Corvis Eralith
Meeting Caera Denoir (was she even a Denoir in this timeline? Judging from how she spoke of the Vritra, I deeply feared not) had been... highly revealing.
Caera, and the Soul-Body she had manifested with in the river, was exactly as I remembered reading in the novel: straightforward and demanding, but possessing a deep, underlying empathy.
She was the exact same person who had spared a coreless Arthur Leywin in the deadly depths of the Relictombs, and who had later fiercely demanded to know why he was wielding her dead foster brother's dagger amidst the bloody chaos of a Convergence Zone.
Hundreds, thousands of frantic thoughts haunted me as I violently snapped back to reality.
The river of time spat me—and Caera—back into Pax Coronata, but I couldn't afford to just sit and process the sheer scale of the revelation. I had to move, and fast.
Of course dismantling Draneeve's dark network and eliminating Nylith and her Caduchicil hadn't been enough. Somehow, Agrona had found and stolen the missing Portal Frog from Asyphin.
Now, through Caera's fragmented Legacy, the High Sovereign was actively reverse-engineering the authorities of the Arbiter.
Fuck! How was that even possible?!
I gripped the hilt of Fiorwato and violently wrenched the viridian blade free from my sternum, groaning through clenched teeth.
REtrocurrent informed me the Bloodlet Bourne operated on twisted rules, reliably returning its travellers to the exact moment "First Blood" was drawn prior to their death.
Seriously, what kind of sick, twisted masochists were the ancient Wraiths to subconsciously weave such a gruesome mechanic into their section of the river?
Shimmering Trucewater immediately flooded my system, rapidly knitting torn muscle and shattered bone back together as I stumbled to my feet under the morning light of the rising Mordain.
Berna instantly closed the distance between us, whining loudly as she frantically licked my pale face.
She was completely startled and distressed by what had just happened: watching her bonded companion casually wake up with his own sword thrust straight through his chest.
"Time travel shenanigans, girl," I murmured sarcastically, waving her off and wiping bear slobber from my eyes. "Pay it no mind."
Evascir. I needed to speak to Evascir immediately.
I absolutely hated the possibility, but it was a recurring nightmare that had happened far too many times in the canon of The Beginning After The End for me to ignore: treason.
The original novel was plagued with instances of people betraying everything they stood for, selling out their homeland for Alacrya and its High Sovereign out of cowardice, greed, or desperate love.
It ranged from the dwarven Greysunders—secretly supported by the human Glayders—to (now) deeply trusted figures like Elder Rahdeas and the Lance, Olfred. It had infected huge, influential chunks of Dicathian nobility, like Trodius Flamesworth.
And, most sickeningly of all... it had infected my own Mom and Dad.
How foolish I had been to think myself immune.
—
"Evascir!" I shouted, abandoning all decorum as I stormed into the humble Azellio abode of Lidayoz Sartobel.
The Titan, currently in his elven Narmanakaya, stopped what he was doing and turned to look at me. It seemed he had been feeding his massive black Guardian Bear, a rough process that looked more like play-fighting to my eyes.
"Nabyun," Evascir greeted calmly. His hand slipped from Lugano's massive jaws, his composure forged of absolute steel in every movement. "What—"
"There is a traitor," I interrupted, my eyes burning with frantic urgency. "Someone betrayed us. Agrona Vritra knows about my Portal Frogs. He stole one, and the only person who could have handed it to him is someone inside the Clan."
Evascir's mood shifted immediately. The stern guardian of the Hearth, left behind for centuries to protect the sanctuary of the Asclepius Clan after its Great Lord departed, never to return, slowly sat down, his features hardening into stone.
"You do realise what you are implying, Highprince?" Evascir asked quietly. "Doubting your own flock."
"Yes! Of course I realise it!" I exclaimed. "But who else could it have been?!"
Alwyn? Tessia? Alea? Albold or Ashton? Only a handful of people knew about the existence of the Portal Frogs, and almost all of them were members of the Asclepius Clan.
"Evascir," I paced towards the heavy, four-legged board resting in the middle of the otherwise barren room: a masterpiece of a table sculpted flawlessly through Evascir's Brahman. I slammed my palms against the stone. "Who could it be?"
My mind raced over all the members of the Clan, frantically searching for a potential culprit. But my own feelings violently conflicted with the memories of Mordain's son.
The part of me that had read the novel—the Arbiter within me that inherently distrusted the Asuras—was in complete rebellion against the Highprince.
