Chapter 42 - Birth
After we ate, we continued through the Elder Forest. My nose stayed buried in the alchemy book, fingers tracing the same paragraphs over and over like a man searching for a hidden clue.
Was my first transmutation really just a failure? What the hell happened back there?
I hummed in thought. Sure, one of the main reasons it turned to dust was that Lyra's slap caused my mana flow to stop abruptly, triggering a forced Coagulatio and reducing the result to ash. But my genuine concern was this: I did exactly what the book said. I poured mana into it… and nothing happened.
The copper coins should've worked. I'd drawn the glyph exactly like the diagram. I'd poured in mana for seventeen straight minutes. The book said that was enough for a basic transmutation.
Did the book lie to me..?
I flipped back to the transmutation steps. Deconstruction. Realignment. Stabilization. I'd done the first part—sort of. The glyph had glowed, the coins had gotten hot. But they never turned to that fluid Solutio state the book described. They'd just… sat there, stubborn as rocks.
Maybe the glyph was wrong, or maybe copper was too dense..? Or maybe I'd misjudged the weight, seriously, ten grams was harder to eyeball than I thought.
I chewed my lip, turning the page.. More diagrams and more warnings. Mass Balance. Affinity Restrictions. Continuous Mass. None of it explained why my coins had just… stayed like that.
Then I saw a tiny, almost hidden footnote at the bottom of the page, scrawled in a different hand:
"Note: The basic transmutation exercise on p. 11 is designed to fail. Its true purpose is to teach the student that raw mana alone is insufficient.."
I stared. Wow. Okay.You really planted that worry in me for no reason, but… fine. I get it.
I read the remaining text in the same sentence.
"..To achieve Solutio, one must first learn to vibrate their mana."
Vibrate?
I frowned. The book hadn't mentioned anything about vibration. I flipped ahead, past the laws, past the glyph diagrams, still nothing. Until I flipped to the next page of my current paper.
Mana as a Frequency Wave
"Mana is not merely a source of energy, but it is a wave, capable of oscillation. When an alchemist channels mana with precise intent, they can induce vibrations within an object's latent mana. Feel for the resonance—the moment when the matter hums in harmony with your will. That is the first step to Solutio. You will know it when it happens. It is feeling a lock clicking open."
...
I groaned. Son of a bitch.You're supposed to put this before the exercise!
Honestly, I was starting to hate this book. Making me go through that whole 'diagram-first' setup—intended to fail—only to hide the actual answer on the next page. Yet… I was loving it too, because now I understood. It sure was a weird method to teach your readers, but it was really working.
Vibrations.
That was it. That had to be it. I hadn't been vibrating the mana in the first place, but dumping it in like water into a bucket. No wonder the coins had resisted and no wonder they'd just heated up but no signs of Solutio whatsoever.
And this was the first I'd ever heard of vibrating mana. The concept felt alien, yet obvious in hindsight. I could feel the flow of mana in my pool, surging and ebbing like a tide, but vibrating it? That was a whole new layer of control. How did you even start?
I'd practice later. Grann was already scanning the horizon, his massive frame tense with anticipation. We were close to the Tribe's encampment, and he'd been promising to introduce us properly for days. I could already picture it: a sea of young warriors, all of them Lyra's age or older, all of them stronger than her.
..More Lyras.
I groaned again, louder this time.
Meanwhile, Lyra was hunched over the scrap of parchment I'd given her, tongue poking out as she scribbled. Ten multiplication problems—basic stuff, but she was still struggling with the concept. She finished with a flourish, then turned to me, eyes bright.
"Hey, I'm done!"
"Okay." I took the parchment, scanning her answers.
Huh... She was improving. Good for her.
"Hmm… You only got two correct out of ten."
"Huh?!" She snatched the paper back, her confidence crumbling as she traced the numbers with her finger. "But I checked them!"
"You did the same mistake on all of them," I said, pointing. "You're adding instead of multiplying. See? Three times four isn't seven. It's twelve. Remember the multiplication table I taught you."
Her face twisted in frustration. "That's stupid. Why can't it just be seven?"
I almost laughed. That was Lyra, always fighting the rules instead of learning them. "Because that's how numbers work. Well, in the bright side, you actually got two of them correct! That's at least something, right?"
