Vel took a sip from his cup and set it down next to Landre's.
At the far end of the hall, the bard fastened his harp onto his back. The jester took off his mask and put it in a chest, his drum after it. Another man was counting coins out of a pouch.
Most of the students had gone. Empty tables stood in the middle of the floor, and the attendants had started carrying the trays out.
Vel turned away from the hall to his sister sitting next to him, still holding the silence from the story he had just told her.
Sarvin stood a few paces off, close enough to reach the Saint, far enough that nothing they said reached him. Once in a while the crusader fixed a small pilgrim's scrip back into place on his shoulder.
"Word reached me on the way here," Landre said. "About a student."
"I never thought it was her."
She reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Vel."
Vel looked down at the floor. The grape Rohen dropped earlier was still lying there.
It was a while before his head came up.
The guests still in the hall were all high standing. Some moved between tables with purpose, and the talk had stopped being about the academy a while ago.
"Lan-neechan."
"Mm?"
"You've been with the Church a long time."
Landre waited.
"Have you ever heard of someone coming back from the dead?"
She straightened, her hand returning to her lap. Her head tilted a fraction, and she didn't answer straight away.
"Not that I've seen myself," she said. "But there were records. Miracles, the Church calls them."
Vel leaned forward.
"A young girl was brought into a mortuary. Declared dead, the rite already begun. She came back in the middle of it, with the sisters standing over her."
"Did they say why?"
Landre shrugged, her hands still in her lap.
"How about a spell?" Vel said. "A prayer?"
"Hmm."
She thought about it longer than he expected.
"Not that I know of. There are prayers for the deceased, to help them move on." She looked at him. "Not to call them back."
"Not even anything close to it?"
Landre shook her head.
"A healing prayer can save a person even at the brink," she said. "But if they're ready to meet the goddess, it isn't our right to take that from them."
In other words, they can't.
She stopped there, her eyes going somewhere past him.
"Although..."
"Saint Gwenrose might know something."
"Who is that?"
"Saint Gwenrose, of the Jules sect." She said the name carefully. "They have something they call the Sacrament of Renewal. They'd know more about restoration than I would."
"Is there anyone I could talk to about it?"
"Perhaps. I'll see what I can do."
Vel nodded.
"Sorry I can't be of more help."
"You already did." Vel smiled at her.
She smiled back.
"If anyone can bring Celia-chan back, I'd trust my brother over any scholar."
She pointed a finger at him, her smile turning a little mischievous.
"Speaking of miracles."
She turned to the crusader. "Sarvin? Please."
He came closer, reached into the scrip and drew out a small box. He set it on the table, bowed, and went back to where he had been standing.
"What's that?"
Landre slid the box across the table to him.
"You'd know."
Vel flipped the latch and opened it.
A crude gem rested inside.
He narrowed his eyes as he picked it up. The colour sat somewhere between amber and ruby.
"Is this..."
Landre nodded.
She did mention it in the letter.
"But how did you bring it here? Did no one notice it missing?"
"Officially?" She leaned back. "After we saved the village, the core crumbled away into dust. Which isn't really a lie."
"This is what's left."
"And nobody wants it?"
"Oh, they'll fight over it. That is why I think you should have it."
"We were able to defeat it thanks to you, after all."
Her voice drifted a little, as though part of her had gone back there.
Vel spent the quiet that followed looking closely at the gem. No bigger than an egg. The surface unpolished, rough.
"Sister Imelda examined it," Landre said. "There was no trace of magic on it, or anything ominous."
Vel pulled his interface over.
"Visona Revelum Essenti."
A small circle flared to life on the gem, and a panel opened beside his hand.
[Unpolished Structural Gem]
Material: Hextessence Quartz
Orthogonal structure detected
Vel expanded the structure panel.
Three lines crossed at the center, six points standing at the ends of them.
Orthogonal axes.
Six end points, and it looks like each one can hold something.
Six elements, maybe.
"Look at you. Already looking like a professional appraiser."
"Do you know who often needs an appraiser?"
Vel threw a teasing glance at her before turning back.
