Tessia Eralith
The night air was cool against my skin, the vast expanse above a breathtaking tapestry of stars flung across indigo. Below, a sea of clouds glowed faintly with the moonlight, serene and ethereal. Grey's hand was warm and solid in mine, an anchor in the quiet beauty of the moment.
Sylvie, precious little dragon, was a soft, warm weight curled on my lap, her breathing a gentle, contented rhythm against my legs. Peace. It felt stolen, fragile, a precious shard of glass cupped in trembling hands amidst the relentless storm of war.
This balcony, high above the world's worries, felt like a secret haven Grey and I had carved out just for us.
"I heard you and Albold had breathtaking victories in Elenoir before both of you returned to the Castle," Grey murmured, his voice vibrated comfortably through our linked hands.
He wasn't looking at me, his gaze tracing the constellations, but I felt the warmth of his pride, the unspoken relief that I was here, safe.
A small thrill, bright and fierce, sparked within me.
"We did," I confirmed, squeezing his hand. "But honestly? The victories… they felt like stepping stones. What I truly wanted was to surprise you. And Corvis." I let a playful pout touch my lips, tilting my head to catch his eye. "Imagine both your faces!"
The thought alone sent a bubble of pure, unadulterated joy rising in my chest. If moments like this—stolen intimacy under the stars, Sylvie purring—could exist even during the war's brutal chaos… what wonders awaited us on the other side?
What quiet mornings, shared laughter, unburdened futures? My imagination stretched, tentative yet dazzlingly bright, towards a horizon free of dread. I couldn't even fully picture it, the sheer possibility was almost overwhelming.
Grey finally turned, his smile a rare, unguarded curve in the moonlight. It transformed his usually stern features, softening the sharp lines carved by hardship.
"He will be surely happy," he said, his gaze holding mine with a tenderness that made my breath catch. The simple certainty in his voice, his faith in Corvis's affection for me, was a balm.
"I haven't even told him, Mom and Dad," I confessed, leaning slightly into his shoulder, finding comfort in his solid presence. "Only you and Grampa know I'm back."
A flicker of affectionate exasperation touched my thoughts. Grampa was probably the only one in the entire continent who could orchestrate something like hiding my return from Corvis. Not that I would have minded being ambushed by my brother the moment I stepped foot inside the Castle.
"You are close to breaking into white core," Grey observed, his tone shifting subtly towards the analytical, though his thumb still traced gentle circles on the back of my hand.
"Really?!" The word burst from me, pure, sparkling excitement momentarily eclipsing everything else. White core! The pinnacle of dwarven human and elven magic… almost. A flush of pride warmed my cheeks. To reach it before Corvis, it felt like standing on the precipice of a new dawn within myself.
We lapsed back into comfortable silence, the kind shared between hearts that need no constant words. Just being here, hand-in-hand, breathing the same cool air, watching Sylvie dream… it felt sacred.
We must have looked like any pair of young lovers stealing a moment, whispering secrets under the stars, not soldiers bearing the weight of kingdoms on their shoulders. For a heartbeat, the war felt distant, muffled by the vastness of the sky and the warmth of Grey beside me.
The illusion shattered with the sound of displaced air and a flash of incandescent light. A figure hurtled towards our balcony, silhouetted against the moonlit clouds. One wing blazed with pure, liquid fire, feathers of living flame that trailed embers like a falling star—a sight that screamed phoenix, ancient and powerful.
My breath hitched. Flying? Towards us?
He landed with surprising lightness for such a dramatic entrance, the fiery wing folding with a soft whoosh of heat that ruffled my hair. He straightened, radiating an almost tangible aura of vibrant energy and unchecked enthusiasm.
"Lady Tessia!" His voice boomed, surprisingly cheerful despite the late hour and the suddenness of his arrival. He offered a hand that seemed to crackle with fire mana. "I present myself! My name is Chul Asclepius!"
Grey groaned beside me, a sound of profound exasperation. "Chul," he said, his voice tight with annoyance, "what are you doing here?" The peaceful bubble we'd inhabited popped utterly.
Chul ignored Grey completely, his bright, fiery eyes fixed on me with unnerving intensity. "I wanted to meet Corvis' sister, of course!" he declared, as if this explained everything. His grin was wide, infectious, and utterly bewildering.
