Corvis Eralith
I woke up in my room in the Royal Palace to the familiar chirping of birds calling my name—not through words, I want that to be clear.
It was just a melodious chirping, and yet Eralith Asclepius seeped through my personality, making me recognize them as voices spoken in a language of music rather than words.
I opened the large window behind my bed, still half-asleep.
To remedy I activated Inner Current, forcefully washing away sleepiness with Trucewater as if it was just a stain on my mind.
What a curious use of the Fate deviant of water mana: a substitute for coffee, without it tasting like my once-fateful C-Pill and without scorching the tongue.
The cool clarity spread through my nerves, sharpening my senses, and the world came into razor-sharp focus. The drowsiness evaporated, replaced by alertness
Soon enough, with the first rays of the sun casting their soft light through the foliage of the Zestese Watchful Willows, two blue birds landed on my windowsill.
They looked like blue jays from Earth, only with the usual black stripes of their feathers being orange.
"Ran, Palmyra," I greeted the two Phoenixes, those whose marriage I had made official the first time I went to the Hearth, the fire of their First Soaring playing in my mind. "What brings you here?"
"We, we, we... have something very, very important to tell you, Eralith!" Palmyra stammered, hopping around in circles while flapping her wings, barely able to contain herself. Her feathers were ruffled, her eyes bright, her whole tiny bird body shivering. "Aaaah! I need to return to our nest, Ran!"
The newlywed Phoenix girl flew away before I could even say a thing, her blue and orange form disappearing into the foliage.
"Excuse her, Eralith..." Ran sighed, his voice carrying the patient affection of a newlywed who had already learned to navigate his partner's exuberance. "It's just that we are very excited and need you."
"What happened?" I asked the blue jay. "Just now Palmyra was even more ecstatic than she was during the marriage ceremony."
The temperature rose slightly as Ran's feathers started to emanate heat; was he blushing?
"Palmyra, she..." Ran whispered something, but his voice was so feeble that even my Trucewater-enhanced ears couldn't understand his words.
He seemed embarrassed, as if the news itself was too precious to be spoken aloud.
"Ran, I didn't hear you," I said, sighing. What could even be the matter for the Phoenix to be so flustered?
"She... laid an egg," Ran admitted, his head cocking downward and his sight never leaving the whitestone of the windowsill. The last three words were spoken so rapidly that I almost missed them.
"Good for you!" I exclaimed, happy for Ran and Palmyra. The news was unexpected, but joyful; a new life, a new member of the Clan, a continuation of the legacy that had been threatened by Agrona's massacre. "I don't see what my role in this is, though."
In a flash, Ran's head cocked upward, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that defied my expectations. "You have to bless our chick, Eralith! Otherwise, they won't be part of our Clan! They won't be an Asclepius!"
Before my answer could come, a new chirp resounded in the air—Soleil's.
Coco the robin, gliding from a high branch of a Watchful Willow, landed on my windowsill beside Ran, who, upon noticing the doctor of our Clan, gave me an hopeful glance and took flight again, probably directed toward Palmyra and his future child.
"Milord, I bring you news," Soleil said, flapping her wings as both greeting and in urgency.
"Ran and Palmyra just came and—" I stopped for a second, unsure if I had the right to tell Soleil about the child of someone else.
Well, I was their Highprince, so in the Clan's eyes I probably had right to everything, but it didn't seem very kind to go around and tell something that Ran and Palmyra maybe wanted to announce themselves.
"You are talking about their chick?" Soleil anticipated me.
"They already told you?"
Coco puffed her chest in pride, her small robin form seeming to double in size.
"Should I remind you that I am the Clan's doctor, milord?" she declared, her voice carrying a note of professional satisfaction. "Palmyra told me she birthed an egg even before Ran himself! As the one responsible for the health of the flock, I was the first to know."
Her words ignited a spark of curiosity in me.
"Actually, how long does it usually take for a Phoenix to hatch?" I asked, my arms resting on my windowsill as I heard Berna too finally waking up.
