The village of Arenath is a fascinating, almost overwhelming place. Since our arrival here, I have had no negative experiences—at least none directly related to the Areni or the village itself. Except, perhaps, for my unthinking outburst when Arinor placed his hand on my shoulder. It was never my intention to embarrass this kind man, just as he had no intention of stirring old fears within me. Yet the shadows of the past are persistent. How long will the memories of Lord Louweris cling to me? Will there ever be a day when the pain no longer holds power over me?
“Here is your cool refreshment,” Neriselle announces with a warm smile as she steps into the cozy dining area where we were led upon our arrival. The hospitality of the Areni is remarkable. “It may seem unusual to serve freshly pressed juice instead of hot tea in this cold season.”
“It certainly takes some getting used to,” Sylas agrees after taking a sip. “But we know that the conditions in Arenath are different. We are happy to adapt.”
Curiosity overwhelms me, and before I can stop myself, the question bursts out: “Why do the Areni have those strange golden lines on their faces?”
Sylas’ eyes widen, but I only notice it when it’s already too late. Neriselle has clearly not missed my tone either. Her brow furrows, and she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. The foolishness of my words dawns on me instantly, yet there is no way to take them back.
“It is common knowledge…” she begins, a hint of surprise in her voice, “…that we Areni are connected through our Sand Veins. These lines allow us to use our powers at any time within the village.”
Her words hit me like a wave of realization and shame. I had not considered how natural this knowledge must be here—or how hurtful my careless question might have sounded.
Moreover, in her eyes, I am also an Elindine who should have known such information since childhood. Neriselle eyes me suspiciously and leans back in her chair.
“Vespera recently lost her memory,” Sylas quickly interjects. “My father Zyar, the Legate of Elements, and I only just found her in the forest near Solnya. She was completely disoriented.”
“By Nairis Solthea’s Sandstorm!” Neriselle exclaims in surprise, clapping a hand over her mouth. “The son of the esteemed Zyar Velqorin is visiting Arenath, and I have the honor of serving him in my home!”
“Zyar Velqorin, you say?” comes Arinor’s voice as he approaches us. “Young master, Sylas Velqorin! How could I not recognize you?”
“Sylas is more than enough,” he replies coolly. That Zyar is the only Legate of Elements undoubtedly gives the name Velqorin weight. But unlike Crown Prince Yula, who is used to constant attention, Sylas seems to have little enthusiasm for being in the spotlight. “Yes, my father is Zyar Velqorin, the Legate of Elements. On his orders, I am traveling through this region—with my fiancée Mirael Strömert and Vespera.”
“The fish from the 'Die Strömende Flosse' are exquisite!” Neriselle exclaims enthusiastically. “Gisela has often given me several whenever we came to Solnya for a delivery! Dear child, please send my regards to your mother! I haven’t visited her in the past days because our deliveries have been temporarily paused. She’s surely waiting for my visit!”
The brief flicker of sorrow on Mirael’s face does not go unnoticed. Neriselle knows nothing of yesterday’s events, yet her words must feel like a stab to Mirael—especially here, in the home of an Areni so familiar with her mother.
“You must understand, Vespera…” Sylas suddenly begins, abruptly changing the subject, “…the Areni are people who wield the gift of Sand Magic. The golden lines of their Sand Veins have been with them since birth. These veins connect them to the special sand in Arenath and to each other. That’s why outsiders cannot enter the city unnoticed. As they age, the Sand Veins move: first appearing on the face, then at the wrists, further down to the thighs, and just before the end of life, they show at the ankles.”
Arinor nods in agreement and proudly adds, “We Areni may not live as long as our neighbors, but we take joy in the certainty that the deeper our Sand Veins travel, the closer we are to the end of our journey.”
That explains why I hadn’t noticed the so-called Sand Veins on these two Areni. Arinor mentioned that their neighbors enjoy long lives, but I recall Sylas saying the Solniw have a life expectancy of about 120 years. Arinor must have meant those neighbors on the other side of the fjord! The ones Sylas and Mirael are so determined not to speak of.
“These neighbors…” I say with an intentionally confused expression, playing my role as the Elindine with memory loss perfectly. Maybe I can turn this lie to my advantage. “Do you mean the Solniw?”
Neriselle and Arinor exchange a shocked glance—the same expression Sylas and Mirael had shown. What is going on? Every time these so-called nameless Elindine are mentioned, everyone reacts as if they’ve seen death itself.
