The mid-morning sun warmed his face. Nero half-opened his eyes, only to shut them tightly again immediately, as the light was too intense. He coughed, spitting out water: salty, with the taste of the sea. Had he drowned? Where was he?
He clenched his fingers into fists, and the sheets tangled in his hand. He was in a wide bed, and, daring to half-open his eyes again, he saw white sheets, feather pillows, and a blanket covering him from the waist down. Next to the bed, neatly folded on a chair, were his clothes. The room itself was not ostentatious, but it was elegant and spotless. The walls were made of stone bricks, whitewashed with lime, creating the illusion of a more spacious room. Through the side window, he could see a landscape that was half agricultural, half rural: fields upon fields of wheat stretching as far as the green began to cover the ground, bounded only by a very distant gray wall. And the sky… the sky was completely blue, clear, and cloudless.
Nero didn’t know where he was, nor how he had gotten there. He stirred his body, trying to loosen his muscles so he could get up. It was incredibly difficult, but eventually he managed to sit up, resting his head against the headboard. Slowly, he dragged himself upward, avoiding ending up in an embarrassing position.
At no point did he notice that, on the other side of the bed, there was a woman sitting with her feet up, reading a novel so large it covered her face.
Nero was more concerned about his chest. He touched it, as he could see bandages rising from his waist. There were no bloodstains, and it didn’t hurt at all. He lifted the bandage from his chest as best he could, but there was no wound there, only a scar running across it, where Gilgamesh’s sword had pierced him from side to side.
—You took a long time to wake up. You should have woken up hours ago —said the woman suddenly, immediately drawing Nero’s attention.
She was a young woman, somewhere between her twenties and thirties. Peeking from behind the book she was holding, Nero could see that her eyes were blue, covered by wide, round-lensed glasses.
—How does it feel to be resurrected? —the woman said, leaning forward. Her face was the very image of curiosity.
—Do I know you? Where am I? —said Nero, trying to keep his voice from trembling too much. He didn’t recognize the surroundings; it looked nothing like any of the biomes he knew in Yomidgard.
—I am Saint Eisha. This is Velmardia. The middle plateau, to be precise. Surprising, isn’t it? Everyone from outside reacts the same way when they arrive here —said the woman, adjusting her glasses.
Velmardia. The word sank deep into Nero. It was the place he had always wanted to go, even knowing it was somewhere he could not access. No one with demon blood could cross its borders without suffering severe physical and mental damage. Being in Velmardia was a dream come true.
One that was, quite literally, impossible. He touched his head. The horns were still there. He was still a Devil.
—How is this possible? I should… —said Nero.
—You should be scorched, or screaming in pain, or flayed, or many other things, but the grace of Goddess Velmar has entered you, and apparently, demon blood no longer runs through your veins. I’ve confirmed it, by the way. A couple of blood tests. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I treated you gently. I was careful —said Eisha, smiling, as her glasses reflected the sunlight, casting glints—. A saint treating a Devil. How inscrutable are the designs of Goddess Velmar.
Goddess Velmar had kept her promise and brought Nero back to life. To him, it was still astonishing. He had died and returned to life. Nero couldn’t get over it. Tears rolled down his face, though he didn’t react. He was too stunned for that.
—Calm down, will you? You’re fine. You’re safe, or as safe as you can be in a place where ninety percent of the people consider you their enemy and the other ten percent want something from you —said Eisha—. Besides, your friends are fine.
—Where are they? —said Nero.
The saint stood up and opened the door. Standing guard outside was Alastor, who, upon seeing Nero awake, rushed into the room and leapt onto the bed, licking his face.
—He hasn’t left your side for a single minute. I was lucky he took a liking to me, otherwise I don’t know who would have been treating you. He’s a very intelligent dog —said Eisha.
Nero grabbed Alastor’s fur and pulled him close, sobbing. Alastor barked, wagging his tail wildly, happy to see him conscious again.
—He’s a wolf —said Nero, as Alastor continued playing with him.
—A wolf is also a dog —said Eisha, smiling—. Get dressed. I’ll take you to see Siphone. She’s the one you should speak to first.
—Why? —said Nero, slipping out of bed, dodging Alastor’s licks.
—You’ll see —said Eisha, leaving the room—. Get dressed, hurry. I’ll wait for you in the courtyard.
Nero got dressed in his own clothes. They smelled clean and felt fresh, two qualities Nero had never imagined clothing could have at the same time. He had all his belongings, including his wand, which meant they did not fear him, or did not consider him a danger.
