Chapter VII
Descended…from the mages of Cansi?
The being calling itself The Angel had already been throwing everything Nigreos Noctis believed into question, but that last sentence left him utterly speechless, only able to gape at the copy of himself sitting in the hot spring not far from him. Album was also stunned by that absurd claim, and as The Angel glanced between the two of them, a slightly amused smile turned the corner of its lips, as if it was pleased with their reactions. When nobody spoke, it went on.
“Something clear to me is that when the civilizations of Cansi fell apart and the apocalypse descended upon them, those with the means of escape fled to adjacent realms,” it explained. “You have stated that realm travel within Ijiria is very rare due to how few of these daggers you have, but back in Cansi, it was not so challenging. Those who realized the end was inevitable and who had the means of traversing the multiverse simply gathered their families and belongings, then departed. They settled down, reproduced, and passed their advanced mana production down to their descendents.” The Angel chuckled smugly. “Pure Ijirians only evolved access to the most simple of affinities, so if the two of you can produce dark and light mana then your ancestors were from Cansi.”
“B-but…?” Nigreos stuttered, finding that not even the calming effects of the pocket realm were helping him process it all. “So then…what you’re trying to tell us is that we’re descended from a civilization that until just minutes ago we didn’t even know existed? And we’re just supposed to take your word for that?”
The Angel shrugged with mild disinterest. “To be blunt, I can’t say that I care whether you believe me or not. It makes no difference in the end, but it is the truth. It’s why I’ve decided that you two would make the best hosts. Why downgrade to the levels of the Ijirians when I can retain some of my Cansi nature?”
Despite having already decided it would be better to avoid looking in Album’s direction while they were naked, Nigreos couldn't help but spare a glance at his friend, wanting to try and see what she might be thinking about the matter. However, even though there was a clear strain in her features, there was also an undeniable excitement, as if Album not only believed what it was saying, but was also prepared to give it what it wanted and become its host.
Taking a deep breath, Nigreos returned his gaze to his copy and, in a sharp voice, demanded an answer to something that had been on his mind. “And what exactly do we gain from this, huh? What benefit is there to taking this risk and giving you what you seek?”
The Angel grinned with satisfaction, as if expecting and hoping he would ask that question. “Well, I’ve already said this to the little light, but if she helps me, I can cure her mana deficiencies and not only bring her up to your normal levels, but perhaps even give her the potential to surpass your average mage.”
“Surpass?” Album muttered, her eyes going wide. “You mean that? I know you said you could cure me, but—”
“How?” Nigreos interrupted. “With all due respect, that sounds far too good to be true—like you’re just saying what she wants to hear to manipulate her. Why would you be able to fully cure a condition our most practiced healers couldn’t?”
The Angel snorted. “Because I am not Ijirian and thus, I am not limited by your inferior bodies and your lacking knowledge. Her condition is that her cells produce mana far too slowly, but they still function, don’t they? Your healers are trying to fix something that is not broken, and if it is not broken then there is nothing to heal. What you need to do is simply increase production, and so I will use my magic to do so. Simple as that.”
Simple as that, huh?
Nigreos didn’t like that one bit, and it frustrated him that he was struggling to take it all in due to the relaxing haze that had settled over his brain ever since he arrived. His protective instincts for Album were the only reason he was able to think somewhat clearly, but he felt that The Angel was still successfully manipulating her.
“As for you, Son of Darkness, perhaps I could aid in your research to heal your little sister?”
The dark mage exhaled sharply, having not been prepared for such words and finding himself put off by the knowing look in its brown eyes. Instantly, Nigreos was on his guard, but he couldn’t deny the hope that had suddenly sprouted up in his heart.
“How did you know about Neah?” he demanded, though his tone lacked the sternness he had desired.
The Angel chuckled. “I’ve always been able to read the surface level thoughts of those around me, but within my domain, I can prod even further inside of you. I know that your little sister is dying and that her time is short, and having gazed into your memories, I have a good idea of what is happening to her. Her body cannot handle the dark mana being produced, and since it is such a violent type of mana, it's tearing her apart. Truly, I pity the girl for having to live like that.”
