Aftermath

The sea, which was now unfrozen, moved calmly against the shore. The miniature sun was gone from the sky, leaving only the grey sky.

Everyone was silent.

I stood in the center of it all, my whole body just there. Across from me, the vampire lords were full of fear. Lord Morvai and Albescu, the servants. It looked as if they saw a real monster.

Roman was on one knee, still gasping for air from Gilbert's attack. His clothes were torn apart, and the locket was burned against his skin.

Eden was pushing herself up with a trembling arm, her hand still broken. Her face was full of shock.

Gilbert was the only one who seemed to have a normal reaction. A focused gaze.

Then Lord Varnhame broke the silence. With a slow, deliberate movement, he stepped away from the other lords. His eyes moved from Conall's corpse to me and finally to the sage.

He raised a hand. "The meeting is over." He declared it to everyone here. "The duel is concluded. The threat of war is ended; humanity will still be the same." That last line was said directly while looking at the sage.

He looked at Conall's body with sadness. "The House of Winfield," he said, his voice carrying across the clearing, "has paid the price for its transgressions."

Gilbert scoffed, already beginning to gather energy again. "Ended? Old man. This whole thing just became even more intriguing."

His eyes locked on me; however, I saw in his eyes that it was horror. A frantic, chaotic storm of lines was around him.

I stepped close, my feet echoing on the stone. Then I turned my head up at the flying sage.

"Gilbert," I said. My voice was calm; it felt strange. "What are you so afraid of?"

It wasn't a taunt. It was a simple question.

Gilbert didn't say anything; the chaotic storm of line around him disappeared.

He didn't answer.

He simply stared at me. His expression was calm on the outside. Then, without another word, he turned. The air is warped around him. And he flew away, vanishing from the island.

The moment he was gone, the oppressive weight lifted from the island. With a gasp, Roman collapsed fully onto his back.

Eden let out a sigh, trying to regenerate her broken hand. Their fears are slowly disappearing.

Then Lilith stood behind Eden. She had appeared without saying anything. Her eyes were fixed on Eden.

She knelt.

Lord Varnhame watched and then slowly nodded. "The last of the line remains. The Winfield house continues.

Eden looked up at Lilith, her expression one of surprise. She had just watched her brother kill himself and fought for her life, and now the weight of the house was setting on her shoulders.

She let out a sigh.

The three of us gathered in the scriptorium, the same room where Conall had declared his intentions to us. Rain started falling slowly, purifying this land of what had just happened.

The Varnhame servants started a fire to heat everyone around the cathedral until everything calmed down. So we just sat there looking at it burn.

Roman sat slumped in a chair, the golden locket still on his hand. He looked around the scriptorium.

Eden was wrapping her hand in cloth.

I sat opposite them, watching the fire burn.

Then Lord Varnhame opened the door, walking in slowly. Most other lords were already gone and didn't want to wait or recover from anything. So he decided to take care of their servants until then.

He gave us each a glass of red wine. putting it in front of us.

He smiled, then took a sip.

None of the others drank from their glasses. Roman spoke first, his voice hesitant. "Taro... what... what are you?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "It just happened."

Eden looked at me with her red eyes. Seeming to remember the first time this also happened. Then she also asked something that was on her mind. "When you touched Conall, what did you do?"

"I cut something," I said, trying to describe it. "A line that was wrapped around him. The ring just told me to do it. It was the same when I opened the Ars Notoria and the ritual of the duke."

Varnhame set his glass down in surprise. "Ars Notoria?"

I nodded. "Conall had it. He said it was a magical item."

The old man's eyes opened wider. "Conall had the Ars Notoria? In their mansion?"

"Yes," I replied, confused. "Why?"

"That book," Varnhame breathed, his voice laced with a sudden, deep worry. "The Ars Notoria... It was supposed to be a legend. It should've been sealed by the elves in the first age, locked where nothing could escape. It was never meant to be out."

"What is Ars Notoria?" Eden asked, finishing tying cloth over her hand.

Varnhame looked at me. "It was our foolish, arrogant ancestors... They wrote it to summon the unknown." He took a deep breath; the fire sound continued. "The Ars Notoria was a lure, a light to attract cosmic entities. From beyond our world, they hoped to attract one, trap it, and use it for power."

Then, the pieces clicked into place. The ring hadn't been reacting to the book's magic but to what the book was designed to attract. Conall must have come into contact with the Wonder when he first found it. But how did he find it?

Varnhame continued, "It seems that somehow its seal was broken, or someone stole it. And something had come to that light."

Roman shook his head and then put his hand through his messy brown hair. "Everything is so complicated. I will have to write one hell of a report after this." Roman laughed to himself. "I didn't expect Gilbert to come here. This isn't the first time I've met him, but I am not sure why he is like that. He's a sage, so you'd expect a certain pride. But he acts as if the world owes him an apology for his own existence."

Varnhame looked at Roman, then picked up his glass again. "Because in a way, he does. Do you know about his birth?"

Roman looked at Varnhame and shook his head.

"At that time. Solfrid Froste, his father, was away at a battle. When he returned, he was eager to see his wife, who should've given birth to a healthy son. He rushed, but as he got closer, there was no sound. Varnhame took a sip. "He opened the door... His wife, the midwives, the servants, the guards... They were all gone, like they never existed. All that remained were their guts and parts everywhere."

Roman stopped trying to imagine the scene as he looked at the ground.

"And in the center of the room. A baby sat, giggling. A perfect, beautiful infant with a faint golden halo above his head. Clapping his hands together in delight. Varnhame listened to the sound of the rain outside for a bit. "Gilbert wasn't born a sage," Varnhame said, his voice low. "He was born a catastrophe. The most powerful magical being this world has seen in centuries."

He looked at Roman with pity in his eyes. "His entire life has been a battle against his own power. He has to suppress himself to not destroy everything; in a way, I feel sorry for the young lad. His emotions are so suppressed that, if a flick of them shows up and they're not released, he will become a true monster."

Varnhame laughed. "Even today, with all his might. The man who was about to erase an island... He was holding back."

None of us said a word. The sound of rain continued, and I touched my finger where the ring had been. But I had a smile on my face.

It was over. I looked at Roman; his lines were just as I had seen them before. Gold. The color of a good man.

My eyes shifted to Eden.

My smile dropped. And I started to hear my heartbeat getting faster.

I saw the deep red line of her soul.

But at the very end of the line, where it should have been clean, something was wrong.

It wasn't a new line coiling around her soul like it did with Conall. So it wasn't influencing her.

But it was worse. A single part of her soul was turning into that same sick yellow.

It wasn't bigger than a thumb, but I could see it with clarity.

It wasn't gone. It wasn't destroyed when I tore it from Conall.

It was reconstructing itself.

And it was changing the lines of Eden, slowly. Turning yellow. It wasn't trying to use her for anything.

Eden is a spawn for Wonder.