It felt like hours had passed since he’d read that last sentence in his Soul Weapon. Out of fear, he had imdiately slamd his book shut—spending the ti simply just staring at the cracked leather attached to its cover. He only broke out of his reverie after he felt the entire deck shaking—they were about to depart for what Myrin called Dungeon Door Number 1.
Soren wasn’t actually sure what this location was aside from it being apparently a very popular stop on this flight path. It sounded very ominous to him, however.
He sighed to himself and cranked his body to stand up again. There was no point mulling it over. Yes, the knowledge demon nad Tazzith sohow gained access to his Soul Weapon and was sending him a ssage similar to the one he’d received from Unknown, but that didn’t an he needed to open it imdiately.
He was still in Yadrian territory. Demons were their worst enemy—even worse than how they viewed humans. It was too risky, especially with the Court of Nightshade still monitoring them. But aside from that, he himself didn’t want to see what the demon was offering. There was no way to know what was inside that ssage—it could be dangerous. He needed to be more prepared.
Soren stepped out of his room and went up to the deck. The wood creaked with every step, but that was the least of his worries—the whole skyship was shaking for whatever reason. Climbing the wooden steps upwards into the deck, Soren felt the breeze rushing past his neck. His chestnut hair was blown by the gusts as he felt the cold air piercing through his skin pores. Unlike a few hours ago, the sky was much clearer—he could see the glistening of the Spirit Blossom Willow leaves as they swayed with the atmospheric wind.
The first person Soren saw was Tina sitting against the wooden mast attached to the magical envelope. She was sharpening her daggers while whistling along with the tunes Myrin was playing under her breath. A bright smile was shown on her face—one that twisted into a slight frown the mont her eyes locked with his.
Am I that hateable? Soren chuckled. “The sky seems bright, but a heavy cloud hangs above your head. What happened?”
“You’re what happened,” she said, with a tinge of salt. “Do you know how much they questioned about your damn abilities?”
Ugh… Forgot about that… He scratched his hair awkwardly, “apologies for that… And thank you for keeping it a secret.”
After his Soul Weapon was taken away, they had probed it through all kinds of thods to try and disclose its secrets, but none of them worked. They were planning on eventually using more destructive magecraft against it but through Tina’s dissuasion and with the help of the Saintess, they chose not to. It was apparently a big hassle for her.
I owe her a favor now… Soren thought about it for a minute—he wasn’t sure what to repay her with.
I guess I'll have to consider it another ti…
“So what were you smiling about earlier if you were in such a bad mood?” He tried to change the subject.
“Oh, it was about my encounter with the Saint of Dreams, Silmar.
“Just like his title, he really is dreamy…”
Soren felt his brow lift to the heavens. This woman had a romantic side? He felt her gaze becoming more hostile—he coughed. “I-I see…”
“What, do you have a problem?”
“N-no. I agree, he is indeed a fine gentleman.”
She smiled, “indeed…”
Soren saw her going back to working her whetstone. Deciding it was unwise to disturb her further, he walked around the mast toward the front of the skyship. They had only been flying for about 20 minutes so far—they hadn’t even made it out of Yadria’s borders yet. Myrin was sitting behind the bow of the skyship with his legs crossed. His Soul Weapon—Artist’s Wand, was active in its flute form. A strange yet soothing lody played, carried by the wind for the entire ship crew to see and hear. Soren walked next to him and leaned against the railing to listen to the music.
He thought about his life so far. Yadria was truly a fascinating experience. He could see the colossal Spirit Blossom Willow from behind him—the whale-shaped skyship was inching further and further away as it flapped its massive wooden whale fins to navigate the air. “I wonder if I’ll make it back here again so day…” He thought, murmuring faintly beneath the dazzling tunes.
He shrugged to himself. Why would they ever invite a human like again here? It was truly comical. A city this beautiful hid such a dark and twisted past—one they carried with them with pride—at least so of them.
Soren could definitely see the city changing in the future. Saintess Sylia and her brother were leading the charge. Although the Saintess of Spirits was antagonistic toward humans and the unblessed, She still needed to work within the bounds of the system. The Saintess of Blossoms, Finnea was neutral to both sides and tended to shift into either direction, depending on what She thought was best for the Sacred City. As more and more Yadrians learn to accept the unblessed, She will naturally side with Sylia and Her faction.
Though, the recent Naless Mist incidents have most likely thrown a wrench in those plans. Out of the three Saintesses, the ones who would benefit the most from it were without a doubt Saintess Lesticia and Her Custodians of Faith—Luvin being one of them. Though, this was still just baseless speculation.
In the end, they did apparently figure out a way to counter the Naless Mist. Through the efforts of Myrin compiling all the information he could about it, they were able to discover that purified Aether was able to negate its effects and combat them. They weren’t certain this would work on anyone but elves, however. If this situation spreads to the Aellora Kingdom…
Soren shook his head—there was no point in considering such a situation yet. Even the Aether thod they devised wasn’t perfect. Soren suspected that the only reason it even worked was due to the fact that Aether and the Naless Mist were both mystical energy sources not from this world. After all, the Dragon Vein which sprouted the Spirit Blossom Willow more than a millennium ago also appeared out of nowhere—he was certain it too ca from beyond Yarian’s dinsional boundaries.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to for the genuine story.
Myrin all of a sudden stopped playing his music, startling Soren. He glanced over at him and smiled, “What made our wonderful, Mr. Prince stop? Did you run out of breath?”