“So what?” he spat, feeling an uncomfortable shiver go over him. “You know how to cure her, too? Is that what you’re saying?”
But to his surprise and disappointment, it shook its head. “No, unfortunately Hell’s Shadows was not a condition found in Cansi, or so far as I can recall. After all, almost everybody in that realm could produce dark mana, and those who couldn't tended not to try.”
Nigreos furrowed his brow, not fully understanding its meaning. “But…you said the Noctis can produce dark mana, so what makes Neah different? I thought this was just a condition that all dark mages have the chance of developing?”
“No, it is not,” The Angel told him. “If I had to guess, the Noctis who immigrated from Cansi probably kept their breeding specific to those who were like them, but as time passed and the Cansi heritage was lost to history, they probably started having children with Ijirians. Am I right to assume that is the case?”
“Er… Well, yes,” he confirmed. “My mother’s from the south, close to Krato.”
The Angel nodded. “As I expected. You see, Son of Darkness, the ability to produce certain types of mana is a dominant trait. So long as one of your parents can make dark mana, the children will absolutely be able to. However, even if one can produce dark mana, it is not a guarantee that their body will be able to handle it. Ijirian cells did not evolve to withstand the ferocity of dark magic, and every now and then, a Noctis will have been born with the ability to produce it but a body that can not handle it. Your sister is one of those, and to be honest, a cure may very well be impossible, for she does not have a disease. The issue is an innate mismatch between her mana and her cells.”
“You…don’t think it can be cured?”
He felt a stab of terror in his chest the second he heard those words, and for the first time since the conversation began, he was grateful that the pocket realm was keeping him relatively calm. Had he been told such a thing in the outside world, he might not have been able to keep himself together.
“But then…” Clenching his teeth, Nigreos shook his head. “What the hell are you offering? If there’s no way to help Neah, then why would you say you could cure her!”
“I did not say I could cure her,” it retorted. “I said I could help you research a cure. I would imagine having a being like me would highly increase the chance that we could find a way to help her, yes? So in exchange for becoming a host, I will do everything in my power to help her live a long and happy life.” The Angel then glanced between the two children of Noctalus, spreading its hands out before it and raising its eyebrows. “So what’s the verdict? Are you willing to help me?”
“And if we refuse?” Nigreos snapped before he could think any better of it.
“Then I eject you from my realm and we go our separate ways. I do not intend to force you to do anything.”
Slumping his shoulders and leaning back against the smooth stone wall of the hot spring, Nigreos turned and gazed up at the deep blue of the sky, allowing the warmth of the sun to beat down on his face and sooth him.
My instincts are still telling me to be cautious of this thing. Album and I know next to nothing about it, and it's offering us exactly what we want. Like I said, it’s almost too good to be true, but…
The sweet and innocent visage of Neah appeared in his mind, smiling up at him as if she was the happiest girl in the world despite living her life in constant pain, its end always just barely on the horizon. He swore on everything that he would do whatever it took to save her life. It was why he worked his ass off to get to the Academy and to claim first rank. It was the true reason he sought to join the royal team, and it was his most important goal in life. If Neah died, then no matter what he accomplished over the course of his time alive, he would always consider the life of Nigreos Noctis to be a failure. Just that night, he had confided all of this in Abigail, and with her help, he had begun to believe he might just have a chance.
So if I had both her and The Angel working on this, there’s no way we would fail, right? Yes, it might be manipulating me, and I might come to regret it, but if it's for Neah, then I can’t just pass this up! I know I can’t! I’ll live the rest of my life wondering if I missed my greatest chance! What the hell should I do?!
“Nigreos?” came the soft call of Album’s voice, and he realized that she hadn’t spoken in quite some time, leaving him wondering if she had been lost in her own contemplations as well.
“Yes?” he replied without looking down.
