After dropping Natsuki home and leaving her with a kiss—and a promise to return as soon as the weights of his world allowed—Damon stepped into Woewyn.
The sun was high. The morning light hit the spires of the castle with a blinding, clinical brightness. Damon paused, his brow furrowing. Hmm? Isn't it supposed to be night?
He walked quietly into his room. Daichi was already awake, sitting by the window and watching the horizon. He turned as Damon entered, his expression flat.
"You took all night," Daichi said. "I thought you said you'd be back before I knew it."
Confusion bathed Damon's face. "I didn't take all night. I mean, I did... but it shouldn't be all night for you. Barely any minutes should have passed here."
Daichi hopped onto the bed, his tail flicking. "Just say you missed Natsuki so much you decided to spend the night. It's easier than lying about the clock."
"Something is seriously going on here," Damon muttered, the exhaustion from the portal-jump fading into a new kind of tension. "Daichi, let's go pay Mom a visit."
Daichi hopped onto Damon's shoulder as they headed toward the throne room.
The chamber was already crowded. To the right, the Generals of the Suited Ones stood in rigid formation, including Larros Korrin. To the left stood other Generals of the Natural Knights with Caerion, Serenya, and Solaren. Damon's tutors were lined up like statues of judgment, though he noticed Cythera was absent.
The Queen looked at him from the throne, her sapphire eyes narrowing. "Where have you been all night? I checked your room, and Daichi said you hadn't arrived from Earth."
"I don't understand what's going on," Damon said, standing his ground. "I spent the night on Earth, but barely any time should have passed here. It should still be night here."
Tolrex came down the left stairs, a heavy book tucked under his arm. He fixed his glasses, his eyes darting toward the floor for a split second. "I guess it has become aligned again."
The Queen turned to him. "What do you mean, Tolrex?"
"Well... time became different for Earth and Eternum years ago. The only explanation now is that the two planes have aligned. Time on Eternum has returned to the rhythm of Earth."
A low mutter rippled through the room. The Generals exchanged glances.
"Why has this happened? And why now?" Damon asked.
Tolrex flinched, a subtle movement that suggested he was holding something back. "Oh, well... I don't know. But this has to be good news for you, right? Your lover on Earth doesn't have to wait a week before speaking to you again."
I turned eighteen and time changed, Damon thought, his eyes tracking Tolrex's nervous shift. What a coincidence.
The Queen spoke, her voice cutting through the mutters. "This time dilation has only ever happened once. Let us hope that now it is aligned, it stays that way. Normality has been restored to Eternum, I will send a letter to the other kingdoms regarding this. But we have bigger problems at hand."
She looked at Damon and Draven. "You both fought Velmira. I don't necessarily need you to stay for this briefing. You may excuse yourselves if you wish."
"Really? Oh, well—"
Damon stopped. He felt the weight of several stares. His tutors were looking at him with the gaze of death. Even Draven's eyes were cold.
Why is he looking at me like that? Damon thought. He doesn't even need to be here.
"I'll be staying," Damon said, correcting his posture.
The Queen gave a satisfied nod. "Very well. Let us begin."
She gestured with her hand, leaning back into the throne. "Thorpax reported that the bodies of the enemy are missing. Velmira had approximately one hundred thousand men in this war. Even though I have no idea how she planned to defeat us with such minuscule numbers, the problem remains: we can only find ten thousand."
She turned her gaze to Larros Korrin. "General Larros, I believe I promoted you and placed you as the leader in charge of other Commanders for the Suited Ones. What report do you have regarding this matter?"
Larros stepped forward, dropping to one knee. He pressed the back of his fist to his forehead and bowed his head forward, in the traditional salute. "Your Majesty. The only reasonable explanation is that the missing men were part of the casualties. As we know, the scale of destruction was..."
He felt the heavy stares of Bravira and Thorpax.
"...was more than required. Not all of us Suited ones can form blasts, and those that can cannot achieve destruction on that scale. The bodies were likely vaporized."
"That is true," the Queen admitted. She looked toward the left. "Caerion. I left you in charge of the Generals for the Natural Knights. Your warriors have the potential for such destruction. Please, tell me the bodies were part of your work so we can dismiss this."
Caerion came forward, mirroring Larros's pose. "Forgive me, Your Highness. Thorpax brought this to me earlier and I questioned the soldiers. Even if we assume some were vaporized, we would find remains. Ash. Bone. But truth be told... it is as if the ninety thousand were never there in the first place."
He paused, his face etched with hesitation.
The Queen tilted her head, resting it on her fist as her elbow dug into the arm of the throne. "Caerion. Is there anything you are leaving out?"
"Apologies... this makes no sense, but... on other parts of Woewyn, people are getting sick from the waters. Sickness is rarely a thing but, is it possible that—"
The Queen raised her palm, silencing him instantly. "No. I do not even want to think of that possibility."
Daichi leaned toward Damon's ear. "What is she talking about?"
I don't know, Damon replied telepathically. But if I had to guess, it has to do with the Atlantians.
So you have been listening in history class, Daichi muttered telepathically.
Obviously also using Eildon. But it makes no sense for ninety thousand bodies to be dumped in the water. Why would a Woewyner do that? And the enemy were all dead, so they couldn't have done it themselves.
The Queen stood up. "Thank you all for your attention. I appreciate that you put your lives on the line for this kingdom. Your struggles and sacrifices will not be forgotten."
