The Arche's seven chiefs: human once, but destined for greatness. More than that, they were sworn protectors of Elystus. Agents of the Arche to deliver justice. But as was often the case, humanity proved flawed with so much power within its grasp. If the seven, four were cast from the Arche's light. Hector had assumed they were simply flung into the far corners of other dimensions. But perhaps they had always been closer than they were taught to believe.
Niko's implication takes a long time to sink in. Even Alex exchanges a bemused look with Hector, shrugging lightly as Hector raises his brow. So even Alex hadn't expected this. In simple terms, Hector understands what Niko means to say. But the audacity of the claim makes it difficult to accept. These ancient demons were once the Arche's champions? It's a heretical idea and absurd. Demons were a species unto themselves. It was outrageous. Wasn't it?
The thought is unsettling and becomes more so the longer Niko stays silent to let his audience ruminate. Hector watches as he straightens the cuffs of his jacket, demeanour no longer that of a showman. Now, he's a solemn researcher, delivering devastating findings to the most powerful people in the world. With long, deliberate strides, Niko stands beside Damien and places a hand on his shoulder. Damien glances up.
'I believe you can attest,' Niko says quietly, 'to what I've just told the court.'
For a long, searching moment, Damien studies Niko's face with an unreadable expression. Hector can't quite tell what he's searching for, but he watches as Damien slowly nods his head. With a sigh, the blonde turns back to his judges. Despite the magic pressing in on him, the sea of eyes, Damien speaks with an unwavering steadiness.
'The demon in possession of me is known as Eligor,' he begins, no longer hesitant. Even the texture of his voice is no longer harsh or grating with misuse. 'In exchange for my soul, I was offered a chance to live as well as snatch glimpses of the future. But our… bond comes with visions.' At the mention of visions, Hector flinched. Damien doesn't look at him. 'Memories, to be exact. Elinor was there during the time of the first Arche… as was the demon that attacked the city.'
'How do you know?' Niko prompts.
'They're only scraps of images,' Damien admits. Shutting his eyes, he falls quiet as he conjures forth the shared memories. 'I see a scholar-turned-warrior wielding a dagger—no, two. One in each hand. Water moves at his will; rain bends around him, the sea splits…' Damien trails off, lost in a dream. When he continues, it's as if he's watching a movie only he can see. 'The scholar stands at the foot of a mountain beside another warrior, taller than him. Above them, the mountain peak disappears into the sun. A voice is speaking, neither man nor woman…'
Rather than recite the words everyone expects to be evidence, Damien grunts as if struck. Eliav mutters something Hector doesn't catch, concerned. To his other side, he heard one of his cousins scoff. Despite himself, Hector understands. Theatrics, perhaps. They would need more convincing yet.
They did not have to wait long.
Damien's body jerks abruptly against the back of his chair, juddering the frame with a clatter. His neck, which had gone taut, cracks audibly when Damien throws his head back. It snaps to the side, left, then right, before falling forward until his chin rests on his heaving chest. Damien's breathing quickens, fingers curling into tight fists. Suddenly, an intense heat flares up from within Hector's palm, along his scar, as if it were aflame. A pained hiss escapes him as he jumps to his feet, clutching his wrist. Startled gasps flutter above the crowd. By now, no one seems to know who to draw their attention to.
Alex tugs on Hector's cloak. 'What's wrong?'
His brother has no chance to answer. The pain in Hector's hand is replaced by a loud thudding in his chest as Damien freezes mid-spasm. Then, in a single, sharp movement, Damien tugs his right arm free from its restraint. It happens so quickly that no one has time to register the snap of leather and buckle. Damien's eyes open and Hector feels the air in his lungs disappear as an immense surge of magic floods the room. Strange magic, completely unlike Damien's. It tastes like saltwater and ash, making Hector choke. Gold irises blaze as harsh as the sun against pale skin, a scowl forming across Damien's features like a severe slash. When he destroys the second restraint, the entire room hears it.
'You imbeciles insist on wasting time.'
The words are delivered with the force of a punch. Damien's voice is mostly the same, but there's an unfamiliar edge to his tone. 'If you want proof of my existence, you should've just asked to see me.' A sneering pause as he stands his way to his feet. The legs of his chair screech along the floor.