“Vespera must be suffering from severe memory loss,” Sylas says with a nervous laugh. “She seems to have forgotten that in Elindros, people prefer not to talk about our neighbors.”
“That’s right,” Arinor agrees, nodding seriously. “Dear Vespera, if Sylas and Lord Velqorin found you in the forest, there is a high probability that you fled from that village.”
“No, she definitely did not come from that village,” Sylas quickly interrupts, waving his hand dismissively.
“Yes, her appearance doesn’t match at all,” Neriselle adds, nodding repeatedly. “That white hair…?”
Sylas’ eyes widen, but he remains silent. Instead, he seeks out Mirael’s gaze for help, but she too seems at a loss. Neriselle and Arinor exchange a glance—and then burst into loud laughter.
“Children are so easy to deceive these days,” Neriselle says, amused, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “We knew who Vespera was from the very beginning.”
“Who are you?” Sylas asks, his formal choice of words making it clear that the relationship between us and the Areni has just fundamentally changed. “How do you know about Vespera?”
His gaze lingers on me, watchful and tense. He senses the emerging threat. The Areni may not have known my name, but they must have recognized my appearance instantly. Is it because of my white hair? Or did my appearance not play a role at all?
“You surely know the village of Syvralen,” Neriselle finally says, focusing her eyes on me. “I would be happy to explain, Vespera. The village of Syvralen possesses a unique gift—the ability to see visions. What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential and must not leave this room.”
“Do you trust us so much that you would share this secret?” Sylas asks, skeptical.
Arinor points a finger at me and says, “It is the vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda that we trust. Eighteen years ago, three moons were seen in Elindros. And as we Elindine know, the next vessel is female and a Losniw. Why the previous vessel died so soon after being named the Ninth Vessel remains a mystery. But my wife and I immediately knew that the time of revelation had come.”
“What do the Syvrali have to do with this?” Sylas asks, the only one daring to speak. “And how did you recognize Vespera?”
“The white hair is unmistakable, even from afar,” Neriselle explains admiringly as she looks at me. “The tenth and final vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda. The completion and revelation.”
Aetherion had explained to me during our first encounter that my mother, Isilyn, was actually supposed to be the ninth Vessel. But since she passed her task onto me, I am now the ninth Vessel. There must be a total of ten Vessels for the Sonatius Mortaeda to separate from the Losniw. If the Areni believe I will bring the completion, they clearly do not know all the details. This could be a crucial advantage for me, as it is unclear whether these two Elindine can even be trusted.
"Within the Syvrali, there has been a group known as The Red Vessels ever since the agreement between Eldralith Entium and the Sonatius Mortaeda,” Neriselle explains. “For centuries, they have used their powers to aid the vessels on their journey. They have visions of the future and share them with them.”
“But don’t the Syvrali lose a piece of their lifespan with every vision they prevent?” Sylas asks, shocked. Neriselle nods in agreement. “So these Elindine willingly risk their lives?”
“It is an honor to live and die for the pact,” says Arinor, and his wife nods. “Even though we are not Syvrali, The Red Vessels accepted us into their organization. We have dedicated our lives to accompanying the Tenth Vessel on its path. We have been waiting for the fulfillment for so many years.”
“What is this fulfillment?” I ask curiously. It’s the first time since our arrival that I dare to speak up. “Why was The Red Vessels founded in the first place?”
“Our founder, Master Rhegaara Xilvaren, had her first vision at the age of only twelve,” Neriselle reveals with reverence. “In this vision, she saw how the First Vessel came into contact with the Primordial Being for the first time—a massive, formless, and faceless monster. The Syvrali are aware of the power of their gift and the consequences that come with it. But even at that young age, the Master recognized how significant this vision was. Since the Syvrali live at the very heart of Elindros, their journey to Losnat was not a great challenge. When she arrived at the village—at a time when entry was still easy under the rule of Keldor Entium—Eldralith Entium had already taken on the role of the First Vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda.”
Neriselle takes a sip of her steaming tea and clears her throat briefly. “The Master entrusted Eldralith with her visions, even though she knew the risk she was taking. Eldralith recognized that she could trust the Master, for she was willing to sacrifice her life for her.”
My gaze drifts to Sylas. Though he is not a Syvrali, he too has agreed to sacrifice his life for mine at any moment. It is fascinating how many Elindine and other beings are involved in this pact. Just Eldralith Entium’s decision alone has upended so many lives. According to Zyar’s stories, she felt a connection to the Sonatius Mortaeda. But why did she choose to serve the Primordial Being as a vessel? What led Eldralith to take this path?
When she saved me from the Sualtier in Solnya, I had the chance to meet her. Eldralith Entium... the very first vessel. The beginning of a bond that has lasted half a millennium.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“What does this mean in regard to Vespera?” Sylas asks cautiously, standing protectively at my side. “Are you planning to act like Rhegaara Xilvaren? But as Areni, you do not have the gift of visions!”
Arinor nods in agreement and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re not wrong, young man. Just because my esteemed wife and I were accepted into this organization does not mean we hold high ranks. On the contrary: We are devoted servants of those who have followed in the footsteps of our Master, Rhegaara Xilvaren.”
Rhegaara Xilvaren... another Elindine who dedicated her life to a single cause. How many more sacrifices will it take before this nightmare ends? Why does everyone fear the Sonatius Mortaeda so much?
If I am its Ninth Vessel, I should finally meet it. Why is it taking so long? If it truly possesses such great power, it should be able to find me effortlessly! Even Zyar can only speculate on this matter.
“So your current Master can help me fulfill my role as a vessel?” I ask curiously, leaning forward. “This Syvrali will give her life just as I give mine for Elindros?”
“Correct!” Arinor responds proudly. “Master Lyssanthe Velmoris will accompany you on your path. She has already had her first vision of your meeting with the Primordial Being.”
“This Syvrali can tell me what steps I need to take to fulfill my role?” I ask again, as the whole thing seems almost too simple.
The idea that my path as the Vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda could be so straightforward is something I never would have imagined. The Areni are also foreign Elindine to me, and yet I was able to trust Sylas and his father immediately. I won’t let this opportunity slip away.
The two Areni nod confidently. “Alright,” I say resolutely. “I will seek out this Syvrali. Sylas, how long will it take us to reach this village?”
Sylas thinks for a moment before answering: “Syvralen was not part of our planned route. After Arenath, we were headed to Velsoth, the village of shadow mages, and then to Thalvaren to discuss our next steps. However, between Thalvaren and Syvralen lies the village of Kaelithar.”
“What is special about these Elindine?”
“The Kaelithari are extremely peaceful Elindine,” Sylas explains while Neriselle smirks—she must have encountered them before. “They serve the king, as all villages in Elindros do, but they have a special task: tending to the king’s wounded soldiers.”
“The king’s soldiers?” I repeat, confused. “Why would the king need soldiers if all of Elindros is under his control?”
“Traitors lurk everywhere,” Arinor interjects. “Be it in the Nexari or beyond the Eternal Sea.”
“The Eternal Sea has existed since the beginning of time,” Sylas explains, noticing my confused expression. “Over the centuries, there have been attempts to cross it, but even the strongest Solniw, who can control water, have failed against its powerful currents. The king is currently focused on the agitators within Elindros, but for centuries, the Feroy Dynasty has been preparing for a possible battle against the unknown.”
At that moment, I am overcome by a familiar feeling—one I have experienced before: the longing for adventure... for the freedom of life. The other side of the Eternal Sea remains unexplored. Yet my presence in Elindros is of great importance. So many Elindine dedicate their lives to this purpose—and thus, to me. I cannot disappoint those who believe in the Vessels of the Sonatius Mortaeda.
“Then it’s decided,” I say firmly, looking at the two Areni with a serious expression. “Can I trust that The Red Vessels will not betray me?”
“Of course,” Neriselle and Arinor reply in unison. Arinor takes the lead. “Master Lyssanthe Velmoris is already expecting you, Vespera.”
“So you knew about my arrival in Arenath, didn’t you?” The question comes unexpectedly—even for Sylas. He looks at me, startled, clearly not having anticipated such a conclusion. “Your Master prepared you for this day.”
Arinor lowers his gaze and eventually nods. “Forgive us for deceiving you. We would have preferred to tell you right away, but the Elindine from Losnat are not welcome in Elindros. And then you are also the vessel of the powerful Primordial Being... We had to be careful.”
“I understand,” I say, looking at Sylas. He nods at me in agreement. “We should leave soon.”
“Enough of this!” A sharp voice cuts through the tense silence. Mirael, who had remained quiet until now, abruptly rises to her feet. “Why should we follow your orders? You filthy Losniw still don’t know your place!”
“Your mother would be deeply disappointed to hear you say that!” Neriselle looks at Mirael in shock. “You cannot speak to the Vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda like this! Your mother surely raised you to be a kind-hearted Elindine—but right now, I am truly angry with you!”
Mirael laughs mockingly and slams her hand on the table. “Then go ahead and tell my mother how awful her daughter is! Since when can the Areni speak with the dead?!”
Silence. Neriselle freezes. The weight of those words hits her like a blow. Her gaze shifts to Sylas, then to me.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers, shaken. “What happened?”
Mirael points at me without looking me in the eye. “Your so-called savior of Elindros is to blame!”
“Mirael, stop blaming Vespera!” Sylas retorts angrily. “You know just as well as I do that this ambush couldn’t have been prevented. How many times do we have to have this discussion?”
“And you know just as well as I do that this Losniw should never have set foot in our village!” Mirael’s voice trembles with suppressed rage. “The Sualtier picked up her trail – and our own people had to pay with their lives last night!”
“The Elindine from Cata Sualti made it all the way to Solnya?” Arinor furrows his brow and turns to his wife. “Who sent them?”
Sylas shrugs. “I’ve been trying to answer that question for hours – but not a single answer makes sense.”
“How many have fallen?” Neriselle asks quietly, sinking heavily into a chair.
Sylas shakes his head. He doesn’t know the exact number, only one name: Gisela Strömert. And maybe… the one person he saw buried under the rubble.
“The Sualtier, of all people…,” Neriselle murmurs with disgust. “The worst kind of Elindine. They have murder in their blood.”
My thoughts drift to Kira, Morrik, and their daughter Lyara. They, too, dreamed of a world without war – and yet they were caught in the hatred Mirael projected onto them. They became victims of another Sualtier’s actions.
The human world, the Nexari, and Elindros… As different as they may seem, they share the same flaw: greed, hatred, and envy drive them all.
What is the vessel’s purpose?
Am I meant to bring peace to Elindros? There hasn’t been a vessel for the past 18 years – and yet things haven’t improved. Chaos reigned here long before I was born.
I never found my place in the human world. Elindros has always been my home. I want at least this place to change.
I will be the savior the followers of the Red Vessel believe me to be. An Elindine who, with the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda – a primordial being unbound to Elindros – restores balance.
That should… be possible.
“Let’s not waste any time,” I say resolutely. “The Sualtier could already be on our heels.”
Arinor and Neriselle exchange a glance. Without another word, Arinor moves to the door, pulls back the curtain, and peers outside.
“You’re right,” Neriselle says grimly. “They’re standing at the gates of Arenath. They’re looking for a group of three Elindine – two girls and a boy.”
“Damn,” Sylas growls. “Those parasites… How do we get rid of them?”
“Leave that to us.” Arinor gestures to a door in the back of the house, and Neriselle nods. “There are only a few Sualtier. Either the others have withdrawn – or they’re lurking somewhere.” He looks at Sylas seriously. “You must protect Vespera at all costs.”
Sylas nods.
We follow Neriselle through the door into the covered garden. She takes off her shoes, steps down from the wooden floor into the sand – and then it happens.
The grains begin to glow. They rise into the air, swirling around her like moths drawn to light. And before Neriselle, a tear in the air opens, a portal that grows larger and larger.
“Go through,” she says with a determined gaze. “You’ll emerge outside the village, near the forest. From there, you must go to Velsoth. I wish you luck, tenth vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda.”
She does not say my name.
To her, I am not Vespera. Just a means to an end.
Without another word, I step through the portal – and find myself in the middle of a desert.
“Where are we?” I ask, bewildered.
The entire landscape is shrouded in sand. The sun blazes at its highest point. On the horizon, another portal shimmers.
“Is this an illusion?”
“My father told me about this,” Sylas murmurs thoughtfully. “The Areni created this place – Nisareth, the Sand of Souls – to hide their source of power here.”
“You really do know a lot, my beloved,” Mirael whispers, casting me a scrutinizing look. “Without you, this journey would surely be much harder.”
Sylas smiles sheepishly and nods.
Is she trying to prove something to me? That he is her fiancé?
There’s no need for that.
What I once felt has long since faded. And that… is a good thing.
So I let her negative energy roll off me. I understand that Mirael harbors a deep resentment toward me – after all, I truly am responsible for the death of her mother and all the other Solniw. No matter how often Sylas defends me or takes my side, I can’t ignore reality. This guilt will forever weigh on my shoulders, and the kindness of Mrs. Strömert will haunt me for an eternity.
I was thrust into a dimension I hadn’t even known existed until recently. The Elindine have awaited my return – hoping that my existence will bring the peace the previous vessels failed to achieve.
“I am so happy to be your fiancée,” Mirael gushes endlessly. Sylas unexpectedly halts and looks at her intently.
“What’s wrong, Sylas?”
“Mirael, that’s enough,” he says wearily, sighing softly. “This journey is a serious matter. I’ve already told you that you need to keep your emotions in check. Your behavior in the house of the Altherin family was inappropriate. The Areni who welcomed us may have seemed kind to you, but we cannot place our trust in every random Elindine we meet. And yet – in your unbridled anger – you revealed the confidential information that the village was attacked last night. Do you even realize the damage you could have caused?”
Mirael falls silent. Her eyes widen. She hadn’t expected this reprimand from Sylas. And she doesn’t know the answer to his question.
I watch them in silence, hoping the situation doesn’t escalate. At the same time, I realize that Sylas can control the temperament of the Solniw with startling ease. One controls water, the other lightning – a strange twist of fate. They are a danger to each other and, at the same time, an unstoppable force together.
Mirael and Sylas… What were they like as children? And does he truly love her? Or is it only gratitude toward Mrs. Strömert that binds him to this engagement?
“I… I didn’t know…” Mirael’s voice is uncertain, overwhelmed.
“Of course, you knew!” Sylas hisses.
A gentle wind sweeps over the desert sand. Until now, I had never seen a desert, let alone imagined standing in the middle of one.
“Since the Sualtier attacked our village—have you seen Vespera kill anyone? Have you seen her drive a bolt of lightning into someone’s chest? Burn a woman’s face beyond recognition? HAVE YOU?”
Sylas’ anger finally erupts. I knew his patience would eventually snap. After all, he is the son of Zyar Velqorin. I wonder what kind of woman his mother was.
But his words hit the mark. I hadn’t considered it from this perspective before—but he’s right. Mirael blames me for her mother’s death, and yet she has three lives on her conscience.
“I…” Her voice falters, and her gaze meets mine. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you find it amusing that he’s yelling at me right in front of you?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I cross my arms and watch them both, baffled. Mirael didn’t expect to be reprimanded by Sylas.
“Mirael, that’s enough,” Sylas says now, his voice calm but firm. “This journey will determine the future of Elindros. If you continue to take every opportunity to speak ill of Vespera, I will have you sent home as soon as we reach Thalvaren.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Mirael exclaims, horrified. “I am your fiancée! Why would you send me back and continue the journey without me? Why?”
She falls silent for a moment, glancing at me before turning back to him.
“Do you love me?”
Sylas’ expression remains serious. “Mirael, this isn’t about love. It’s about survival.”
He shakes his head. “In the forest, you let your anger control you. Because of that, three Elindine died. Damn it, even if they were from Cata Sualti – they only wanted to live in peace. Just like we do. I promised your mother I would marry you, but that promise comes from my gratitude toward Mrs. Strömert.”
He hasn’t answered her question directly. And yet, his response says everything.
Has Sylas ever had real feelings for her? Or has it always been just a promise he kept out of duty? Then why did he worry so much about her in the cave? Was it simply his caring nature?
Mirael seems to interpret his words the same way I do. Her smile is weak.
“Very well,” she says quietly. “Once we reach the kingdom, I will have myself escorted home. Forgive my anger—but I will never be able to forgive the Losniw or the Sualtier. And the fact that you cannot understand my pain… that shakes me to my core. But I get it: She wasn’t your mother. She was mine.”
She lowers her gaze and walks toward the portal.
Sylas remains standing, stunned. Apparently, he has never seen Mirael so defeated. Maybe it’s because she gave in so easily—something completely uncharacteristic for a Solniw.
I walk past Sylas. Only when I leave him behind does he seem to snap out of it.
Without a word, we step through the portal.
We’re back in the forest, this time facing a path leading out of the thicket. The portal closes behind us.
We had originally planned to spend a night in Arenath. But the Sualtier ruined that for us.
And now I’m certain: Many more incidents will follow that will make our journey even more difficult.