp.
The envoy's body convulsed a second time—harder—his spine arching unnaturally until the joints cracked like splitting ice. Black veins rippled under his skin, spreading from his throat to his jaw. His eyes bulged and burst into radiance—two burning red coals staring through them.
A wet, rattling snarl tore from his chest.
"Alain—" Lia gasped.
He pushed her back. "Stay behind me!"
But the envoy didn't give them time.
His feet scraped once against the floor—
—then he launched forward faster than any normal human should've moved.
Alain barely pivoted aside.
The envoy's claws tore a gouge down the wooden post behind them, ripping straight through it like wet parchment. Splinters exploded across the room.
Alain barely managed to draw the spell.
ᚱ— Raido (Push)
A pulse of fore exploded from his palm, hurling the creature sideways into the wall with a bone-rattling thud.
"Stay back!" Alain ordered.
But the envoy didn't stay down.
It peeled off the wall, jaw distending, claws forming where fingers had been. Its scream tore through the small room as it rushed them again, faster now, limbs jerking with unnatural strength.
Alain met it head-on.
Kindle flared through his veins—heat rushing through muscle and bone—a strength and speed amplifying technique. Alain was grateful after he obtained it from constantly being beaten up by hooligans.
His fist collided with the envoy's forearm with enough force to snap the limb at the elbow.
The creature barely noticed.
It swiped at Alain's head—fast, vicious. A shimmer of pale-blue light erupted beside him.
Just when the strike was about to connect, a barrier of water manifested in front of Alain, slowing the creature's momentum significantly and allowing him to dodge the attack.
He looked back. Lia's fingertips were glowing, signifying the use of a spell.
ᛉ— Algiz (Guard)
"Lia, keep that shield up!" Alain barked.
"I—I'm trying!"
The envoy spun and lunged at her next.
"No, you don't—"
Alain slid under the creature, slamming down the spell that was pre-drawn on his palm to the floor. Suddenly, the ground exploded, directional force blasting upward like a piston of flames.
The envoy's body snapped into the ceiling beam, splintering wood before dropping heavily to the floor.
Lia acted on instinct, immediately carving another spell.
ᛏ — Tiwaz (Cut)
A shimmering arc of compressed water pressure carved across the monster's torso, cutting deep into blighted flesh. The creature slowed, but that was all the time Alain needed.
Kindle igniting fully in his limbs. The heat crawled through him, burning white-hot under his skin.
He jumped into the air, target clear. With Raido pre-carved into his fists, Alain unloaded a terrifying punch on the creature's skull.
Force accelerated his strike, Kindle empowering the blow, both combining into one devastating hit.
His fist crashed into the envoy's head like a hammer. The creature's ribcage collapsed inward. It went flying into the nearby wall, body going limp immediately afterwards.
Alain took a staggered breath, steam still coming out of his fists.
The last mote of dust drifted away, swallowed by the silent corridor.
Lia exhaled shakily, one hand still half-raised.
"That wasn't real," she whispered. "Alain… that wasn't a real Blight. Something—something created it."
Alain rolled his shoulders, Kindle fading from his limbs in slow, pulsing embers. His breathing was steady again. Eyes scanning the room, he lingered on the jagged marks left behind.
Alain wiped the blood smeared across his cheek, Kindle slowly fading from his veins. His jaw tightened.
"It reacted because we pressed him," he said. "Or because he was hiding something. Either way, we confirmed the first threat."
Lia stepped closer. "No. You're not listening. Something is wrong. That didn't feel like—"
Alain didn't answer.
Not because he didn't hear her — but because the pieces aligned too neatly.
He had found the second thread. The Revelation had tested him, and he had survived it.
He stepped past the last traces of dust. "We know more than before. That's progress."
Lia's expression tightened, as if her instincts disagreed. As if something deeper inside her — that faint emotional sense the Revelation kept amplifying — was warning her.
"We should keep moving," he said. "If this was the first test, then good. We passed it."
He didn't look back as he walked out.
The hallway swallowed his footsteps, leaving Lia alone in the quiet wreck of the room.
She remained still for a long moment.
Not because she wished to stay, but because the air felt wrong, heavy in a way she couldn't name.
She turned to follow after him—but turned back, hearing the soft chime behind her.
[Truths Identified: 1/3]
Lia stared at the fading text, eyes wide.
"It didn't change," she whispered. "It's still one."
"That…wasn't a truth."