261. Grief Research

  They settled into one of the estate’s many living rooms just as the maid rolled their empty serving cart out.

  Thirsty as if she had just emerged from a desert crossing, Cartier took a massive chug of iced tea, the lemon slice clinking against the glass. She let out a relieved gasp before placing the frosted glass onto the low table.

  Zetius eyed the silver-haired, dark elven Celestius, Nyrethein, who sat with her arms crossed, a finger rhythmically tapping against her forearm. She had chosen a seat next to him, ignoring the other three long, comfortable couches available. Her brows were knitted, indicating her patience was wearing thin.

  It was crucial that the Celestius be informed of these findings, but the tension was palpable.

  Zetius could guess — he could practically smell it — that she wasn’t entirely all here. This must have been her twin arcane at work. No one knew exactly how the connection worked, and no one dared to ask.

  On the opposite side of the couch, Celestius Vivian sat with her back straight, her clasped hands resting demurely on her lap. Proper and graceful. Seated next to her was Cubie in her humanoid form, though the blue girl seemed entirely distracted by the various types of cookies arranged in front of her.

  “Ahem! If I may,” Cartier shuffled in her seat. “It’s the combined effort over the week since…” A lump stuck in her throat.

  Ah, so that’s what she has been up to. It is a form of grief. Zetius held her gaze, offering silent encouragement.

  She wobbled her head, the floppy ears atop her head bobbing. “We—I mean, the Scribes of Noctua—made an educated guess, operating on the assumption that Celestius Ignius…”

  She was too nervous. Flustered. It was unlike her.

  “Cartier, we are among peers here,” Vivian interjected, her voice smooth and motherly. Empathetic.

  Cartier drew a full breath, brushing a hand over her chest. “Alright.”

  There was no reaction from Nyrethein; her usual sneer and condescending glare were absent. Zetius stole a glance at her, and she met his eyes briefly before naturally turning toward the window, acting as uninterested as she possibly could.

  “Let’s start again!” Cartier jerked her body straight and riffled through her notebook before slapping it onto the table. It was filled with handwritten notes and sketches that resembled astrology charts or the orbits of celestial bodies.

  Zetius recognised the diagrams instantly. Orbital mechanics. It was similar to the navigation tools equipped in any spacecraft.

  “We know that the moon is the cage of Cronos, and Ignius attempted to unseal him during the Germund War almost one year ago. According to our intel, Ignius had long posted himself as the advisor under the alias Suingi Marchand.”

  “He should’ve been crowned the Celestius of Charlatans rather than the Celestius of War,” Nyrethein quipped, perching her plum-coloured lips on the edge of her teacup. Her classic allure was undeniable.

  Only Vivian found it amusing enough to chuckle.

  “Empress Aurora confirmed this after he revealed himself to her and Nohrell during their final clash. He infiltrated them, gaining her trust, and we believe he orchestrated the first massive Armatus attack over Germund.” Cartier’s voice was steady now as she traced the timeline. “Which, in turn, gave him the justification to use D’Arcane in conjunction with the binding vows.”

  “Classic smoke and mirrors,” Nyrethein flicked her wrist dismissively.

  Zetius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And the Light of Punishment hit the moon. I saw it with my own eyes. The sheer scale of power rippled the very fabric of reality; I swore I could sense it.”

  “Ah, right! You were in orbit,” Vivian hummed quietly.

  “Evidently, we observed that his power to manipulate D’Arcane on that scale was not far from precise. With seventy million souls perishing in the ordeal, the moon split but was not completely destroyed,” Cartier continued.

  Nyrethein placed her cup down, her playful expression waning. “I take it that he hoarded the people across the Orien Continent and sucked all their souls prior to the event. He is preparing for another attempt.”

  “We have reached the very same conclusion, Celestius,” Cartier bowed her head. “The report from the Shadowbringers during their joint expedition with Solis Aeternum supports this.” She glanced at Zetius.