'My name is Eligor—And if you don't all get your shit together, you're all going to be dead a lot sooner than you'd like to think.'
To everyone's credit, Hector thinks, the general reaction could've been a lot worse.
Only one person had screamed, though a few had leapt from their seats. Several others began shouting in their own language and were still going. Too fast for Hector to parse, but they all sound like threats to him. Mostly, however, everyone seems too shocked to know how to react to the power radiating from Damien in a steady pulse. It's suffocating.
'—down! Sit down!' Beaumains slams his fist on the arm of his throne. 'We will have order in this hall.'
Despite his authority, he is met with great reluctance. With a skittish glance in Damien's direction, Beaumains raises his voice once more, demanding people take their seats. Damien idly rubs his wrists and yawns, mouth wide as a cat. Only Hector remains standing when the chaos settles. He grips his forearm, staring at Damien slack-jawed. Finally, Damien notices and grins. Hector shudders.
'Oh, I know you, don't I?'
'Yeah?' Hector manages not to trip over the word.
'Yeah,' Damien says. 'My host is a stubborn one. Didn't want to die down there, though he should have a long time ago. I suppose I have you to thank for that.'
There's an implication there that isn't lost on Hector. Or the rest of the room. He flushes when he feels several eyes return to him. He notices his old friend Dante, in particular. If Damien–no, if Eligor notices his discomfort, he doesn't seem to care.
Hector swallows. 'Was that your magic just now?'
'Hm?' Elinor cocks his head. Then his eyes light up with pride. 'Ah, yes. We haven't quite managed to control the transition between our states. Whenever I take over, the magic necessary overflows. This boy isn't yet skilled enough to master it–which I believe is how our friend, Andras, found us.'
'What?'
As if frustrated by the show stolen from him, Beaumains interrupts so loudly that Hector struggles not to roll his eyes. 'Explain yourself.'
Editor's brow creases as he rounds on the Seat, teeth bared. Beaumains flinched, but both Dolag and Ioule stare back. Cadieux wisely picks lint off his clothes with profound focus.
'I won't have you making demands of me as if I owe you pests for anything. I don't. And frankly, my host is a fool for allowing himself to be imprisoned here when we should've begun our hunt by now. But despite it all, I've entertained his whims and your interrogations.' The words are spilling out in a snarl. 'I will explain things to you–simply, so even you can understand. But not because I am beholden to you.'
'Please,' Niko says, uncharacteristically surprised, as if only just finding his voice.
Eligor snorts. 'You're as irritating as these bastards, you smarmy asshole.'
Hector holds his breath as Niko's eyes flash violet, but a tight-lipped smile fixes itself to his face. Eligor doesn't let him say anything else.
'As you all know, magic is tangible. You can smell it, taste it. You can even touch it somewhat. Wherever it goes, it leaves its mark. Hell, the entire world runs on it. Most magic, however, can only travel a short distance before it fades out. A metre at most, for the ordinary, spectating upstairs.' This much Hector knows. Basics. Eligor casts a judgemental eye around the hall. 'Much further for all of you down here, on the floor. Although even the most talented of you,' A sniff and a glance in Niko's direction who looks unimpressed by the validation. He already knows. 'Even his magic doesn't extend beyond this city.'
Now Niko's expression shifts, looking more pinched. This, it seems, is something he knows too. Eligor continues. 'When my magic was unintentionally released, it was doubly amplified by this boy's power. The shockwaves would have hit every inch of Thesucles and then some.'
Hector's mind wanders to the earthquakes. He had assumed it was Andras' presence. It was Eligor's instead?
'Andras would've sensed it,' Eligor explains. 'Then tracked the source of the magic to where this boy brought me.' Here, Eligor raises a hand to point directly at a bewildered Hector. 'Your friend is disgustingly sorry for your home, by the way. I'd appreciate it if you tell him to stop moping about it.'
The aside takes Hector off-guard. He can't help himself. A loud laugh, more like a guffaw, erupts from him. The sound echoes off the walls, somewhat muting the remaining unease. Strangely enough, Eligor half-smiles. The expression disappears a second later.
