Corrin looked once more at the rotted, withering leaf that sat on the table in the parlor of Eryndor's manor. It didn't take a genius to see it for the sign that it was—Haoma was in danger, and somewhere, a force was working against them.

Despite it, not much had changed since the day before. None of their investigations had borne much fruit, save perhaps for Eryndor's, but he promised them he hadn't found out anything they needed to know.

"The solstice begins the morning after tomorrow," Eryndor was saying. "If we are unsuccessful today, then I will make a big move and force a response!"

Corrin wondered what qualified as a 'big move' for the second class spirit knight, but he kept it to himself as Wyn spoke up next.

"I thought about it yesterday. If I wanted to hide the sanctum, or any attack on the roots, I'd do it outside the city limits, out in the forests, maybe even in the ravine to the south."

Lusicen nodded. "I thought the same."

"If you intend to leave the city, you three should stick together," Eryndor said. "But once again, I must remind you: if you encounter someone you believe to be a foe, leave. Young Genevisc, use Kita to locate me should any trouble arise."

"And what will you be doing?" Wyn asked.

Eryndor smiled. "I received a lead of my own. I intend to follow it. However, before I go, I have something to give to each of you."

Corrin perked up. They were getting gifts?

"Young Corrin, I promised to obtain a new weapon for you. The Kaelburn armory didn't have anything completely suitable to your aspect, but I suspect you will find this better than any other weapon you have tried."

The spirit knight unwrapped a cloth that he'd set on the table, revealing a beautiful wooden scabbard. He pushed it across the table.

Corrin picked it up and looked back to the knight, who nodded approvingly. The hilt of the blade was short, clearly a one-handed weapon, and carved from white ivory. He pulled, and a darkened blade, almost black, slid silently from the sheath. The blade was single-edged, and curved gently forwards toward the end, Corrin exhaled as he ran his finger along the back—it was the best blade he'd ever seen, bar none.

"Nightsteel," Eryndor said. "Should take to ash well enough. It's a style you may be unfamiliar with, but the advantage will be worth it. Try mantling to the blade."

Corrin did just that, sending mana up its length. As soon as his mantle touched the blade, it practically leapt up the edge, and Corrin couldn't help but grin. It took virtually no effort at all, like the sword was actively helping him to sheathe it in power.

"Now that's a weapon!" Eryndor laughed. "Though, when we return to Taravast, we'll look into getting you something even better."

"We?" Corrin looked at the spirit knight, eyes widening.

Eryndor smiled warmly. "The two of you intend to attend the academy don't you? Far behind as you are, you'll need a competent master to guide you." He placed a hand on Corrin's shoulder, gripping it firmly. "There is a world I wish to see. But it isn't one I can reach alone. So I decided to take on an apprentice, young Luscien here. I'm thinking I can make room for two more, the type of people I think can help me create the world I want."

Corrin looked over to Wyn, disbelief shared between the two of them. He let out a small laugh, then turned back to the spirit knight.

"Thank you, sir!"

Eryndor laughed. "It's not going to be easy, so don't thank me so soon. You can thank me when you're stronger than I am. But for now, I have two more things to give. Firstly, a blade for you as well, Wyn. Since you can't effectively mantle yet, I focused on choosing a sword with a superlative edge."

He handed Wyn a sword of his own, a similarly forward curved blade. It was lightly colored, almost white. "This was cut from filean raptor claw. I'd have preferred bladewood for you, but we only had spears. I suspect this will work with your blessing, though you'll want to test it to be sure."

Wyn took the sword gratefully, and a moment later, sure enough, purple flames raced up its side.

"Thank you sir."

"What did I just say?" Eryndor smiled. "Now one last thing for all of you. Take these life elixirs with you. Have the two of you ever used them before?"

He placed a small vial of glowing green liquid into their hands. Corrin shook his head.

"They contain concentrated life mana. It will speed up your natural healing processes when compared to your normal aura. Drink the whole thing if you're badly injured, and ensure you exhale any excess mana once it diffuses after you've recovered—if you don't, you'll suffer from mana-poisoning. If you can, apply it directly to the wound." He turned to Wyn. "I'm not sure how this will work in your case, but it's better to have it than not."

"I understand." Wyn nodded. "But do you really think these will be necessary?"

"I hope not! But I would rather overprepare. With that said, I'll be departing. Remember my advice, and may the kings guide your path. We'll reconvene here once more at sunset."

A moment later, the knight was gone, and the three of them were left alone, looking at a map of Liresil and the surrounding area. Since the roots were so prevalent in the structure of the city, they were actually marked and lined on most maps, and they were able to trace them out of the city.

