"The question is, did you hear it too, or is it just a rumor?" Sylane Drevarn's voice was almost swallowed by the wind rolling in from the harbor.
Elric Fane, tightening the worn scarf around his neck, kept his eyes fixed on the dark waters.
"If you mean the Orlerdon and Kariso Accord… it's no rumor, Sylane. They're signing it tomorrow in the Obsidian Spire. But…"
Sylane arched a brow. "But what?"
"But anyone who knows history understands, especially when the Council of Nine Stars and the Court of Shevaris are involved, such treaties don't last a year. Both sides are ready to activate their hidden clauses the moment the ink dries."
Sylane smirked faintly. "So we're talking about the Threeblood Pact?"
"Exactly." Elric finally turned to meet his gaze. "Three bloodlines, three powers, three sacrifices. Any pact sealed with the blood of three royal houses, according to the Codex Sharvel, can be broken instantly with a Soul Key. Kariso has that key."
"And Orlerdon…?"
"Something worse, probably." Elric lowered his voice. "The Moralline House is said to have unlocked one of the Seven Soul Seals. You know what that means, Sylane…"
Sylane nodded slowly. "Unlocking even one Seal grants complete control over Class-Arcanum entities. And if three Seals are broken…"
Elric cut in. "…three Seals mean the will of all magical beings, known and unknown, in the palm of one hand."
The wind grew harsher, mixing the smell of salt with the faint stench of burned metal. Sylane fell silent for a moment before speaking:
"You know what's strange? Through all this, the Veraxia Order hasn't said a single word. No support. No objection. That kind of silence is more dangerous than a declaration of war."
Elric gave a short, bitter laugh. "Maybe they're just waiting for the rest to tear each other apart… and then they'll pick the bones clean. I've heard the Moralline heir has deciphered fragments of the First Tongue. If they manage to translate the whole text, even pacts sealed with the blood of gods will be meaningless."
Sylane drew a deep breath. "Then… we're standing at the edge of an invisible war. By the time people realize it's begun, it'll already be too late."
Above them, the blood moon rose, large and heavy, its crimson reflection painting living, shifting sigils across the waves, as if daring someone to read them.
Sylane stood frozen, feeling that if he stared any longer, he might understand their meaning… and pay a terrible price for it.
Beside him, Elric spoke without looking away from the sky.
"They've given me a mission, Sylane. To infiltrate them, Kariso. Make contact. Bring back what I learn from inside."
Sylane tore his gaze from the moon. "That means…?"
Elric shrugged, his short laugh weary. "That you've just grasped eighty percent of the truth. These two empires fear each other as much as they distrust each other. Even at the signing table, half their delegates are gathering intelligence."
"So this isn't just a peace treaty, it's a minefield," Sylane murmured, his voice almost lost to the wind. "One wrong step, and it'll all blow."
Elric nodded. "They've told me to find the Signum Aetheris, a relic lost since before the division of the Seven Seals. If one side gets it, even before breaking the second Seal, it will tip the balance completely."
"Signum Aetheris… the Sky's Emblem?" Sylane whispered.
"Exactly. And I know this isn't just some casual spy game. When the blood moon glows like this, it means one of the Seven Soul Seals has stirred. Which means… we don't have much time."
Sylane's gaze lifted again to the pulsing red light in the heavens. "Then the game has begun… and we're just two pieces who think we have a choice."
The blood moon hung high, massive, heavy, like the awakened eye of some ancient creature. Its crimson reflection rippled across the harbor's dark waters, shaping intricate, shifting lines that seemed almost alive. Each time the waves moved, the patterns bent and rewove themselves, as though waiting for someone to read them.
Sylane Drevarn stood motionless, unable to tear his eyes away. He felt that if he just stared a moment longer, the patterns would reveal their meaning to him… and that knowledge would demand a price he wasn't ready to pay.
Beside him, Elric Fane spoke, his voice low but steady.
"They've given me a mission, Sylane. To get inside. Kariso. Build contact. Earn their trust, then bring back whatever I find."
Sylane turned to him slowly. "That means…?"
Elric let out a short, bitter laugh. "It means you've just realized eighty percent of the truth. These two empires fear and distrust each other more than they'll ever admit. Even as they sign their so-called peace treaty, half of their delegates are nothing but spies."
"So it's not peace." Sylane murmured, his voice nearly lost to the cold wind. "It's a minefield."