"TWO ISN'T ENOUGH! I WANT TO PERFECT IT!"
"Then work harder, sister." I smiled.
She huffed, crumpling the paper in her fist. "Fine. Give me more."
I nodded, scribbling another batch of problems for her to tackle. "Five more." I handed her a new paper.
She grinned, already reaching for my quill.
A few moments later, Grann and Scrotus stopped. We followed, coming to another cliff. This one not nearly as deep as the chasm I'd woken up. Beyond the purple forest below stretched an ocean of orange trees, another forest, and just beyond that, smoke curled into the sky.
I pointed. "I'm guessing that's the village?"
Grann grinned, his pride as wide as the horizon. "Yes, cabbage." He turned to me, hands on his hips. "Are you excited to meet your cousins?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Depends. Are they going to shove a finger up my butt like you did?"
Grann's laughter boomed, shaking the very air. "BWHAAHA! No, they won't..." He wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. "Or will they?"
"Ahh.." I groaned. "I don't like that answer."
Scrotus let out a deep, rumbling laugh. Before I could protest, his massive hands closed around my waist and hoisted me onto his shoulders. I yelped, my fingers clutching at his short brown hair as the world tilted. His muscles were warm and solid beneath my legs, like sitting on a living boulder.
"Cheer up, Kyro." His voice vibrated through his chest. "You'll love the tribe. I promise."
I patted the top of his head, my earlier annoyance melting. "Hehe, okay, Uncle Scrotus. Whatever you say."
But as I looked out at the distant smoke, a strange mix of excitement and dread coiled in my stomach. I honestly didn't know what to say when I got to them. In my old life, I had never met any of my cousins—only my grandparents.
And now, if Grann's teasing was any indication, they were going to be just as unpredictable as he was.
***
--Thorskil--
Saira sat stiffly on the opposite side of the table, her snow-white cloak draped over the back of her chair. Beside me, Reyna bustled around with her usual warmth, setting down a clean plate and polished utensils before our guest.
"Don't be shy now, dig in!" Reyna urged, sliding the steaming platter of poached vinegar fish toward her.
Saira stared down at the dish for a long moment. Her stoic, pale face remained completely unreadable, but a faint, haunted shadows hung beneath her soft blue eyes.
"I'm alright, thank you," Saira said softly, her voice carrying a fragile, exhausted edge. "I appreciate the offer."
"Ah, forgive us," I chimed in, rubbing the back of my neck with a sheepish chuckle as I placed a hand over Reyna's. "We didn't expect company today, or I would've prepared a full spread. How about some fresh cinnamon bread instead?"
Saira hesitated for a beat before offering a faint, silent nod.
I stood up, sliding my own warm, freshly baked slice across the table to her. Saira picked it up and took a quiet bite. For a fraction of a second, the rigid tension in her shoulders melted away. A tiny, bittersweet smile touched the corner of her lips as she tasted the sweet bread—a momentary escape from whatever hell she had just walked out of.
Reyna clasped her hands together, her warm eyes flickering between the two of us. "So... what brings the Sword God of Light all the way out to our humble farm?"
Saira swallowed her bite, setting the remaining bread down on her plate. Her eyes met mine, heavy with a dark, crushing weight that caused the cozy warmth of our kitchen to instantly turn frigid.
"I was hoping to speak with Thorskil," Saira said quietly, her tone dropping into a guarded whisper. "It is... highly confidential."
Reyna raised an eyebrow, casting a perceptive glance in my direction.
"It's alright, Rey," I began, my chest tightening with sudden unease. "We can step outside onto the porch—"
"Nonsense," Reyna interrupted gently, waving her hand with a reassuring smile. She reached over and lightly squeezed my shoulder. "It's fine, Thors. You two talk. I need to go upstairs and finish folding the laundry anyway."
"Thank you, Rey," I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
With a polite, graceful bow of her head toward Saira, Reyna stepped out of the dining room, her quiet footsteps ascending the wooden staircase.
The moment the door above us clicked shut, an eerie, suffocating silence settled over the kitchen. The sweet scent of cinnamon and vinegar suddenly felt heavy and suffocating.
"I was never told you were married," Saira broke the quiet, her voice hollow as she stared into her lap.
