Chapter 76

Cradle of the Makers

Sylas sat in the quiet room, his head perched over a thick tome alight by the nearby candlelight. Ever since returning to the castle and, once more, ensuring that the Prince was the man of the hour, he had busied himself with reading. He’d gotten remarkably good at the language and was more than confident in fluently parsing the numerous tomes in the library.

Though he didn’t doubt Valen, Sylas still wanted to look for it all himself. After all, bias and prejudice were beasts difficult to slay. Furthermore, he suspected that Valen was quick to dismiss the folk tales and legends and myths—whereas Sylas himself was very, very interested in those. They were, after all, usually merely romanticized versions of reality—plucking events and peoples from history and immortalizing them in the words of beauty and cruelty.

Another reason why he dove into work is that he had a good 'editor', so to say, in Iun. The ‘young’ boy was more than equipped to be Sylas’ filter, and even if his knowledge of the human Kingdoms was severely limited, he still had some, which was more than nothing. Sylas even delayed inquiring about the Shard for the time being, as he wanted to naturally weave it into the conversation rather than just bringing it up.

He started from the most ‘trusted’ sources according to the Prince, burning through countless historic tomes—Lands of Ethernia: From King Vulmin to King Berret, Men of Stone: History of the Royal Blood, Royal Lineage… he'd gone through ten or so tomes in the past two weeks since his return but hadn't learned much past what he already knew.

Every history was quite… finicky with the timeline—most of the dates that shared consensus across the board didn't begin until some six hundred years ago. All tomes, for a change, agreed on the starting point: Sapphire Queen. Supposedly, she was born bathed in the enriched, sapphire moonlight, affording her the Gift of the Stars—she led the charge with the army and expanded the Kingdom's borders to their current lines, ended several families and lineages vying for the crown, and exiled or executed all enemies of the crown.

There was also quite a distinction in the way her story was written versus a good chunk of those preceding hers—though it was still clearly romanticized and unified, it was also… grounded. Nowhere did it say that she charged into an army of thousand and had slain them all herself. Though she was described as a brilliant general and tactician and even a warrior, nowhere did it claim that she could obliterate armies with a flick of a finger.

Furthermore, all her feats seemed more than feasible—cleaning up the Kingdom, launching border-expansion campaigns, rooting out anti-royalists… all of those things seemed par for the course, really, compared to some of the earlier supposed Kings and Queens. In fact, Sylas found it quite comedic.

One of the Kings that was mentioned in at least a few tomes, which loosely agreed on things surrounding him, was King Byre. Though the accounts of his existence range anywhere from nine hundred years ago to just before Sapphire Queen herself, it was the accounts of his deeds that floored Sylas: supposedly, the man had the ability to mind control everyone. He went about the neighboring Kingdoms and charmed Princesses with his powers and fathered royal bastards in every single Palace.

Supposedly, the current Royal Lineages of the peninsula's Kingdoms all trace back to him which, in turn, affords Ethernia a claim to the boundless lands. Forgetting the sheer ridiculousness of the story, it was a clear point of propaganda—a story used to stoke the masses into believing theirs is the grandest and greatest Kingdom. This wasn’t the only one, however.

What convinced Sylas that a lot of these historians were just ‘making it up as they went along’ were some of the earliest accounts of the Kingdom’s history. Supposedly, the very first Kings and Queens following the Kingdom’s founding had blades made out of starlight, and could fly effortlessly with the birds, and were so beautiful that grass and trees and flowers prostrated when they ‘saw’ them.

Additionally, a few historians even implied they were angelic descenders, sent upon this world by the higher powers to guide humanity. Nowhere was this nonsense more pronounced than in the founding pair themselves: King Ether and Queen Naia.

If histories were to be believed, the two of them were eight feet tall, with bodies that couldn’t even be sculpted, and magical powers that afforded them the reign of life and death. If Sylas wasn’t absolutely convinced that the writer was just trying to write the most ‘he’s a true, giga, mega badass’, he’d have been convinced that the ‘reign over life and death’ was an implication of the ability to rule over the Ghouls. One of the passages even caused him to chuckle outwardly, much to the Iun’s confusion.

The Queen, blessed be Her Name, wore a Veil of Fire in front of all but her Star. Her eyes, glazed like rainbowed gems and ashined like stars, could bewitch any man, woman, or child into a trance from which they would never escape. Her magic was the magic of Gods, and Her Will was Their Will too. When she spoke, it was as though an angelic choir had bestowed blessings upon the fortunate beholders. She was unmatched, unrivaled, in wit as much as in beauty. It is known that the words of Royal Lineage of Desdors are the words which She had spoken into the world: ‘World is a Veil, and my Blood is the Hand that pulls it’.