"Smugglers."
"Psshh!" She put a finger to her lips, close to panic.
"So what is it?"
"Some... kind of... storage."
"Storage?"
He tapped one of the six points.
It opened, and there was another structure inside it. The same three lines. The same six ends.
"Whoa."
He tapped again, into a point of the one he had just opened, and found the same thing waiting there.
Six inside every point. Then six inside each of those.
It keeps going.
Every space in all of it was empty.
"It's... more like an index."
"It has a similar property to my focus crystal. But it seems like it can store something a lot more complex."
"Complex?"
Landre's eyes came up from the gem.
"Like a person's soul?"
"Like a person's—"
Their eyes met and held.
It's not exactly that.
But that was what it was for, wasn't it.
And what exactly is a soul, in a world I built?
He took hold of one of the axes and dragged it. The crossing slid away from the center, one arm running short while another ran long.
One small change, and everything below shifts with it.
This world never stopped surprising him.
Vel closed the interface. He set the gem back in the box and shut the lid.
He looked around before he spoke.
"Thank you."
She leaned in and whispered.
"Anything for my brother."
Vel sat back, his voice returning to normal.
"How long are you staying?"
"A while." She shrugged. "I just came back from Karth. It's not as though I'm the only saint."
"No. Just the youngest one they can send anywhere."
"You cheeky little brother." Landre pinched his nose.
"You'll be on a break, won't you? How about we go back to Elnor together?"
"That's the plan—"
Hurried footsteps came across the emptying hall, loud enough to turn every head. Four people had rushed through the entrance at once. One in royal guard colours. Two dressed like nobles. The last was Imelda.
They crossed the floor together and split, each one making for a different table.
Imelda reached them with a grim look on her face. The other three wore the same one as they leaned down and whispered to their listeners.
"Imelda?"
Sarvin stepped closer.
"What is it?"
"Saint Landre. News has just arrived."
All of them waited.
"Veneran Coast is gone."
"Gone?" Landre said. "What does that mean?"
"There was an earthquake. Half the city is under the sea now."
Vel could hear Landre gasp, despite her effort to hold it in.
"Most of the civilians couldn't get out in time."
Chairs scraped across the floor. At another table, a man was already on his feet, heading for the door with his messenger.
"That's not all."
Imelda's voice dropped.
"There were reports of... abyss dwellers."
"How can this be?" Sarvin said. "Dwellers have never come so far as the coast."
Sarvin's right.
They go after ships and stay near their nests. There's no reason for them to reach land.
A cup dropped at another table. A noblewoman covered her face.
An earthquake strong enough to bring land down.
In my old world, the other side of the continent would have felt it.
"Veneran had been suffering unexpected monsoons and flooding all year," Landre said.
That can't be coincidence.
"The scalefolk are helping with the rescue," Imelda said. "But requests for reinforcements have already gone out."
"There's a convocation at the Grand Cathedral by noon tomorrow. They want us there."
"Why us?" Sarvin said. "The western provinces lie under Jules influence. And Saint Landre was just granted her exclaustration."
"Their cathedral..." Imelda's voice thinned. "It went down with the city."
The grim look had spread to Sarvin and Landre now.
That seemed to be the end of it. Imelda said nothing further, waiting on Landre.
"What are you going to do?" Vel asked.
Landre sat with it for a while.
When she spoke again, some of the light had come back into her face.
"Nothing changes."
"We'll visit Elnor on the way. A day there to rest, maybe two, then I'll continue west to Veneran."
Vel looked at her. She hid it well. She had come off one crisis and was walking straight into the next, with two days at home in the middle of it, and not one of those days was hers.
I couldn't help her last time.
All I did was send a letter.
"I'll go with you," he said. "It'll be a while before the new term."
Landre's eyes widened. She drew breath to answer.
"And you cannot say no."
The breath went out of her unused, and her shoulders came down with it.
Maybe she wanted to contest it and was too tired to. Or maybe she knew him better than anyone, and knew a no wouldn't stop him.
Loving the work never made it lighter. Giri recalled how he had been the same in his old life.