The deep-seated distaste I held for all deities (my own Clan included), which I had been desperately suppressing since taking on Mordain's mantle, was now boiling up from the depths of my soul.
"No one," Evascir stated firmly. "What is the source of this sudden paranoia, Nabyun?"
"A trusted source," I replied defensively.
Caera couldn't have been trying to trick me. And even if she was, I had seen the Vritra-blooded girl inside the Bloodlet Bourne with my own two eyes. No amount of elaborate scheming could imitate such a feat; trespassing on Fate's domain was impossible to fake.
"The Vritra-blooded lesser," Evascir concluded immediately. Of course he was going to accuse Cylrit.
"No. Cylrit has absolutely nothing to do with this," I snapped. "I know him well enough. I trust him."
Evascir slowly closed his eyes. "You trust him more than your own kin?" he asked softly. "More than those who live and die by your will?"
I gritted my teeth. I had read about Cylrit's unwavering principles in a novel: of course I trusted him! I knew exactly what kind of person he was, but to Evascir, that justification was impossible to explain.
"Paranoia, Nabyun," Evascir continued, opening his eyes, "is exactly how Vritra wages war. Through endless schemes, deception, and misdirection, they break their enemies from the inside before there is even a need to draw blades. You have seen it with your own eyes: you and Chul have dismantled the covert operations of the Vritra across Dicathen."
"But the kind of paranoia that shatters the chain of command is their greatest weapon," Evascir added, his tone shifting into something I had never once heard from the Titan: raw, unadulterated trauma. "The paranoia that pits brother against brother. Father against son. Lover against lover."
Pain, grief, and guilt were a common sight in the ancient guardian of the Hearth, the man who had stood faithfully alongside Mordain Asclepius for centuries. But genuine trauma? Evascir was a mountain; he was unshakable.
I hadn't thought him capable of feeling such a deeply mortal terror.
"You speak from experience?" I asked, my voice instantly losing its defensive fire. "You don't have to recall—"
"I need to, so that you fully grasp the gravity of your words, Nabyun," Evascir insisted. "Of my Clan, the Gigante, the Asuras alive today to remember us are but a handful. Only those who survived the Unification War that brought the Great Eight to power."
Aldir Thyestes had briefly spoken about something similar in the novel, hadn't he? I remained respectfully silent.
"The Vritra Clan were the very first to ally with Kezess Indrath and Mordain to bring Epheotus under a single banner," Evascir recounted. "And while the Asclepius and Indrath clans waged their own brutal battles, one of the Vritra Clan's primary targets was the Gigante Clan."
"I already know how it ended..." I murmured.
"But you do not know the specifics," Evascir corrected mildly. "We fully expected the Vritra Clan to employ the same terror tactics they had used against the Hamadryads, or to wage a standard war, perfectly known to us Asuras. But the Vritra knew that fear would never work on Titans, whose natural stoicism outclasses even the warrior spirit of the Pantheons."
Evascir's skin suddenly illuminated. The pale elven complexion of his Lidayoz Sartobel disguise, which still carried the faint, ashen trace of the Titan's original limestone, lit up from within.
Intricate, geometrical runes began to cover his entire body. It was the Beast Will of Evascir Gigante, shimmering in all its ancient glory and power.
But there was something deeply wrong with it, as if the Beast Will itself had been... maimed. The luminescent runes on Evascir's skin looked like horribly painful scars in certain sections, fused and healed only by the presence of glowing, ethereal feathers, exactly like those of Mordain Asclepius of which I carried one.
"I survived only thanks to Mordain, but the rest of my kin..." Evascir swallowed heavily. "All Titan Clans are bound by a magical Contract: a Bandha in the language of old. My clansmen—somehow, the Vritra managed to trick us into breaking it."
"How did Mordain save you?" I asked quietly.
"The Samsara of Mordain is beyond powerful," Evascir explained. "He was not the strongest of the Phoenixes for nothing. Just as he did with Dawn, cleansing her into a full-blooded Asura, he succeeded in re-stipulating the shattered Bandha of my Clan. He bound my soul directly to the Asclepius Clan, and thus saved my life."
Re-stipulating... I echoed in my head, my mind suddenly racing. Could a similar usage of Samsara help me unmake the effects of the Vritra blood afflicting people like Caera and Cylrit? Could it even help me physically untether the Lances from their Artifacts, which ultimately remained bound to the Indrath Clan?