Her answer was instant, and it was the most confident thing he had heard from his old friend in a very long time. “I’m going to take this chance. Fixing my mana production would make it so that I won't be a burden on you or the team. I can pull my weight. I can ensure that an incident like orientation never happens again. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m going to take this risk. I’m willing to strike this deal.”
Taking a long and deep breath, Nigreos tilted his head and gazed at Album to find her features tensed with determination, and despite his own internal conflicts, he knew he couldn’t allow her to do it alone. They didn’t know what The Angel would do to them, and that was what terrified him, but Album made her choice, and so indirectly, she made his as well.
“Fine then,” he muttered with a weak sigh. “I’ve always said that for Neah, I would walk through hell. I guess it's time to make good on those words.” Nodding to himself, Nigreos made eye contact with The Angel and scoffed. “Go ahead then. Take what you need. Just cure my sister.”
The Angel grinned with amusement, as well as with what might have even been relief. “If it’s in my power, it will be done.” With that, it then extended its hand and motioned towards the water around them. “Submerge yourself fully into the spring and then allow me to take it from there. However, I will warn you that the process is not pleasant. You will not be harmed, per se, but you may see things you would wish to remain unseen. Prepare yourselves.”
“Lovely,” Nigreos grumbled, wondering what the hell it meant by that. Unfortunately, he had already made his decision, and so whatever it was he would be seeing down there, he would simply have to grit his teeth and bear it.
“Whenever you are ready,” The Angel said, and for a second, Nigreos and Album exchanged one final look, silently wishing each other good luck, before they ducked down and submerged their heads beneath the waters.
The second all of Nigreos’s body was under, everything abruptly changed. The sunlight that had been flowing down to them was gone along with the surface of the water, leaving him floating in an endless void of darkness. Strangely enough, he could see his body without issue, though he wasn’t sure if that was because of his dark affinity or a part of The Angel’s domain, and he realized quickly that he could still breathe. He also attributed his current lack of panic at this sudden void as being due to the effects of the pocket realm, but before he could properly get his bearings and wonder just what he was in for, he heard the sound of a baby crying. He instantly frowned, for the sound simultaneously seemed to be coming from off in the distance, but also from within his head, and as he frantically looked around, the scene had already changed a second time.
Despite still feeling as if he were floating in water, the void had been completely replaced by what seemed to be a bedroom. Instantly, Nigreos’s eyes went wide. He recognized this place, for it was his parents’ room back in Noctalus, and there on the massive bed was his mother, Nium Noctis, appearing much younger than she currently was, with the source of the crying laying in her arms, wrapped in a bundle of blankets with its head against her chest.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Standing beside his mother and the baby was his father, Viiro, arms folded across his broad chest and his eyes gazing down at the child. His features were as neutral and unreadable as always, giving the impression that he wasn’t currently staring at his own son—like it meant absolutely nothing to him. However, being as familiar with his father’s tendencies as he was, Nigreos knew that he didn’t often let his emotions show, and that deep inside, he must be feeling some sort of joy or pride. After all, Nigreos knew without having to be told that the baby was himself, so Viiro Noctis must feel something at the birth of his first born and heir.
So is this what I’m in for? The Angel’s going to force me to witness my past? Why? What does this achieve?
“In order to properly become my host, I must understand every facet of what makes Nigreos Noctis who he is, thus we must experience those critical moments together.”
Despite not having expected a response nor sensing its presence anywhere nearby, Nigreos was nevertheless unsurprised when The Angel spoke.
“Is that so?” he grunted with a soft smirk. “Well then, this shouldn’t be so bad after all. My past may not be perfect, but it’s certainly nothing I can’t handle.”
“We shall see…”
The scene below him shifted, and Nigreos found himself curious to know just how many visions he was going to witness. The next sight presented to him was already around nine years in the future, so clearly The Angel had no interest in his early childhood. It was a simple yet joyful image of a nine-year-old Nigreos running around the grassy courtyard of the palace with Lunara, who would have been seven at the time. They were smiling and laughing, leaving him unable to hold in a smile as he recalled those simpler days. Off on the edge of the courtyard, sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket was Nium and a four-year-old Neah, who was sitting in her lap enjoying a sandwich as she watched her siblings play with wide and innocent eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he would witness this particular vision, but a part of wished it would never end.