Sylas sighed. In part, it was due to awe—awe that someone could write something like that in a tone so serious it sounded as though they were recounting the countless losses of war. But in part, it was due to the fact that he, once again, realized how unreliable all these tomes were. His plan to rush to the capital as soon as the winter ended was once more reinforced. If there were any honest pages written about this Kingdom's 'ancient' history, they were very likely locked up inside the royal vaults.

“How much of the Well’s prior opening do you remember, Iun?” Sylas asked, pouring himself a cup of wine and turning toward the boy who was merely staring at him.

“Not much,” he replied. “I only recall the Call. And the warning.”

“Anything about humans? Especially of this Kingdom.”

“No,” Iun shook his head. “Only human we knew is the one with the eyes.“

“Yeah, yeah,” Sylas mumbled, sighing and reclining further back in the chair. “I never got to learn just how frustrating histories are. What’s your history like?”

“Draped in death,” Ah, of course it is. “Wars are eternal, as the dead never die."

“…” Sylas fell silent for a moment, reaching into his pocket and taking out the Shard. “Do you know what this is?”

“… I do,” there was a notable change, Sylas realized. From the usual, fairly emotionless choral voice, Iun’s became deeper and fatigued, a carrying trace of emotion lingering within the sounds. “Where did you find it?”

“From a bandit we killed,” Sylas said. “I only know that it’s called Shard of Everfrost. What is it?”

“… it’s the Heart of one of the previous Thralls.”

“… the what now?”

“The Heart,” the tiny rock flew out from in-between Sylas’ fingers, floating toward Iun’s extended arm, continuing to levitate above the boy’s open palm. Its dim hue grew alight, a shimmer of faint azure shading the surrounding edges. “Though I cannot say which. There are many, I heard, dwelling amdist the humans’ greed. But you are wrong about something.”

“What?” Sylas quizzed.

“This isn’t a Shard—not the kind you humans have come to understand,” Iun said. “Shards are inanimate things brought to life—this one… is a dead thing. And dead things cannot be brought back to life. What they can,” the boy added, curling up his fingers slightly as the tendrils of pure-silver smoke arose from his fingertips and latched themselves onto the Shard, cradling it like a mother holding her babe. “Is alight the way.”

The Shard suddenly trembled, alighting in the resplendent sapphire before it shot toward unsuspecting and still-awed Sylas. It broached past his sight and went directly through his skull—but it didn’t hurt. In fact, rather than the expected pain, he instead experienced… soft, warm embrace. It was as though his entire body was put into its most perfect state, all ailments defied.

Opening his eyes, he lifted his arms and saw the veins upon his forearm bulge, faintly shimmering in the blue hue. He glowed like a lantern in the dark for a moment before all the lights dimmed and he was but a human again.

“… what… what happened?” Sylas asked in wonder, glancing at Iun.

“Your magic will nurture the heart,” Iun said. “And shall become your strength. You can listen, can you not, human? That’s how you hear me. That’s how you hear the world. As such, hear yourself.”

After a moment’s pause, Sylas closed his eyes and focused on the teachings of the Heartseeker—tuning out all other sounds, he focused on his heartbeat. For a moment, it wasn’t strange—perchance slightly accelerated than usual due to the experience, but that was it. However, he heard it, then—it was in-between the quickened beats, and it was weak and silent and almost unheard. Like a secondary heartbeat, fighting to live.

You have managed to charge the Shard of Everfrost!

Quest Completed!

Reward: Shard of Everfrost’s true identity is ‘Frosted Heart of the Thrall’, the Dead’s apparition of Shards. All Thralls have a chance to coalesce their fading energy into a singular object; their inheritors, then, would consume the object and inherit the secrets, the knowledge, and even talents potentially. Though humans are unable to inherit the Heart, they can still be carefully consumed—with the assistance of an Undying. Consumed Heart offers protection from elements derived from the Heart’s own element, and increased sensitivity toward other Hearts.

Beholder of the Heart was Utu, Thrall of the Frost who died 2883 years ago in the War of the Empires.

New Quest: ‘Cradle of the Makers’

Content: uncover Utu’s truth.

Reward: further information about the Heart.

“… oh, what the fuck…”