Every General and soldier bowed low. "For Woewyn and for the Light that refuses to die!"
The Queen gestured for them to leave. As the room cleared, Solaren walked past Damon, reaching out to flick his forehead with a sharp sting just to anger him before disappearing through the doors.
When only the tutors, Tolrex, and Damon remained, Varnex stepped forward. "You really don't think it's possible?"
Thessa said nothing. She walked toward the grand glass design behind the throne, watching the sunlight play across the floor. "No. The sickness should be temporary. It isn't logical for bodies to be dumped into the waters."
Thorpax and Draven exchanged a look, as if replaying centuries of shared, bloody history in their minds.
Bravira walked up to the Queen's side. "Thessa. It isn't logical. But if it is true, we would have angered the Atlantians. We would have to prepare for another war." Her voice dropped an octave. "We have not spoken of or to them in centuries."
Damon looked around the room. The air was colder than it had been when the Generals were here. The air in the room felt strained, stretched thin by a fear he didn't fully understand yet.
Why does everyone look so worried? Damon asked himself.
He turned to Daichi. I think we have a special history with the Atlantians.
Daichi looked at the grim, silent faces of the most powerful beings in the kingdom. "You think?"
The next day, Damon was in class with Cythera, both of them positioned in front of a canvas. The teacher sat before them with his own work, an old man with white hair, white beard and glasses that seemed to be held up by a thin rope. He barely spoke, quietly hummed. His face was focused with an admirable obsession on the unknown he hoped to make known to his entire class.
Quiet music played in the background. It was obviously his style.
"I know you might not enjoy the auditory art of an old man," he said, his voice as dry as charcoal. "But the task is to channel your current thoughts onto the canvas. This should be easy, yes?"
It was a rhetorical ask. The class simply painted on as a silent response.
Damon leaned toward Cythera, whispering as he handed her a circular device. "Tolrex gave us this in the briefing yesterday, we can talk telepathically with it. Why weren't you there?"
Cythera took the device, her brush never stopping. "I was busy. Training. In the waters. I didn't know there was a briefing."
She stopped painting for a moment, looking down at the palette in her hand with a sudden, heavy sadness. "Your mom… The Queen probably thinks I'm not strong enough, so she gave me time to rest. I don't want that."
Damon looked at her, then continued painting Daichi on his canvas. "Well, I don't see any problems with having rest times, Cythera. You might be as strong as my other tutors but… if you grow up too fast, don't you think you'll miss your childhood a bit too much?"
Immediately after the words left his mouth, a girl in the class dropped her paint brush. The clatter was sharp. She apologized to the class as she scrambled to pick it up.
Silence stretched for a while, excluding the old man's musicals. The teacher got up and he faced the girl. "Can you tell me who an artist is?"
She looked up at him. "Yes."
The man took off his glasses and laughed. Then he said:
"An Artist is a mortal capable of creating an immortal icon. Art could be an act, or a representation of humans defying oblivion. In this class, you will take care of all your tools as if they were the life of the thing you love the most. Why? Because, all humans will die, though when our icons live on we will be remembered, but our tools will be forgotten. So take care of them while you remember them."
And as if it was planned, the same girl vomited right in front of the man.
"Are you alright, child?" The teacher asked with concern.
A boy nearby couldn't hold back his laugh, and as if life planned to retaliate, he vomited too. Other students followed in a chain reaction. Then, Cythera's face turned sick, and so did she.
The teacher shouted, asking what in the world was going on. Damon grabbed Cythera, asking if she was okay. The teacher commanded that everyone who felt sick should head to the bathrooms.
Almost every student left. Damon watched them go, thinking to himself: These guys… these are the guys with very little Eterna. Most of them are at the high end of the Spark stage. But why is Cythera vomiting then?
Cythera gripped his arm. "Follow me."
"What? I can't go to the toilet with you," Damon said.
Cythera's face turned even more sick. "There's no time for that. Besides, all the girls would want you there."
"No way," Damon replied.
He took her instead to an abandoned crypt in the forest within the school area. She doubled over, the sickness racking her body. Damon seemed concerned but less after she seemed calmer. He stood back against the old wall, with a teasing smile on his face.
"Are you pregnant? 'Cause all the other guys that were affected seemed to be low stage, but you're on the high end, so..."
Cythera, still bent over, shifted her hair to look at him. "If I were pregnant..." She created a small burst of water to clean her mouth and gently spat it out. "...then you're the father."
Damon coughed as if he chocked on air. "Could you not say stuff like that when you're vomiting."
"Relax. Well... you're the only guy I'm with all the time, so—" She vomited again.
Damon moved in, using his wind to hold her hair up for her.
"So people would say you did it," she gasped. "Am I wrong?"
Damon simply looked at her. "I was only joking. But I can't be the only guy you're around all the time, am I?"
Cythera washed her mouth again with her conjured water. "You are. I always avoided people, to be honest. They seemed to annoy me one way or the other. You annoy me… in ways that don't make me annoyed. I suppose that is because…" She paused for a long while. "You are my best friend."
Damon looked at her, his mind wandering. I am the only person she is around mostly. Unless we count Mirea and Lior... n' Rika. "I guess I do know you best," he finally said. "C'mon. Let's get you home and figure out what's going on here."
He brought out a flat card and his Aethersprint Runner formed out of it. Cythera whispered a thank you as she entered, and Damon nodded. "No worries."