I didn't smile this time. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, locking my eyes onto hers.
"What's wrong, Saira? What brought you all the way out here?"
Saira closed her eyes, taking a long, shaky breath that trembled in her chest. When she opened them, her soft blue gaze burned with a terrifying mixture of grief and dread.
"I came to warn you," she whispered, her voice tight. "Something terrible is coming to Ytval."
My brow furrowed, a sudden chill creeping up my spine. "A threat? What kind?"
"An army," Saira answered flatly. "The imperial council and the regional lords are mobilizing. They are amassing hundreds of thousands of elite troops, high-ranking mercenaries, and coalition forces from all of the kingdoms' army, along with the empire's reserves, are marching directly to this farm to cut you down."
My eyes widened in sheer disbelief, my hands clenching into tight, white-knuckled fists against the dark wood of the table. My mind instantly raced to Reyna upstairs—to the quiet, fragile life we had fought so hard to build.
"When?!" I demanded, my voice raspy with suppressed panic.
"Next week," Saira replied grimly. "They are finalizing their battle plans as we speak."
"Why?!" I slammed a fist onto the table, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped beast. "Why in the hells would the entire continent send an army against me?! What reason could they possibly have—"
"You assassinated the Emperor of the Continent, Thorskil."
The world seemed to stop moving.
I froze mid-breath, staring at her in sheer, paralyzed shock. The words hung in the air like a lethal poison.
"I... what?" I stammered, confusion warring violently with horror in my chest. "I did no such thing! I haven't stepped foot in the Citadel in a decade!"
"I know," Saira said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She leaned across the table, her gaze locking onto mine with absolute, unwavering conviction—the gaze of an equal, a peer, and a true friend. "You killed him, Thorskil. At least... that is what the nobles saw. That is what the lords, the knights, and the entire realm believe."
An agonizing silence stretched between us.
Saira reached out, her gloved hand resting beside my trembling fist.
"I saw the crime scene," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the nightmare she had been carrying alone. "I know how you fight. I know your heart... I know it wasn't you."
I drew in a long, shuddering breath, the air filling my lungs as I desperately tried to anchor myself to reality.
"I can't lose this, Saira," I breathed out, my voice thick with a quiet, desperate ferocity. I gestured around the warm, quiet kitchen—the home I had built with my bare hands. "I mean this life. I can't lose it."
I leaned closer, looking her dead in the eyes. "I am done fighting for thrones and vengeance. I walked away from all of it. But I swear to you, I will not let anyone ruin the life I have built. I will not let them take away the only true happiness I've ever known."
My mind raced upstairs to Reyna, to the unborn child growing in her womb. It drifted to the Kingdom of Zintar, to Kyro and Lyra. If this army came to Ytval, they wouldn't just be coming for my head. They would burn the fields. They would slaughter my family just to make sure my bloodline was erased.
"I know," Saira whispered, her composed expression finally, tragically breaking. "I know. And I am so, so sorry."
As her mask shattered, a distinct, bitter scent flooded my heightened senses. The crisp, clean smell of ozone and lavender turned heavy and sour.
It was a scent I hadn't smelled on her in years. The overwhelming stench of agonizing guilt.
My heart sank into my stomach. The realization hit me like a physical blow. She hadn't just ridden for days out of the goodness of her heart to give me a head start.
"Oh," I whispered, the word hollow as I stared at her trembling shoulders. "You aren't just warning me, are you? You're.. riding with them. You're going to come here and kill me along with the rest of them."
"I have to..." Saira squeezed her eyes shut, a single, glistening tear finally breaking free and tracing a line down her pale cheek. "I am bound by the Oath I took for the Emperor. And now, the young Princess... little Nana... her life, her future, has fallen entirely into my hands. If I abandon the Vanguard now to side with a branded traitor, they will strip her of her protection. They will use her. I have to protect her, Thorskil. Even if it means..."
Her voice completely gave out, choking on a devastated sob. "...I am so sorry."
I stared at her for a long time. The Sword God of Light, the woman who could sever mountains with a single swing, reduced to a weeping knight chained to a burning empire.
I let out a long, heavy sigh, letting the tension bleed out of my muscles. I couldn't hate her. I could never hate her.
"I understand," I said softly.
