Chapter 108: Will Parallel Lines Ever Meet?

Staring into the eyes of a child who had barely grasped the situation, Evendur could envision the catastrophe that would brew within the heart of his children when they matured, and the option of sending them to the Abyssal Plains this early in their lives was something he couldn’t see himself doing, at least not when his wife’s essence was still resting on his shoulders.

Evendur jumped down from the carriage silently and crouched before his children with a strange warmth within his eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips before he patted their heads with the words, “From blood you came, to blood you shall return.”

A knock sounded on his door, shattering the glass of thought that had formed on his mind. A startled breath left his lips before he carefully placed the frame back into the drawer and reclaimed the cold expression he dropped during his adventure to the past.

He briefly wondered who dared defy his orders and enter his manor despite the explicit order he gave his attendants, but his feet had already taken two steady strides towards the door.

Standing before him was a man of slight build, almost youthful in stature. Yet the white beard that framed his face betrayed his age.

An unnatural calm surrounded him, as though the very frequencies of the world had aligned themselves with his presence.

Evendur stared at the man’s emotionless face with a blank expression for a solid minute before he groaned lightly and slammed the door in his face.

“That’s no way to greet your attendant, Eve,” the calm voice sounded clearly within the spacious room almost as if the dampening effect of the door had no effect on its reach.

Evendur dropped the plate that held the pills in the lower compartment of the drawer with an unchanging expression. “Surely the Vyronis are unaware of your coming here.”

When Evendur turned his head, the man was already there—seated beside him with a smile that caused his eyes to squint. He threw his hands over Evendur’s shoulder with a light chuckle. “Come on, I escaped those dragons by the literal skin of my teeth just to see your oldie face!”

Evendur shrugged his shoulder to get rid of the annoying arm. “You’re twenty years older than me.”

“So? That just means I have twenty more years of youth!”

Evendur suddenly had the urge to face palm.

Slipping past the reaching arm and walking to the large windows that overlooked the best parts of the kingdom, Evendur sighed.

“Anthemius isn’t here yet. Neither is Caspian.”

A low cough sounded behind him immediately those words died out. Evendur didn’t know how this man managed to do it, but everytime he visited him, his ever steady heart rate would shoot to the roof in annoyance.

“W—what made you think I came for them? I’m supposed to be by your attendant, don’t you remember? To be by your side till the end of time and get reborn with you in your next life,” he spoke with hidden anxiousness.

“That last line was just weird, Orel,” Evendur replied, “And don’t bother convincing me that the Vyronis keeping you in their land wasn’t part of your plan after you met that lady during our expedition that year.”

Orel coughed lightly. “Their teachings are quite profound as well.”

Evendur rolled his eyes before bringing down the curtains slightly. “Whatever you say. That still won’t change the fact that Anthemius and Caspian have yet to return from the Abyssal Plains.”

Orel merely sighed before getting up with a stretch. “And Daren?”

The moment the words left his lips, the air in the room stilled.

A crushing pressure settled between them, heavy, suffocating, as though the very space had thickened into something tangible. The faint hum of Resonance in the air collapsed into silence, leaving behind a weight that pressed against the skin and sank into the lungs with every breath.

Yet Orel’s expression did not change.

His eyes studied Evendur calmly before he shook his head with a smile. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

Evendur didn’t respond, but that proved to be the loudest answer possible in this case.

Idly rummaging through the folds of his white robe, Orel spoke,

“You mentioned his soul core magically reformed itself a few months ago. And even with the Princess visiting the epicenter of the aftermath, nothing changed.”

He paused briefly.

“So either your much-despised son has grown far beyond anything we could reasonably estimate, or he’s been blessed with an incredibly lucky soul.”

Silence stretched between them, before he turned away from the window, his boots clicking with a heavy, final rhythm against the marble. The shadow cast by his broad frame seemed to stretch longer than the light should allow, bleeding toward Orel’s feet.

“Let me show you something,” he whispered.

Orel leaned back, his youthful face contrasting sharply with the ancient knowing in his eyes. “Sure thing, sure thing,” he repeated.

Evendur stopped in front of a seemingly blank section of the wall, where a tapestry of the first Patriarch hung in heavy silence. He didn’t use a key. He didn’t use a chant. He simply pressed his hand against the stone, and the Ring on his finger flared with a cold, obsidian light.

Like clockwork, the wall dissipated into red dust and attached to the sides of the surrounding walls seamlessly to reveal a hidden pedestal. On that pedestal sat an dark orb swirling with a violent, internal storm.

Other orbs rested behind it, each swirling with different but comparably calmer frequencies, but it was clear that the importance they held was quite lacking.

“Look,” Evendur commanded.

Orel stood, his playful demeanor vanishing instantly. He approached the orb and peered into the liquid. It was a Soul-Mirror, tethered by blood and ancient contracts to every living member of the Redwyn main line. Usually, the other orbs showed steady, rhythmic pulses like stars of light in a silver sea.

But the light in this one was behaving… Impossibly.

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