Elin Hass

Elin took the Ember tea from her maid, Shilia, and thanked her softly. She took a sip of the spiced liquid and shuddered faintly as the smokey aftertaste lingered in her mouth after she swallowed. Ember tea wasn’t her favorite in the slightest. In fact, it was probably her least-liked tea. However, practically, it was her go-to to “pick me up” during long nights and mornings like this. Cultivated in Kazora, the homeland of her servants, the serelli, who were masters in the art of tea making.

She was no biologist and, therefore, didn’t know the specifics of what made Ember tea so versed in keeping one awake and alert, but by the gods, she felt something magical at play here. The tea worked just as well as Alexander’s catnap spell, or so she felt, save for the extreme crash that comes after a few hours of drinking it. The mental gymnastics Elin had to go through to resist reaching for another cup, or else she would become hooked on the stuff, was an entire battle in itself.

Hiring these three serelli was probably the best, and maybe the worst, decision she’s ever made. It was good because they were terrific at their jobs, yet bad because they introduced so many cultural wonders to Elin that she felt like she would get lost in it all. But that was a worry for another day; right now, she needed to focus on her plans.

Elin took another sip of the crude-tasting tea and sighed as its effects gradually began to kick in. She leaned back in her comfortable red armchair and looked at the maps on the table before her. On them were detailed stratagems and battlelines drafted by her various advisors and General Mays.

So far, after thirty days of fighting, the Veilanrites have finally slowed. It only took about a quarter of Heinmarr to be conquered, thousands of soldiers, and many more civilian lives. However, the initial onslaught was stopped on the Alter and Kenchala rivers. The fighting machines, which had first shocked many, have proven not to be the immortal killing machines many had first expected. Yes, they were brutally efficient at what they were made to do. However, they were not so efficient at staying alive. The obvious weak point, the central glass eye, which also served as their primary weapon, scorching light, was an astonishing design flaw.

Any weapon capable of piercing a dragon’s scale could easily puncture the glass covering and render such a weapon useless. Even a crack would cause the ether, which powers the weapon’s ability, to plummet in efficiency. Turning a scorching ray of light into a mildly irritating annoyance, worse for the machine, a lethal eruption of ether that had lost containment. Resulting in the construct’s untimely demise.

The machines were not made for pitched battles. Every engagement so far between Elin’s brigade and the machines as they tried to cross the river resulted in at least her men destroying two or three of them before forcing them to retreat. Which, strangely enough, was how she learned that these things appear to feel fear. From what she’s witnessed, these constructs aren’t mindless machines.

After she had met the prodigy Luna and the Ionan archineer, Oscar, they learned that the Veilanrites were making these machines using, to her horror, humanoid souls. The dragon wardens had informed her that more of these “factories,” which the Veilanrites built by launching massive cylinders over the border into Heinmarr, have sprouted along the frontline. Here, they were gathering any and all who were unfortunate enough to come across their harvester machines, which were similar to the fighting ones save for the lack of weapons. They held large baskets on their backs and used unseemly tendrils to collect people like a hive beetle collecting scraps for its colony.

From what Elin’s archineers observed after capturing the prison and factory, it appears that the Veilanrites discovered how to imprison the souls of those they’ve killed inside magrite gems. Large gems were then fused into the metal casing that made of the machine’s crystalline heart. The archineers pointed out to her that within were glyphs carved into each limb with carved routes like blood veins, which led back to the heart of the machine. Like the analogy before, it’s thought that these “routes” are what carry the creature’s impulses and orders to move each and react, though Elin thought “puppet strings” was probably more of an apt term.

Despite the intricate programming of the machine put on display after its deconstruction, it seemed the Veilanrites hadn’t figured out how to subdue the soul inside fully. As mentioned, these “mindless machines” weren’t really so. They felt fear and pain when attacked. Could they feel other emotions? Do these things know what they are? A new thought horrified her: were the people before still there? Trapped within and forced to watch the slaughter?

Slaughtering these devices would be a mercy if that were the case. Why would the Veilanrites make it so that these beings could feel these emotions? She thought. Perhaps they don’t know how to dampen the feelings thoroughly? Any general would love to have mindless soldiers who felt nothing and could get a job done without question and refuse to buckle against a terrifying enemy. Then again, perhaps this is by design. While the former thought was callous but effective, it could also be inefficient.

Having soldiers who know when to back down and flee from a fight in itself is effective. Live another day, learn, and adapt to overcome the next battle. Having horrific killing machines that could do this could be on purpose. Alas, Elin would not know. Not yet, at least. This war is still new, and her scholars and archineers, along with others from various divisions, are still studying these machines.

Could someday Heinmarr possess such power? She thought. Could she somehow learn to control and use these things? Immediately, she banished the thoughts. No. These things were people. Doing so would make her no better than them. Except… A new thought crept in. What if they were to use animals? A land strider converted into one of these things? They were intelligent, obedient, and were terrific at obeying orders.

