CHAPTER 129: CHAPTER 128. THE OTHER CONTINENT

Vivianne dismissed everyone from her office with a single sweep of her hand, telling everyone to get out. Once the room was empty, she guided Roxanne to the sofa and immediately settled herself on her wife’s lap, curling into her as if she belonged there.

Roxanne loved when Vivianne did this; she loved the quiet clinginess and the way Vivianne fit against her perfectly, as if built to calm her. Vivianne always seemed to know exactly how to ease her worries, even without a word being spoken.

"Now tell me," she murmured, arms slipping around Roxanne’s shoulders as Roxanne instinctively tightened her hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Roxanne exhaled, gathering her thoughts before speaking. She explained the sighting at Viscount Borough’s territory, the two massive fleets approaching their shores, expected to dock within two or three days. Ships from Aerthysia, another continent entirely.

The port in Borough territory had always been used for trade between the coastal cities and the nearby small island of Kaelindor, still part of the continent and under the empire. For centuries, it had only ever seen familiar sails. This would be the first time in generations that vessels from another continent appeared on their horizon.

"There are plenty of books about Aerthysia," Roxanne continued. "Elves, humans... nothing too detailed, nothing new. But Gerhard said the ships looked like they were being chased. And I have no idea what could drive them here."

She shook her head, frustration flickering through her scent. "There’s no information in the imperial library regarding the other continent. Not a single record. Only old sketches are available, drawings that illustrate how impossible it is to cross the surrounding storms. Nothing about what lies beyond."

Vivianne stroked her thumb slowly along Roxanne’s jaw. "And I wonder," Roxanne said softly, her voice turning thoughtful, "if the spirit kings know anything about the other continent."

Roxanne had only just finished speaking when the air shifted; Vivianne felt it before the room brightened. A faint blue glow shimmered near the window, followed by a sudden rush of cold wind, a crackle of heat, and the subtle trembling of the floorboards.

"They heard you," Vivianne murmured, tightening her arms around Roxanne’s shoulder.

Four presences manifested—grace, force, flame, and stone. Undine appeared first, her form a ripple of moonlit water. "You speak of Calonia," she said, her voice like a quiet tide. "Then you must hear the truth."

Tempest followed, swirling into existence in a coil of electric wind, crackling impatiently. "Hah. Truth you couldn’t find in any books because we... ensured it would not be written."

Afrit shows next, flickering like a living ember. His heat filled the room, soft but ominous. "Calonia bears our mark, the curse of five kings."

Last is Terranova, rising from the floor like carved granite, her voice so deep it hummed in the chest. "A curse earned."

Vivianne sat a little straighter. "What happened? Even Chronos?"

Undine’s face darkened, the surface of her shifting form rippling violently. "Long ago, Calonia was a land in harmony with us. Its inhabitants, the orcs and their kind, were strong—yes—but respectful. They lived in unity with the spirits, even if they possessed no magic."

Tempest scoffed sharply. "Until one man shattered everything. Morgulzan."

"He wanted power and everything," Afrit added, flames curling upward.

Roxanne frowned. "What did he do?"

Terranova’s answer is heavy. "The one thing no mortal may do. He sought to devour a spirit."

Both women froze.

Undine flies forward. "He desired immortality. Power beyond the limits of flesh. Calonia’s people admired strength above all else... and Morgulzan feared aging and losing his throne. He learned of an ancient forbidden ritual, one that would allow him to tear a spirit’s essence from the realm and bind it to his own."

Vivianne’s brows knit. "He... killed a spirit king?"

"No," Afrit said darkly. "Worse."

Tempest’s winds sparked angrily. "He targeted a newborn spirit. A child. One that had not yet taken form in our world."

Vivianne’s stomach dropped. "A spirit infant—?"

She had known of them since childhood, whispered to her by her mother in hushed tones before bedtime. Spirit infants were not born; they manifested as beings of pure elemental essence, taking the shape of small children when the Spirit Realms wished to speak without destroying the mortal vessel.

They appeared only in times of great upheaval, when fate bent and twisted in ways even the spirits couldn’t ignore. Their presence meant warnings, prophecies, or demands. And despite their innocent form, they are usually more powerful than any spirit king’s avatar. Because of their pure form and power.

A single touch could bless a land for centuries or reduce it to ash and silence.

"He stole it," Undine whispered. "Tore it from our realm, consumed its essence, and twisted its power into his own flesh."

Terranova’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. "That act stained him. And through him, every living being of Calonia."

Vivianne swallowed. "Is that why the land is cursed? Why won’t the storms let anyone enter or leave?"

