2410 Strilaxis 06, Kindreth

Conflicting thoughts clashed in Nyxis's mind during his walk down the archives after emerging from the dungeons. Xalim's sentiments echoed in the chambers of his brain with every step he took but only one triumphed above all.

The Helgase family isn't the real ruler of Cardina.

Nyxis tapped a finger to his chin just as the dark hallways inside the Palace's walls gave way to a familiar corridor leading to the archives. If they weren't the rightful rulers of Cardina, then who was? What happened along the way that placed his family on the ruling dynasty? Why did it matter now?

Moreover, why hasn't anyone mentioned it until now? If most of the Commons knew it like Xalim did, why didn't they fight to bring back the previous dynasty back to the throne?

Something dawned on Nyxis. Was that why the King staged the purges and targeted mainly half-bloods? They were the most powerful asset of the human territory and should the humans require their help for a coup, they would most likely succeed. The Civil Knights and Guards combined weren't that much of a force to reckon with, not when against an army of half-bloods who reportedly could level entire plains with their unlimited access to all kinds of magic such as the maxia spells, escuira spells, and the most disastrous rysteme spells.

Was that the scenario the King, and all the previous Helgase kings, were trying to avoid?

It seems like treachery, greed, and thirst for power ran in your veins for far longer than I thought.

The mere resentment in Xalim's voice sent molten spikes into Nyxis's spine. All the things she threw at him, the ills his family had done to the people they should be protecting and serving in the first place, it hurt that it was all true. It hurt that he had seen it all happening from an intimate viewpoint and still remained oblivious to it. It hurt, that while he was in the middle of the storm, he had no power to stop it.

That's why Nyxis was on this corridor so late into the night, missing dinner and gods-knew-what-else just to try and make things right again. Where else could he start other than finding who the real rulers were before the Helgase family came into play and what his ancestors did in order to secure this kind of power over Cardina.

For that, he would need to delve into the darkest parts of the archives, whether or not it's forbidden.

The light from the windows lining the walls in regular intervals were scant since the thick glass succeeded in muting it to a fault. Nyxis was grateful for the orange tinge the lit lamps hanging on hooked metal rods brought, albeit all the flickering. Who thought using oil and wax as light sources were a good idea?

Nyxis craned his neck to the ceiling, tracing the interlocking patterns of flowers and vines motifs painted into the seamless rock above him. Who even had the guts to paint the whole palace ceiling like this? It must have cost a ton of versallis and required a lot of stamina and motivation. Art usually needed those to do its function.

His footsteps echoed against the stone walls, disappearing into the darkness beyond him. It had taken him a whole lot of years before he could move around the palace on his own without getting lost and without servants trailing behind him, making sure he didn't. Memories of him wandering around unfamiliar halls and ending up in questionable places as a child flashed in his mind. A small smile played on his lips despite the worries weighing down on his shoulders.

A bell tolled in the distance, signaling it was time for dinner. Nyxis edged closer to the nearest window on his way and looked outside. From this high up in the walls, the soldiers and servants scurrying past the lush, trimmed grass carpeting the expanse of the Palace looked like mere pheasetis—just small insects squirming in the sand. Was this how the gods felt from their palaces in Calaris? It sure felt nice but a little bit lonely.

Nyxis heard the bell ring for the fourth time—the final call for the Royal family to gather in the dining hall before the first course was served. After enduring a grueling travel between the Commons, Nobility, Royalty and back, he wasn't exactly in the mood to see any of his family or endure verbal jabs from his Father.

Today had been hard enough and he still needed to save Xalim before the King executes another batch of purged people. That's how a plan slowly formed in his mind as he continued on his way towards the hidden archives he discovered only through Scholar Cevera's help. If he could get the real ruling dynasty, he could stop the purges and overthrow his own family from the palace. Of course, there's still the matter of the other dynasty wanting to kill off all the Helgase clan but, for now, it was the only way to save Xalim.

He didn't have power to go against his father but he had some to get him off that seat.

Nyxis prayed to the silent gods for it to be enough because he didn't know what else to do if it wasn't.