"If we start here, then we can check here, and here too. This cluster of roots would essentially rule out the whole southern side of the city at once."

"Got it, knock out the south then." Corrin nodded.

Luscien frowned. "Or maybe we start here and here instead? The Ecclesia controls these two dungeon entrances in the north and west, so if we suspect them of foul play, then maybe they'd focus over in this area?"

"Makes sense," Wyn said. "That sounds even better. Let's get on it."

"Or perhaps… these isolated roots to the north? They'd be further out from the—"

Corrin groaned. "We could debate this all day, there's no point. Unless we get moving, there'll be no point in the time we save picking out the best spot. Wyn?"

Wyn met his eyes. Corrin trusted him to make the right call in the situation.

"I like the roots by those dungeon entrances. They're shut down right? That's suspicious to me. Maybe they're trying to keep people away."

"That's two votes then, it's decided."

Luscien opened his mouth, preparing a counter, but seemed to decide otherwise, and just let out a sigh instead. "Fine. Let's just go."

They rolled up the map and made for the door, but before they could exit, it opened all on its own. Venish's face peaked into the room.

"Young Wyn," he said, "There is a Young Miss Sadirah outside asking for you."

Corrin gave his friend a sly grin. "Oh yeah?"

Wyn had, of course, told him about The House of Spring and who he'd encountered there. It seemed strange to him—sure it was a hospital, and yet so many children with this 'withering'? Maybe the doctor was a specialist, but he just got a strange feeling about it. But Wyn seemed happy when he'd come back the night before, unable to suppress a slight smile, and so Corrin was happy for him.

Unfortunately, Wyn wasn't exactly a blushing young maiden, so Corrin's teasing didn't get much of a reaction.

"Did she say why she was here?" Wyn asked, brow furrowing.

"She did not, though she seemed panicked." "Let's go then. She's out front correct?"

"Just outside the gates," Venish nodded. "Master Eryndor instructed me not to allow unknown visitors past our outer wards for the time being."

They met her just outside the Kaelburn gates, but even from a distance, Corrin could tell she was concerned about something. The girl was pacing back and forth, looking down at the ground as she waited impatiently. She glanced up, hearing them approach, and her eyes fixed on Wyn immediately.

"Wyn! It's Zavi! He vanished last night, we haven't been able to find him anywhere!"

"He vanished? In the state he was in how could he?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "But he's just gone. I asked Father, but he doesn't know either. We're searching everywhere for him but I just—I don't… I didn't know what to do. If something happened to Zavi, I…"

"I'll help," Wyn said.

"What?" Luscien frowned. "A missing child isn't more important than—"

"That's my brother!" Sadirah protested.

"Lusicen." Wyn's voice was hard. "It's just a gut feeling, but I think this might be related, it's worth checking out. Besides, let's be honest. I'd only slow you two down."

"A gut feeling? That's nothing. We have to discuss this at least!"

Corrin glanced at the normally unflappable boy, then back towards Wyn. He nodded. "Do what you have to do. We'll handle things here. Be back at sunset."

"I'll meet up with you later if I can. Good luck."

Once they were gone, Luscien let out another long sigh. He shook his head and started trudging off the way they meant to go.

Corrin jogged to catch up to him, falling into step as he scratched Kita's ears. With a yawn, the fox hopped down from Luscien's shoulders and began to walk beside them.

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"Looks like it's just the two of us," Corrin commented.

"Yeah."

"So uh… do you have any theories on what's going on here?"

Luscien sniffed. "A few."

It was Corrin's turn to sigh. Was it going to be like this all day?

***

By the time the sun had risen and begun to dip, Corrin actually had dragged conversation out of his introverted companion—it seemed even Luscien was bored by the hours of fruitless searching.

Corrin kicked at a tangle of vines. "We've covered half the damn area, and still nothing."

"I feel as though we were given busy work," Luscien muttered.

"Think Eryndor is out getting all the real information?"

"There's something he's keeping to himself. Of that I'm certain. I just don't know what."

"Yeah," Corrin frowned. "I got the same impression."

"And what about you and Wyn?" Luscien gave him a pointed look. "There's something you're not saying either. For example, why is it that Wyn received a vision from Haoma? And why are you two of all people being watched?"

Corrin wasn't sure how to respond, so he just shrugged.

It wasn't until the shadows had begun to grow long, that Kita suddenly rushed ahead, sniffing at something.

Corrin paused. "He smells something?"

Luscien nodded, and he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before opening them again. He sniffed at the air himself. "I can't catch it yet—it must be faint. He'll lead us closer, let's follow."

