Corvis Eralith
Three years passed. Three years since the carriage, the despair, the shattering embrace that finally anchored me as Corvis Eralith.
On the surface, life in Zestier Palace bloomed like the Elshire Forest in high summer. The silent specter haunting the corridors had vanished. I spent afternoons in the sun-drenched gardens with Mother, discussing botany with a focus that surprised her. I accompanied Father on diplomatic walks through the capital, learning the rhythm of Elenoir beyond the palace walls.
I even endured Grampa Virion's gruff history lessons, finding a strange comfort in the cadence of his voice. And Tessia… my bright, relentless Tessia. Seeing her brother finally step into the light seemed to unlock something in her too. She became less the isolated princess, more a vibrant force, chattering animatedly with other young elves, her laughter echoing where silence once reigned.
My conscious effort to connect, framed as a 'struggle' she admired, became the key to her own social awakening. It was good. Better than I would ever dared hope during those first, terrified years.
Yet, beneath the tranquil surface, my mind was a war room. Maps of Dicathen and sketches of Alacrya, fragmented memories of battles and betrayals, timelines both shattered and potential—they consumed my quiet moments. Sleep was often traded for strategizing how to avert the war that would drown our world in fire, how to prevent the destruction of this home I had learned to cherish with a fierceness that scared me.
I watched Grandaunt Rinia closely, the enigmatic diviner. Surely, she would see the anomaly I represented, just as she had pierced Arthur's reincarnated soul? But her ancient, knowing eyes passed over me with the same curiosity she might give a particularly sturdy oak.
No flicker of recognition, no cryptic warning.
The sting was surprisingly sharp. Does she not care of I am reincarnated or not? Or am I simply… too insignificant for her to notice? The latter thought, a familiar ghost whispering of my lack of a core, my failed plans, settled like cold ash. Just average. Unremarkable. Not even worth a ripple in fate's pond.
But then I would see Father's rare, unguarded smile, Mother's quiet pride, Grampa's approving nod, Tessia dragging me into some new mischief—and the cold ash would ignite into white-hot resolve. No. Average or not, foreseen or forgotten, I would stand. I would fight. No one dies. Not on my watch. Not while I breathe.
Then came the deviation that was pure, unadulterated Tessia. The canon dictated her core awakening at nine years old. My brilliant, infuriating sister shattered that expectation at eight, a mere month ago.
The surge of raw power, bright and verdant as the forest itself, was undeniable. And with it… came the brat. Oh, she was perfectly poised, charmingly articulate with adults, a model princess for the court, the perfect daughter to her parents, a dutiful student to Grampa and her other mentors. But with me? With me, she unleashed the full force of her newfound power… to be an absolute menace.
Sticky vines snagging my feet as I walked, sudden gusts of wind stealing my notes, whispered plant-based teases only I could hear during family dinners.
"Practicing control, Brother!" she would chirp, eyes wide with faux innocence that couldn't hide her glee. My wonderful, lovely, utterly insufferable sister. Yet, beneath the annoyance, a fierce pride bloomed. This change was good. A year's head start on power? It was priceless if that meant she could be stronger in the future.
Seizing the opportunity, I tentatively taught her Mana Rotation. Grampa Virion nearly choked on his tea.
"Preposterous, boy!" he had boomed. "Drawing mana from the atmosphere while doing something else other than meditation like moving or even fighting?! That's literally impossible!"
His skepticism was a physical weight. But Tessia, ever contrary where I was concerned, latched onto the idea with terrifying focus. My explanations were clumsy, cobbled together from half-remembered theory and Arthur's later musings. I fumbled with metaphors about water flowing, energy cycling, feeling the pulse beneath the surge. I saw Grampa's doubtful look, felt the familiar pang of 'who are you to teach this?'
But Tessia… Tessia listened. Not just with her ears, but with that terrifying instinct she possessed. Days later, amidst a cloud of glittering pollen she had conjured purely to annoy me, I felt it—while she was casting her spells she was absorbing mana. Mana Rotation. She had done it. The surge of pride was so intense it momentarily eclipsed my own envy.
My sister. A prodigy. Plant deviant, early core, mastered mana rotation in weeks… no wonder a hint of cocky swagger had entered her step. But it was her swagger. Still Tessia. Still the girl who'd hug me fiercely if I felt down.
Watching her, a familiar ache pulsed in my chest—the void where my own core should be. The envy was there, a thorny vine wrapping around my pride. Why not me? But alongside it, fiercer now, burned anticipation. My time would come.
And when it did… I wouldn't just catch up. I would build my own foundation, strong enough to hold the weight of the future I was determined to protect. The resolve, tempered by love, frustration, and a stubborn ember of hope, felt unbreakable.
But now... let's address the elephant in the room.
Three years of fragile peace, of tentative hope, of rebuilding myself brick by brick as Corvis Eralith… and now it felt like standing on a cliff edge, watching the ground crumble beneath my feet. Because the silence was deafening. The absence was a gaping void where the lynchpin of everything should have been.
Where was Arthur Leywin?
The question wasn't just in my mind; it was a scream echoing in the hollow chambers of my bones, a frantic pulse beating against my temples. The protagonist. The keystone. The one figure whose path I bad gambled the world upon, even in my failures.
I haunted the periphery of Grampa Virion's study, ears straining for any scrap of news, any whisper of a prodigious young human mage discovered in the outskirts of Sapin. I had pinned desperate hopes on Cynthia Goodsky finding him, taking him under her wing, steering him towards Xyrus Academy. Something. Anything to slot the missing piece back into the fractured puzzle.