Elric nodded grimly. "They told me to search for the Signum Aetheris, a relic lost since before the division of the Seven Soul Seals. If either side claims it, they won't even need to break the second Seal to win outright."
"Signum Aetheris…" Sylane whispered, tasting the words like they carried a shadow. "The Sky's Emblem?"
"Exactly. And I know this isn't just some simple intelligence mission. The blood moon's glow tonight, it means one of the Seven Soul Seals has stirred. And when that happens… time runs out faster than anyone expects."
Sylane's gaze drifted back to the moon. Its red light pulsed faintly, almost like the heartbeat of a living thing. "Then the game's already started, Elric… and we're just two pieces that think we have a choice."
The cold night wind emptied the harbor. Ships floated like lifeless shadows upon the water, and the sound of anchor chains echoed like the groan of some giant beast in the dark.
Sylane and Elric stood in silence until the first midnight bell rang across the city.
Elric pulled his hat low over his brow.
"From here on, we take separate paths. I have to get inside Kariso… and you… well, I know your master is waiting for you."
Sylane only nodded. "Be careful, Elric. Misread even one sign, and Kariso will erase your name, and your soul, from the records of the world before you even understand what's happened."
A crooked smile touched Elric's lips. "And you think Orlerdon treats its guests with more kindness?"
Without waiting for an answer, he slipped into a narrow alley beside the harbor and was gone.
Sylane watched the empty space for a moment longer, then turned up the collar of his navy coat and began walking toward the Highspire District, where his master's home, Lord Varchel's black stone tower, loomed over the city.
The entrance gate was guarded by two winged lion statues inlaid with gemstones. Their ruby eyes gleamed under the blood moonlight, as if weighing every movement he made.
The guards said nothing, only stepped aside when they saw the silver insignia of the Veraxia Order hanging from Sylane's neck.
The palace corridors felt like living veins, pulsing faintly with blue and green magical light. Step by step, Sylane moved deeper until he reached the master's hall.
On the high seat, Lord Varchel waited; his face hidden in shadow, only the glint of his emerald ring catching the firelight.
"You're late, Sylane." His voice was calm yet heavy, like words heard from deep underwater.
Sylane gave a short bow. "I saw Elric Fane at the harbor. He said he's going into Kariso."
Varchel paused for a moment, then allowed a slow smile. "Then the game has truly begun. And now… it is time for you, my piece, to move."
Sylane raised an eyebrow. "And that move is… exactly where?"
His master's eyes shone faintly in the dark. "To a place no one would even imagine, my son. To where the Seventh Soul Seal breathes in silence."
The silence in the hall was broken only by the faint whistle of wind through the cracks of the tall, shattered windows. The blue flames in the sconces flickered now and then, as if even fire was waiting for the words to come.
Lord Varchel leaned forward from his high seat, his voice calm yet frayed at the edges.
"Sylane… my power is fading."
Sylane blinked. "You…?"
"Every magic has a lifespan, even when it lasts centuries. I have no heir to take my place. When my final piece falls, the Veraxia Order's influence in this world will vanish entirely."
Sylane bowed his head slightly in respect, though doubt lingered in his eyes. "And why me?"
Varchel smiled faintly. "Because you are the only one who carries our blood and can live among humans without drawing attention. The others are either too powerful, attracting every gaze… or too weak, destroyed in their first contact with mankind."
"Why must I go at all?"
Varchel rose to his feet, the sound of his boots on the marble echoing through the chamber.
"Because something flows among humans that no sorcerer or otherworldly creature can touch: the Unwritten Pact of Memories."
Sylane raised an eyebrow. "The Pact of Memories?"
"Yes. Humans unconsciously pass down fragments of stories and memories they don't even know are real, generation to generation. These fragments are the key to awakening the Second Archive, the place where the roots of every pact, every power, and every lie that shaped this world are hidden."
"And this Archive…?" Sylane asked quietly.
Varchel stepped closer, placing a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "If our enemies find it, no pact, not even those sealed with the blood of gods, will protect us. We will lose everything."
Sylane whispered, "And you want me to live among humans to…?"
"To gather those scattered memories. Not as a hunter, but as one of them. You must live with them, understand their language, their fears, their dreams. Only then will the memories accept you."
For a long moment, Sylane simply stared at his master, as if still unable to believe such a burden was being placed upon him. "And if I fail?"
Varchel's faint smile faded. "Then we have all already lost.
"And remember if a person understands your true identity, kill it." Varchel said.