  “It was Friederich Eir Regis, the Prime Guardian, who joined the operation. They found the ritual chamber hidden deep inside the cave of the prison,” Zetius recounted the event. The image of the dried corpses still haunted him to this day. “And all the misfortunes found within.”

  The air grew intense, heavy.

  “Which means,” Cartier continued, forcing strength into her voice, “he has extracted the power needed to perform another attack on the moon.”

  Nyrethein flicked her wrist and tucked under her chin. “What about the demonic infestation? Is it related somehow?”

  “We don’t have the facts, but we can make a reliable, educated hypothesis,” Cartier replied firmly. “Since Ignius was seen using the Empusa necklace to achieve the life-draining arcane, it is safe to assume he made a deal with the gods of the underworld.”

  Pleased with the answer, Nyrethein leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes in deep contemplation. Her stray hair brushed Zetius’s shoulder, which prompted him to jolt upward.

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  “A fair exchange. The portals for the damned souls against the Arc Necklace.” Nyrethein murmured.

  “Or perhaps a mere catalyst would do—a crack in our earthly plane for them to start pouring out,” Vivian shared her opinion, unbiased.

  “Either way, from our perspective, it’s a mere distraction for his main goal. He will attempt to strike the moon again,” Cartier concluded.

  “Vile…” Zetius muttered, turning away to hide the raw fury in his eyes. The master he had respected his entire life had not merely strayed; he had plunged into the most wretched abyss imaginable. Ignius had to be stopped at all costs. “Always one step ahead…” Zetius ground his teeth, the admission tasting bitter on his tongue.

  Nyrethein smirked. “And do you know where or when?”

  “Yes. We have a strong lead, one that is worth investigating.” Cartier rotated her book around and showed it to them. “Due to the fact that he couldn’t strike the moon immediately after acquiring his required power, he has done a more precise calculation this time.”

  Her finger traced the orbit of the moon; each small circle represented the moon's location at specific intervals. She flipped to another page. Cubie floated overhead, looming as everyone congregated in the centre to look.

  “23 August, 2539 Common Era,” Cartier pointed out. “That will be when the moon is orbiting closest to Earth.”

  “I see!” Vivian interlaced her fingers enthusiastically, while Zetius rubbed his chin.

  “The mountain range of the Alps. That’s in Montelia,” Nyrethein mused aloud.

  “That’s right! If the calculation is not too far off, according to a very helpful Lunarius...” Cartier saw the frown on Vivian’s face and quickly clarified. “The mass of the split moon threw the calculation off by a few percentage points, so…”

  Vivian nodded twice, signalling her to continue.

  “It must be somewhere around this mountain range… There’s a town there.”

  Nyrethein tapped her ring, and a holographic map beamed up. “Valsorda. It’s a lovely rural town.” She said it as though she had seen the place herself.

  “I can search it with the finder-keeper protocol using Armatus Celer,” Zetius locked eyes with Cubie.

  “Yes! It won’t take us very long!” Cubie flashed a toothy smile.

  “That’s good, then! It is under Celestius Virtius Nyra’s rule; surely flight clearance should not be a hassle at all,” Vivian beamed sunnily.

  For once, Zetius felt a sliver of hope. Finally, something he could do. Something that mattered. His mind was already racing through preparations — who to contact, what the logistics were like, and so on.

  However, everyone felt the uneasiness radiating from the Wildren scribe as she kept staring at her fidgeting fingers.

  “What’s wrong, Scribe?” Nyrethein asked, genuinely concerned.

  “23rd August…” Cartier repeated. “That means we have only one week at most.”

  Her words plunged the room into complete silence. Everyone froze, their faces turning ghastly white.

  In the courtyard, Zetius rushed out after his preparations, grabbing a small travel satchel with essentials. He didn’t need many items for this trip; a good arc coat could keep itself clean from dirt and grime. Simultaneously, Cubie went out to fetch the Armatus Celer from the hangar.

