Part 3
The farewell to House Sorell took place under a pale blue sky, the afternoon breeze carrying the subtle scent of garden flowers. Lord Vaelric and Lady Altheria exchanged formal handshakes and courteous words with the Marquess, who maintained his polite smile and calculating eyes fixed on the noble couple.
While her parents said their goodbyes to the host, Elyandra met with Arcturus and Callen. The young Sorell, true to his effusive nature, grabbed her hands with enthusiasm.
— Lady Elyandra, it was wonderful having you here! I hope you return soon for more adventures and, who knows, to study together at the Academy! Don't forget the magic letters!
Elyandra returned the squeeze with a polite smile, though her mind was still absorbed in the silent promises exchanged with Callen.
— I appreciate your hospitality, Lord Arcturus. Your company was... memorable. And I will certainly remember the magic letters.
Beside Arcturus, Callen kept his cold and distant mask. His eyes met Elyandra's for only a brief second—a nearly imperceptible nod sealing the understanding between them in front of the others.
— Lady Elyandra — he said, his voice neutral and formal —, I wish you a safe journey.
— Lord Callen, stay well — she replied, her tone equally formal, but with a nuance of meaning that only the two of them could understand.
After the protocol farewells, Lord Vaelric stepped away from the Marquess and found Dalia, who was waiting near the carriage with a vigilant posture.
— Any abnormalities, Dalia? — he asked in a low voice.
Dalia shook her head.
— No suspicious movement in the surroundings, Lord Valemortis. However... — she hesitated for a brief moment — I noticed an unusual flow of deliveries and removals of large quantities of provisions and other goods since the day we arrived. A volume that seems disproportionate to the normal consumption of a single house, even one as large as the Sorells'.
Dalia's words made Lord Vaelric frown. His eyes turned toward the Marquess, who was still waving calmly. A shadow of doubt crossed his face.
— I understand, Dalia. Stay alert. Prepare the delegation for departure.
With a final nod to the Marquess, who returned it with his calculated cordiality, the Valemortis delegation set off. The carriages followed the road that would lead them back home, leaving behind the opulence and secrets of House Sorell. Elyandra's mind, however, remained caught in the silent promises and secret alliances forged under that noble roof. The journey back would be long, but her determination to achieve her goals had been further strengthened by the complexity and the new pieces that were now part of her game.
The Valemortis carriage wound its way along the dirt road, gradually moving away from the imposing silhouette of House Sorell. The surrounding landscape was a verdant mosaic of tall, dense trees, with sunbeams filtering through the canopies and painting the forest floor with golden spots.
Elyandra, sitting near the window, watched the forest pass by with a slight and genuine smile adorning her lips. It was a childish joy, devoid of the strategic complexities that usually consumed her mind. Siris, sitting beside her, noticed the girl's smile and kept her own expression serene and affectionate, her brown eyes fixed on Elyandra with silent tenderness.
Lady Altheria, who had been observing the interaction between daughter and servant for some time, decided to break the silence with a direct but gentle approach. Lord Vaelric, sitting across from her, seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.
— Siris — Lady Altheria began, her voice calm and cordial —, you seem to like serving Lady Elyandra very much.
The statement, though direct, contained no tone of accusation. It was a curious observation made with genuine kindness. Elyandra, hearing her name, turned quickly, her golden eyes wide in surprise.
Siris maintained her composure. Her smile became a bit softer.
— Lady Altheria — she replied, her voice peaceful and melodious —, serving Lady Elyandra was something that, I confess, initially made me apprehensive. The responsibility of caring for someone so... special... worried me. But from the moment I began serving her, I felt a sense of peace and an unexpected joy blossom within me.
She briefly shifted her gaze to Elyandra, an evident warmth in her eyes.
— I felt it the moment I saw her for the first time. When I opened the door to her room and found her sleeping so calmly... my heart seemed to flutter in a different way. Seeing that little piece of cloud asleep, so vulnerable and serene, awakened something in me. A deep desire to protect, to care... to simply hug that little cloud.
