CHAPTER 19: DIVINE REFLECTIONS

A fireball exploded against the outer barrier of Dawnhaven, causing the air around the entire city to tremble for half a second. But its shimmering dome of rustlight held firm.

Deep within the inner sanctum of the castle, steam swirled around a quiet pool of mineral water, lined with glistening rune-carved stone.

Caedrion exhaled slowly, arms draped along the edge of the bath, his head tilted back just enough for the steam to kiss his throat.

Another explosion rumbled in the distance, followed by distant cries from the watchtowers.

He didn’t flinch.

"Sometimes," he murmured aloud to no one, "I wish I could live within this pool indefinitely."

The steam carried his words upward toward the glowing statue at the pool’s edge.

Its expression was one of weeping serenity, crystalline tears running from hollowed eyes.

And those eyes were not mere stone.

Each was cut from a pale-blue crystal veined with silver. Identical, though far smaller, to the orb held in the hand of a woman thousand of leagues away, beneath the ocean’s surface.

Beneath the sea, seated upon the Throne of Submareth.

Thalassaria Virelleth sat unmoving on her throne, with the coils of her tail looped in meditative rest, the orb in her slender hands glowing faintly in the gloom.

She watched him.

Every twitch of his fingers. Every breath. The rising and falling of his chest beneath the water.

And every word.

Her long fingers caressed the edges of the orb, her scrying focus, its hue identical to the eyes of the statue in Caedrion’s personal bath.

Crafted, some whispered, from the same stone once found in the heart of the Architect’s Bastion, before it was lost to the depths.

Once, long ago, her mother had spoken of the Architect and the Abyssal walking together, not as enemies, but as builders of the world’s foundations.

That connection had been buried.

Forgotten by humans.

But not by the sea.

Thalassaria’s teal eyes glowed faintly in the deep-sea dark.

"You speak to no one, boy," she murmured, voice soft as the tide, "and yet your words reach me."

A flick of her tail.

The image shimmered, showing him turning slightly in the water, revealing part of the leylines etched faintly down his arm.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Not merely blood... not merely flame. You are more than either."

Her nails tapped the orb once.

Then again.

Each tap sent ripples across its surface, reshaping the angle of her view.

"What secrets do you hide, son of the Architect?"

Her fun was cut short by an exceptionally large blast against the barrier at Dawnhaven. One that forced Caedrion to respond.

"Can’t I have five minutes to myself? You have to do everything yourself these days..."

He did not wait another second. With a simple gesture, he shut off the water flowing from the statue’s eyes, and with it, blinded Thalassaria’s vision.

The woman tossed the orb into the water. It flowed harmlessly around her as she crossed her arms beneath her chest and harrumphed.

"Fucking tease."

Caedrion swiftly dressed and descended the staircase as shouting echoed through the halls. Aelindria rushed up to meet him, urgency clear in her breathless expression.

"They —"

She didn’t need to finish. Caedrion was already staring out the stained glass windows that lined their descent from the high spire.

"I know. Take me to Baelius... now!"

Aelindria didn’t ask how he knew. She simply obeyed, the two of them practically sprinting down the spiral staircase.

They reached an ancient room, untouched for centuries, perhaps even millennia, by House Ferrondel.

Caedrion had made it his laboratory.

Here, he and Baelius had spent weeks delving into the depths of magic. Here, they had uncovered that the Architect’s magic was far greater in scope than anyone had realized.

As was that of the nullborn.

Baelius was hunched over a small cylindrical device, forged of blackened iron and enchanted glass. Inside, a flame pulsed brightly.

Except it was not fire, not in the truest sense.

He didn’t even have time to turn before he heard the voice of the man who had given him shelter in exchange for his labor and his thoughts.

"Is it ready? Is it complete?"

Baelius sighed and removed a pair of goggles, the blackened lenses still glowing faintly with rustlight as it faded.

He handed the device to Caedrion, his voice heavy with warning.

"It is... but I can’t say how stable. If you try to channel its energy like a vessel, it could short out, or worse. It might disrupt your own internal magic. The effects could be catastrophic."

A vessel? Caedrion resisted the urge to scoff.

Traditionally, vessels were gemstones embedded with magical power, drawn upon by Magi in the heat of battle when their own mana had run dry.

But this device was never meant to be that.

And yet, now was not the time to explain.

Not while the siege raged.

He offered only a brief nod and turned to leave.

"I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, continue your efforts, my friend. If this works... the besiegers are doomed."

---

House Ignarion had sent only a token force to besiege Dawnhaven.

In preparation, Caedrion had ordered the withdrawal of all citizens living beyond the city’s walls.

Fields were emptied. Livestock were either butchered or taken by their fleeing masters.

By the time the punitive expedition arrived, meant to punish the fertile outer lands before the main host followed, they found their efforts wasted.

And so, for the past seventy-two hours, they had vented their fury on the city itself.

The barrier shook with every impact, its tight fit against the walls making each strike resonate deeper than intended.

Caedrion was tired of it.

He wanted the lands outside reclaimed. He wanted the food issue solved. Refugees rehoused. Normalcy restored.

So he had made preparations, not for defense, but for the beginning of war.

Now, he stood in the deepest catacombs beneath Dawnhaven’s castle.

Here rested a device like the one in his hand: forged of black iron, glowing with emberlight, its runes exuding the silent power of the Architect.

This was the source of the barrier’s strength. The engine that had safeguarded Dawnhaven since time immemorial.

And it still burned, even now.

Caedrion stepped forward, the smaller cylinder in his hands. He placed it into a tray, pushing the device into a waiting inlet, designed to precise specifications.

And then...

A burst of blinding rustlight.

The catacomb’s darkness fled, shadows banished beyond the mortal veil.

The engine’s luster grew brighter.

More powerful.

And then, a whisper... one he hadn’t heard a second time since his first night in this world... brushed his mind like a forgotten memory.

"So hungry... More, please."