So if he could take any of the weight off her, he would.
What came after was a smile, brighter than the last.
Moreover, the answer that might help Celia could be out there somewhere in the world.
---
A guard clad in armor wrote Vel's name into the ledger. He didn't look up from his desk.
"Be quick."
Vel looked around.
The prison where he used to visit his mother was a different kind, in his past life.
This place only had one torch, too dim for an antechamber of stone and brick. Dust had gathered in the corners and on the shelves.
The only other light was a candle on the desk where the guard sat. Besides the ledger, it held nothing to pass the time with.
One could tell the city had not spent its wealth here.
If anything keeps them busy down here, it's probably trouble.
Another guard had been blocking the metal-framed door. He turned to open it, his key chain clinking as he twisted the key in the lock.
"Follow me."
The door opened to reveal stairs that led further down.
They walked down the steps, past the torches hanging on the wall, until the first cell came into sight.
Empty.
The next cell held a woman in rags, sitting behind the bars.
If the guard hadn't stopped right in front of it, Vel might have walked past without recognizing the person.
"I wouldn't stay long, if I was you."
On his way out, the guard stopped at a strange device beside the stairs. It was made of rings nested one inside another, from largest to smallest, each turning slowly on a different axis.
He pulled something out of his pouch, a round stone, then swapped it with the one on the device.
The new one glowed brighter than the one he had just taken.
Then he climbed out of sight.
Whatever the device did, Vel felt it. A faint tingling had crept under his skin the moment he came down, like a limb about to go numb, only everywhere.
Vel looked back into the cell.
Lyvenna.
She sat on the floor with her eyes down. Beside her, a bare wooden plank hung from the wall as a bed. A man lay on it, not moving.
She hadn't looked up. Maybe it was too dark for her to see who was there. Or maybe she had chosen not to.
From where he stood, all he could see was the top of her head. Her hair had come loose, dry and clumped with dust.
"Instructor."
She jolted slightly, as if the word had startled her.
"How are you?"
No answer.
Vel crouched by the bars, low enough to see her face. Her lips were dry and cracked, and a bruise had darkened on her arm.
What had they done to her?
"Instructor Lyvenna. It's me."
She looked up. Her eyes held on him for a moment, then lowered again.
"I was told they're moving you tomorrow, with the other cult members."
He glanced down the corridor. Iron bars lined both sides.
"Instructor, I know there's more behind what you did. I want to help you, but you need to—"
"Stop..."
"Calling me that."
She let a moment pass.
"I'm no longer your instructor."
Her voice had gone cold. Vel felt it, but pushed it aside.
"The ones who defended the cult to the end are already lined up for execution."
"We managed to get your case before the Tribunal," he went on, "but it won't be long before someone overrules the Archmagister's word."
"You need to show them something. Then we can find a way to get you somewhere better."
She didn't answer that either.
Vel clenched his jaw. His hand tightened around one of the bars, then slowly let go.
His eyes went to the man on the makeshift bed. Still breathing, but he hadn't woken since the arena.
This was the man behind the invasion. The one who had opened the door to a demon, trusting a promise that was never meant to be kept. The reason Celia now lay sealed in ice.
His eyes came back to Lyvenna. Something in her reminded him of his mother.
It wasn't who she was. It was the room, and the way it wore a person down, one day at a time.
Giri had watched it happen in the first months of his mother's confinement, as the investigation dragged on. While her cell had never been this dark, the isolation weighed on her just as heavily.
Those cells were built to break whoever they held. Some would agree to anything that got them out. Others would decide that the sooner they started serving their sentence, the less torment they would have to endure.
Vel saw the same thing in Lyvenna now. A prisoner with no fight left for her own freedom.
What do you want to do, Lyvenna? Why aren't you trying to save yourself?
Vel looked between the two of them. One bed. The same rags. And the cell beside hers stood empty.
Only then did he understand.
Not a cult leader and his subordinate. A daughter and her father.
She knew as well as Vel did that whatever she chose, he would hardly escape a death sentence. And the moment she left his side, no one would tend to him. He could be left to die down here, and no one would think twice.