"I... understand," I said softly, humbled by his confession. "But Evascir—I am absolutely certain of what Agrona has done. You are right, I have been too quick to paranoia, and too eager to immediately doubt the Clan above all else. I am sorry for that. But I cannot retreat from my conviction that there is a leak somewhere."
"We will find it," Evascir promised, the radiant runes slowly fading beneath his elven skin. "But we will find it with wisdom and thoughtfulness, not with blind paranoia and prejudice."
—
I returned to Zestier, finding the Royal Palace in a state of absolute turmoil as my family frantically prepared for the Interdicathian. Grandpa was working tirelessly to ensure his grand dream became a reality.
I had just a couple of days to catch the traitor; a deadline I could stretch to infinity using REtrocurrent, but a strict deadline nonetheless.
"Capture."
Inside my private office at the Unraveler's Company in the Vedette Grove, the first sliver of this world I had ever truly called my own since reincarnating in Pax Coronata, I bent over my heavy ebony desk.
The sapphire velvet flag of the Interdicathian flapped behind me, catching the wind from the open window and reflecting the bright morning light of Mordain as I stared intensely at a sprawling map of Elenoir.
Avicenna, I called out mentally, gripping the blue Vaultlamp of the Sage and activating Inner Current. I need your help tracking down a traitor.
'I do not know how much help I can be, Justiciar,' Avicenna's voice echoed in my mind. 'But I shall try.'
The Portal Frog had been stolen in Asyphin. That meant whoever took it could travel through the Elshire Forest without encountering any natural or magical resistance.
That single fact was immensely helpful; it completely removed humans and dwarves from the equation, leaving only elves and... Asuras. Stop blaming the Asuras for everything, Corvis! You have no proof yet.
Could Caera know more? Should I contact her again through the river of time? No. Agrona was currently subjecting her to Fate-only-knew-what to decipher REtrocurrent's secrets. The more I reached out, the more I placed her in direct peril.
'Justiciar, who other than Chul have you told about me?' Avicenna asked calmly. 'It could be related.'
No one, I replied firmly. Only the Asclepius Clan and Cylrit know about the existence of both you and Fatima.
'I do not think you need me to tell you what Sage Fatima would say, Justiciar,' Avicenna noted. I immediately knew exactly what that meant: she would blame the Asuras. To her, the Asuras were the eternal culprits.
I had just endured a brutally difficult conversation with Evascir regarding that exact paranoia. It is not the Clan, I sighed inwardly, pushing the thought away.
A sharp chirp broke my concentration. A yellow canary, Solleandro, and a small robin, Soleil, landed gracefully on the windowsill of my office.
"Highprince," Solleandro saluted.
"Milord," Soleil followed.
"Are you absolutely certain no foreign Asuras have been spotted in Zestier or anywhere throughout the Elshire Forest?" I asked them, my voice tight. "Other than Windsom Indrath, of course."
The only remotely good thing about Windsom Indrath was his blind, boot-licking loyalty towards Kezess and his regime—he would be the absolute last entity in existence to collaborate with Agrona Vritra.
"Yes, milord," Soleil confirmed, and Solleandro offered a short chirp of absolute agreement.
So it truly wasn't an Asura behind this. It was an elf. But which elf? The Caduchicilists were all dead by now, either purged recently by Alea and Cylrit or executed years ago by Aya and Sister House Grephin under my father's strict orders.
Whoever was behind this operated from within the royal court. It was someone I interacted with daily, someone I actively confided in, but who could simultaneously move through Elenoir without raising suspicions or facing political or economical barriers?
A noble, or an elite mage. Or both.
I turned my head to look at Berna, resting quietly in her usual corner.
It had to be someone who had been closely involved in my life for years. Someone who had a front-row seat to some of the most critical events of my development.
I stared down at the blue glass of Avicenna's Vaultlamp. Someone who had the opportunity to study the Djinn remnants I interacted with.
I looked back at Solleandro and Soleil. Someone who could pass entirely undisturbed under the watchful gaze of two Asuras, raising zero alarms simply because of how completely unassuming and familiar he was.
I thought of Alea and Alwyn. Someone who regularly interacted with and knew the intimate schedules of the people closest to me.
I thought of my parents. Someone who was personally employed by the Eralith family as a trusted tutor to the Prince of Elenoir.
My heart sank like a stone as the dreadful realisation finally clicked into place. I looked over at the wooden Almondling resting on a display stand in my office.
The image of the eccentric, elusive elf who had taught me how to play it flashed vividly in my mind's eye.
The very same man I had just been thinking about back in Carn, wondering why he was never around when I actually needed him:
"Master Kamiel..."
—
"Alea!"
I sprinted down the ornate corridors of the Royal Palace in desperate search of my loyal Lance. She, amongst everyone in the palace, was the most likely to know exactly where that bastard was hiding.
The sickening thought that someone I had trained under since I was five years old was secretly working for the High Sovereign of Alacrya disgusted me profoundly.
Was that why Berna had never liked him? Did my Guardian Bear's primal instincts sense something deeply rotten inside the man? Was the "Beary Bear"—his annoying, ridiculous signature ballad—just an intricate, twisted way to openly mock me?!
Everything was so painfully clear now. The way he continuously patronised me as his "Little Prince," how he constantly played the bumbling fool, and why he remained one of the most powerful mages in Elenoir despite being widely considered a complete failure of a man.
The fact that he had been the first person I saw when I woke up in the Royal Hospital after my battle with Nylith in Azellio.
I had honestly thought he was just a squandered talent who wasted his days pursuing hopeless romance (just as he had done for years by shamelessly courting Alea).
It had always been a ruse. A flawless, decades-long cover.
I found Alea chatting with Cylrit as she went about her usual routine as a palace maid, while the renegade Alacryan maintained his own cover as a member of the Royal Police and palace guard.
"Your Highness, do you need me?" Alea asked, promptly stopping whatever she had been discussing with Cylrit, who also turned to give me his full, serious attention.
"Where is Kamiel Rennoux?" I demanded, pure venom bleeding into my voice. "Where is that bastard?"
"Ehm..." Alea blinked, entirely caught off guard by my sudden, explosive hostility. "I have no idea, Your Highness. I haven't seen him in weeks—and honestly, I couldn't be happier about it."
"Who is Kamiel Rennoux?" Cylrit asked, the former Retainer immediately picking up on the danger in my tone.
I swiftly summoned a Bubblespell around the three of us to perfectly silence our conversation from any potential eavesdroppers.
"A traitor and a bastard! He works for Agrona! He was the one who corrupted Berna's core, I am absolutely sure of it!" I growled, my hands shaking with suppressed rage. "Fine! Go and search for him. I am going to ask Dad."
I spun on my heel and bolted towards the double doors of the throne room, where my father would undoubtedly be occupied with managing the kingdom's daily affairs.
Once I had Kamiel's exact location, I would unleash a combat-ready Bubblespell and head straight for him. I would leave that two-faced bastard absolutely no time to counter me.
—
Before I arrived at the doors of the throne room, however, Mom intercepted me—she would serve just as well!
"Corvis, sweetie!" Mom cooed, her tone still exactly the one you would use with a sheltered ten-year-old son, whose most perilous tasks and darkest secrets were either entirely unknown or cleverly hidden from her (and Dad's) overprotective eyes by Grandpa. "Elder Virion is searching for you."
"I will go to Grandpa immediately, but first I need to know where Master Kamiel is!" I exclaimed, the sheer urgency in my voice making Mom immediately take notice of my frayed nerves.
"Rennoux?" Mom asked, a confused frown creasing her forehead as she rested her hands on her hips. "I believe he resigned from his position. He hasn't shown his face in the palace for weeks; he didn't even come to retrieve the monthly stipend Alduin pays him as your music teacher."
"Monthly pay? When exactly was it due?" I asked sharply.
"The fourteenth day of Winter," Mom replied, taken aback by my intensity.
The day after Draneeve and Nylith's Caduchicil were systematically pruned from Dicathen! Master Kamiel had retreated into the shadows the absolute second the Alacryan spy network was dismantled...
Just who was Kamiel Rennoux to have discovered the results of that highly covert purge so quickly? And where could I possibly find him now that his connections were dead?
"Thanks... Mom," I said distractedly, my mind already brooding over the terrifying implications of this timeline. "Unleash."
A spatial Bubblespell instantly exploded around me, collapsing space and time in a rush of Fate, and I was abruptly teleported back to the absolute privacy of my office in the Unraveler's Company headquarters.
—
I stormed the sprawling estate of Sister House Rennoux in Zestier and demanded an immediate audience with the Lady of the House: Kamiel's supposed "cousin."
