Three days later, Elysius arrived in Morsalem.

  A satchel hung at his waist, heavy with documents that could not be trusted to distance or delay. The scent of osmanthus struck him the moment he stepped onto the first floor of the sorcerers’ temple. Sweet. Overwhelming. It clung to the air as if the building itself breathed incense.

  An Elder Spiritual Sorcerer opened the door and ushered him inside.

  “Master Spellbane,” the sorcerer announced softly, “Councilman Elysius has arrived.”

  The door closed behind them, sealing the world outside.

  Cygnus sat across the chamber, writing in a spellbook. He gestured for the boy to sit and asked him to wait. Above them, runic carvings spiraled across the ceiling. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls, filled with books and vials whose liquids shimmered with dangerous allure.

  “Master Spellbane,” Elysius asked after a moment, “is magic holding steady?”

  Cygnus paused mid stroke and looked up, briefly confused. Then he recognized the question for what it was. Politeness. Ritual.

  “The magic is fine,” he replied evenly. “Thank you for asking.”

  He finished his note, closed the book, and poured tea into two cups. Steam rose between them.

  “You’ve thought this through,” Cygnus said, sipping. “This task is not light.”

  “Yes,” Elysius answered. “And besides, this is the only thing I can do right now.”

  Cygnus stood and moved to the cabinet behind him, gathering papers.

  Elysius looked down at the tea. He had seen Cygnus drink it countless times during council meetings. Curious, he took a sip.

  Instant regret.

  The bitterness hit him at once. His face tightened. He set the cup down carefully and stuck his tongue out, silently cursing the experience.

  Cygnus did not notice. He was still sorting documents.

  “So,” Cygnus asked, returning to the table, “where to next?”

  “Takamagahara,” Elysius replied, already slipping the documents into his satchel. “Then the Abyss.”

  He handed over reports from Leroy, Starmist, and Bjorn. Cygnus accepted them and began reading immediately.

  Elysius stood. Time pressed. Distance waited.

  Cygnus rose and walked him to the door. “If you intend to repeat this route in the future,” he said, “consider starting from the Highland. Then Stargate, Morsalem, the Mainland, the Abyss, and end in Takamagahara.”

  He paused. “The realm of the Elementalists is… peaceful. A fitting place to end a long journey.”

  Elysius nodded.

  Then he stepped out, rose into the open air, and vanished upward into the clouds.

  The air grew warmer. Moisture rode the wind and brushed against his face.

  Elysius knew he had entered the eastern territories.

  He descended several hundred meters from the high clouds, running across open air as if it were solid ground. Below him stretched vast forests, rolling green hills, winding rivers, and waterfalls that broke sunlight into mist.

  Birds flew alongside him. So did several airborne mythic beasts, curious rather than hostile, pacing him for a time.

  Takamagahara’s castle soon emerged in the distance.

  He landed on the open field before the main palace and started toward the steps when a loud voice stopped him.

  “Wait, Celestial boy!”

  Elysius turned.

  Susanoo approached, sake gourd in hand, walking as though the world had all the time it needed. The Storm Samurai wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Lord Susanoo,” Elysius said respectfully, gesturing toward the castle. “Is Lady Amaterasu here?”

  “Unfortunate timing,” Susanoo replied. “She’s out hunting. Hasn’t returned for days, probably hiding in a cave right now.”

  “I see,” Elysius said. “Then may I leave this with you?”

  He produced another bundle of documents and handed them over.

  Susanoo took them, pretended to read with exaggerated boredom, then waved over a Mytos soldier and passed the papers along. “Place these on my sister’s desk. Bring back anything left for the boy.”

  He took another long drink of sake.

  “Is she still angry,” Elysius asked carefully, gripping the remaining papers in his hand, “after what happened?”

  Susanoo laughed and clapped a hand on Elysius’s shoulder. “Conflict or not, she’s always angry. Don’t take it too seriously.”

  They spoke for a while longer. Eventually, several mythic attendants returned with documents from Sanctuary. Elysius accepted them and slipped them into his satchel.

  Susanoo watched him closely.

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  “You know you can’t do this forever,” the Storm Samurai said.

