Dinner wasn't satisfying.

Nothing was.

No single action cured the gnawing sensation in Sorein's gut as he considered what his friend might be saying within that closed Study above the Aphrye.

He'd tried pacing.

Not only had Sorein paced the length of the billiards room a hundred times over, he'd picked up two books, shot his cue into a ball, and thrown several misplaced darts with shaky hands.

All to avoid the inevitable.

Ezre's dimly lit office illuminated the hallway floor enough that he could focus on his silent footfalls instead of his surroundings. The midnight chimes sent the priestesses home for the evening, allowing him to make it through the estate without detection.

It'd been just shy of an hour since Noah left him standing in the Billiards room, his head spinning.

Sorein couldn't understand his own frantic thoughts, the faint buzzing crawling over his skin coupling with intense dread to form a deep pit in his chest. He'd been against the court's slickness for so long, he barely grasped the role he'd need to play simply to find information.

If sneaking around became the only way to learn, he'd succumb to it. Gladly.

Ezre's growl rumbled through the room, echoed by the shuffling of loose papers.

"Andrin's pissed," Ezre said, tossing something weighted on his desk. "Your timing, Whitecross, is impeccable as always."

His tone meant anything but.

"I don't suppose that's my problem," Noah mused. "After a century, I'm sure he anticipated I'd seek to fulfill my father's bargain."

"You seem to forget, I know your father. He sounded just as shocked as the rest of us."

Silence. Potentially a shrug.

Now eclipsing one hundred and sixty, Sorein knew very little of Noah's agreement, let alone how the human male had lived so long. His friend never mentioned the strange tether he had to his home, let alone his feelings about it.

"You'd leave Sorein to face the potential trial alone, then?" Ezre tried again.

"There will be no trial."

"So you've said," the king grumbled back. "Was he aware of your choice?"

No. He was still bitter, but ducking through the hallways to understand crossed several boundaries of his own.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern," Noah replied, sighing. "But if you must know, I've done this for him."

Sorein stiffened.

Ezre hummed his response, but didn't push further.

"What of Iliya?" Noah fired back, his voice constricting. "You're running Rhydian ragged, who else?"

He reminded himself to thank Noah for asking those difficult questions. His friend's pleasant demeanor destabilized everyone, even Ezre.

Sorein wasn't sure of the friendship he'd built with Iliya, but was certain her absence was nagging at him too.

"No one," Ezre finally admitted quietly.

Heat rushed down his spine.

He bit down on his anger and waited, praying for an addendum. Anything.

"Excuse me?"

The sentiment was mutual.

Noah fought and failed to hide the frustration in his voice.

"The High Court has been kept in the dark about a great many things," Ezre said tightly. Including Iliya's mysterious condition, he didn't need to add. "Both her absence and her involvement in the Aphyre's disturbance have been kept within the family to ensure Iliya's safety."

"No one is looking for her?"

"No one."

Noah scoffed.

"Should you find yourself with any allowance, Whitecross, you can look for her yourself."

The implication was appalling. Ezre sounded both frustrated and cynical, but Sorein had never seen him take his eyes off Iliya.

Why he had now of all times, made no sense.

No one. No one was looking. How could no one be looking for her?

Sorein took one deep breath. Then another. He could almost hear the grinding of his friend's teeth through the door.

The king couldn't be implying what he thought.

"Because being an international agent leaves me with so much allowance," Noah snapped. A chair groaned, swift movements whispering through the room. He muttered a Nynoli curse Sorein wouldn't recognize, the noise much closer to him than before.

He slipped across the hall and hesitated near the Aphyre, waiting for Noah to leave.

Sorein expected rage and cursing, not the shadow of a guard who slipped from the office silently and closed the door behind him with equal softness. Noah stalked away, his head lifted as he examined the estate around him.

A gentle analysis of their surroundings.

His former Diplomat drifted down the stairs, flipping up his hood and disappearing into the foyer.

Leaving Sorein with more questions than answers.

~ ~ ~

One moment, the spy was dangling by the grace of her golden webs, the next she was tumbling to the ground.

Iliya allowed her shock to loosen the cords, spooling the Mana back into her well of power. The clearing dimmed without her light, leaving her to blink until she located the subtle glint of slanted eyes glaring at her.

"Damien had me followed?"