Something inside her shuddered. “No, Elin,” A voice said. “Not everything you see must be twisted to suit our needs. Some forces are best left untouched, or else we risk falling into the darkness from which they were made.” The voice was strong and commanding.

“I’m sorry, Radiant One,” Elin whispered as she took another sip of her Ember tea. “I’m just trying to figure out ways we could overcome our enemies.” She hummed as she eyed her tea and swirled it in its cup.

“I understand, Elin,” The voice cooed like a mother trying to soothe their child. “Just know that the forces we are dealing with are ancient, and dark. Long forgotten for a reason.”

“I know,” She said, “But that is all the reason more we should study it. Learn from it, and potentially adapt it.”

“Study yes, adapt and use? No. Spirimancy is unnatural, forbidden. It should not be touched, not by children like yourself.”

Elin’s eye twitched at that. “Radiance, I am not a child,” She grumbled.

The voice known as Radiance chuckled lightly and, in an amused tone, said, “Perhaps in human years, child, you are not. Though, to one such as myself, you may as well be a tiny babe. Alas, I jest but know that I am serious about the works of spirimancy. Such magics is far too dangerous for your kind.”

Elin took her eyes off the maps and leaned back in her seat. Her eyes flicked across her study before landing on the east window facing the river. In the distance, she could see the lights from the frontline contrasting against the night sky. Word had reached her hours ago about the attack in Johanneson and how the Veilanrites had gotten around the defensive lines entirely using flying machines never before seen. Smaller than a drake and faster than a dragon, dozens swooped into the city alongside the very cylinders that had ravaged the countryside.

Just as Radiance had warned her, the voice had an uncanny ability to predict events like that. Not always was she right, but a majority, she was. A while back, Elin had thought she was going crazy when Radiance first appeared after her grandmother had died after she had made that promise. Her servants had also thought that as well; that perhaps the grief of losing the one she loved, her Gaga and friend, had finally broken her. Except, Radiance wasn’t an insanity. She was far more.

“I’ll consider your words, Radiance. Though, might I ask, what makes spirimancy so dangerous?” Elin has asked this question numerous times already, though Radiance has never actually answered, constantly dodging the question or denying it outright. Part of her hope, though, was that prying this entity repeatedly for an answer would yield results, and it has in the past regarding other questions the thing refused to answer.

Radiance sighed, which amused Elin as she assumed the being hadn’t a reason to breathe. “I’ve already answered this, Elin, it just is. A child who plays with a match doesn’t know what they wield can cause great destruction if struck just right. You must be careful.”

Same as before, but the analogy alluded to something at least. If used in a particular way, such magic can cause great destruction. Well, that could be said the same for any magic. “Why is it that you withhold such information from me?” Elin asked. “You said when we met that I am your bond, an anchor. If we are to work together, shouldn’t I know to better help you?”

“Your words hold truth, Elin,” Radiance said calmly, “You are right that we are bonded, and as such, I know you more than you think. You are pragmatic and practical. Spirimancy would indeed be a great boon to you and your kind if used correctly.”

“You think I wouldn’t use it correctly?” Elin asked as she swirled her tea and sipped it.

“Precisely. I know that you would use it to win this war, and I fully believe you would succeed in this endeavor. Yet, the cost of doing so…” They trailed off.

“The number of lives it would cost?” Elin guessed and sensed a foreboding feeling within her, though she knew this wasn’t her emotions. The bond that she and Radiance shared had always gone both ways. Elin could feel what Radiance felt and vice versa.

“That, and the moral cost. Elin, I fear that if you had such power, it would consume you,” Radiance shuddered.

She placed her teacup down on the table in front of her, brushed her red bangs from her eyes, and took a deep breath as she laced her fingers. Radiance’s words did not bother Elin, not at all, because she knew they were true. Elin was pragmatic, and she would do whatever it took to win. Callous perhaps? Maybe. But if a handful of lives was what she needed to sacrifice to end this war and fulfill her Gaga’s wishes. Then she would do it. She would unite this world, and she would end the squabbling, break the social barriers, and forge a world where everyone can be at peace so they can prepare for the true enemy.

Enorans did not have time to bicker and argue over the past. This war served no one. The religious nuts in the Warriors of Light are blinded by their false beliefs. If the gods truly wished the Dark Lord to be dead and gone, then they could easily smite the continent of Garlay. Could they? If he were really imprisoned, as the legends go, then surely nothing would stop them from ending him entirely.

“It is not that simple,” Radiance said in response to Elin’s thoughts. The one annoyance of sharing this space with another entity. “Gods do not share a physical form like mortals. Destroying their body and erasing them from this realm will merely shunt them back into the Cerebellium, the Cognitive Realm.”

Elin was vaguely aware of the realm. It wouldn’t be the first time Radiance has mentioned it. A space above her reality, a realm in which time and distance did not make sense. A realm that worked entirely off a dream logic, or so Radiance said. A place of gods.