  “I know,” Elysius replied. “A few months, perhaps. I was hoping to meet Amaterasu. To help everyone talk again.”

  Susanoo snorted. “Problematic woman. Fine. I’ll try speaking to her myself.”

  He sighed. “If she truly leaves, who else from our faction would even sit on the council?”

  “The Shogun?” Elysius offered, genuinely curious.

  Susanoo shook his head. “He hasn’t returned yet. I’m not even sure he knows about this mess.”

  Elysius bowed and took his leave, rising once more into the sky and heading westward toward the Abyss.

  Below, Susanoo watched him go, hands on his hips.

  The boy drifted again into the open sky, running across clouds as if they were stone. He showed no sign of fatigue. If anything, his pace quickened. He wanted this task finished. After that, he promised himself rest. Maybe a quiet drink with D’Hertz on the Mainland.

  Below the clouds, the land darkened.

  Ash and smoke thickened the air. Volcanic fumes rolled upward, and flashes of molten light cut through the gloom like open wounds in the earth.

  “Why is this place always so dark,” Elysius muttered.

  The Great Empire of Abyss soon came into view, its black stone spires rising in grim majesty. He did not descend there. Instead, he veered away, toward the Ashenmaw Forest, where Lucretius’s mansion stood in isolation.

  He landed before the iron gates.

  Several ornate carriages were parked nearby, unmistakably royal in design. The sight made Elysius pause.

  When he pushed the gate open, his expression flattened completely.

  Princess Samartian stood at the entrance.

  She turned slowly, fury already burning in her violet eyes. Elysius met her gaze without hesitation, his own eyes glowing a muted gold as he walked forward.

  Neither looked away.

  With every step Elysius took, the guards stiffened. Hands tightened on weapons. No one dared intervene. If these two clashed here, the forest itself might not survive.

  Child of Light.

  Daughter of Bones.

  Their grips tightened. Elysius on his golden staff. Samartian on her jade blade.

  They closed the distance.

  Less than a meter remained between them.

  Samartian’s anger was unmistakable.

  Elysius calmly reached past her shoulder, his hand passing close enough to stir her hair, and struck a bell mounted beside the mansion door. The sound rang sharp and clear through the halls inside.

  Samartian flinched despite herself.

  Elysius stepped away from her, walked to a stone bench, and sat down as if nothing had happened.

  “What do you want,” Samartian demanded, her voice sharp as broken glass.

  “Good evening, Princess,” Elysius replied casually, eyes drifting elsewhere. “I have business with your mentor.”

  “You can’t,” she said, stepping closer. “He’s training us today.”

  Elysius exhaled slowly. “It won’t take long. I’ll deliver some documents and leave.”

  “Leave them here,” she snapped, folding her arms. “Celestials are not welcome in this place.”

  “Oh?” Elysius rested his chin on his hand and glanced at her sideways. “I’m waiting for the host to say that. Not you.”

  Samartian smiled thinly. “He may own the mansion. But I am the princess of this empire. While you stand on this land, you answer to me.”

  Elysius chuckled softly.

  “I’m really not in the mood to argue with you today.”

  “So serious,” Samartian scoffed. “Sitting with the council has drained your youthful spirit. And what are those papers even for?” She pointed at the documents resting on the table.

  Elysius’s patience thinned. “They’re confidential.”

  He stood and rang the bell again. He could not remain much longer in a place where the person who despised him most in all of All Realm stood only a few steps away.

  “What is really going on at council?” Samartian pressed. “I’ve been waiting here for two hours myself. He hasn’t come out once.”

  Elysius sat back down. “I told you. It’s confidential.”

  Her irritation sharpened into anger. “Do you think I’m a fool? I can sense something is wrong between you councilors.”

  Elysius didn’t respond. He rested his chin on his hand and stared toward the outer gate, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

  That dismissal snapped something.

  Samartian drew her jade sword and leveled it at him. “Since my mentor refuses to appear, how about we warm up instead?”

  “Princess, please,” one of the Abyss guard pleaded. “Not here.”

  Elysius raised a hand calmly toward the guard. “Relax. I won’t strike back against a woman.”

  Samartian’s purple eyes flared. She lifted her blade.