The hidden archive, according to his scholar friend, was sequestered off the official archives a long time ago due to the number of "untrue" information it contained. All the tomes the Palace found to be false were thrown into this archive and left untended until they fade from memory. It was a good place to look if he wanted to find a history the Palace wanted out of anyone's eyes.

That explained the darkness, then. Maybe.

Nyxis came to a corner and, glancing at the window creeping up around the bend, saw the other spires taller than the part of the wall he was in. One of those spires, the tallest among the others, stood proudly over everyone, its shadow a mere line streaking past the entire Royalty region. Some scholars even claim one could tell the of the day with just the spire's shadow but that's something Nyxis couldn't verify now.

He continued on, keeping his eyes on a set of dark, wooden doors at the end of this hallway. It was situated on the end of the wall, perhaps where a bridge was connected, leading to the eastern parts of the palace or the southern ones. The air was still when he turned to look behind him. No one was following him. Thank the gods.

Steeling his nerves, he laid his hands flat against the wood, noting the peeling splinters digging into his palm, and pushed. The hinges screamed in protest, even going as far as locking the doors' swing at certain angles. Fighting against the lock or pulling the doors close only to force them open in an attempt to jar the hinges into submission could destroy the doors completely. He didn't want a busted door as a proof he had been here.

So, when the doors had given enough way for him to slip through, he titled his form to one side and walked sideways into the musty darkness beyond.

It was the dust which greeted him first upon entering. It was everywhere---hanging in the air, coating most of the silhouettes of shelves, tables, and stools in a fine but thick layer, and assaulting Nyxis's nose at every chance it got. He waved a hand in front of his face just to avoid inhaling more particles. He coughed, dislodging the ones who already made it inside his sinuses.

Every step he took stirred up more dust in puffs and clouds. Damn, he should have brought a lamp with him if this was going to be the case. He blew a breath, raising his hand and summoning his magic to the surface. The warmth it brought to his veins was far from comforting. He wouldn't want to leave a trail curling off in this place but he had no choice.

He just had to risk it for the truth.

Nyxis channeled his magic into his palms, concentrating on the mass of heat dancing beneath his skin. Then, with a light voice, he whispered, "Binding Lights."

A ball of harmless, white light shone in his hand, illuminating a specific radius around him. Gone were the shadows coating the scene before him. Instead, they were replaced with the likeness of more shelves filled to the brim with bound tomes and a curious mound of mercok colony on one corner.

Nyxis swept his hand around, gauging the size of the room. It was no bigger than the archive they use at the lower floors, one to house the visiting scholars and the princes' lessons. There were no windows to let some form of outside light in. The only entrance and exit points were the creaky door behind him. He sighed for the second time. Okay, then. Time to get to work.

The next hours were spent with Nyxis pulling tomes from their dusty abode with one hand while keeping the light burning bright with his other. It was hard work as he should be careful not to touch anything with his spell with a risk of him starting a fire somewhere. Time blurred in Nyxis's senses. How long ago was it when he heard the dinner bell ring? How much time had he spent being distracted by that interesting record about extinct fairy plants which existed before the Hundred Years' War?

Finally, after more lucid hours of searching, he came across unlabeled tomes sitting in a discarded pile haphazardly thrown into the archive by the shelf nearest to the doorway. It was as if it was dumped in a hurry so they wouldn't have to think about these tomes and the information they contain anymore.

He sat on the floor next to the pile and pulled out the topmost one. Like all others, this one didn't have anything written on their leather covers. He pursed his lips and flipped to the first page. A series of Ylanenla letters printed in yellowing parchment greeting him. Due to the age and possibly the poor quality of the ink used, the letters had begun to seep to the other side of the parchment, creating this hazy illusion of text merging and disappearing into one another. It made Nyxis's eyes hurt. Compound that with the scant light provided by the spell in his hand, it was enough to get him a headache over the next couple of days.

Still, he read. Or at least, tried to.