Vel could never forgive what the man had done. But he understood why Lyvenna wouldn't leave him. He, of all people, should.
And this wasn't a problem he could solve on his own.
Vel stood. Above, the guard's footsteps sounded on the stairs, coming back down.
"Please remember. It's never too late to ask for help."
The footsteps drew closer.
"The Chaos-attuned students have been officially recognized by the Academy. I just wish you had been there with us."
She leaned her head back against the plank and turned her face away.
A voice came from behind him.
"Hey, kid. You got something to eat on ya?"
Vel turned.
An old man had his face pressed between the bars of the cell across the corridor. He had barely any hair left on his head, and his chin came to a point.
"Please, please. I could tell you're a kind one. A noble, by the look of ya. Tell the guard to bring us some food, pretty pleeease?"
The last word dragged out of him, baring a row of crooked teeth.
"Why food?"
"Why else? 'Cause I'm hungry. We're all hungry."
He stretched a hand through the bars. It was shaking. Vel couldn't tell whether he meant it or was putting on a show.
"Halt! What yer doing there?"
The guard had reached the bottom of the stairs.
The old man twisted toward him, his head still wedged between two bars.
"Ye bastard, ya trying to starve us! We'll die before we ever get out of here. I'm not even in their cult!"
"Ain't mine to decide. Keep quiet and stop wasting your breath."
"Are you really starving them?" Vel asked.
The guard sighed.
"Nay, they be making fuss. We feed them."
"Just not so much the poor wretches could break outta here."
He looked straight at the old man. "They can complain all they want after relocatin'. I'm sure the Palace warden'll treat 'em accordingly."
The old man slumped at his tone. He pulled his head free of the bars and shrank back, almost afraid.
The guard turned to Vel. "You be needing anything else?"
Vel glanced at Lyvenna. She hadn't looked at him again.
"No. I don't think so."
He drew a deep breath and held it. Then he let it go in one long exhale.
From his pocket, he pulled out a small pouch of dried seeds, slipped off the banquet table to save for the long road home. He pressed it into the guard's hand.
"If they're not causing trouble, don't mistreat them. You can't tell how small the cell is from out here."
Then he walked toward the stairs, leaving the guard staring down at the pouch in his hand.
On the way up, a faint sob reached him. He couldn't tell whether it came from the old man or from the cell across from his.
---
A few days later, Landre's stagecoach stood waiting outside Nema's lodging.
It was not the carriage she had arrived in. She had pulled rank for this one, a coach large enough to seat her and everyone else coming along.
And ahead of it, where the horses should have been, stood two Dainoraches.
Their heads looked like a duck's, bill and all, set on the body of something far older. Small arms tucked close to the chest. Great legs underneath, each foot spreading into three toes across the paving stones.
I remember these.
He had been the one to suggest the look to Shizuka, modelled on a deinocheirus.
A mount unlocked through a quest line. Meant for adventurers and VIPs, not everyday hauling.
No wonder I've never seen one until now.
Both of them stood docile in their harness, waiting for a command. Now and then one let out a high-pitched purr and the other answered, as if they were talking to each other.
Along the street, bystanders had begun to gather, keeping a polite distance and whispering among themselves.
Vel handed his travel pack up to the driver, who stashed it away with the rest of the luggage. Through the open door of the coach, he could see Landre already seated inside. She was looking out, and smiled when she caught his eye.
Hileya stayed at his side with her usual elegant composure.
The last time they had set out on a long road together, Mora had come along as their escort. This time, she was not with them.
Footsteps came up behind them.
"Thank you for vouching for me."
Clara walked closer. She was wearing her armor again, but it could not hide the new collar clamped around her neck.
"I wasn't the only one," Vel said. "How does the new collar feel?"
"Less painful. Lighter."
"Moana and I tried to make it more comfortable for you."
"It worked.Feels like wearing a necklace."
Vel suspected she was understating it. For the collar to work, it had to stay in contact with her nervous system, pressed close to her spine. No necklace sat that close.