They started moving quicker, following the fox as he darted low to the ground, zigzagging between vines and twisted roots, leaping with more grace than a normal beast could manage. They abandoned the root they were following, heading deeper into the forest with each passing moment.

They ran for a mile, then two, until finally Luscien slowed their pace. He looked over at Corrin seriously.

"Blood."

They moved carefully after that, Kita circling close to them. After a few more minutes, Corrin could finally make out the silhouette of another root ahead through the foliage. The usually impossibly thick root was thinner here, maybe close to its edge? And it wasn't undisturbed.

Stopping behind a tree, Corrin realized that it wasn't just a single person waiting for them ahead at the root. There was a whole operation set up. Trees had been felled in a perimeter surrounding the root, and white and gold tents, marked with the symbols of the Ecclesia, peaked up over a wooden-stake wall driven into the soil.

He took a step forward, but Luscien grabbed his arm. "Wait."

Corrin turned. "What?"

"We don't know what they're doing here," Luscien said. "And the Ecclesia's been acting strange. If this is connected to the tree's sickness, we can't afford to be seen. Suppress your aura."

"Suppress my aura?"

"Yes, suppress it."

Corrin scratched the back of his head. "I… don't know how to do that?"

Luscien sighed. "Fine, just exhale everything you're holding for now. Down to your base. That should be good enough."

Corrin obeyed, exhaling slowly and letting the mana leak away until he was down to his base aura levels.

Lusicen nodded approvingly. "Follow me."

They approached an entrance nearby, the way barred by two guards in white and gold cloaks. The forest was eerily quiet around them, out of place amidst the constant noise and life of the region.

Corrin grabbed his blade, but Luscien placed his hand atop the handle, stopping Corrin from drawing it.

"No need to take risks," the student whispered.

Kita rushed ahead, tromping through the underbrush on the opposite side. The guards turned, trying to locate the source of the noise, and Luscien rushed forwards, leaping over the wall and landing silently on the other side.

Corrin did the same, disappearing just before the guards realized it was 'just a fox' making the noise. Kita darted off into the underbrush, and Luscien spared a quick look back before turning and moving ahead.

Once inside, Corrin realized he should use his mana sight, and the world sharpened in a moment. Peering around the edge of one of the round tents, he caught sight of the root in question, and he sucked in a breath.

"You see that?" He whispered.

"Yeah." Lusicen's reply was tight.

The normally healthy brown and green shade of the tree's root, had been infected with a sickening black rot. Parts of it had been hacked open, revealing even more of the black within. Corrin looked for the green gold mana that usually gathered, but there was almost none to be found.

"The grass," Luscien pointed.

Corrin followed his finger, and saw what the student was talking about. The soil near the base of the tree bubbled a sickening, mushy black, and all the grass had withered and died, leaving a huge dead zone surrounding the root.

Where is it coming from? Corrin worked his way around the side of the tent and ducked under one of the flaps. The structure was sturdier than tents he was familiar with, round with a lattice wooden frame. He slipped out the other side a moment later, ducking behind another one. The layout of the encampment worked in his favor, as it had clearly been set up in a hurry, without much worry of people breaking in. There were plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in.

Luscien cursed under his breath and followed after him, heading deeper in towards the center of the rot.

As they got deeper, Corrin finally saw some of the people responsible.

Gathered around the root, and wandering the camp, were figures in dark robes, almost black, but distinctly tinted purple. Some wore hoods, though others walked with theirs off, men and women, old and young alike. If not for the robes, they wouldn't have stood out at all.

They moved further in, and saw more of the robed figures tending to shallow pits carved into the wood.

"This isn't the worst," Luscien whispered. "None of them seem particularly strong. Master Eryndor could take this entire encampment by himself. Let's leave and…"

He trailed off, then began to sniff the air again, his eyes widening. Without another word, he moved forward, climbing up until he was halfway laying on one of the tent-roofs. As Corrin climbed up after him, he noticed that Luscien had fallen completely still.

Then, Corrin saw him.

They'd reached the center of the rot. The source of the poison that had infected the roots. Standing at the base of a root wound, open like a mouth crying in pain, was a tall, gray-skinned man.

The man had three arms, though it looked as though he'd once had a fourth, and he was dressed in nothing besides a loincloth and bracers on his limbs, showing off a muscular, warrior's physique.

He was facing away from them, one arm stretched out towards the root, a large gash cut across the palm, dripping blood, blacker than night, down into the tree.

"Corrin. We have to leave, right now." Luscien's voice was shaking.

"I get that he's got three arms but—"

"Look at that blood."

