Scheida es was nyeo gut ja?

  Phrase

  Translation: Shit, do you understand that?

  Definition: This phrase is used to express frustration or concern over a situation that has turned unfavorable or to inquire if someone comprehends the gravity of the current circumstances. It is also an articulate way to call the other person idiot.

  Claramae walked the lower deck, cradling a plate with a sandwich prepared from stale bread. She moved with careful steps, almost on tiptoes, aiming not to disturb anyone's sleep yet hoping to find Jericho awake.

  At last, she came upon a room, its door slightly ajar, revealing the flicker of candlelight within. She peeked inside, and Jericho was hunched over the desk, his hands suspended above an open book. He was quietly reciting phrases and words that were unintelligible to Claramae. It sounded purely gibberish.

  "Loft! Loft... lo...ft," he whispered.

  Abruptly, he snapped the book shut, reclined in his chair, and pressed his fingers against his eyes in frustration. "Why isn't this working?"

  Witnessing Jericho's almost meltdown, Claramae saw an opportunity to knock and then enter the room. "Hey, fancy a sandwich?" she offered.

  Jericho lifted his hands from his eyes, "What kind of sandwich?"

  "Stale bread."

  "My favourite."

  Claramae smiled, approached the desk, set the plate down in front of him, and took a seat in the chair closest to him. "What were you doing?" she asked.

  "More like, what am I trying to do," he grumbled, taking a bite of the late-night snack, only to discover the bread was impossibly hard. "This isn't bread; it's more like a brick. Did you try it?"

  "It was the best I could do on short notice. I'm not sure we have enough supplies for the entire trip."

  "Yeah, we had plans to resupply, but then... well, you and the other faeries took over the ship," Jericho attempted another bite of the stubborn bread.

  "Shuri mentioned I should talk to you."

  Jericho set the sandwich aside on the plate, casting a suspicious glance as he inquired, "About what?"

  "The prophecy."

  "Ah... Shuri really isn't great at keeping secrets, is she?" Jericho smirked. "Look, I can share what I know, but I'm not sure you'll believe it."

  "Try me," Claramae urged.

  "Alright, so... a few weeks back, almost a moon ago, I was on a train and fell asleep. And... well, and I had a dream."

  Claramae cut him, "Why were you on a train?"

  Jericho studied her carefully, his gaze moving from her head to her toes and back up again. "I was returning from Keblurg," he said.

  "Why were you there?"

  "Do I really need to explain why?" Jericho shot back, recognising Claramae’s expression all too well. From the day of his birth, he had been steeped in horrific tales from the land of the extinct centaurs.

  Stories about the birth of Nightmares that whispered in the dark had become harrowing realities: tales of women forced to bear dead offspring and of a King who, in his relentless quest for power, had melted his own castle.

  "I caught you mumbling over a book. I'm not oblivious. I recognise Alchemy when I see it," Claramae stated.

  "Alright, yes, I went to Keblurg hoping to learn something. There were rumours that a few Winters before I was born, there was this Magi who taught magic to humans. And... yes, I know he's long gone... but perhaps there was something left behind I could learn from. I'm tired of groping in the dark. Everyone's fed up with this Long Night. Aren't you? I am. I want to see the Sun before I die."

  "Yes, well... Yeso teaching Xendrix Alchemy is believed to be the cause of the Long Night," Claramae confirmed. "Alchemy was the reason, nothing else."

  "Yeah, I'm familiar with that part. But as for the rumours, I wasn't even around when all of it happened. Not even a bean in my dad's balls! Please, try to understand, I..."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  However, Claramae didn't allow him to complete his thought, cutting straight to the chase with her question, "And the incident on the train... what happened?"

  Jericho, undeterred, gave the sandwich another attempt, only to regret it instantly. "Dammit. Well... I fell asleep. Or at least, I think it was sleep, and then I dreamed. In it was a man with hair a shade of far more red than mine, and he wore an eyepatch. He seemed kind but carried a serious aura. Kinda reminds me of a teacher, or better, a professor. Do you know what I mean? We talked mainly about Alchemy. It felt like we were travelling together. I was seated on one side, and he was directly opposite me. If I ever met the guy in real life, I'd definitely want to be friends with him."

  "What colour were his eyes?" Claramae urged the question.

  "I already mentioned he wore an eyepatch!"

  "On both eyes?"

  "Oh..." Jericho's gaze drifted upward, his finger resting on his lip as he dredged up the memory, "They were like orange... and gold. Maybe ember."

  Claramae’s shoulders eased; the mysterious figure wasn't Orlo, as she had initially thought. "So, what did he tell you?"

  "It's not so much what he told me but what he handed to me," Jericho explained, retrieving the book and handing it over to Claramae. The book's cover was wrapped in black fabric, and at its centre was embroidered in black the infinity symbol. Affixed upon a white label, the title read: "Handbook of the Advanced Elemental Theories and Practical Applications for the Trial of the Elements by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune.”