"Yes," Undine said. "We shattered their skies, split their seas, froze their seasons, and scorched their earth, so no power stolen from spirits would ever flourish."

"And their bodies," Afrit added, "were hardened beyond magic’s reach, so they would never touch the spiritual realm again. No magic. No blessing. No healing."

Tempest crossed his arms. "Strength alone. That is all they were left."

Terranova’s voice faded into silence. "Calonia became a prison of our making—a sentence carved into land, blood, and bone. And Chronos granted them a longer span, so they might perish in the worst possible way, born of their own deeds."

Roxanne and Vivianne exchanged a glance; no words were needed. Only dread, thick and cloying, coiling around them. If that was what hunted the humans and elves, something coming out from a continent cursed by five spirit kings, a land where storms are divine punishments, where the earth itself rejected life, where even children were born beneath the weight of ancestral sin.

If such a horror had slipped past Calonia’s borders, then whatever approached Kaelindor will not be just a threat. It’ll be something relentless enough, savage enough, and unbreakable enough to claw its way out of a prison crafted by the highest spirits themselves.

What in the world had Calonia unleashed upon the seas?

-

The news Roxanne gathered from the spirit kings was too heavy, too dire, and too urgent not to be taken seriously. The moment the talk with the spirit kings ended, she summoned Red and sent urgent missives to the noble council, to the Grand Duchy of Fenclade, and to the Grand Duchy of Erevalis.

"Get the magic scrolls to send messages to everyone," Roxanne said to Red, her voice steady but the tightness in her shoulders betraying the urgency beneath.

Red bowed once, sharp and efficient, before disappearing through the doorway. Moments later, the imperial scribes were already being gathered, parchment unfurled, ink mixed, and seals prepared.

Every message bore the imperial sigil and a single line written in Roxanne’s own hand, the unmistakable script of the emperor: "Prepare the communication orbs. Convene immediately."

The magic scroll delivered itself instantly to every name inscribed upon it, slipping through space as effortlessly as a whispered command. Whether a duke was in the middle of a hunt, a councilor buried in paperwork, or a viscountess entertaining guests, the scroll appeared before them in a flash of pale-blue light, hovering until taken by hand.

No barrier, mountain, sea, or spell could slow it. Within an hour, every summoned leader had received Roxanne’s decree.

The council chamber of the imperial palace filled swiftly. Ten crystal orbs floated above the long obsidian table, each one swirling with faint, pulsing light: green for Fenclade, gold for Erevalis, red for Roderion, blue for Wyndham, and the remaining orbs shimmering in the hues of the dukedoms, viscounties, margraviates, and baronies that formed the bones and sinew of the empire.

Roxanne didn’t sit. She stood at the head of the table, hands resting on the polished surface as she stared at the orbs. She could feel Vivianne’s presence behind her, waiting.

When the lights in each orb brightened, signaling that every representative was connected, Roxanne spoke. "We have a crisis forming beyond our shores," she began, her voice steady but edged with authority. "Two fleets from Aerthysia are approaching Kaelindor. Gerhard has confirmed they bear white flags, and they do not come with hostile intent. Probably seeking refuge or help."

Murmurs rose immediately from the orbs, some shocked, some skeptical, others intrigued. Roxanne raised a hand, silencing them with a single motion.

"But that’s not what makes this urgent," Roxanne continued, her expression darkening, her voice dropping to a tone that made every noble straighten.

With a single motion, Vivianne lifted her hand. Spirit-light flared from her palm, soft at first, then sharpening into threads of memory. She wove them outward, letting her power unfurl through the chamber like a veil. Every orb flickered, resonating with her magic as she rewound their earlier conversation with the spirit kings and shared the vision with all present.

Undine’s sorrow, Afrit’s fury, Tempest’s warning, and Terranova’s judgment—every word, every truth—poured into the minds of the gathered nobles.

When the projection ended, silence crashed over the council. "And that," Roxanne said, breaking the suffocating stillness, "is what has driven the Aerthysians across the storm belt. A force so relentless that humans and elves, who have been at odds with each other for centuries and still managed to live side by side, have chosen to flee together."

Her gaze swept the council, steady and unflinching. "If a living being cursed by five spirit kings can still escape Calonia... then whatever reaches our shore will not be a plea for alliance." She paused, letting the dread settle like frost. "It will be a warning." Silence followed. Long, brittle, and uneasy.

Vivianne stepped forward then. "We are not facing a foreign power," she said softly but firmly. "We are facing something strong enough to face a divine curse and still alive. We must prepare for what may reach our shores next."