Confusion swirled within me, momentarily overriding the surprise. I looked to Grey, my anchor in this sudden strangeness.
"Grey? Can you explain what's happening?" My voice held a note of bewildered laughter, but also a thread of wariness. Who was this exuberant, winged being?
Grey pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chul here is… an ally," he began, the word sounding slightly strained. "Corvis brought me and Sylvie to the sanctuary of an Asuran race. Long story short…" He gestured at the beaming man. "We brought Chul with us."
"I am here to crash the Vritras!" Chul announced with terrifying cheerfulness, pumping his fiery fist. "And if I was given the chance, it was all thanks to your brother, Lady Tessia!"
His admiration for Corvis was palpable, radiating off him like heat from a forge. A genuine smile touched my lips despite the lingering bewilderment.
"Yes," I said, carefully shaking his offered hand, feeling the surprising solidity beneath the aura of heat. "Corvis tends to make either very good or… very scary first impressions."
Only my brother could somehow acquire an exuberant Asura as an enthusiastic ally in the midst of a desperate war. I felt Grey cringe beside me, and my own amusement was tinged with a dawning sense of the surreal absurdity Corvis seemed to effortlessly cultivate.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you Lady Tessia!" Chul beamed as he left me and Grey alone, flying away just like he arrived.
"One day Corvis will do something so crazy even for him that we will lose our minds," Grey joked as I chuckled.
"I survived sixteen years with him, even though he hasn't always been like that..." I said thinking about how Corvis changed. At first, when we were toddlers, he was... he didn't even seem that he wanted to live.
I had few memories of the first five years of my life only that Corvis tried to avoid us as much as possible, the he ran away only to return and change drastically becoming the loving brother I knew now.
He told me he had this Meta-awareness. He told me it was that that whispered things no one should know in his ears, but I knew there was something worse beneath it.
Even considering everything, every injustice, Corvis went through... he changed too much.
I was worried about his sanity and how he hid all his problems from his loved ones. He was even worse than Grey when coming to that.
Corvis Eralith
The world snapped into jarring, vibrant focus. One moment, the cool sterility of my workshop in the Castle—the hangar of the Barbarossa—blueprints of Darv's coastal defenses swimming before my eyes; the next, the warm, sun-dappled chaos of the Castle's main courtyard. And Tessia.
Arms flung around my neck with the force of a mana blast, squeezing the breath clean out of me. Her scent—pine needles and the faint, comforting floral soap she favoured—flooded my senses, an anchor thrown into a turbulent sea.
"Corvis!" Her voice, bright with relief and something perilously close to tears, vibrated against my ear.
My mind, still half-tangled in calculations of tidal currents and artillery placements, stuttered.
"Tessia?!" The name came out choked. I gently extricated myself, holding her at arm's length, scanning her face
"What are you doing here? Weren't you with Albold pushing the line in Elenoir?"
The report had landed on my desk just hours ago—Tessia Eralith, triumphant against a Retainer which I didn't even need to read the name to know he was Bilal.
He was defeated by both Albold and Tessia, just like in canon, only that this time it didn't end with Cecilia becoming a parasite in my twin's body and my home destroyed by Aldir.
Unfortunately Albold sustained some serious acid injuries, but I was hopeful I could concoct something strong enough to heal even scars. All thanks to Wren Kain's gifts of course.
"The enemy's dead," she confirmed, a flicker of grim satisfaction in her eyes before it softened into concern. "But enough war talk for five minutes, please?" She tucked a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear, a gesture so familiar it ached.
"Are you… are you going to have breakfast with us? With our family?" The question hung in the air, fragile. Then, softer, the vulnerability cutting deeper: "It's been so long since we could just… have a meal together."
The simple request landed like a meteor. A meal together. Not debriefing disguised as dinner. Not a strategy session over warmed rations. Just… food. Conversation. The mundane miracle of shared presence. How long had it been? A year? More? Time blurred in the relentless grind of survival.
Memories surfaced, sharp and poignant: Dad's rare, booming laugh echoing in the old Zestier dining hall; Mom's chiding about elbows on the table; Grampa's stories that made Tessia laugh. Simplicities that felt like artifacts from another life.