The woman scoffed. "Damien? Have you ever met the man? He'd flay you alive for such casual rhetoric."

Somehow Iliya highly doubted that.

Her brow lifted, waiting.

The spy's incredulous face turned downward, growling. "You're just molting like him."

Iliya smirked at the word. Her cousin used it occasionally, telling her enough about those faintly crescent ears. Half-Therian, at least.

"You were born in Tae'rainne, then? Interesting."

"What's your problem?"

"Do you have a name?" Iliya asked, ignoring her. "I mean certainly you have a name, but will you tell me it?"

"Mairin," she grumbled, glaring daggers into her chest. "Not that it should matter."

Iliya cocked her head to the side, brows furrowing. "Why?"

Mairin didn't respond, shifting her harsh stare to the ground.

"Why are you here, Mairin?"

"The King didn't want you getting lost," she muttered.

Iliya hummed, rocking back and examining their surroundings again. She'd never been to the continent and had no idea where she was going. Her heart hadn't even settled on finding the King.

"How... How do you know so much?"

"I spent many years hiding my ears from others," Iliya admitted, sighing. "I can see when someone else is doing the same."

"But Tae'rainne–"

"My cousin is the only other person I've heard use Therian Slang from the city beneath Mt. Agonii. If you'd like to disguise yourself better, you'll need to mind your language."

Mairin's eyes softened to something unreadable.

"Will you take me to him?"

The spy rolled onto her knees, swiping the dust and debris from her leathers before rising. She raked her fingers through her hair, attempting to tuck the loose strays behind her ear. They only fluttered back down.

After making sure all of her belongings were accounted for, Mairin looked her over again.

"Follow me."

~ ~ ~

"Suta avegra morta. Suta invire imnis. Suta oviri magensis."

The whispered incantation echoed across the dais.

Sorein stepped into the ballroom with emptiness plaguing his mind. He watched as four to five Priestesses stepped up to the Aphyre each morning, acting as Siphons for Aida's light.

Yesterday, he merely watched as they took a stance in every direction, surrounding the giant crystal and beginning their ritual.

Light funneled from their outstretched palms and into the very cracks he'd seen once cleaving the side.

Day by day, they'd mended.

Now, Sorein stalked down the curling stairs and crossed the room tentatively. He took his hands from his pockets, ignoring the weary glances a few Priestesses exchanged, and nodded to them.

He wanted to forget about secrets and lies, if only for a moment.

"Don't stop," he told them softly, pressing his hand to the crisp obsidian.

The chamber opened.

A blonde to his left stuttered, tensing.

Sorein lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs beneath him and taking a deep breath. The air around him slowed, his vision honing in on ripples of Mana pouring from the young woman in front of him. Pure, unfiltered light. Raw.

Touching the tips of his fingers together, he knew three things.

One, he couldn't channel. He couldn't court the life within Aida and cross the veils.

Two, Ezre wouldn't tell him a damned thing without a spoonful of trust.

And lastly, the only Mana as healing as Aida's light was Karna's Spiora, spirit magic.

The goddess of equilibrium, guarding the beginning and the end of all. Her soul ushered nature, specifically that of souls.

Sorein's palms ground into each other as he shifted his left hand down into the planet's core. With each breath, he could feel those souls wandering the island. Spirits released by the gaping abyss carving through the Aphyre.

"Reoria," he whispered.

Return.

He called to the souls who were lost and afraid.

He called to the spirits who sought their way home.

He opened a rift for those who were hunted and plagued by the Taqrias.

Sorein shone a beacon through the mist-covered streets, offering them the solace he spent his whole life protecting.

The Aphyre glowed silver, illuminating the ballroom. His reflection glimmered back at him, his eyes as bright as the stone.

Another breath and he pleaded with those desperate souls, connecting to the aura within the land. Energy connecting the wildlife, the spirits, and after.

Every plane blended together until he could see the faint barrier parting worlds.

Help us restore order, he begged. Help us restore the Veil.

When Sorein once again opened his eyes, he noticed the baited breath of the frozen Priestesses. Their attention on one thing alone.

A silent, tender wind guided wisps in through the open Foyer.

Souls dispersing into ripples of Mana and pouring their lifeforce into the Aphyre.

No, he couldn't mend the ancient crystal surrounding him.

But Sorein could heal the Veil.