Siris's words filled the interior of the carriage with a warm and affectionate atmosphere. Elyandra felt her cheeks gradually heat up, a mix of embarrassment and a strange comfort invading her chest.
"Little piece of cloud? Does she really think that of me? This is... somewhat embarrassing, but... also... strangely pleasant."
Lady Altheria sighed softly, her gaze now fixed on Elyandra, carrying deep concern. The beauty of the forest passing through the window seemed a somber contrast to the thoughts afflicting her.
— You know, Siris — Lady Altheria began, her voice lower and heavy with emotion —, the Ancient Blood... it is a blessing and a curse for our family. Since Elyandra's birth, I have lived with a constant fear for her future. The path of the Saint... I frequented the church in my youth, I saw the fervor and self-denial that life requires. It is an arduous path, full of sacrifices. I confess I always wished for a more... normal life for my daughter.
Her voice broke slightly.
— My concern eventually consumed me. There were dark nights when depression wrapped around me like a shroud, terrible... terrifying thoughts crossed my mind. The idea of losing Elyandra to such a... singular destiny... was unbearable.
A moist glint appeared in Lady Altheria's violet eyes.
— But then... there was that moment. The instant I held Elyandra's small hands for the first time, when she was just a helpless baby. I felt a wave of love so pure, so overwhelming... in that moment, all my darkness dissipated. That little life... she became my light, my reason for being.
A single tear rolled down Lady Altheria's pale cheek. Elyandra, who had been watching in silence, felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest. A single warm tear welled up in one of her eyes, sliding down her white cheek. The sensation was strange, disconcerting. She didn't understand this sudden emotion, this pang of pain and... something else? Something like... connection? She raised her small hand and touched the tear with her fingertips, golden eyes fixed on the shimmering drop, trying to decipher its meaning.
"What... what was that?"
Siris, noticing the solitary tear and the girl's confused expression, leaned in worriedly.
— Lady Elyandra? Is everything alright? — she whispered, her hand reaching for the young noble's.
Lady Altheria quickly wiped her own tear with a delicate handkerchief, recomposing her posture. A brief look at Lord Vaelric indicated she preferred not to prolong the subject.
Lord Valemortis seemed to notice the charged atmosphere and opened his mouth as if to offer words of comfort. However, before any sound could escape his lips, the carriage shuddered violently, screeching to a sudden halt.
A moment of tense silence hung in the air. Lord Vaelric was the first to move. With a fluid and controlled movement, he opened the carriage door and stepped down onto the dirt road.
His eyes, accustomed to evaluating threats, immediately turned to the front of the delegation. The scene unfolding before him was disconcerting.
Blocking the path stood two imposing male figures. Their clothing was peculiar and sinister: long cloaks of a deep black that seemed to absorb the very light of the forest, hiding their forms under heavy folds. The most disturbing detail was the masks covering their faces—each made of an intense red fabric, like clotted blood, adorned with a golden cross embroidered in the center. Red hoods equally obscured their heads, casting even deeper shadows over their already hidden faces.
Lord Vaelric narrowed his eyes. Those garments were not familiar to him. They did not belong to any known military order, nor to any of the noble houses in the region. There was something strangely ceremonial and threatening about their appearance.
Lady Altheria leaned out the carriage window, her violet eyes fixed on the same enigmatic figures. A subtle paleness took over her face.
— Vaelric... do you recognize them? — she asked, her voice laden with growing apprehension.
— No, Altheria. I have never seen garments like these.
Lady Altheria observed the golden crosses on the red masks with a fixed and worried look.
— They are not the garments of the Church — she stated with conviction. — They absolutely do not belong to the Church. There is something... terribly wrong here.
The apprehension inside the carriage intensified as they witnessed more identical figures emerging from the tree shadows like forest specters. These new individuals wore the same heavy cloaks and hoods, but their masks were a deep black, without the golden cross of the two leaders in front. The circle was tightening, and the numerical disparity made the situation undeniably dangerous.