  The afternoon light wasn’t very bright due to the thick layers of clouds above. A gentle breeze carrying the scent of salt and sea occasionally rustled the low, manicured shrubs. It was serene.

  “Zetius,” Nyrethein called out.

  She was resting her palm on one of the white marble pillars, the roofless arch casting a shadow above her. Zetius raised his brows; he wasn’t sure why she was still here.

  “You probably wondered why I am still here.” She read his mind — or perhaps it was one of her hidden abilities. “You understand that I can’t leave my people…” Guilt and pain painted her expression.

  So there is a range to her ability. I see. Zetius made a mental note. She couldn’t be too far apart from her twin.

  “I understand your duties to your nation, Celestius,” he replied.

  He almost felt empathy for the lady. Empathy for Nyrethein? Of all people? Part of him found it absurd, but he hid that from her. He preferred to direct that feeling toward her people instead; he had seen their suffering inside the inner wall.

  They don’t need a warmonger. They need a ruler. A saviour, Zetius mused.

  “As I said, I can make it in four hours,” he uttered firmly. “It’s a good lead, but for you to drop everything on a whim, when your nation just came out of an invasion… It’s only logical you stay.”

  “I’ll keep them safe, Zetius. For that, you have my word.” Nyrethein vowed as her silver gaze held his for a long second. She then turned to the archway where Vivian and Cartier emerged, hand in hand like a mother and child.

  “That’s more than I can ask for, Celestius,” Zetius smiled, knowing his friends were in good hands. She was becoming less and less insufferable as Zetius became more and more competent. Perhaps he had misjudged her. Maybe she didn’t hate him as an individual, but rather his past incompetence? It was certainly food for thought.

  The Arcanite engines drew closer, the wash fluttering his hair and coat until the engine eventually stalled. The Armatus Celer towered fifty metres from him on the cobblestone ground. Cubie zipped into a trail of light and rejoined them.

  “Zetius!” Cartier approached him with open arms.

  He kneeled and hugged her delicately.

  “Stay safe,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I will,” he replied, parting from her. “Please visit Triss more often. She’s really missed you.”

  A faint smile formed on her face. “Of course, I will!” Cartier extended her pinky, and he laced his own around it and shook.

  Then it was Cubie’s turn to exchange goodbyes. Zetius rose to his full height and followed Vivian’s gesture. She clearly wanted a word with him as well. They walked about twenty metres away from the girls until the chitchat faded into the background.

  “I spoke to Virtius. You’re set to fly there. Magistrate Marty, who governs over Valsorda, is informed of your arrival.” Her attention was on a vibrant rose nearby.

  “I appreciate it, Celestius.” Zetius clasped his hands behind his back, standing poised beside her.

  “To ease your mind, Triss will go through the new treatment tonight. The preparation of the runic circle is completed, and I’ll personally tune the Primordial Essence as we discussed earlier.”

  “That’s…” Zetius found himself smiling. A relief. “Great news.”

  She touched his arm, a gentle motion. “She’ll be fine.” Their eyes interlaced.

  “Thank you…” Zetius felt he had never said it properly. “For everything.”

  “Not really. I owe it to you, too,” Vivian said, her beautiful eyes never leaving his face as she studied him. “You’re my biggest achievement. I mean…” She realised how weird her phrasing was, and a flicker of pink flushed her cheeks. “Your rebirth,” she corrected sheepishly.

  “Ahaha,” Zetius couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “So! Come back to us!” She ran her fingers down his back — an encouragement.

  “I will,” he said, resolved and heartened.

  Soon, they walked back to rejoin the group. After a few casual exchanges, Cubie shifted into the thruster pack behind his back. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Nyrethein, Vivian, and Cartier one last time. They were still waving at him as he boosted himself into the open cockpit.

  Once he settled into the pilot seat, an uptick appeared on the corner of his lips. He cracked his knuckles. The sense of thrilling adventure filled his chest.

  “Let’s get moving!” Zetius commanded, and the thrusters burned red hot.

  The Celer took off into the sky.