Clara gave Landre a grateful nod through the open door.
Sarvin, who had been standing by the door, didn't share it. His eyes never left Clara, and his hand never left his sword.
"I feel safe already," Vel said with a grin. "A Saint and a Platinum adventurer, escorting me back home."
A worry crossed Clara's face. It was gone as soon as it came, but Vel caught it.
"This is a good chance to see how it holds up out in the field. If anything goes wrong, I'll be right there."
Both the Church and the Guildtrust her.
Only one faction doesn't.
His eyes went past Clara, to the woman who had come up a pace behind her.
And they're here.
A shield hung across her back, a flail at her hip.
She stopped beside Clara and held out a letter.
"Read this, then hand it back."
The crest on the letter was one Vel had seen before, on the envelope that had once caused him trouble.
---
Miss Roswyn, the Third Wing of the Pegasus Knights, is to remain beside the Platinum adventurer Clara at all times. She acts on behalf of the Pegasus Knights and the Crown, and with their authority. Any action that obstructs her in this duty will be considered treason.
Bishop Aurelion
---
He handed it back.
Roswyn took it in one hand and snapped the fingers of the other. The letter went up in flame and was gone.
"Do not speak of this to anyone outside those involved," she said.
Her green hair, natural by the look of it, clashed with the white fabric padding under her armor.
She isn't Clara's bodyguard. She's her warden.
And Clara must have known already.
"Shall we go?" Roswyn asked.
Vel glanced over to the coach. The others had already taken their places. Sarvin sat up front beside the driver, and inside, Imelda had settled next to Landre.
Clara nodded once and walked to the door of the back seats, Roswyn right beside her.
"We'll take the front," Vel said to Hileya.
They climbed into the coach and sat facing Landre and Imelda.
"I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Imelda said. "I'm Imelda, Saint Landre's deaconess."
"A pleasure to meet you."
Landre leaned forward a little.
"Ready to go home?"
Vel smiled and nodded.
A command came from the driver up front. The Dainoraches answered it with a purr, and the wheels started rolling.
Vel took one last look out the window. Nema's gate slid past, then the bystanders, who stepped back to let the coach through and watched it go, then the street beyond them.
He still remembered the first day he arrived here, with Celia. The same street, from the other direction.
He had come to Lona with a promise to Celia, that he would find her sister.
He was leaving with her sister instead. The two of them had merely swapped places.
None of his plans had survived this city.
He had meant to stay hidden. To be a normal student, and to find his way back to his old world.
Somewhere along the way, all of that had changed.
He turned back to the inside of the coach.
But not all of it had been for nothing.
It was Celia's sacrifice that had let him reach Zephyr in the end.
Beside him, Hileya sat with the insignia plain against her collar. She had grown past the servant she used to be.
Across from him sat Landre, a little more of a beacon of hope with every day that passed.
Home first. To Von, Mari, and Lyra.
And after that, Veneran.
His old world could wait.
Only two things mattered now. Bring Celia back, and take responsibility for what he had inadvertently brought upon this world.
The monitor beeped in a thin, steady line.
Under the operating lights, a man lay on the table, a mask over his face and wires running from his chest. Doctors stood on either side of him. A nurse passed an instrument across without being asked, and took another back.
"Pressure's dropping."
"Again. Stand clear."
The body jolted on the table, then lay still.
Every eye in the room went to the monitor.
Outside, the corridor was empty except for one person on a bench by the doors. The man sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, eyes on the red light above the frame.
Footsteps came running down the hall.
"Moriya!"
Shizuka stopped in front of the bench, breathing hard, her coat half off one shoulder.
"Where is he?"
Moriya looked at the doors.
"Still inside."
"What happened? Who found him?"
"Nobody knows. Someone brought him in, and by the time anyone asked, they were gone."
"Then how did you—"
"The hospital called me first." A pause. "I don't know why either."
Shizuka lowered herself onto the bench. She stared at the red light, and her hands would not keep still in her lap.
"Did they say anything?"
"Only that he's still in there."
Neither of them spoke again.
Above the doors, the light stayed red.