— Dalia! — Lord Vaelric's deep voice echoed firmly, a tacit command that put his elite guard on high alert. The knights unsheathed their swords with a threatening metallic sound.
Dalia dismounted her horse with agility. In her hands appeared a robust club of dark metal. Without hesitation, she positioned herself beside Lord Vaelric, both advancing a few steps ahead of the delegation, facing the two red-masked figures leading the group.
Lord Vaelric's imposing voice broke the tense silence.
— Who are you and where did you come from? What are your objectives in blocking our path?
The two red-masked figures remained motionless for a moment. But before any word could be uttered in response, one of them moved with surprising speed. A dark blade flashed in his hand as he suddenly lunged toward Lord Vaelric.
The Lord did not move. His posture remained unshakable, his expression impassive. Dalia, however, reacted with feline agility. In an instant, she placed herself in front of her Lord, her club swinging in a swift and precise arc, intercepting the knife strike with a metallic clash that echoed through the clearing.
At the same moment the attack was repelled, an intense glow appeared behind the red-masked figures. Flames danced and concentrated at a point, ready to be launched. But Lord Vaelric was already prepared. With a quick movement of his hand, a barrier of solid, translucent ice emerged from nowhere, rising like a shimmering shield that intercepted the torrent of flames, extinguishing them with a hiss of steam.
That was the signal. Without further hesitation, all the masked ones—both those in red and those in black—advanced in unison. The silence of the forest was broken by the clash of steel, battle cries, and the grunts of the masked attackers. The ambush had begun.
The interior of the carriage became a stage of dancing shadows and violent noises. Elyandra, clutching Siris's hand, saw figures clashing at high speed outside. The masked ones fell one by one, but the agility and precision of her father's elite soldiers were nearly invisible to her child's eyes. The speed of the combatants was a confused blur.
Suddenly, a group of masked men dressed entirely in black diverted from the main combat and advanced determinedly toward the carriage. In the next instant, one of her father's guards intercepted the group, striking down the attackers with cold efficiency.
However, one of the black-masked attackers demonstrated surprising agility. With a jump propelled by unexpected strength, he rose above the reach of the guard's sword. His mask differed from the others: it was white as bone, with a small black cross adorning his forehead. The blade he wielded shimmered with a greenish aura, wind magic crackling around it. In a quick, calculated movement, he struck the roof of the carriage with his enchanted sword. A sonic explosion tore through the wood and fabric, splitting the carriage roof in half with a terrifying boom, exposing Elyandra and Siris to the chaos of battle.
The roof collapsed, and Lady Altheria screamed, her body pinned under the debris, though apparently without serious injury. Through the brutal opening, the white-masked man reached out his hand toward Elyandra, fingers twisted like hungry claws.
But Siris reacted with surprising speed and fury. In a fluid movement, she placed herself between the masked man and Elyandra, delivering a powerful punch to the attacker's covered face. The impact resonated, and the masked man was thrown back, staggering out of sight.
— Siris! Watch out! — Lady Altheria shouted, her voice laden with terror. — Their target might be Elyandra! We are trapped here!
Looking around, Siris evaluated the situation with calculating coldness. The battle seethed around the carriage, the guards fighting bravely but visibly overwhelmed by the growing number of attackers. Siris realized the truth in Lady Altheria's words: inside the destroyed carriage, they were easy targets.
Without hesitation, Siris picked Elyandra up in her arms, holding her firmly against her chest. Her eyes frantically swept the surrounding forest, seeking an escape route. She spotted a gap between the combatants. With fierce determination etched on her face, Siris jumped out of the carriage, shielding Elyandra with her own body, and ran toward the darkness of the forest.
— I will protect you, Lady Elyandra! — she vowed, her voice firm and resolute as they disappeared among the trees.
Running through the dense forest, Elyandra's heart pounded in her chest. The brutal violence she had just witnessed—the clash of swords, the muffled screams, the terrifying sight of the masked men—it was all so different from the simulated combat and abstract strategies that populated her thoughts.