Nothing. Not even his alleged family knew a single thing about the traitor's location. They, too, reported that he had not returned to the estate or his private properties for weeks.
"Unleash."
—
Sister House Ivsaar was next.
The most flamboyant nobles in all of Elenoir—and arguably the most ostentatious elves in the world—were a common sight alongside Kamiel, purely because any major musical event in Sprout City was almost certainly bankrolled by the Ivsaar.
But they, too, from the Lord and Lady down to the lowest servants, knew absolutely nothing of value.
"Unleash."
—
For the following loops, I searched inch by inch all of Sprout City, visiting every Grove and Bough Kamiel Rennoux had ever (and never) been seen frequenting, in search of information about the bastard's location.
I asked every captain of the Leafguard, like Lenna Aemaris, and every officer of the Royal Police, including Commodore Zachauld Chaffer.
I questioned the Lords and Ladies of all six Sister Houses of Elenoir, and even the Grephins (and Lance Aya herself), our master spies, didn't know anything about Kamiel Rennoux's whereabouts.
But Zestier seemed not to have the answers I needed. However there might have been something the bastard did not trick: the Elshire Forest herself.
"Tessia! I need the Woods Wide Web! I need your help, and the Forest's!" I exclaimed, grabbing my twin sister's shoulders the moment I found her.
I had found Tessia and Grandpa Virion together in the royal stables. My sister was busy brushing down her Elenoi Highcolt—Hoofy—adamant about riding him straight through Xyrus City during the upcoming Interdicathian fair.
"To showcase Elenoir's superior horsemanship," or something like that.
"Ah, Corvis, my boy!" Grandpa exclaimed, heartily ruffling my hair and giving me a complicit, knowing look. "You finally show up. I was beginning to think you had forgotten our promise."
Right. In exchange for me officially participating in the Interdicathian, Grandpa had agreed to completely cover my illicit activities as Finn Warend and as an Unraveler from Mom and Dad.
Damnit. Finding and stopping Kamiel was absolutely fundamental to ensuring the Interdicathian even happened safely.
"I just need to borrow my sister for a few minutes," I said quickly, winking at Soleil on Tessia's head. "In the meantime, I am sure Coco can substitute for Tessia, right, Coco?"
"Coco is a bird. What is she going to do, brush the horse?" Tessia asked flatly, but she shrugged her shoulders anyway, sensing my frantic energy. "Fine. What do you need, Corvis?"
I took her by the hand and dragged her away to a more private section of the palace gardens.
"Tessia, can you pinpoint specific elves using the Woods Wide Web?" I asked.
She brought a thoughtful hand under her chin. "It is complicated, but in general, yes. I can track the life forces of all of Gaia's children," Tessia confirmed.
Perfect.
"I need to find Kamiel Rennoux," I said. "You know him, right? My music teacher."
"The one Alwyn is always complaining about? The one he hates because he flirts so much with Alea?" Tessia asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know him."
Tessia then gave a sharp kick, sending her right riding boot flying away so she could connect her bare foot directly with the Forest's soil.
From the soft ground of the gardens, the thick, pulsing root of a Watchful Willow emerged, wrapping gently around Tessia's ankle like a living conduit.
"You know, they aren't called Watchful Willows for nothing," Tessia murmured, her eyes fluttering shut as her mana synced with the earth. "They act like... I don't know... repeaters—is that the right word? It sounds like something you would say—for the Forest's vast sensory roots."
"I promise I will listen to you explain all the intricacies of Gaia and the Woods Wide Web another time," I urged her, my patience fracturing. "Just tell me: where is Kamiel?"
Tessia pouted at my tone, but complied. Her brow furrowed in deep concentration.
"I—" Tessia suddenly gasped, wincing in sharp pain and clutching her temples with both hands. "It's... it's too much..."
I immediately placed a hand over her forehead, casting a highly concentrated Bubblespell infused with Trucewater, temporarily sharing the soothing and cognitive-enhancing effects of Inner Current with my sister to shield her mind.
"Better?" I asked gently.
Tessia nodded breathlessly, her panicked breathing slowing. "Yes..."
"What is Gaia telling you?"
"I... I don't understand..." Tessia whispered, her vibrant eyes opening wide with stark terror and profound confusion. "It is as if Gaia is screaming a warning at me. She is saying... she is saying that Kamiel Rennoux died ten years ago. The exact day before we were born."