A profound, heavy silence settled over the dining table, thick with the weight of inevitable tragedy. We were two immovable forces, bound by love for the children we were sworn to protect, destined to crash into one another.
I reached out, gently sliding the plate of another cinnamon bread an inch closer to her.
"Do you remember our first winter training together...?" I asked, my voice dropping to a gentle, nostalgic murmur.
Saira slowly opened her eyes. She looked down at the bread, wiping hastily at her cheek. A fragile smile touched her lips. "Yes... Gods, we were so young."
"We were," I agreed, a sad smile tugging at my own mouth. "I remember how freezing those barracks were. We were both so battered and bruised by the instructors that we could barely walk. But you... you used to sneak into my quarters after curfew, just so we wouldn't have to shiver through the night alone."
Saira's breath hitched, her blue eyes softening as the memory washed over her. "You were so angry back then, Thorskil. So consumed by the fire in your chest."
"And you were the only warmth that made those cold years bearable," I admitted quietly, holding her gaze.
For a fleeting, heartbreaking moment, the years of war, titles, and blood washed away. It was just the two of us again—two bruised teenagers clinging to each other in the dark, finding a brief, secret love in a world that demanded they be weapons.
I gave a slow, solemn nod. "I trained to become a Sword God so I could seek revenge. But you... you trained to be the Sword God so you could serve the Emperor."
"We always wanted different things," Saira whispered, her voice laced with a beautiful, terrible sorrow. "I chose the crown, and you chose a home."
"Yeah," I murmured, leaning my head back against the wall, watching the bittersweet memory fade back into the agonizing reality of the present. "We did."
Saira picked up the piece of cinnamon bread, wrapping it carefully in a cloth before turning toward the open doorway. I stood up and followed her to the threshold, leaning against the doorframe as the afternoon breeze swept past us.
She paused on the porch, looking back at me with a soft, quiet warmth. "Thank you for the bread, Thorskil."
"Of course," I crossed my arms, forcing a gentle, familiar smile across my lips despite the crushing weight in my chest. "I made it with care, as always."
A soft, genuine laugh bubbled up from Saira's throat—a rare, beautiful sound I hadn't heard in over a decade.
"That's what I always loved about you," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "No matter how heavy the sky gets, no matter how dire the circumstances... you always find a way to lighten the mood."
I rolled my eyes with a quiet smirk, though my throat felt tight. "Please. You were always just an easy laugh."
"Haha... right," Saira smiled softly, her voice dropping into a tender, almost heartbreaking tone.
She took a step backward into the sunlight. Then, she stopped, looking up at the second floor.
"Before I go..." Saira said quietly, locking her soft blue eyes onto mine one last time. "You might want to check on your wife."
"Huh?" My brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you—"
THUD!
An impact rattled the wooden ceiling above us, followed immediately by a sharp, ragged gasp of pain.
"T-THORS...!" Reyna's voice cried out, trembling with raw panic and agony. "I-I need help!"
My head snapped up toward the second floor, my heart plunging into my throat like a lead weight.
I whipped my eyes back toward the porch to ask Saira what was happening—but the doorway was empty. She was gone. Only a faint, lingering pulse of divine warmth—a subtle, miraculous trace of the Sword God's Authority—hung in the air like a blessing.
Saira...
In an instant, I understood. She hadn't harmed Reyna. Using her Authority, she had subtly accelerated the pregnancy—triggering the birth now, safely inside our home. It was Saira's final, silent gift of love and mercy to my family before she returned as an enemy.
There was no time to process the sheer, tragic beauty of it. Panic seized my entire body.
I bolted up the stairs, taking them three at a time as my boots thundered against the wood.
"REY!"
I slammed the bedroom door open.
Reyna was on her knees by the side of the bed, a dropped basket of folded laundry scattered around her. Her face was flushed crimson, slick with sudden sweat, her hands clutching her rounded stomach as she gasped for air.
"Thors...!" she sobbed, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the bedsheets for dear life, her eyes wide with overwhelming terror and awe. "I-I think I'm giving birth! AHHHGGH!"
My eyes widened in sheer shock. The warrior who had faced dragons, gods, and armies without flinching suddenly felt his knees go completely weak.
I dropped to the floor beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame.
"I got you."
[End]