Myrin sighed, “Tina is still angry at . I hoped maybe this music could change her mood…”
She had been angry at him for not showing up on ti to attend the Nightshade Raid with them. While they were out risking their lives, he had been busy doing performances for the high nobles and chatting it up with countless noble won who found him charming. Soren couldn’t really bla them—Myrin would probably be a celebrity if he transmigrated to Earth.
Still, he was fairly certain that Tina didn’t actually hold a grudge against him. After all, his mission was diplomacy, and he had done a splendid job at it. Negotiations between Yadria and Aellora could definitely beco much simpler the next ti due to his efforts. Besides, she had probably already forgotten about it anyway— the Saint nad Silmar had grabbed all of her attention.
Soren coughed. “Have you tried cooking sothing for her? No amount of magecraft will ever rival a good al, especially for a food junkie like her.”
Soren could almost imagine his eyes sparkling, “Good idea!”
He chuckled as he watched Myrin joyfully walk toward the cabin stairs. He hoped his suggestion won’t co back to haunt him. Tina’s cooking was insanely good but he still couldn’t say the sa about Myrin. The last ti he tried to help with cooking the porridge, he almost overcooked it if not for Tina’s supervision.
Please be good… He might have truly dood himself. Luckily, a head chef was coming with them on the trip—with his supervision, it shouldn’t co out too bad. He could only hope.
Suddenly, a flash of light startled them. They shifted their attention toward the East. Soren imdiately froze—what he was witnessing didn’t look real to him.
In the middle of the air, a large, dark black crack appeared, as if soone had slamd a sledge hamr into a pane of glass.
The sky was shattering.
And behind the sky, was a bottomless void.
Soren watched in horror as purple lightning buzzed out from within the spatial crack. All of a sudden, a large silhouette appeared from within, slowly erging from within the shattered void sky. It inched forward until its full shape beca apparent to Soren, Myrin, and everyone else on the deck.
It was a mast ship. But what was terrifying was its size.
Even though the spatial crack was close to the horizon itself, the behemoth that erged looked to be larger than the Spirit Blossom Willow itself. An impossibility.
A swarm of smaller mast ships also erged, surrounding the colossal mothership like a swarm protecting its nest. The vessels erged simultaneously—it was as if he was staring at an armada or legion. Soren couldn’t comprehend it at all. Not even the most popular naval battles he’d heard of from Earth’s history couldn't have possibly amassed this many ships.
And not just any ships, Skyships—ones a million tis more terrifying than the one he was currently sailing in.
Soren could feel the air shifting, as if it was being displaced—like a cup of water having its contents overflowing from the top. They all stood there, motionlessly and silently, until he heard Myrin murmur a single word from beneath his rasped breath:
“Vynasians…”
Behind a grand and florally decorated curtain, one of the Maiden’s Saintesses, Sylia, silently sat as Her dream filled eyes monitored the waves and motions of the illusionary barrier. A duty that only She could fulfill. Above Her canopy was a veil of starlight that shimred in the shape of flower petals that moved in precise orbits. She sat silently as the motions entered Her mind. The Aether from the Dragon Vein flowed in Her as it did with all things that belonged to the holy Spirit Blossom Willow.
All of a sudden, the imposing gate to Her chamber hall creaked beneath the weight of its own movent. A person was entering inside.
Even with Her eyes closed, She could tell who it was. The sound of his steps were familiar to Her.
“Silmar…” Her voice echoed into his mind as he walked toward the steps leading to his sister’s canopy. He lowered himself before Her.
“Sis—, I an holy Saintess of Dreams, Sylia. The Maiden’s flowers bloom in your wake.”
She ignored his informality. “How has your mission blossod so far?”
The man sighed. He gracefully flicked his silver hair behind his elven ear. “It has been sowhat fruitful. I was able to monitor Luvin’s movents unimpeded for the past few days. Sadly, we had a brief exchange of magecraft during the Court of Nightshade’s raid… I am certain he is sowhat responsible for what had happened.”
“Was that why you weren’t available to help them?...”
He bit his lips. “Yes… Luvin is much more skilled than I thought. He fought to a draw.
“But luckily, it didn’t seem like he discovered my identity. I made sure to use an older grimoire of magecraft than the repertoire I am known for to mask myself. I also didn’t use my Soul Weapon either. He should still be wondering who I am.”
“I see…” Her voice echoed out into the chamber. “Continue monitoring him.”
“Yes, Saintess,” he replied, fervently.
She shifted the conversation elsewhere, “Any news from the other saints?”
“Sadly, no.” He lowered his head further. “We have yet to receive a ssage from them—it's very worrying.
“And the rift fracture has widened significantly. I am certain it will shatter any mont today. Though, I doubt anything major will happen. These sacred lands are still protected by the Maiden. The Vynasians still fear Her presence.”
“I doubt that will last for long,” She retorted. “They have heightened their antics over the years. Their territories in the Eclipse Moor have also expanded. It won’t be long before they begin to eye the Feylith Forest as well.
“Our only way forward is to forge a stronger bond with our neighbors. The Church of the Silver Moon, Brilliant World Church, and the Church of Nature all share in our cause, despite our differences.
“Even the H’avaast Tribes and their Slumbering Spirit God, would most likely help us. Offering them a place within Yadria’s borders would certainly ease much of the animosity we have garnered with them.”
Silmar’s voice quivered, he hesitated to speak his mind. “B-but Saintess…”
“I know, Silmar…
“Change on this scale will take effort and ti… I will try to convince the other Saintesses… With the Vynasians making another daring move, Finnea will certainly understand my stance… We can no longer stay isolationist.
“After all, the whispers of history continue to seek the light of rembrance.
“Us too… We can no longer ignore this fate.”
User Comments
0 comments from readers