"So this is it... a real battle. It's... terrifying."
Her mind was momentarily overwhelmed. She didn't even notice Siris's supernatural agility, the way her feet touched the ground without making a sound, the speed with which she dodged branches while carrying her.
Suddenly, reason broke through Elyandra's confused mind. Panic flooded her.
— Siris! — she exclaimed. — My father... my mother... they stayed behind!
Siris did not slow down.
— They will be fine, Lady Elyandra — she replied with a conviction that tried to mask the uncertainty. — Your mother did not seem to be the primary target. And your father... Lord Vaelric is not a fragile noble. He is an experienced combatant, as are Dalia and his guard. Our priority now is to ensure your safety. We must flee.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared at her side. A masked man in black robes brandished a sharp blade, delivering a calculated strike toward Siris. With impressive agility, Siris dodged at the last instant. In a fluid move, she launched a precise, powerful kick, sending the masked man flying into the impenetrable darkness of the woods.
A white-masked man stepped forward, his fanatical voice echoing through a narrow gorge they had reached.
— From the blood of the Saint... the true light shall be revived! Hand over the child, impure servant, and your death will be swift. Do not dare to impede the awakening of the new era!
Siris didn't even hesitate. Without uttering a word, she advanced with surprising speed toward the five masked men blocking the way.
The combat began with silent fury. Siris moved like lightning, her two daggers dancing in her hands with lethal precision. The first masked man to face her tried to brandish a sword, but Siris was faster. A precise cut to his throat silenced his commands before they could be uttered.
The second attacked with a heavy mace. Siris dodged, her daggers tracing swift arcs. One blade found the tendon of his knee, making him fall with a cry of pain, while the other pierced his heart.
The third and fourth advanced together. Siris used the narrowness of the gorge to her advantage, moving between them like a shadow. She blocked a strike with one dagger, using the momentum to spin and drive the other into the unprotected flank of the second attacker. Simultaneously, she kicked the first in the face, breaking his nose with a dry snap.
In the midst of her deadly dance, Siris seemed invincible. However, her attention was focused on the four immediate attackers, protecting Elyandra behind her. In a fraction of a second, an apparition faster than the others emerged from invisibility created by wind magic. The white-masked man, taking advantage of Siris's concentration on his companions, advanced silently from an unexpected angle. Two quick, precise stabs hit Siris's side, the dark blades finding the flesh in her ribs. A silent groan escaped Siris's lips.
Even with the searing pain, Siris acted instinctively. With a powerful kick, she propelled the masked man with the broken nose toward the edge of the gorge, sending him into the darkness below. She immediately turned, her daggers ready to face the white-masked man, but he had moved again, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost.
Concentrating despite the pain, Siris wove threads of shadow magic that spread around her like a dense mist. Her goal was to feel the masked man's presence. But the moment her perception located him, a sharp, cutting pain exploded in her abdomen. A third strike, accurate and deep, hit her, breaking her concentration in a spasm of agony.
The white-masked man appeared before her, his gloved hand covering Siris's mouth, silencing any scream. He removed his blade with cruel slowness. With a cold, triumphant tone, he whispered:
— Your strength only delayed the inevitable, servant.
With a brutal push, he threw Siris's body against the rough trunk of a tree, where she fell with a dull thud.
Elyandra watched the entire scene in a state of paralyzing shock. When the white-masked man turned his cold gaze toward her, a freezing terror invaded her. He turned slowly, walking toward her, and Siris, wounded and incapacitated, had no strength to stop him.
The white-masked man stopped before Elyandra, his imposing and threatening presence looming over the small figure. With a gloved hand, he grabbed one of Elyandra's thin arms, lifting her like a porcelain doll.
— The destiny of the Saints — hissed the masked man — is to revive the true divine light, not to utter its name in empty words.
He sheathed his blade, intending to take Elyandra with him. However, something in her posture caught his attention. The girl's loose arm was accompanied by her small clenched hand, held firmly against her chest as if protecting a secret.
A memory flashed in Elyandra's mind, the harsh words of her tutor: "If you weren't resilient enough, Lady Elyandra, the magic explosion you created from that simple bubble could have destroyed your hand. Mastery is control, and control is survival."
Back in the present, still trembling from shock, Elyandra raised her arm toward the masked man. Slowly, with a childish determination that defied her paralyzing fear, she opened her hand. There, floating above her palm, pulsed a sphere of divine energy, a white and incandescent glow circled by frenzied instabilities of spiritual magic, veins of power crackling like lightning in a contained storm.
Her lips trembled, but her voice carried an unexpected resolution.
— No — Elyandra whispered, her eyes fixed on the white mask —, I am not destined for any of that.
In the next instant, the energy sphere in her hand exploded. A wave of white and golden power erupted, bathing the masked man's face in a blinding light. The force of the explosion, concentrated at such a close point, was devastating. There was no scream, only the sudden disintegration of the white mask and the flesh beneath, reduced to incandescent ash in an instant. The masked man's body staggered back before falling lifelessly to the ground.
Elyandra stared at the inert body. A wave of nausea hit her, and she vomited right there. Hot tears began to stream down her face. But amidst the horror, reason struck her. She stood up, her eyes searching for Siris.
She ran to her servant, who was leaning against the tree. Siris had a vacant look, her breathing heavy and irregular. Noticing Elyandra, a weak, relieved smile curved her pale lips.
— My little piece of cloud... — Siris whispered — How good... that you are alright.
— Siris, please... don't close your eyes — Elyandra begged. A fleeting memory of her studies on divine magic hit her. — Divine magic... can heal... other people.
With small trembling hands, Elyandra tried to stop the bleeding. Siris let out a painful laugh.
— That... tickles, my Lady...
— Don't joke, Siris! — Elyandra rebuked. — I will heal you. I need to heal you.
From Elyandra's fingertips emanated a faint, unstable glow. But the power seemed hesitant, unable to reach the depth of the need.
Footsteps broke the silence. Lady Altheria emerged from the forest, followed by Dalia. Her violet eyes took in the shocking scene.
— Dalia! Run! Go get help immediately! Bring anyone who can heal her!
— Mother... please... help! You were once a priestess... you used divine magic! Help Siris!
Lady Altheria knelt beside her daughter, her face heavy with profound sadness.
— Elyandra, my dear... the moment you were born... my connection... broke. I lost access to divine magic. I cannot help her that way.
Despair took hold of Elyandra.
— No! It can't be! You have to help! She can't... she can't die! I... I need more time with her!
Siris, growing weaker, touched Elyandra's face again.
— It's alright, my little sunbeam...
Lady Altheria placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders and whispered:
— Concentrate, Elyandra. Feel her pain... her fragility... her effort to stay here. Focus only on that. Imagine... imagine relieving this suffering. Let your love for her guide your magic, not despair. Think not of healing completely, but of... comforting... giving relief... even if brief.
Elyandra persisted. Slowly, very slowly, the edges of the deep wounds seemed to move closer under the hesitant touch of her magic. But Siris's eyes were clouding over.
— Serving you, my little light... — Siris whispered, her voice almost inaudible — was one of the... warmest and happiest things I've ever done. I am grateful... so grateful to Lord Valemortis... for giving me the chance to be useful... one last time.
Dalia reappeared, followed by Lord Vaelric and two soldiers specializing in water magic. They surrounded Siris, their hands emanating a soft blue glow. Murmurs escaped their lips as they channeled the vital water to restore the life that was fading.
Lady Altheria held Elyandra in her arms. The girl's golden eyes remained fixed on Siris's inert body. She didn't blink, didn't speak, imprisoned in a deep, silent shock.
And then, amidst the blue glow of the magic and the whispers of the soldiers, Elyandra saw it. A single tear, clear and solitary, rolled down Siris's pale face, tracing a melancholy path on her skin.