The familiar sounds of my Guardian Bear stirring in her corner of the room stirred something in our bond too as I physically felt the bear shrugging herself and yawning (lazy girl).
"It depends on what Physique they are conceived in..." Soleil said, her voice taking on the measured cadence of a physician explaining a medical subject. "In Ran's and Palmyra's case, maybe a month or two."
"That fast?! They are practically talking birds right now, so I guess it makes sense," I said, but I was far from done with my questions. "What if the chick is conceived in the Emanation Physique? And in the Real one?"
"As for the former, it's not very different from elves. Nine months," Soleil said. "The latter... it changes from Asuran race to Asuran race. For us Phoenixes, it can take decades."
I widened my eyes. "That's more... Asura-like," I commented.
I decided to ignore then why all Asura didn't just make children in their Sambhogakayas to grow their numbers.
"They are called Real Physiques for a reason," Soleil said, making another powerful flap of her wings. "About the rest!"
"I spoke with Solleandro about the task you wanted to give him," Soleil started, mentioning the spywork I wanted Solleandro to do on House Wykes. "He awaits for you in the Bough of New Farethra you have told him to look after."
Then, Soleil's voice turned softer. "I know it might sound silly, but Milo would like to speak with you," Soleil said. "He didn't tell me anything. He wants to make you a surprise."
Milo? He was Soleil's nephew, right? The young Phoenix had been one of the most enthusiastic members of the flock since their arrival in Zestier.
"Chul has very insistently asked Evascir for you to go to the Hearth as soon as possible," Soleil added. "It concerns both him and Wise Avicenna from what Chul said; it's about the mission you gave them."
Chul and Avicenna managed to find a way to resolve Chul's problems with his mana core? That was big news.
"What about Tessia?" I asked, wanting to know more about my sister. "Is she taking well the assimilation with the Woods Wide Web?"
"Your grandfather is guiding her day and night," Coco said. "And I always make sure she doesn't exhaust herself by aiding her with my magic."
I sighed in relief. The Woods Wide Web had been a gift, but it had also been a burden—a constant connection to the consciousness of the Forest itself, a flood of sensation and emotion that could overwhelm even the strongest will.
"Milord, what's the problem?" Soleil asked.
"Am I being a bad brother? And a bad son?" I asked. "I am not spending much time with my family since we went to the Hearth the first time."
I was away from the Royal Palace and Sprout City almost all of my time: Azellio, the Hearth, Xyrus, and Pitrah; and I knew this list would only grow larger in the future. Each new responsibility pulled me further from the ones I loved, and I the distance was growing like a chasm between us.
"You are doing the right thing, milord," Soleil murmured. She hopped onto my palm and bowed her head, rubbing her feathers against the back of my hand in a gentle gesture of comfort. "You are fighting for them. For all of them. That is the greatest love you can show."
"Thanks," I said. "I will start with Solleandro, then. No one else requires me, right?"
"No one, milord," Soleil confirmed, taking flight.
—
I walked the streets of the Canopie, the Bough of Zestier reserved for the noble estates, connected north to the northern Grove of the Vedette by Ivorypass Door.
The many estates of the elven nobility surrounded me, the Watchful Willows that housed and protected them, as well as the various other trees typical of this area of the Elshire Forest—the green mantle that gave the Canopie its name.
I was saluted by all the private guards that stood sentinel of the many houses, who immediately recognized the Prince of Elenoir. I smiled back at them. It was actually... beautiful.
Lately, I had been treated as Lord Throneholder by the Pitrans and the dwarves of Burim and Vildorial, and as the Highprince of the Asclepius Clan by my flock and by Cynthia Goodsky.
To be back as just the prince of my home kingdom was—yes, it was beautiful.
Was I having regrets because I renounced my right to Elenoir's throne? If I could go back (well, I could go back, but if I could go that far back without ruining all I had done until now) I would probably never have renounced my title to the throne.
What's done is done, Corvis, I sighed in my head.
