The chamber was silent.
Zerathulon.
A blade born of chaos itself.
Grimhild's grip on her staff tightened as she gazed at the ground.
"…So she forges a weapon not even our creators would dare dream into being. Typical of Agnes. She always needed to stand above the rest."
Yvarr leaned back in his chair with his golden eyes narrowing.
"Above the rest?" He repeated softly. "No, sister. She does not wish to stand above, she simply wishes to undo. Agnes is not seeking victory, but erasure."
Grimhild lowered her brows.
"Erasure of what?"
Yvarr's voice was low with each word carrying a dreadful weight.
"Of the Hortus itself. Every plane, every Supernal, every weave of magic, gone. She wants to return all things to a primordial silence. Even our creators, the First Atamon, would be as though they never existed. The Chaos Blade is her tool to sever the roots of reality."
Grimhild stepped forward.
"And you expect me to believe you'll sit idle? Watching while she draws the blade against existence?"
Yvarr's laugh was soft and wistful.
"You have not changed. You always mistook my refusal to fight for cowardice."
His gaze returned to her, sharp this time around.
"But you are wrong. I create, Grimhild. I give shape. I do not destroy. To raise a hand against Agnes would unravel the balance I am sworn to uphold. That is why you exist."
Grimhild's smile was bitter.
"Yes. The Destruction of your Creation. The cursed twin."
Yvarr rose at last from his chair.
When he drew close, his presence grew unbearable, like the weight of a star pressing down.
"You call yourself cursed, but you are the one force she cannot script." Yvarr said, smiling. "Agnes writes her prophecy upon the fabric of the world, but when it comes to you, she cannot, for you're the final point; the end of all things. She fears you, sister, though she would never admit it."
Grimhild tilted her head slightly, impassive as always.
"Then tell me, brother, how do I stop her?"
At that, Yvarr was silent.
For the first time, his eternal calm cracked, and his smile faltered.
"…I do not know."
The words struck heavier than any prophecy.
Grimhild blinked disappointedly.
"You are the Atamon of Creation, who sees all futures, and you claim ignorance?"
Yvarr closed his eyes.
"Yes, I may be able to see endings, sister. An infinite amount of them. But in each, Agnes stands triumphant without you in the picture. You're a constant anomaly. It's unknown what would happen at the end of her script with you in the fray."
Grimhild closed her eyes, though her expression betrayed nothing.
"So I must fight blind."
"Blind but not powerless. Do not forget what you are." Yvarr said with a tender voice.
Silence stretched again, until Grimhild finally lowered her chin.
"…If Agnes wields Zerathulon, then I will need something to match it."
Yvarr's golden eyes expressed amusement.
"You would forge your own?"
Grimhild gave the smallest smirk.
"Not forge, but reclaim."
Yvarr's gaze deepened, and for the first time, his calm veneer gave way to surprise.
"…You cannot mean—"
"I do." Grimhild's voice cut firm. "The Blade of Ruin. The weapon I buried at the end of the Legendary Age. If Agnes dares to bare Zerathulon, then I will draw Velgrathis once more."
The name shuddered through the chamber like a spell unleashed.
Yvarr stared at her with his lips pressing thin, then finally let out a long, resigned breath.
"…So it begins again."
Grimhild turned toward the endless twilight sky.
"Velgrathis was a weapon I discarded. It had the power to match Excalibur, but it takes time to summon." She closed her eyes. "If Arthur didn't use Excalibur to defeat me before I wielded it, then the battle could've ended a lot differently."
Yvarr nodded his head.
"Indeed. You were stronger than Agnes at that time; during the Mystical and Legendary Era."
Grimhild nodded.
"Naturally. We Atamon grow stronger to the things that make us who we are."
The Atamon were primordials beyond the Hortus with the power to get stronger depending on how much they accumulate from the world. If there's a constant spread of chaos, Agnes will get stronger from that chaos. If there's a constant spread of destruction, Grimhild would get stronger from that destruction. If there's a constant spread of Creation, Yvarr would get stronger from that Creation.
That's how they functioned.
It was a bit of a push-and-pull system, if that's the best way to describe it.
"I was only stronger than Agnes at that time because I destroyed endless realms throughout the Hortus, and all of that destruction empowered me." She closed her eyes in regret. "With the power I gained, I used a large portion of it to form Velgrathis. If I reclaim it, then I'd likely gain my full power back."
Yvarr hesitated to speak aloud what came next.
"…And yet you sealed it away."