The war had stolen those moments, replacing them with maps, casualty reports, and the constant, low hum of dread. Tessia's sadness wasn't just about absence; it was mourning for the normalcy we'd all sacrificed at the altar of survival.
"Of course," I heard myself say, the words rough. The Darv naval threat, Grey, Chul—they could wait. This couldn't. "Lead the way."
———
Grampa's office, usually a fortress of parchment, stern portraits, and the weight of command, had undergone a temporary, miraculous transformation. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
The massive oak desk was pushed aside, covered instead with a simple linen cloth laden with food—warm bread smelling of yeast and hearth-fire, bowls of berries glistening like jewels, cured meats, and a steaming pot of spiced tea.
It wasn't the opulence of Zestier Palace, but it was real.
"Sweetheart! You're home!" Mom's cry was pure sunshine, dispelling the lingering shadows of the room. She enveloped Tessia in another crushing hug, her eyes suspiciously bright.
Dad stood beside her, his usual stoic reserve softened into a warmth that reached his eyes as he clasped Tessia's shoulder, murmuring something low and heartfelt.
Grampa, nearby, watched them with an expression of profound, weary contentment, the lines on his face deepening into a genuine smile.
I hung back for a moment, observing. The air thrummed with a different kind of energy now. Not the tense buzz of strategy, but the warm murmur of reunion. They spoke of inconsequential things: the stubbornness of a particular rose bush Mom was trying to cultivate in the Castle gardens; the ridiculous hat Dad had seen a merchant wearing in an elven village; Grampa's ongoing battle with a particularly cheeky raven that kept stealing pastries from the Castle's kitchen.
Hopes. Dreams. Small futures. Not troop movements or supply lines. The sheer, breathtaking normality of it was almost disorienting. It felt like stepping into a sunlit clearing after years in a grim, winding tunnel.
We sat. The clatter of cutlery, the soft tear of bread, the gentle clink of teacups—these were the rhythms of peace.
Tessia animatedly described a ridiculous incident involving Darvus—one of her team members— and a startled badger, eliciting genuine laughter from Dad, a sound I realized I'd missed like water in a desert.
Mom beamed, refilling cups, her gaze constantly flicking between Tessia and me, soaking us in. Grampa chuckled, adding his own cheeky commentary.
I participated, forcing a lightness into my voice, sharing a minor, non-lethal artificing mishap—I omitted the fact I was working on a new deadly weapon for the Barbarossa that back on Earth would have branded me as a war criminal. The warmth seeped in, a balm on nerves perpetually frayed.
But beneath the surface, the ghost stirred.
Romulos? I sent the thought inward, a quiet probe amidst the familial warmth. What's going on? It wasn't exactly worry, not yet. More… a prickling awareness. A dissonance.
He'd been unusually quiet since Tessia's arrival. Normally, he'd be offering sarcastic commentary on the sentimentality or dissecting Grampa's strategic posture.
"Nothing, Corvis." His mental voice was smooth, but oddly flat. Distant. Then, a familiar edge returned. "Aren't you undermining your own war efforts, little brother? Dawdling over berries? Dad expects much from you. The Darv fleet won't sink itself."
I suppressed a sigh, focusing on spreading honey on my bread. You talk like you've met him, I shot back mentally, aiming for levity. Got a direct line to Agrona's war room?
He laughed, a sound like dry leaves skittering on stone. "I don't need to see my Dad to understand what goes on in his mind. That's the depth of our relationship."
His presence solidified. He stood before me, arms crossed, radiating a chilling intensity that contrasted violently with the sunlit room around me.
"That's precisely why, now that he's finally taking you seriously, I can't let you underperform. It's a matter of respect. For him. And," his gaze locked onto mine, "as your brother."
The shift was jarring. This wasn't his usual detached amusement or possessive pride. This felt… invested. Demanding.
You never cared this much about the war before, I countered silently, keeping my physical expression neutral as Mom offered me more tea. It was always just a game to you. A backdrop for your own schemes.