  Elysius’s eyes ignited gold in response.

  Jade met gold.

  His staff caught the jade sword with a sharp, ringing clash.

  “Wait, Princess!” Elysius shouted, genuinely alarmed. But Samartian ignored him, refusing to withdraw.

  Then footsteps crunched against dry branches.

  From behind the mansion, Morrigan emerged, moving toward the front doors.

  “General Lucretius isn’t in the rear wing either. Maybe he—”

  He stopped cold.

  His eyes locked onto the sight of his sister mid-strike against Elysius.

  Instantly, both combatants reacted.

  Weapons vanished behind their backs as if by instinct. Their postures shifted. Too stiff. Too innocent.

  “Hello, Prince Morrigan,” Elysius greeted, forcing a strained smile as his pulse settled.

  Morrigan did not reply.

  He walked forward in silence and sat beside Elysius.

  Samartian’s face flushed. Without a word, she moved and sat on Morrigan’s other side, leaving her younger brother squarely between them.

  The Abyss guards exhaled in relief. The presence of their crown prince steadied the air.

  They sat like that for nearly half an hour. No one spoke.

  Finally, the mansion door creaked open.

  Yugor, Lucretius’s Ashkin attendant, stepped out hesitantly.

  Samartian and Morrigan rose at once.

  “Yugor,” Samartian demanded, “where is our general? We’re supposed to train.”

  “I’m sorry, Princess. Prince,” Yugor said nervously. “General Lucretius is not receiving anyone.”

  “When will we train again?” Morrigan asked.

  “He has sent word to General Raidbones,” Yugor replied. “You will train at the palace for now.”

  Samartian narrowed her eyes. “And when will we see him again?”

  Yugor swallowed. “He said… he will return to the palace when he is ready to resume duty.”

  Elysius rose and handed the collected reports from the other factions to Yugor. The Ashkin bowed deeply, apologizing that General Lucretius had not prepared any report of his own.

  “It’s fine,” Elysius replied without hesitation. “Just ask him to do the same when he’s ready.”

  Samartian watched the exchange closely, her gaze narrowing as she tried to piece together what was unfolding beyond her reach.

  “I’ll return in a week,” Elysius added. “Two, at most.”

  “Thank you, Councilman Elysius,” Yugor said, bowing again. “I will make sure General Lucretius is informed.”

  Elysius paused, recalling Cygnus’s final words during the council meeting. “If he refuses to speak for too long,” he said quietly, “contact the Sorcerer Supreme. He may know how to proceed.”

  The name alone made Yugor stiffen. Fear flickered across his face. If even Cygnus failed, then perhaps Lucretius truly was lost. Still, he nodded.

  Seeing that, Elysius smiled faintly. He turned to Samartian and Morrigan, offered a formal bow, and walked toward the mansion gates.

  “Elysius!”

  Morrigan’s voice stopped him mid-step.

  He turned.

  “If you ever grow tired,” the young prince said, “and our mentor still won’t see anyone, you can stay at the palace!”

  “Morri—” Samartian blurted out, stunned.

  Elysius only smiled. He raised his thumb in thanks, nodded once, and took to the air, ascending swiftly until he vanished into the clouds.

  Morrigan watched him go from below. Around them, Abyss soldiers began preparing the carriage to return the royal siblings to the capital.

  Samartian placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Morrigan, you don’t need to be so kind to him. He’s council. Let him handle his own affairs.”

  Morrigan shook her hand off, irritation flaring. “What is your problem with him?”

  The question stopped her cold.

  Her younger brother had never spoken to her like that. Not in defense of anyone. Especially not someone outside their faction. Usually, it was Morrigan who bore her anger.

  “He needs a teacher too,” Morrigan continued. “Just like we do. Father always said we must be kind if we want All Realm to truly accept us.”

  Samartian’s expression hardened. “You may be kind to anyone you wish. Any faction you like. But not him.”

  “Is that because he’s Celestial,” Morrigan shot back, already turning away, “or because he’s better than you?”

  He climbed into the carriage without another word.

  Samartian stood alone.

  Her grip tightened around her weapon as she stared up at the sky where Elysius had disappeared.