Jatoma is a land of plenty and blessings, reportedly being the only place in Uma Siore to be granted favor by the gods. There are many conflicting accounts and theories as to why this is the case but one account overrules all others. This seems to be the place where the Fountain of Youth is located.

Nyxis raised an eyebrow. Huh, that's nice to know. The Fountain of Youth was a stuff of myths and nobody really knew if it existed or not. So whatever this Jatoma place was, they sure were lucky. He flipped to the other pages somewhere in the middle of the tome. A blotchy paragraph caught his eye.

Cardina's symbol of power—one that is known to cease all conflict and disagreements---is its throne. It is known by the name Warseeker and has been an object of discussion of whether it existed or not.

He frowned. Throne? Wasn't that the chair all monarchs sat at or the office where they exercise their political power? What was so different with Cardina's throne that it had a name? He flipped on the page before the one he was in.

Thrones are objects of power meant to connect the synnavaimis of each race to the well of magic inside Fantasilia's heart. They are made through each race's agreement and signifies what each race stands for. For context, the throne of the Banshees, a race of fairies living in the mountainous parts of Carleon, is known as the Soul Spells. It is a tome filled with various complicated spells regarding a person's soul. For the shard fairies in Helinfirth, their throne is referred to as the Faceshaper, and has outstanding capabilities that enhances the shard fairies' synnavaim—glamours.

Nyxis's eyes skimmed through paragraphs upon paragraphs of text detailing each of the races' thrones. Objects of power, huh? He flipped back to the page tackling Cardina's. The humans are one of the fallen races and have not been made a race until recent times. The question of the Warseeker's existence is brought by accounts of it being witnessed being used. The following pages will contain the transcript of the interviews we have conducted on some fairies, humans, and half-bloods alike with regards to the Warseeker's power and influence.

The Warseker. If he was somehow able to find it, could he finally restore the real heir to Cardina? Then again, would it even respond to him, considering he was a false prince? Maybe. Maybe not.

He closed the tome and moved to the one beneath it. Dust flew in blooming sprays as he brushed his fingers on the cover. Time had cracked the leather used to bind it and turned the parchment into a sickening yellow shade. He opened it to a random page and the series of lines and small bouts of written letters commanded his attention.

What in Umazure was this? He tilted the tome here and there, balancing the light spell in his hand to shed more brightness into the far corners of the pages. Names. These were names. Of who? With a finger, he traced a random line from the top part of the page, reading the names aloud in his head.

Beroe Diatherpe, Polari Diatherpe, Truin Diatherpe, Virare, Syrpae, Julen...

All of them belong to a clan called Diatherpe. Why hadn't he heard of that family name before? He turned to the next page and this time, the Fetore lineage was mapped. The page after that featured a clan called Galna.

Out of curiosity, Nyxis went back to the Diatherpe clan and flipped back to the page before it. There, the chronicler explained that these clans were the Four Monarchs after the Human-Fairy War for custody over Cardina. Nyxis scratched his head. When was this written? How was it able to track so many of the clans' members?

He lowered his gaze to the trail dimension and confirmed it. Yeah, a tracking spell. One that was hard to break even by best spellcasters in Umazure. Whoever thought of using it in a family tree was genius.

Wait. Diatherpe, Fetore, Galna. Who was the fourth clan?

Nyxis breezed through the other clans and came across the last one. The Canraren clan. He flipped back to the exposition page and by the end of it, it said, "The Four Monarch Council was not able to push through so the sole responsibility over Cardina fell into the hands of the Canraren clan."

Excitement blossomed in Nyxis's veins. That's it. He's so close.

He went back to the Canraren family tree and traced his hands on all the branches and possible routes leading to the current heir. All of them ended right around the time Nyxis's great grandfather might have lived. That was, until he got to the rightmost line. It seemed to go on past the timeline of his grandfather, father, and finally...to the spot which would have been Nyxis's contemporary. One name was etched into the parchment with a sure finality. One name succeeded in evaporating all excitement in Nyxis's system and replacing it with dread, guilt, and several other emotions.

One name stood out among the rest.

And it read Tobin Canraren.