And unfortunately, it not only ended, but was replaced by something he had never wanted to see again—a sight that had haunted his nightmares since it happened. A blood-curdling screech echoed out over the halls of the palace as the young Nigreos and Lunara stood pale and shocked as Neah writhed on the ground, her body being ripped open by shadows that were clawing their way out from within. This was only a year after the previous scene, so Neah was only five, and Nigreos vividly remembered the feeling of powerlessness as he thought his sister was about to die. He hadn’t understood anything about Hell’s Shadows so he didn’t know why Neah was being hurt like that. Since he was only ten, he didn’t know the proper magic to save her, and so he could only shout out desperately to his sister,
“Luna! Go find Healer Ryre! S-she… She must know what to do!”
Despite being so young, Lunara snapped out of her own shock and did as he begged, turning on her heel and sprinting away while Nigreos dropped down and tried to do anything. Viiro had already taught him a little bit of dark magic, so he pressed his hands to her small form and tried to connect with the shadows, hoping to bring them under control, but a ten-year-old could only do so much when it came to an affinity as challenging as darkness, and all he had to show for his efforts were numerous bloody cuts created by the trashing shadows.
“You and your sister did act quite well for your age,” The Angel commented beside him. “If Lunara had brought your healer any slower, Neah would have died that day. Of course, you know this…so rather than blame yourself for failing to do something a child could never accomplish, you should be proud.”
Nigreos shook his head. “Don’t think I’m not aware. Logically, I know I couldn’t have done anything else…but sometimes, logic just isn’t enough. All I know is that I watched my sister nearly die and couldn’t do a damn thing…”
The Angel didn’t respond, and to Nigreos’s relief, the scene vanished. Yet, when it returned, a sickening feeling twisted his stomach, and he couldn’t help but breathe, “No! Not this one…”
His younger self was standing just to the side of a slightly ajar doorway, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes blankly staring at the ground as he listened to the words of the two individuals on the other side: Viiro and Nium Noctis.
“Viiro, please!” his mother was begging. “You’re the Master of Darkness! There has to be something you can do for her! The resources in the Citadel have to have something we can use! If we don’t cure her, she’s going to die!”
But Viiro just scoffed and irritably snapped back, “It’s not as easy as that! This condition has been in my family for centuries and nobody has ever found anything! As far as I’m concerned, it’s incurable! As harsh as it may be, Neah simply drew a bad hand and there’s nothing we can do to change that! The best we can do for her is make the few years she has left as pleasant as possible!”
“So that’s it then?!” Nium shrieked furiously, causing both the young Nigreos and the current one to wince. “You’re not even going to try to save her?! You’re going to let our daughter die?!”
“I’m not going to explain it to you a second time!” Viiro retorted sharply. “I work myself to the bone at the Citadel to make our city and our family prosper! I’m always taking assignments and doing as that damned king needs for the benefit of Noctalus! I do not have the time to waste on a lost cause, Woman, and you have no right to demand it of me when you hardly understand what it is I do for you! Neah is going to die and I cannot change that!”
“YOUR DAUGHTER IS DYING, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!”
“I AM NOT GOING TO WASTE MY TIME FOR A CHILD I NEVER INTENDED TO HAVE!”
Yet again, Nigreos flinched at the cry of pain that came from his mother, and he knew without looking that Viiro had hit her.
“In two days, I’m returning to the Citadel,” the Master of Darkness went on. “We will do our best to make Neah as comfortable as possible in the coming years, but I will not sacrifice the interests of the Noctis family for an incurable disease, and especially not for a child we do not need. Nigreos will inherit the position of Master and Lunara will take over the city. Neah only exists because you begged me not to have that pregnancy terminated, and I listened. I will not be listening to your foolish wishes a second time so do not bring it up again.”
“I…” His mother’s voice shook with what sounded like a mixture of rage and agony. “I hate you.”