  Despite Jericho's description not matching Orlo, Claramae recognised the craftsmanship of the book. It was one that Godmama had made for Orlo, using the fabric of Yeso's black robe.

  The book showed signs of extensive use, its pages filled with scribbles, ink stains, and drawings of various shapes and sigils. It was, without a doubt, an Alchemy notebook and more. There was this slight smell of pine that could be mistaken for Yeso or Orlo. She couldn't tell.

  "That's the Sternach crest," Claramae murmured.

  "Go to the first page," Jericho instructed.

  Claramae did as told, but the first page was actually torn from the book, “It’s not here. It has been ripped.”

  “No, I mean the first page that is actually there!”

  Complying, Claramae turned to the mentioned page, her eyes immediately catching the meticulous, fine handwriting she knew to be Orlo's.

  Eura mir land wasser e luft

  "You see it?"

  "Yes," Claramae confirmed, hastily wiping away a persistent tear at the corner of her eye. "So, you're saying a man gave this to you?"

  "Yes, he handed me the book and said, 'Don't follow the wrong way. Aim in for the right.' and then he said, 'You might not understand now, but you'll become a beacon of hope. Be that hope!'"

  Claramae couldn't suppress a knowing smirk. "That does sound exactly like something he would say."

  "Who?"

  Brushing aside his question with an airy dismissal, she said, "Never mind, go on."

  "The book contains alchemical formulas, but the note on the first page tells definitely that the Dawn’s Sun will rise through love, sea, and sky. In conclusion, the next dame is called Zora, which means dawn! Like the youngest daughter of the Fallqueen! Her name was Zora!"

  Claramae shifted her gaze from the book to the young man, who spoke with an unwavering belief that was utterly bullshit, "Excuse me, what?"

  "I'm translating from Menschen; that's precisely what he wrote," he insisted, pointing to the page.

  "That's not the correct interpretation."

  "Yes, it is!"

  "Scheida es was nyeo gut ja?" Claramae countered in her native tongue.

  "What... what does that mean?" Jericho looked confused.

  "That's exactly my point. The book doesn't mention Zora at all. It simply states Yeso's motto, Eu Ra mir land wasser e luft. But Eu and Ra are missing their spacing, and it reads Eura. It's probably a typo."

  "Then what does it mean?"

  "It means 'I am the sun that burns above land, sea, and sky.'" Claramae clarified calmly. "And Yeso typically didn't mean it in the benign way you're suggesting. He usually said it when he was pissed."

  Jericho slumped back in his chair, exhausted and frustrated, as he pressed his fingers against his eyes. "I'll never understand it."

  "Luft means 'air'… not 'love'. That translation makes no sense at all."

  "Loft?" Jericho queried, trying to grasp the correct term.

  "No... Lu-fe-te," Claramae enunciated carefully, ensuring clarity in her pronunciation.

  "Luuftee," he attempted again, slightly off the mark.

  "Luft," she corrected him once more, moving her mouth slowly.

  "Luft!" As Jericho finally pronounced the word perfectly, the pages of the book began to flutter wildly as if a sudden gust had swept through the cabin. "It worked!" Jericho exclaimed, standing up. "It worked!"

  "Indeed, you just need to learn Menschen properly."

  "Wait!"

  Claramae was standing from her chair when the boy's plea caught her, halting her.

  "Wait! Please!"

  She turned back to him, drawn by his earnest request, "Teach me."

  "The language of Menschen... it's complicated. It's intertwined with the essence of being the present and the prophecy. It communicates through magic itself. A Magi would be better suited to instruct you than a mere faerie could ever be."

  Jericho's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "I'm not even sure they'll take me in. Everything I've learned about alchemy and human misuse of alchemy points to destruction, abominations, and death."

  "Strive to be different; be a beacon of hope. Just like he said."

  "I..."

  Before he could even start his sentence, the ship lurched violently, a sound akin to thunder reverberating through its walls as if they had collided with something massive. Yet, it was the ensuing sound that truly chilled the bone—a war cry, unmistakably that of a whale.

  

  The aftermath of King Xendrix I's reign—culminating in a catastrophic melting of his own castle as we know it—ignited widespread controversy and fear toward alchemy. The tales spread across the lands like wildfire, marking alchemy as a nefarious craft associated with destruction and malice. This sweeping condemnation has since painted alchemy in the darkest shades, branding it as a practice solely intended for harm and evil.

  My name remains among the scant few who continue to delve into the depths of this palpable magic—a form of magic from mere ink and parchment that gives life to the inanimate, conjuring spells of fire and water and others.

  Alchemy, in its essence, is universal magic accessible to all creatures that traverse the lands, seas, and sky and is not limited by blood type.

  This was my father's mission, and I still have the same faith as him: to open the gates of magic to those born without. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer