His story was difficult to believe, he was well aware of that. Everything that happened continued to feel more like a dream than reality. The mere existence of the burial grounds pushed the boundaries of believability, and everything afterwards was just a blur in his memory anyways.

They were sitting in front of the fireplace, in the common room. Maya and Fionna sat close to each other. The Inquisitor’s daughter had her fists clenched, and her teeth gritted. Damien was on his feet, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. Leon’s usual cheerful demeanour was nowhere to be seen as he sat on a pillow on the ground, cross legged.

Ash told them what he could remember of the events in the burial grounds, and his journey back with Inquisitor Victor. He didn’t mention the prince, nor did he mention the oracle and her eagerness to do the cleansing ritual on him.

Then, silence. It was heavy, suffocating. Did they believe him? Did they take him seriously? What was going through their minds? Ash couldn’t help but wonder, his chest tightened as he looked at each one of them, desperately hoping that they would believe him.

“I received a message from my father.” Damien spoke up, finally breaking the silence. “He did mention a Theresa, apparently her mind was completely broken by what happened in the burial grounds.” Looking down at the ground, the noble from the Northen Gate continued. “They’ve been trying to heal her, but so far none of their healers succeeded.”

Leon let out a wordless sigh, while Fionna visibly shuddered.

“So…” Maya spoke up with a trembling voice. “You and… this Theresa person are the only two who survived then?”

“They hadn’t found anyone else by the time your father and I left.” They weren’t going to find them. He knew it, if he tried to remember, he could see all of the others dead. He chose to tuck that memory away.

“I’m glad to see you’ve at least gained your mana heart.” Damien spoke up once again. “I can sense your power has grown, albeit very little. May I see?”

Ash shot him a surprised glance. How did he know? Even Ira had only noticed as she was working on cleansing his diluted mana pool. “Sure,” He mumbled as he summoned the likeness of his mana heart.

The dull, grey crystal let out a weak shine as it floated in front of his chest. It was a crude mana heart, the worst kind, the weakest kind. He should have been feeling upset and disappointed that the heart he got was so… underwhelming. Yet once again, he felt pride and satisfaction as he looked at it. Hardly visible streaks of dark purple floated within the heart, and he spied the white glimmer that was the reflection of the fireplace.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“It looks like a crude one.” Leon piped up. “But that’s quite a bit of mana, isn’t it Fionna?”

She nodded. “Usually crude mana hearts don’t have this much mana within them.” She pursed her lips as she leaned closer to take a better look at it. “It’s pretty,” She concluded a few moments later. “It’s also the same colour as your mana, so that’s good!”

Ash grimaced. He could see the pity in Damien’s eyes, and the disappointment in Maya’s expression. Leon was clearly trying to figure out something good to say about the heart, and Fionna defaulted to the only good thing about it – its colour.

It mattered not, he was happy with it. Satisfied. Deep within, he knew this was perfect, he had no doubt about it.

“Class should begin soon.” Damien suddenly said. “Professor Maple returned to teaching the day after you left,” He clarified, seeing Ash’s confused expression. “He was awfully worried about you as well. I know you’re tired still, but perhaps a bit of normalcy and a return to your routine could be helpful. Come to class with us.” The noble offered with a faint smile.

“Yeah, I’ll come.” He’d rather sit through class than sit in his room alone with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him.

*

The Spire of Kindling shone brightly upon an old man. He enjoyed the warmth of its light as he leaned on the battlements. His bright blue eyes focused down below, on the narrow passage connecting two sides of the chasm.

Dozens of his men were busy cleaning the corpses that were left in the wake of last night’s attack. Creatures, small and large had swarmed the gate, attempting to scale the walls and swarm the Empire’s lands. The corruption oozed out of them with each wound they received, and even oozed out of their corpses as the men cut them open to find their mana hearts.

He turned around, looking inside the walls. The hospital was full, so now one of the empty barracks had been turned into a secondary field hospital. His healers were exhausted, and out of mana. They needed time to recover, yet time was what they did not have.

He breathed in, then exhaled, watching his breath turn to mist. The cold season was upon the world. He scowled as his gaze turned to the empty warehouses. They didn’t have enough food. And this year, they didn’t have the manpower to send hunting groups out either.

“Father!” A stern voice reached his ear. He didn’t turn around – he didn’t need to see his son to recognise his voice. “The scouts have found another group, its not too far from the hills east of the chasm.”

“Then tonight, we fight.” He curtly replied, closing his eyes. It was too soon – they needed more time to recover. “Prepare the elites, an get some rest. You and I will step out onto the battlefield tonight.”

The other man clenched his fists. His leather gloves creaked, and his clothes rustled as he stepped closer. “I’ll fight, father, but you should remain behind the walls. It’s dangerous-“

“Do you think I’m unaware?” The man turned around to face his son. His platinum blonde hair had some streaks of white already. His eyes were the same as his, bright blue, just like their mana. “But you alone can’t hold the pass, son. I know you wish you could, but you can’t.” He raised his gaze towards the Spire. “As the light dims, they grow stronger. We need to hold, for the survival of our empire.”

“Then let’s destroy the pass.” His son suggested. “Very few of them can fly, and the pass hasn’t been used in centuries-“

“No!” His voice rang. “Do not suggest such a thing ever again!” He hissed at his son.

“But-“

“I have spoken!” He turned around and walked away.