"Corvis?" Tessia's voice, soft with concern, pierced the internal dialogue. Her fingers brushed my cheek, startlingly warm. "Are you here with us?" Her teal eyes searched mine, seeing the momentary fracture in my focus.
I blinked, pulling myself fully back into the sunlit room, the scent of tea and bread replacing the phantom chill Romulos projected.
"Yes! Sorry. What were you saying?" My gaze swept the table—Mom, Dad, Grampa, all looking at me with varying degrees of gentle inquiry.
Mom reached across, patting my hand. "I was just asking if you've been doing something… healthy recently, dear. Taking breaks? Eating properly? Your father and I…"
She trailed off, worry etching fine lines around her eyes. Not now, Mom, I silently pleaded. I have a Vritra specter having an existential crisis in my head.
"I have… been feeding Berna?" I offered weakly, grasping for the most tangible act of non-war-related responsibility I could muster.
Grampa coughed, a sound suspiciously close to a smothered laugh.
"Well," he declared, raising his teacup with mock solemnity, "that's a start, wouldn't you say, Merial, Alduin? God-crafted bears need sustenance too." His familiar wit was a lifeline, deflecting Mom's concern with practiced ease. Bless him.
My attention flickered back inward. Romulos hadn't vanished. He stood slightly apart now, not looking at me, but at them. At my family. His spectral form was unnervingly still, his expression unreadable at first glance. But beneath the usual veneer of sardonic detachment, I sensed something else. A flicker.
Was it… jealousy? A profound, aching longing he couldn't suppress? Or was it simply the cold, clinical disgust of a predator observing sentimental prey? The ambiguity was unsettling.
Romulos… I ventured cautiously, the thought tentative. Do you… want to meet them? My family?
He whirled, the movement sharp and sudden within my mind. His ruby eyes, usually gleaming with malice or amusement, held pure, undiluted shock.
"What did you just say?" The mental voice was a low hiss. "You want to introduce me? The son of Agrona Vritra? To your… quaint little gathering? To the people whose world my Dad is methodically dismantling?"
I met his spectral gaze steadily. Yes, Romulos. We are brothers. You spend so much effort trying to pull me towards your father, your world… why shouldn't I try to pull you towards mine? I infused the thought with a deliberate, challenging playfulness, masking the genuine offer beneath.
He stared at me, the shock slowly morphing into something complex—disbelief warring with a flicker of something dangerously close to… consideration? Then he barked a laugh, harsh and abrupt.
"You're becoming dangerously like me, little brother. Not entirely unpleasant. A dash of sarcasm improves most things. But no, Corvis."
His gaze swept over my family again—Mom laughing at something Dad said, Tessia stealing a berry from Grampa's plate. The look solidified, becoming distant, almost mournful. However I noticed he eyed Dad a little too long.
"How do you think your delightful family would react? Discovering a monster like me lives rent-free in your head? They'd either die of worry, convinced I'm gnawing on your sanity, or they'd look at you with that special brand of pity reserved for the tragically unhinged." He turned away, his back to the mental projection of the warm scene. "Neither outcome benefits your precious war effort. Or my plans."
I sighed aloud this time, the sound escaping before I could stop it. Tessia's hand found mine under the table, giving a reassuring squeeze.
If you don't want to, I sent the thought after Romulos's retreating form, you could just say so. You don't need a strategic analysis of familial reactions as an excuse.
He paused at the edge of my awareness. The silence stretched, filled only by the soft clatter of cutlery and Grampa's rumbling voice. Then, softer than I'd ever heard him, a thought brushed against mine:
"Thank you for the offer, Corvis." It wasn't sarcastic. It wasn't mocking. It was… genuine. A quiet, almost bewildered acknowledgment.
I squeezed Tessia's hand back, grounding myself in the physical warmth. The breakfast continued, a fragile island of peace in a raging sea. I had Grampa's wisdom, Mom's love, Dad's strength, Tessia's vibrant spirit. I had Grey's unwavering loyalty, Sylvie's fierce protectiveness.
And I had Romulos Indrath, the other instance of the Thwart, the brother bound to me by fate and shared consciousness—a constant, complex shadow both challenging and, in his own twisted way, protective.
———
A/N:
Corvis Eralith will go on hiatus for the foreseeable future.