Grimhild's gaze sharpened at him.
"I sealed it because Velgrathis is not a blade one simply uses. It is a covenant of ruin. Every swing devours. Every cut widens the wound of reality itself. It had to be sealed at all costs, I feared what it would make of me."
Yvarr lowered his head with his silver-white hair falling over his shoulders.
"You feared your own nature."
"Yes, I was born to be a destroyer who only kills to balance out creation. I wanted to change that. Arthur made me realize there is more to life than simply destruction."
"And yet you would draw Velgrathis again, sister?"
Grimhild's grip tightened on her staff.
"If Agnes bears Zerathulon, I have no choice. Chaos will not be undone by reason or mercy. It must be shattered. And to shatter it, I will become the ruin she fears."
Yvarr furrowed his brows.
"You tread a path where no return lies, Grimhild. Velgrathis will not simply empower you once more. Instead, it will demand that you reclaim it. To accept its law: to end all things it touches, and return to your primal nature."
Grimhild's lips curled into a smile.
"Then perhaps Agnes and I are not so different after all."
Yvarr exhaled through his nose, almost weary, yet he still held the faint trace of a smile.
"You call yourself cursed, but perhaps you are salvation in disguise. I cannot say. Even to me, your thread is unwritten."
Grimhild chuckled.
"Then it is decided. Velgrathis will be summoned. The Blade of Ruin against the Blade of Chaos. Let fate see which of us remains."
Yvarr finally moved, pacing slowly back toward the desk at the center of the vast chamber.
"If you intend to reclaim it, the place you sealed Velgrathis must be unheard of. Do you remember where?"
Grimhild's eyes narrowed with old memory.
"Yes." She said at last. "Thanks to a friend of mine, Yog-Sothoth, he found the perfect place for me to seal it."
"Ah yes, the All-Gate, Yog-Sothoth."
"Mm." Grimhild nodded. "It's hidden in the Dreamworld."
Yvarr's golden eyes widened at the mention of the realm.
"The Dreamworld…" He repeated again with a heavier tone now. "A realm beyond the Mundalia. You entrusted Velgrathis to the All-Gate itself, and the blade now rests in such a dangerous realm."
Grimhild inclined her head with a firm expression.
"It had to be so. If left in the Halvrendor, someone would have unsealed it. Even Agnes. Only Yog-Sothoth could find a place secret enough to hold it. And only I carry the key to such a realm."
"Then retrieving it will not be simple." Yvarr folded his hands behind his back, looking down in thought. "To retrieve Velgrathis is to walk into the Dreamworld, past the Guardians of Paradox, past the living thoughts of dead spheres. You will be tested before you so much as touch its hilt. Are you strong enough, sister? With you denying your existence as destruction, you grow weaker by the second."
Grimhild smirked.
"I believe I have what it takes. And if the Dreamworld itself wishes to bar me, then let it. I'll tear through it as I did all else. Velgrathis is mine, and mine alone."
Yvarr paused at that, studying her with admiration.
"You still speak with such conviction and yet conviction can blind as easily as it strengthens."
He exhaled, shaking his head.
"No matter. If you choose this path, I will not stop you. I only pray that when you hold Velgrathis once more, you will not lose yourself to it."
Grimhild turned her head toward him, her face composed as ever.
"I've already lost myself once before. That mistake will not happen again."
Yvarr allowed himself a thin smile.
"You say that now. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you will be the one to defeat Agnes, and if so, you may be the only hope left."
Grimhild nodded her head.
"This talk must end here. Agnes and Velgrathis will wait, but Lancelot will not. The duel comes first."
Yvarr's golden eyes hardened at the name.
"Yes. The duel. He waits in the Arena even now. I had hoped you would not face him so soon, but…" His gaze softened. "I know you would not back away from it."
"Backing away was never in my nature. And besides, this duel is not only for me. It is for him as well. If he has forgotten me, then I will remind him, not with words, but with battle. He needs to be humbled and become a better king. He's nothing more than a snot-nosed brat who thinks he can get his way as far as I see it."
Yvarr chuckled as he nodded his head, stepping back toward his desk.
"Then go. The gates of the Academy will open to you again once the duel is done. But beware, sister, the eyes of Mesnil, of the Kingdom, and of the world itself will be upon you. Maybe even Merlin might have something to do with this."
"Naturally."
Grimhild nodded her head and turned to face the door across the vast void-like room.
"Until we meet again, Yvarr."
"Until then, my dear sister."