I had even met Cynthia herself during her visit to Zestier to see Virion. Her sharp, assessing eyes had lingered on Tessia, brimming with a calculating awe as she proclaimed my sister "the most incredible prodigy" she had ever encountered. The praise should have warmed me. Instead, it froze the blood in my veins. The most incredible. The phrasing was absolute. Devastating. Did it mean… she had never encountered Arthur? Had his light simply… never ignited?
The fear that descended then was a familiar, suffocating shroud—the same icy terror that had gripped me in Alea's arms as she flew me away from that carriage. But this was colder, deeper.
It wasn't just the fear of a changed plot because of my presence; it was the stomach-churning vertigo of staring into an abyss and realizing the foundational story I had built my desperate strategies upon might be fiction.
What if Arthur Leywin didn't exist? Not just delayed, not just diverted… but never born? The meticulous calculations, the agonizing choices, the self-flagellation over altering destiny… what if it was all for nothing? What if I had been playing a rigged game from the start, doomed before I even drew breath in this world?
In the suffocating quiet of my room, I sat hunched over parchment, my quill scratching out meaningless glyphs—frantic, looping lines that mirrored the chaotic spiral of my thoughts. The silver hair I had inherited from my parents fell around my face like a curtain as I buried my head in my hands, the pressure a feeble attempt to contain the rising tide of panic.
"Fuck…" The curse was a raw scrape against my throat. "Where are you, Arthur?"
Think, damn it! Think like the king you are supposed to find! Logic was my only lifeline. Arthur had to exist. He was integral to Agrona's grand twisted design—the anchor, the counterpoint, the necessary catalyst for the Legacy.
If Arthur was erased… then Agrona's entire existence, his motivations, his actions, must be fundamentally different. Was that… possible? A flicker of desperate, treacherous hope. A world without Agrona's machinations?
I violently shook my head, dislodging the seductive, dangerous thought. Assume the worst. Always assume the worst. I thought of an hypothesis: Agrona's original plan succeeded flawlessly. King Grey and Nico reincarnated as intended in their prepared bodies in Alacrya. Two anchors secured.
Then, all he needed was the vessel for the Legacy… Tessia. No, actually he just needed a person that reminded Cecilia for her to be reincarnated. Tessia was not fundamental.
But that didn't track. If that were true, if Agrona possessed his anchors and his weapon… why wasn't Dicathen already drowning in ash and shadow under the Legacy's unleashed power? Why the eerie, stretching silence? The Legacy wasn't crushing continents. Agrona wasn't triumphant. The war had not begun.
Something crucial was still missing.
Alternate theories scuttled like poisoned spiders through my mind: Arthur reincarnated somewhere remote, lost? Maybe Sylvia was intercepted, killed by Agrona before she could find him? But Sylvia had been searching for Grey specifically. Unless Agrona eliminated her… but wouldn't that have sent shockwaves through the Asuran dynamic? Wouldn't Kezess have reacted?
More silence. More terrifying, inexplicable silence.
"Aaaah!" The groan tore from me, a sound of pure intellectual and existential frustration. I slammed back in my chair, the wood groaning in protest, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
The answer felt like it was hovering just beyond reach, a shape in fog. What am I missing? It must be right in front of me! The pressure built, a crushing weight threatening to fracture my carefully reconstructed composure. The walls of the room seemed to close in, the air thick with the dust of crumbling certainties.
Was I truly just a fool screaming into the void? Had my very presence unraveled causality beyond repair?
Just as the precipice yawned, threatening to swallow me whole in a mental abyss, a sharp, polite rap echoed on the door. The sound was a lifeline, shattering the suffocating silence.
"Your Highness?" A maid's voice, deferential and calm, filtered through the heavy wood. "Young Chaffer is here to see you."
The mundane announcement was a bucket of cold water. Albold Chaffer—the elf Arthur met during the war against Alacrya. I took a shuddering breath, forcing the tremors in my hands to still, the frantic pulse in my throat to slow. Albold. Stubborn, earnest, fiercely loyal Albold. Eleven years old, three years my senior, and already possessing the unwavering dedication to the crown that would define him.
House Chaffer's swordmasters were renowned; training with Albold wasn't just physical conditioning while I awaited my own dormant core, it was a grounding ritual. A connection to a simpler reality—sweat, steel, and the straightforward respect of a friend who saw Corvis, even if he treated me a little too politely. He was still my friend.
He was perhaps the only true friend I had in this second life. A point of light in the encroaching uncertainty. And looking at the door, the thought crystallized with sudden, fierce clarity: Whatever comes… whatever timeline this is… I won't let anything happen to him.
The resolve was a small flame, but in that moment, against the vast, terrifying unknown of Arthur's absence, it was enough to make me stand up. To push the suffocating dread down, if only for an hour.
———
"Prince Corvis! It's good to see you," Albold said with a slight bow as I returned his greeting.
"Albold… just call me Corvis. Please," I sighed. I wasn't in the mood for formalities.
"But—Prince!" he protested, hesitating, but I simply shook my head.
"Let's begin."
Even though I wished I could just enjoy some time with Albold as a friend, I couldn't afford to grow complacent. The sword felt almost foreign in my hands—I knew I would likely need a different weapon in the future—but training with Albold still strengthened both my body and soothed my mind.