“I do not desire your love. I desire your cooperation.”
The scene ended, and for a few seconds, Nigreos was back in the dark void, floating in silence as that confrontation echoed through his head. He felt sick and wondered if he’d have thrown up had he been in the real world.
“Earlier tonight, you told Abigail that your father was doing his best to help Neah. You told her that he hasn’t forgotten her.” The Angel cocked an eyebrow and regarded him curiously. “Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t.” The words had left his mouth before he even had a chance to consider them, already rattling off the excuse and the reasoning his younger self had concocted way back then. “Father was drunk when he said those things. He was emotional and panicked, so he drank too much and lost control. He cares about Neah. He’s helping Neah. I know he is.”
“Did you see him drink anything?”
“No, but he must have!” Nigreos spat, rounding on The Angel with his fists clenched. “There was no reason to have to see that moment! It’s irrelevant! My father cares about his children! He didn’t mean any of it!”
It sighed with what might have been disappointment. “You don’t believe that. I know you don’t. You're making excuses for a monster, Nigreos.”
“Shut the hell up! My father is not a—!”
Cutting off his protest, the world changed again, and when Nigreos glanced back down to the sights below him, his words caught in his throat. Back when he was thirteen, Viiro had brought him to an average-sized village about a day’s ride from Noctalus where a mercenary gang of rogue mages had slaughtered the leadership and taken control. Viiro went to put the uprising down, and it was there that Nigreos first witnessed the true power of dark magic.
Down below was that very village, an hour after sundown when the shadows had just come out. There had been eight mercenaries that first confronted Viiro, who stood alone, and not a single one of them even came close to scratching him. The darkness of the night itself turned upon those mages, the black shadows entering their bodies and tearing them apart from within, causing flesh and blood to scatter across the street. They couldn’t very well fight the air itself, and in a matter of seconds, these relatively strong mages were turned into bloody lumps of meat and bone while Viiro hardly moved a muscle.
“Do you see, Son, just how superior our magic is to all the others. In the dead of night, we might as well be the reaper himself, for few could survive even a handful of seconds against us. Someday, you will be able to accomplish these feats as well.”
Nigreos’s lips tightened, for he clearly remembered what he had thought in that moment, those words flashing through his head. I never want to do what I just saw. He butchered them… In mere seconds, those human beings were destroyed beyond recognition. That was horrifying. Dark magic is evil. He’s…
“He’s a monster,” The Angel finished, as if reading Nigreos’s thoughts. “You bore witness to the truth of your affinity and you sought to turn away from it. Viiro Noctis is a monster. Dark mages are monsters, and you sought to not follow in their footsteps. Yet somehow, you’ve gaslit yourself into thinking Viiro is some respectable and honorable man. What went wrong, Son of Darkness?”
Nigreos didn’t reply, having no idea what he was supposed to say, so The Angel chuckled and went on.
“Let me spell it out for you, since you seem to have gotten confused somewhere along the way. You do not seek to follow in your father’s footsteps. You do not wish to be his successor. What you want to do is save your sister because Viiro Noctis has no interest in doing it himself. Your father has already abandoned Neah to her fate like the cruel bastard he is, and if not for Neah, you would not seek to be the Master of Darkness either. But it's a necessity! Without the resources of the Citadel, you could not hope to cure her, so you’ve worked yourself as hard as possible to join Ilirianna Iiji and to succeed Viiro because it is all you can do. Am. I. Wrong?”
“O-of course you are,” Nigreos uttered, but it lacked conviction, and The Angel only snorted.
“Then we shall continue.”
***
The first handful of visions that Album Luz bore witness to were surprisingly happy given the ominous warning The Angel had spoken, though when she watched the scene that took place not long after her birth, she couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the expression of utter joy on Acostav Luz’s face as he gently caressed her cheek. As far as she could remember, her father had never done anything so affectionate, and it kind of took her off guard. Yet at the same time, it gave her a sense of comfort knowing that there had, in fact, once been a time when her father had gazed upon her with the same love he had for Eko. It made her hope that, someday, he might see her with that same pride again, for it would mean that somewhere along the way, she had become the daughter he sought.