'You've got potent magic in this Seat of yours. Stone from the Nebul mountains… the prophets are still up there, aren't they? Andras couldn't have sensed us this time, or he'd be here by now. Still, it'll only be a matter of time till he resurfaces. He's looking for something and he won't rest until he's got it.'
Before anyone can ask, Eligor shakes his head. 'That's not even the most pressing issue right now. I had a vision. Two months from now, Adras will lay siege to a place called Reis Feste Fort.'
A collective gasp.
'I believe from all the looks of horror around me, you're all familiar.'
'It's a school,' Cadieux explains. There's a tinge of disbelief in his gentle tone.
Eligor falls silent. Slowly, he says, the words deliberate and tripping along his teeth, 'There will be deaths.'
Hector's blood turns to ice as the words pierce through him. All around him, the accumulation of magic that had been smothered by Eligor thrums with a new anxious energy that breaks through the saltwater and ash. Parents pour out premature grief and fear. Beneath that, youthful terror–and excitement.
Though the great, ancient walls held scions and nurtured prodigies, it was still a fortress of children. Not soldiers. If a battle is to be fought there, the deaths Eligor speaks of will be overwhelmingly that of the students.
'No,' Hector says, startling himself. He hadn't planned to speak. 'Why? What's he looking for?'
'A Key.' That word again. 'His Karus. That's his chief priority, though that's not what he's after at your little school. You,' Eligor gestures to Niko. 'This is your area of expertise. Tell them about the Karus. Don't look surprised–I saw this day come.'
'I'm not surprised,' Niko says, irritable. For a moment, it seems as if he has something to add. But the retort never comes. He never could resist the spotlight. With the attention back on his theories, Niko begins to recite the legends he had told the brothers in the privacy of their living room. Souls in a physical form, the indomitable bond between Maker, souls and nature. The schism. Keys to lost power. Dormant until their owners rose once more to claim them.
Back at the apartment it still had the airs of fanciful thinking. The Great Hall, wrought with history, made it all too real. The effect is lost on no one, Hector notes. Least of all his brothers. Around them, features twisted in incredulity melt into tentative disbelief before giving way to wonder.
Knowing full well that his audience had fallen under his thrall, Niko finishes his spiel with a small flourish. The notebook in his hand snaps shut like a punctuation mark.
'It's true that the Fort still holds many secrets,' Dolag murmurs. 'But to lose lives for no guarantee…'
'There's no way to confirm or locate a Karus for certain?' Ioule looks between Niko and Eligor. 'No way for us to find it first?'
'Not that I know of,' Niko admits with a shake of his head. 'Although perhaps—'
'Perhaps I know something?' Eligor had remained silent as Niko presented his discoveries, only pacing thoughtfully as he made uncomfortable eye contact with the audience. He stops now, hands on his hips.
'Do you?' Beaumains asks.
'Yes.' A scattered sound of hope. 'And no.' Disappointment. Eligor shrugs. 'It's all dormant power. There's no way to sense it the same way Andras sensed me. But they are out there because I'm still here. Mine won't awaken until it's in my hand, much like Andras' won't until he has his.'
Niko snaps his fingers. 'If we have no way to determine the presence of a Karus, then what does Andras want from Reis Feste Fort?' It takes a moment, but Hector realises that excitement has edged its way into Niko's question.
'He knows something we don't,' Cadieux answers, catching on. 'There's something there, perhaps in the archives. It's laden with artefacts. A Karus or… no. How would he know? He's found something that can detect one.'
'Bingo,' Eligor says with some approval, 'So the Seat isn't useless after all. Now, I don't know how Andras would know this for certain, but I believe I know what he thinks will be there.'
'And what's that?'
'Not what, but who? There's only one being in this dimension that can sniff out a dormant Karus other than the Arche, and trust me when I say they can't be further from the Maker than even myself.' Eligor allows himself a chuckle.
'Enough theatrics,' Beaumains snaps. 'You're not possibly saying what I think you are.'
'Oh, but I am. Beneath your shining sanctuary is a tomb,' Eligor smiles a wicked smile. 'A tomb for one of my kind.'
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