Corrin peered closer, trickling more mana to his vision. The blood pooled in the wound on the tree before trickling down to the soil below. It was an absurd amount to give—had it all been from one man? He looked deeper, what was Luscien seeing that he wasn't? It was blood, blacker than normal, but still just…

"It's filled with aura," Corrin whispered, eyes wide. "What aspect is that?"

Luscien shook his head. "I don't know. Blood and flesh are potent sources of aura. That's why blood used to be so popular for spells back in the day—but that? The aura is so thick it's basically emulsified into the blood like another liquid. That would take more aura than Eryndor has… maybe more than the headmaster. But to get that kind of effect?" He glanced over at Corrin. "He can't be human."

One of the robed figures approached and began speaking to the man, who glanced over, continuing to let his blood flow.

"Corrin we have to leave," Luscien said.

"Not yet. Can you pull on Kita's hearing? What are they saying?"

Luscien grimaced, but concentrated for a second, then turned his ear to listen in. Sweat beaded on his face as he whispered along.

"...enough of His blood has been spilled here. The day of black sun is so near, and Haoma is weak enough. More of this is a waste. Iskareth has promised me good news, and I intend to see what it is he has to say."

"And what of the newcomers, your divinity?" the robed man asked.

"The sepal are dead, the adventurers are neutered. I have no fear of a single spirit knight. And he will soon be dealt with."

Corrin felt his heart beat faster. They knew?

"We cannot risk you in battle with him. In your present state—"

"Do I seem weak to you?" The man's voice was loud enough that Corrin heard it on his own.

A presence surged outwards from the man, aura crushing over Corrin like he was being buried, cutting off his ability to breathe. He clutched at his chest, pressing back against it with his own internal mana.

Had he ever felt anything like that before? Not even Tor had felt so completely overwhelming.

He could only think of one being.

This thing—it wasn't Azoth. But for an instant, Corrin felt he was back in that room, a broken and powerless boy, making a deal with a demon to save his life.

Screw. That.

Corrin grit his teeth and pushed harder. He wouldn't give into that weakness—never again. Slowly, his breath returned to him as the pressure alleviated, his own aura hissing defiantly in his channels.

The three-armed man continued, his voice still loud enough to just barely pick up. "And yet, you are correct. If I am to deal with the spirit knight, it will have to wait. Though perhaps, it will not be necessary. The acolytes have gathered. If only the opportunity arises—"

He paused. His head tilted, towards where the two of them were hiding.

Corrin dropped flat against the roof, his heart beating out of his chest. Luscien had done the same, pressing his face against the canvas of the tent.

There was silence.

Then movement resumed, and Corrin could hear the mumble of the men talking in the distance.

Luscien pulled Corrin by his sleeve and began inching backwards. This time, Corrin didn't object. They slunk out of the camp the way they'd come, and raced off into the forest, back towards the city.

They didn't slow until they'd reached the outer limits, and Corrin almost collapsed, catching himself on his knees as his breath came in sharp gasps.

"Who was that?" He managed.

Luscien looked back at the edge of the treeline, staring as though he expected the man to emerge any moment now.

"I've never felt anything like it," he shook. "It wasn't just power. His aura… it was so dark."

"We have to tell Eryndor."

Luscien's eyes cleared slightly. "Right… right. Yes, you're correct. We need to go right away."

"But how? We'll have to wait for him at the manor won't we?"

"Kita has his scent. This is too important to wait." Luscien headed into the city, following a quickly moving Kita, and Corrin followed close behind.

As he ran through the streets, Corrin replayed the encounter in his mind, looking at his fist, clenching it and opening it again and again.

I froze. Damn it.

He was still far too weak.

***

Vaeril, one of the first chosen of the sages, pulled his hand away from the root of the spirit tree, letting the cut on his palm begin to heal.

Another one of the damned butterflies, glowing green with a potent life aura, drifted towards the blood seeping from it. He reached out and crushed it in his fist, suffocating its aura with his own.

"Pests," he grumbled. What an annoying technique it was. Whoever was using it seemed to be creating more with each passing day. Was it targeting him specifically, or something else? He didn't know, and with its target seemingly being his blood... His blood, Vaeril wasn't inclined to find out what it did.

One unknown player in the game. If there was anything that worried him, it was that. But then, it shouldn't matter much. The church's hold over Liresil was absolute. They had the acolytes, the lessers, and of course, him.

Not that he would get to fight the spirit knight like he wanted. The church had a less costly plan for him, and Vaeril had a more important role to play. Still, as he tried to flex his lower left arm, only answered by a faint phantom ache, he couldn't help but feel a bit dissatisfied.

"It's a shame," he mused. "I'm going to miss out on all the real fun."

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