“So kill him there,” Elin said as she hung her head back and gazed up at the ceiling.

Radiance let off a sigh, or at least an excellent imitation of one. “Again, it is not so simple. Gods do not die like you think they do. It’s difficult to explain.”

Elin took a breath and nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.” She lowered her head back down and gazed at the table and maps in front of her. She leaned forward once more, picked up her daily brief, and read it over once again.

“It was just like you said,” Hass said softly as her eyes skimmed the page. “The Veilanrites attacked Johanneson.” She frowned. “But how? The report says they used flying machines that flew in from the east, except none of our sky watchers had seen them.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Perhaps they used magic? A mass invisibility spell?”

Radiance hummed as she pondered the idea. “Even I doubt the Veilanrite’s capability to perform such a feat. While they have proven to be adaptable in the field of Spirimancy. The power they would need to mask as many devices they had would be taxing.”

Elin simply shrugged, folded the paper with one hand, and tucked it into the inner pocket of her suit. “I could’ve warned them,” She said in a hushed voice. Her eyes drifted toward the window facing the river again. “The Ionans could’ve prepared, establish more drake wardens, position more draco guns.”

“Yet risk alerting all to my presence?” Radiance asked with an annoyed tone. “We’ve discussed this, Elin, and you agreed.”

Elin sighed and reached for her tea once more. She picked up the cup and frowned when she saw how little she had left. With a sigh, she sipped the last of it and said, “I know, and part of me still does. Except, we need to do more. I have contacts, Radiance, people who can spin lies for us.”

“And how do you think they’ll react to hearing you provide such accurate information? Aren’t you concerned that they’ll start asking questions?”

Elin rolled her eyes. “My people are the kind who don’t ask questions. I told you that we all work on trust, that is what gets us through anything.”

“Trust isn’t something we should go blindly throwing around, Elin.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying, Radiance,” Elin sighed as she finally stood up from her seat. She arched her back, grunted when her lower half popped pleasantly and rolled her neck. She needed a new chair. “What I’m saying is you need to trust me.”

“I do. I wouldn’t have chosen you as my anchor if I hadn’t.” Radiance said, sounding confused.

Elin shook her head. “I don’t believe you do,” Elin said simply as she placed her teacup on its platter and walked towards the window. She assumed the posture she had learned in officer’s school, with shoulders broadened, her back stiff, and her hands folded behind her back as she gazed outside.

The sound of distant chimes and cracking glass echoed not too far off in her mind. Elin found the sound unnerving yet was accustomed to it. Radiance gave off such an alien reaction whenever she was annoyed by her, usually when she was right.

“Perhaps you are correct,” She said with a huff. “You mortals, especially humans, are probably the least trust worthy beings in all of Eifelheim.”

Elin smirked; any other person would’ve probably been insulted by such a comment, yet she couldn’t help but find it amusing. “And yet, here you are, with me.”

Radiance started, then sighed. “You are a slightly more trustworthy human.”

Elin snorted. “I’ll take that.”

Radiance huffed. “I’ll hear you out, Elin. What is it that you wish to propose?”

“I would like to bring an ally into our fold. Someone I can trust with the knowledge of your existence. A contact of mine who I know for a fact who can pull strings in our favor,” She explained.

Radiance hummed as she thought. “And who might this be?”

Elin took a deep breath just as she heard a knock on the door behind her. A smile crept onto her face as she turned. “The individual who should be stepping in now,” she said and called. “It’s unlocked.”

As she faced the door, it clicked and creaked as it swung open. Stepping inside, the tall, hulking figure dipped their head into the room. Their black scaled tail pushed the door closed behind them as their clawed hand reached up to remove the bowl-shaped hat from atop their head. Lorzio Blaxen’s swirling purple eyes locked with Elin’s gaze, and a sharp-toothed smile stretched across his face.

“It’s been some time, Colonel. I hope I am not intruding.”

“My fascination with the Cognitive Realm is one of pure curiosity. How did such a place come about, and why? The clergy states that the gods created the Material Realm and the Wylde to symbolize Order and Chaos in their image. It’s like two sides of a coin, or better yet, a scale. One side is needed to balance the other. It’s a very poetic way of looking at it. But where on the scale is the Cerebellium? Is it the stand that holds each end of the scale? The air in between? What purpose does it serve? These are the questions I find myself asking, and I hope you, dear reader, will agree that this journey requires undertaking. Many of my colleagues refuse to even consider that such an idea of realm between realms is concept worth considering. Even the likes of Chaunte and the discovery of the cerebites was labeled as a fraud. Yet, I know there is something out there. Something beyond our comprehension. The gods have shown us that events and things beyond scientific comprehension can and do exist, so why not this? Perhaps it is due to fear. The fear of something even beyond the divine is out there? Who knows, but I am looking to find out…”

-Excerpt from “Peering into the In between” by Terry Rosewall, Page 20, End of Chapter 1.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep