Chapter 73: To Be Known

  Silence rushed back into the sunlit hall, heavier than before.

  Aeor stared into Kalvaxus's eyes and found it impossible to unsee the resemblance. The perspective shifted violently in Aeor's mind, rewriting everything he thought he knew about the man sitting before him.

  "The First Solenar lived more than a millennium ago," Aeor said, his mind struggling to bridge the vast chasm of history. "How are you here?"

  Kalvaxus let out a slow breath and shifted his gaze back to the open window. "You must understand the nature of what my father wields. The Aspect of Existence is inextricably linked to remembrance. To be known is to exist. During the Forgotten Wars, Vaelkar realized this. He sought to erase all events that occurred, to force the world to forget my father and starve him of his power."

  Kalvaxus reached into his embroidered vest and drew an ornate dagger. He turned it slowly in his hand, letting the golden sunlight catch and slide along the polished edge.

  "Vaelkar succeeded in erasing most of our history," Kalvaxus continued, his voice dropping to a smooth, quiet rhythm. "But he could not wipe it all. Before the end, my father anchored his existence to me. I was sealed away alongside him."

  He twisted the dagger again, his golden eyes reflecting the blade's bright glare.

  "That seal was broken during the first attempt of this Initiation, when the Reckoning arrived. It was then that I saw the truth. I realized what he truly wanted." Kalvaxus's grip on the hilt tightened. "I rebelled. I tried to stop him. I failed. And thus began this endless journey, reliving the Initiation over and over again."

  Aeor leaned forward. "What was it that you realized? What does he want?"

  Kalvaxus did not reply immediately. He lowered the dagger, a wistful, almost hollow smile touching his lips as he looked out toward the courtyard.

  "Some things, Aeor, are better left unsaid."

  Aeor let the refusal hang, the silence stretching between them as he decided to leave the matter untouched.

  "So what happens now?" Aeor asked, shifting his focus. "I understand a great deal of effort was spent dropping me into that phantom reality so I could be here, but defeating the First Solenar... it seems impossible. I am but one person."

  Kalvaxus tossed the ornate dagger into the air. It spun, catching the sunlight in rapid, blinding flashes, before he caught it cleanly by the hilt on its descent.

  "While that may be true, your command of Primeval Death changes the board entirely," Kalvaxus said. "When Vaelkar slaughtered his kin during the Forgotten Wars, he used the Edict of Death as a conduit to harness their power. Using that same Edict, I raised the Empyreans. But that Edict has lost much of its strength. I have never been able to awaken all the Empyreans at once. The most I have ever managed is six."

  Kalvaxus leveled the tip of the dagger at Aeor.

  "And that is where you come in," he continued. "In that phantom reality, you managed to seize control of seven at the same time. Using your Primordial Aspect, we can gather them all."

  "Would that be enough?" Aeor asked, the tension returning to his chest. "Gathering all twelve Empyreans?"

  "No," Kalvaxus said, his tone utterly flat. "Far from it. My father's Essence Tier is Stabilized Resonant (B)."

  A physical chill swept through the sunlit hall, sinking straight into Aeor's bones.

  He remembered the Hollow Sovereign. Anchored (C). A being so unimaginably vast it eclipsed the sky, an entity whose mere presence threatened to unmake reality itself. Aeor knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that even if all of Sol'Karenth banded together, defeating the Hollow Sovereign would be impossible. He had convinced himself its existence was an anomaly, an absurdity not truly meant to be part of their Initiation.

  But now, learning that the First Solenar stood an entire tier above that...

  Aeor was speechless.

  "We also need to remove the populace from the equation," Kalvaxus continued. "His Aspect relies on remembrance. Even after gathering the strongest Empyreans and slaughtering most of those who lived, the weakest I have ever seen him is at the tier of Refined Anchored (C)."

  Kalvaxus leaned forward slightly. "I suspect that if we gather all the Empyreans and wipe the continent clean, his power could drop to Flickering Anchored (C)... We might actually have a chance then."

  Aeor stared at his palms, the reality of the strategy sinking in. He looked up at the Solenar prince.

  "I... I cannot do that," Aeor breathed, the words breathless but resolute. "I will not slaughter these people."

  Kalvaxus let out a long, heavy sigh.

  "I figured as much," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "We gather the Empyreans before the Reckoning begins, and then we wait."

  "Wait for what?" Aeor asked.

  Kalvaxus's golden eyes narrowed.

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  "Mayla."

  Kalvaxus let the name settle into the quiet of the room.

  "You remember her, right?" he asked, a rare flicker of hesitation edging his voice as he gazed at Aeor.

  "I do," Aeor said, swallowing past the sudden tightness in his throat. "What will she do?"

  "I do not know," Kalvaxus admitted. "We are not exactly on speaking terms. However, I do know her role has something to do with that phantom reality."

  "It still exists?" Aeor asked, his brow furrowing.

  "Yes. And she is still within it."

  Aeor tilted his head back against the stone wall, his gaze tracking the meandering sun-carvings intricately etched into the ceiling.

  "It can never just be simple, can it?" Aeor breathed.

  Kalvaxus offered only a low grunt, his golden eyes turning outward as the sun began its slow dip toward the horizon, casting longer shadows across the temple floor.

  "What now?" Aeor asked.

  "Now," Kalvaxus said, "you meet me near the outer gates tomorrow morning. We shall depart for Vaelkarreth. It is time we pay an old friend a visit."

  "Shouldn't we inform Serenya and the others while we are still here?" Aeor asked. "I am certain they would understand. This would go much smoother if we have them on our side."

  "I do not argue the value of an army, but I advise against it," Kalvaxus said, his tone cooling into pragmatic detachment. "If we tell Serenya the truth, it will crush her. Her soft heart is her greatest weakness. And if she knows, Vaireth's spies will hear of it before sunrise."

  Kalvaxus shook his head, a dry sigh escaping him.

  "Vaireth will simply scheme, refusing to act until every other option has burned to ash. Dealing with my distant descendants is a colossal pain, so I say we take a different approach."

  "Then what do you propose?" Aeor asked.

  Kalvaxus hopped down from the windowsill, his boots landing silently on the tiles. He walked over and extended a hand toward Aeor, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

  "Where is the fun in it if I just told you?"

  For a moment, Aeor just looked at him. Then a dry chuckle of sheer disbelief escaped his chest.

  "You are ridiculous," Aeor said, clasping the extended hand and letting Kalvaxus haul him to his feet.

  Kalvaxus merely smiled. He moved across the room and pulled open the doors of a narrow wooden cabinet. There, leaning unceremoniously between a frayed mop, two water buckets, and assorted cleaning supplies, were Aeor's bag and his Veilfire Lance.

  "This was all I could save," Kalvaxus said.

  "Thank you," Aeor replied.

  "I have also procured some clothes for you," Kalvaxus added, gesturing to a folded pile on a lower shelf. "Aside from being torn to shreds, you are wearing ceremonial battle armor. It is a brilliant way to attract every eye in the city. And speaking of eyes..."

  Kalvaxus slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew a pair of circular glasses, their lenses fashioned from heavily smoked glass. He tossed them.

  Aeor snatched them from the air in a swift reflex. He looked at the dark tint. "Do I really need these? I will stand out even more wearing these."

  "Not nearly as much as you would without them," Kalvaxus countered. "Your eyes are literally on fire, Scion."

  Aeor paused. He angled the dark, polished lenses in his hand to catch his reflection.

  The eyes staring back at him were still the same familiar violet his mother held. But now, deep within the irises, a faint, unmistakable ring of ethereal fire burned.

  He silently slipped the dark glasses over his face. The world dimmed, and the fiery reflection vanished.

  "Fine," Aeor muttered.

  "Good," Kalvaxus said, turning on his heel. He offered a lazy, over-the-shoulder wave as he strolled toward the courtyard. "Tomorrow morning at sunrise. The outer gates. Do try not to be late."

  Aeor watched the ancient prince's form disappear into the shadows beyond the temple walls.

  Questions still swirled in his mind, a chaotic storm of missing history and impossible odds. But as the absolute quiet of the temple settled back over him, a profound, heavy exhaustion sank into his bones. He had no strength left for interrogations. A terrifying amount of truth had just been laid bare, and it was enough to carry him through to tomorrow.

  Turning his attention back to the wooden cabinet, Aeor gathered the garments Kalvaxus had left behind. He stripped off his ruined ceremonial armor, replacing it with the simple, loose white tunic and dark gray travel trousers. After carefully wrapping the Veilfire Lance in thick cloth and slinging it across his back, he finally left the temple behind.

  By the time he stepped outside, the sun had fully surrendered to the horizon. Night had fallen over the land.

  Warm, golden lantern light flickered to life along the stone paths. The streets of Sar'Vareth shimmered in the late hour. A rich blend of burning incense and sea salt lingered in the cool air, weaving through a city whose rhythm had softened into something quiet, steady, and reverent.

  As he walked through the quiet streets, his eyes caught a soft, amber glow drifting along the edge of the stone path. A small wooden disc, carrying a single lit candle, moved gently through the flowing water of the city's aqueducts.

  He slowed his pace, watching as more of these tiny lights appeared. Up ahead, families gathered near the water's edge. They moved with quiet grace, kneeling on the cobblestones to carefully set their own wooden discs adrift into the current.

  Aeor stood near the wall of a nearby building, simply observing the peaceful ritual, when a gentle tug at his trousers pulled his attention downward.

  A young orc girl, her wide eyes reflecting the golden lantern light, stood before him. She held up a small, unlit candle resting on a wooden disc, offering it to him with both hands and a bright, gap-toothed smile.

  Startled by the sudden approach, Aeor looked past her. A few paces away, her parents stood huddled together. They did not look at the stranger in the dark glasses with fear or suspicion. Instead, they offered a warm, welcoming smile and a slow nod of encouragement.

  A heavy lump formed in Aeor's throat. He crouched down, carefully accepting the delicate offering from the child's hands. Borrowing a tiny fraction of heat, he sparked the wick to life. The candle flared, casting a warm amber halo over their faces. With gentle hands, he lowered the disc into the aqueduct, watching the current catch it and carry it away to join the others. The little girl beamed at him before running back to her parents' side.

  Aeor resumed his walk, moving at a very leisurely pace. He let the glowing trail of the aqueducts guide his path through the city. It was clearly a local ceremony, a communal moment of remembrance or prayer. The entire scene unfolding around him was breathtakingly beautiful.

  Yet, beneath the serene surface, his heart ached with a profound, suffocating sorrow.

  He looked at the faces of the people passing by. The laughing children. The elderly couples holding hands. Aeor knew exactly what awaited for them when the Archives finally arrived to claim the continent.

  Eventually, the stone aqueducts widened, spilling out into the vast expanse of the city's harbor.

  Aeor stopped, his breath catching in his chest. Thousands of people were gathered along the docks. The dark, endless water of the sea was transformed into a mirror of the night sky, illuminated by an armada of countless drifting candles slowly bobbing toward the horizon.

  Despite the massive crowd pressing against the harbor walls, the air was completely still. No one spoke. No one whispered. It was an absolute, reverent silence. A city of thousands, standing shoulder to shoulder in the dark, simply watching the light gently push back the darkness.

  Aeor remained by the water's edge long after the bells chimed the late hour. The floating discs drifted further out to sea, their amber light shrinking into distant stars before vanishing entirely into the dark. Slowly, the quiet crowd dispersed, retreating back into the city until Aeor stood completely alone on the docks.

  Walking along the harbor, his gaze caught the outline of a familiar wooden bench. It was the exact spot where he had sat with Zoey, looking out over the water. He took a seat, the cool night air wrapping around him as he quietly reflected on the impossible journey that had brought him back to this starting line.

  Reaching into his bag in search of a waterskin, his fingers met the chaotic aftermath of a phantom world. The canvas interior was a mess of crushed ointment vials and haphazardly shoved bandages. Digging deeper through the ruined supplies, Aeor stumbled upon a small, unfamiliar leather pouch.

  Opening it slowly, the faint clink of coins broke the silence. About fifty Solari gleamed inside. Nestled beside the silver was the ring he had originally given to Dregor.

  But it was the final item sitting at the bottom of the pouch that brought his breath to a complete halt.

  It was the smooth, polished stone Zoey had bought for everyone back when he first purchased his lance.

  Pulling the stone from the pouch, Aeor stared at it for a long, quiet moment. His chest tightened with a profound, suffocating ache as he finally channeled a sliver of his essence into the cold rock.

  Zoey's bright, familiar voice spilled into the empty night.

  "Hey," her voice crackled, hushed and unusually soft, as if she were trying not to wake the others. "If you are listening to this, you are probably sitting alone in the dark again, trying to carry the weight of the world by yourself. Stop doing that."

  A quiet, tired sigh filtered through the stone.

  "I know things are terrifying right now. I know you're changing. But beneath the glowing eyes and the terrifying Aspects, you are still just a guy who cares too much and has terrible taste in shirts. So whatever happens... do not let the dark convince you that you are alone. Do not let it make you forget who you are. Because I am right here. Even if the whole world forgets... I will not. I promise, Aeor. I will remember. Always."

  A fragile, broken smile touched Aeor's lips, offering no shield against the pain tearing through him. The bitter irony of her voice twisted like a blade in his chest.

  She had promised to remember him.

  But as he sat alone on the edge of an untouched world, Aeor realized the devastating truth. He was the only one who remembered.

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