“Is that really what you want though?” asked The Angel, who watched the scene from right beside her. “What would his acceptance actually bring you, Little Light? Why do you feel the need to appease a man who has never given you any reason to care about his opinion?”
Album wasn’t surprised by the question, though since it had already proven it could read her mind, she was certain that it already knew the answer. For whatever reason, it wanted her to speak it aloud, and she had no issue doing so.
“He’s my father,” she said, as if that explained it perfectly.
The Angel frowned. “And?”
“And that’s it. Is it so unnatural for a girl to want her father to love her? To accept her?” Album smiled warmly at the sight below, loving the expressions on her parents’ faces as they cradled the sleeping baby. “I understand that he’s a very unforgiving and cold man, but a person in his position has no choice but to be like that. To survive as the Master of Light… To be born into the family of erasers… One must know the importance of those responsibilities. I will inherit the erased realm someday, and Father knows I am not yet ready. He may be harsh, but he is not incorrect. I hope…” She laughed softly. “I hope that someday, he will consider the erased realm to be in good hands.”
“Hmm… Perhaps…”
The Angel didn’t press the matter, and they watched as a couple of other scenes from her childhood played out. She saw herself playing with Eko, Nigreos, and Luna. Even Neah joined them at times, though she was very young when her condition first surfaced, so there weren’t many instances where she could join them. Nevertheless, those four were all like siblings to her despite Eko being the only one related by blood. Before her training truly began, Album experienced the happiest days of her life, and though she longed to return to such a simple era, she knew that was impossible.
It was when she was in her early teens that Acostav began to train her in light magic. Before that, she spent most of her time studying the history of her family and the erasure powers—the powers to alter the very fabric of reality and change it into something else. Before she was ten, Album understood the ability thoroughly, and though the origin of that magic was lost to time, the meaning of wielding it was still very much known. The plan was for her to properly start learning to use the magic shortly after starting at the Academy, but her inability to cast light magic left that plan quite uncertain.
Since Acostav was Master of Light and lived primarily in the Citadel, Album didn’t interact with him much, and he wasn’t a loving or affectionate person to begin with, so she never considered herself all that close with him. Even so, she had hoped that learning to use light magic would bring them together and allow her to have a proper father for the first time in her life. But when Pinner’s Syndrome first surfaced and Acostav realized she was unable to use her magic the way he wished, their relationship became strained.
“Pull yourself together, you idiotic child!” her father roared, grabbing a fourteen-year-old Album by the face and forcing her to stare at him. “If you can’t even cast a basic attack spell like Luminetta then how the hell are you supposed to do anything advanced?! A Luz who cannot use our ancient arts is nothing more than a failure!”
She was scared of her father.
Whenever in his presence, she trembled and pulled into herself, afraid that he might be about to hit her again. When he was displeased, he got violent, and had healing magic not erased the evidence, she would probably have a few scars at that point.
“And yet you still seek his love?” The Angel inquired. “A father who was never there for you, and who blames you for your body’s inadequacies… One who would harm his only daughter because she cannot meet his high expectations… You would still seek to appease him?”
“I would.” She shook her head. “He has a right to be disappointed in me. There are ways of counteracting mana deficiencies and I failed to master them. I could have been better and yet, I was not. However…” Turning to gaze at the clone of herself that was The Angel, Album smiled confidently. “Perhaps you thought seeing all of this would be hard for me, but instead it’s motivating. Show me what you like, Angel, and when it's over, fix me. If you do that…” Glancing back down at her younger self and her father, Album hoped that this was the turning point she had been seeking all her life. “Then I can start to get to where I want to be. Keep them coming…”
True to her word, the visions never broke through, and no matter how many conflicts between her and her father that The Angel showed her, Album simply used them to convince herself that they would never take place again.
By The Angel’s word, when she returned from Hiriech, she would have all the mana she needed.
I’ll be the daughter you want, Father. Just hang on a little bit longer…