I came to a crossroads marking the junction of two Promenades, Zestier's quieter and smaller roads.
Standing at its heart was a sprawling Evergreen Rowan, its leaves glistening with the same deep emerald sheen as Fiorwato's hidden blade, casting cool shadows where the taller Watchful Willows fell short.
Around the trunk ran a circular fence of white wood, protecting a Verticil altar cradled in the tree's wooden limbs.
Forest Hounds, E-Class mana beasts that were the closest thing to our culture's sacred animals, sprawled across the higher branches, though their gaze was unnaturally intent, tracking something perched on a lone, crooked bough.
It was a small, singing canary, its plumage matching the golden light of Mordain itself. What sounded to elven ears like innocent birdsong rang out to mine—to the ears of Eralith Asclepius—as a fierce war song, destitute of words yet dripping with battle rhythm.
What in Fate's name is Solleandro doing with those Forest Hounds? I asked myself, standing below the canopy of the Evergreen Rowan.
The canary stopped singing abruptly upon noticing me and gave a chirp to the Forest Hounds, who jumped from the Evergreen Rowan's branches and surrounded me, sitting down and casting their gazes downward, their deer-like horns bowed too.
"Solleandro?" I called, looking at the kneeling Forest Hounds. These type of mana beasts always acted friendly and relatively submitted to me and Tessia, but this much? Never. "What have you done?"
"They are my pets, my Highprince," Solleandro said, the only Phoenix of the Asclepius Clan to call me Highprince with such devotion. Even Soleil, the only one of the flock who cared about showing the traditional respect due to the Clan lord, didn't behave like this. "But that's not important. I am ready for your orders."
REtrocurrent brought to me memories coming directly from the river. Solleandro was not an Asclepius by blood.
He was adopted from the Amintor Clan: Phoenixes that were vassals, servants of the Indrath Clan, taught since birth to serve the interests of the Heaven's Host—the government of the Dragon race, separated from the Great Eight, and led by the Indrath Clan since so long ago my mind felt dizzy only thinking about it.
Soleil had alerted me Solleandro might have been difficult to interact with.
"Very well," I said, my gaze on the pack of Forest Hounds that made this Evergreen Rowan their den and this canary their leader. I made a barrier with wind magic around us to make sure our conversation couldn't be overheard. "I need you to spy on House Wykes, a human family of nobles."
"What do you need to be known?" Solleandro asked.
"If they are working with Alacrya's forces," I said, even if I already knew they were, but confirmation from another source that wasn't a tortured spy was welcome. "And how far does their treason go. More importantly, I need you to discover everything about Bairon Wykes. If you even suspect he might harbour dangerous thoughts, come and tell me."
If the ones working with Draneeve were any other noble House, I wouldn't be worrying so much.
No, if the ones working with Draneeve were Otis and all his family save Bairon, I wouldn't consider it very much—Dicathen would be a much better place without them anyway.
But Bairon was one of Dicathen's six strongest mages; losing him was equivalent to losing whole Houses of nobles, entire Guilds, hundreds of Adventurers or Unravelers.
That was how important of an asset Lances were.
"Prince Corvis!" Someone called my name, his voice piercing through the magic veil.
Turning my head, Feyrith Ivsaar III and another couple of elven children were coming my way. I dispelled the wind veil and prepared myself for a quick talk before meeting the next of my flock.
—
Milo Asclepius, the nephew of Soleil, had been tasked by me to watch over the Movary, one of the Boughs of the Old Oak—Zestier's southern Grove.
I strolled the streets of this residential district where trees and houses were even more indistinguishable than in the rest of Zestier.
"He should be somewhere around here..." I murmured, turning down a Promenade nestled between two houses.
The street looked more like a grand arbor gallery than a thoroughfare; interlocking branches arched overhead, weaving dense foliage and trailing vines into a tunnel of emerald greenery and coloured flowers.
What caught my breath was where this Promenade came out: a beautiful and rectangular field of four-leaf clovers, the plant that gave Zestier its unique design, limited by various buildings entangled with trees on all sides.
Moreover, on the field of clovers, there were also a series of logs carefully placed to create what looked like wooden bleachers. Finally, standing opposite to each other at the far ends of the field were two goals of wood.
"A football field?" I wondered as I stepped on the clovers. I felt the magic that flowed through them, making these little flowers resistant to elves walking on them while making the field soft like a mattress.
Was it to prevent injuries? Though... how can the ball bounce on a field of clovers?
I put my theory to the test. Conjuring a Bubblespell roughly the size of an ordinary ball, I channeled the Article of Justice to calibrate its mana density, tweaking the sphere until it bounced and weighed just like a regulation ball back on Earth.
"Er—Corvis! I am here!" I raised my eyes and on the far end of the football field, waving his arms and standing alongside other elven children was Milo in his Emanation Physique.
What was he doing out of his Sambhogakaya?!
I dispelled the Bubblespell-ball and walked toward Milo. Up close, the Phoenix was an elven boy my age that looked like a mirror to Soleil. He took my hand as soon as I was close and showed me to the other elves with him.
"See? I told you I knew Prince Corvis!" He exclaimed proudly, hands on his hips and chin held high. "We are bestest friends!"
I was about to open my mouth to argue, but there were matters more important to attend to.
"G-good morning, Your Highness!" The young elves greeted me, hurrying to bow. I ignored them.
"Milo," I whispered in the Phoenix's ear. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Let me explain!" Milo said, carrying me away from the other kids.
"Milo, you are in your Narmanakaya! Do you realize how dangerous that is?!" I asked, and the Asclepius just shrugged.
"I am better able to hide my nature like this," the boy said. "And I can play with other children too!"
"This football field is your doing?" I asked, gesturing around. Milo nodded proudly.
"I see you remember about football!" Milo exclaimed. "I was teaching the Movary's children about it!"
Football exists in this world too? I asked myself, surprised by Milo's words. Not in Dicathen at least, but in Epheotus... that's something I would never have expected.
"That was why you wished to see me?" I asked, and Milo nodded.
"I want to recreate the Asuran Games here in Elenoir! Only for football for now, but we can extend it in the future!" Milo proposed.
From my visit to Vildorial during the Darffest, I had learned about the Rolleykeg, an all-dwarf sport, and at least in Lower Vildorial, it already had a sort of professional apparatus built around it even if it was financed by the Water Barons. Milo's proposal wasn't a bad one.
"You want to make a Football League in Elenoir..." I murmured. "I actually like it very much!"
"I knew you would!" Milo answered.
"Còrliguet, Branliguet, Trònliguet, Sulliguet, and Racliguet," I recited, letting the ancient elven compound words I just came up with roll off my tongue. "Every division tier named after a part of a tree: from the highest canopy down to the roots. We should also make two separate leagues for mages and non-mages."
"Well, you know what? I don't speak ancient elven, but I like it!" Milo exclaimed. "I too love it!"
Football can also help bring Dicathians together. Stop it, Corvis! You will make as many sport leagues as you want when the war is over!
"Milo, this is the only thing you wanted to tell me?" I asked.
"No, I wanted to play with you too," Milo said.
"Another day, I have no time for this as of now," I replied, mentally crossing Milo from the list of people I had to visit today.
—
Ran and Palmyra received assignments in two adjacent Boughs tucked inside Zestier's eastern Grove, named the Willowcone, tied to the heart of the central Queen's Grove by the Patriarch Door, a prominent portal along the Alabaster Ring.
Together with the northern Grove, the Vedette, the eastern sector formed the impoverished fringes of Sprout City.
Yet with the Vedette bolstered by the headquarters of the Unraveler's Company in Riverside Yard, the Willowcone stood out as the absolute poorest corner among Zestier's five primary subdivisions.
While the Vedette had been transformed by commerce and ambition, the Willowcone remained a place of struggle, a reminder of the inequalities that persisted even in the heart of elven civilization.
But I was not here to address that problem today. I had an egg to validate as an Asclepius, and I relied on REtrocurrent to grant me the knowledge on how to do it.
I began scaling a majestic Watchful Willow, the heart of the Willowcone Grove, celebrated for its savory cones.
Prized across Sprout City, these cones were processed into aromatic dressings, seasonings, and pastries.
The most iconic was the Saulcogne, an ancient elven name literally meaning "willowcone," which over the centuries had become synonymous with a soft steamed cake filled with rich, sweet paste.
Ascending the timber staircase coiled around the trunk, I walked past a tiered community of elves: bustling bakeries, communal kitchens, and layered homes built directly into the living wood.
Unlike the noble sectors of Zestier, where a single Watchful Willow might house an aristocratic dynasty or a guild hall, the folk of the Willowcone had to share every branch.
High above the street bustle, where the elven-made structures tapered off, I gripped the bark directly, vaulting easily through the upper branches toward Ran and Palmyra's nest.
Parting the emerald leaves, I emerged into the cool breeze of the upper canopy, balancing myself gracefully on a lesser bough.
Zestier spread out beneath an unbroken ocean of green, concealed by the Elshire Forest.
Through occasional holes in the foliage, the Alabaster Ring appeared like a white stone cradle overrun by nature, while the distant spires of the Royal Palace rose high into the sunlight—the only two monuments standing above the Forest of Gaia's sacred ceiling.
I turned my head and, balanced carefully in the crowning branches, stood a masterwork of twigs and bramble: a birds' nest. Two blue jays perched within instantly noticed me, their wings snapping out in alert greeting.
"Eralith, you are here!" Palmyra exclaimed, flying to the edge of the nest, leaving the egg she was brooding.
"This—this is our child!" Ran said, perched on the opposite edge of the nest, his eyes cast on the egg. His voice was filled with wonder, as if he could barely believe what he was seeing.
It was a beautiful egg, orange like the sky at dusk and shiny like a polished gem. It reminded me very much of Sylvie's own egg from The Beginning After The End, given to Arthur by a dying Sylvia Indrath.
I made a couple of steps toward Ran and Palmyra, crouching on the same branch where their nest lay.
Both my elven and Phoenix instincts were happy about this: my elven ones because I was on a tree, and we elves were made to be on trees; my Phoenix ones—the seeping emotions of Eralith Asclepius—because I was perched on something.
"Have you already thought of a name to give them?" I asked, and the two jays looked at each other. "Soleil told me it won't take long for your chick to hatch."
"We haven't thought of a name yet, no," Palmyra replied, her little talons gripping the edge of her nest, her two little eyes looking at me expectantly. There was a vulnerability in her gaze, a hope that I would know what to do, that I would carry the weight of this moment with the gravity it deserved.
How do I initiate a Phoenix to the Clan? I wondered.
An unhatched Phoenix, without being one myself—in body nor in mind.
Like the treasure it was, I took the egg in my palms, cradling it with almost paternal tenderness.
The shell was warm against my skin, smooth and perfect, and I felt the faint pulse of life within.
From this simple shell, an Asura was going to be born, a being so powerful it was considered a god by the cultures of lessers that inhabited the Old World.
From this simple ovoid of calcium, not larger than a chicken's egg, a being that could scorch cities in minutes could be born, and I was about to baptize it.
As my hands touched the shell, my body was permeated by a strange warmth, not coming from the egg itself, but from something beyond the material plane. The potential soul that could inhabit the Phoenix born from within this shell.
"I understand it now," I said, contemplating the egg. "I know what to do."
I used REmould on the egg and inscribed an Article of Peace in it. I didn't know how Mordain would have done this ritual, but this was my way.
I bestowed the Article of Unity upon the child of Ran and Palmyra: a blessing of connection, a blessing of belonging and a blessing of the bond that would tie this new life to the Clan and to the legacy of the Asclepius and of the Djinns at the same time.
The egg glowed softly in my hands, a warm golden light that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Whoever the child will become, they had been welcomed into the fold.