The courtyard turned out to be a vast open plain, surrounded by a building with arcades and columns. Many people were sitting on the grass, reading or studying, chatting with one another or resting, their gazes lost in the sky. Nero himself was tempted to join them, as he had never seen a sky so clear or so blue.
They headed north, toward the plains covered in wheat fields. They walked for quite a while, long enough to lose sight of the building they had been in and draw very close to the mountains. There, far from everything, stood an immense sundial. Its gnomon was as tall as three people stacked on top of each other. The place was awe-inspiring, as the sun shone intensely, casting a clear and precise shadow that marked the time without error.
At the base of the sundial, they found two people. One, dressed in a nun’s habit, entirely in the purest white, with headdress and staff. The other wore a navy-blue cloak over a red outfit. When they turned, Nero recognized them instantly: they were Siphone and her younger sister, Iris.
—Nero! —shouted Siphone. She made a motion to hug him, but held herself back. She wore a perfectly tailored red outfit, high fashion, ideal for traveling, but not for indoor use. The most striking thing about the shade of red was how similar it was to the Velmardian flag.
—Siph! Iris! Were you captured too? —said Nero, confused to see them also in Velmardia.
The two sisters exchanged a knowing glance, but with a bitter expression. Iris closed her eyes, clasped her hands, and began to pray.
—Nero, my secret… the secret you discovered… goes beyond what you think —said Siphone.
—You’re Velmardian, yes, I know —said Nero—. It wasn’t hard to figure out.
—I am a Velmardian spy. And my sister as well. We were both infiltrated in Raven’s Order’s Academy, trying to gather as much information as possible. I’m sorry you had to find out this way —said Siphone.
—That… well, I suppose it makes sense. Terrible things happen at the academy —said Nero.
—You’re not angry? —said Iris.
—I don’t know. It’s strange. On one hand, I expected it. But I think that’s my Sylthmir self, my feelings trained by so many years of distrust. But on the other hand, I don’t care. You’re good people, after all —said Nero.
—We were good people when we departed from Velmardia. —said Siphone.
—We are different now, sis —said Iris, hugging her arm.
—I don't know how you were before, but I'm glad to meet both of you —said Nero.
Siphone reacted as if she had been punched in the stomach. First she was surprised, then she bent over laughing. Finally, she faced Nero again, but her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
—I... me... —Siphone tried to say, unable to form any words.
—Oh! My sister, speechless? —said Iris, laughing— This is certainly a novelty. Thank you, Nero. May the grace of Goddess Velmar always be with you.
Saint Eisha, who had had the courtesy to stay aside, allowing the happy reunion, gestured urgently to them from afar.
—We must go to the Holy See. The saints must gather. It’s an excellent opportunity for us to get to know each other better, Nero. I think you’ll like them —said Iris—. As long as you tell the truth, there will be no problem. We want to hear your story, in full detail.
—I’ll come with you, but first, Siph, is Larinca here too? Is she alright? —said Nero.
—Relax. You’ll see her soon. She’s in very good company, from what I’ve heard. And don’t ask about Varkuzhal. The demon is here too, under watch, of course —said Siphone, wrinkling her nose in a complicit gesture. Nero couldn’t quite place the expression, but her comment put him much more at ease. With his spirits calmed, he followed Siphone toward their new destination: the Holy See.
Meanwhile, Larinca was strolling through the Tower forest, a dense woodland that surrounded the gigantic jadesteel tree known as Tower. The name had been given to it by a group of children so long ago that no one remained alive to remember it, but apparently, the first Velmardian settlers had originally established themselves around a tower, where they planted a jadesteel tree, a very rare type of wood whose consistency resembled steel, but with a jade-green coloration. Over time, its trunk and roots grew around the tower, and the city grew around it, making this place unique and sacred. Lionel had told her about the beauty of the place, but Larinca hadn’t quite believed him, as it was hard to imagine that a city could contain within it such a vast haven of peace, one that pushed away the bustle of people and allowed one to walk as if lost in the countryside.
Not even Larinca herself understood how she had ended up agreeing to what she stubbornly refused to call a “date” with the knight. And yet, there she was, enjoying a day in the open air.
Credit had to be given to Lionel: he had been a true gentleman. Every time Larinca said she didn’t need space, he gave it to her anyway. Every time she had problems in the kitchens, he listened without offering solutions. Even the times when, in the middle of the night, Larinca had sneaked out for a snack, he pretended not to see her. All those tiny things had slowly worn down Larinca’s emotional armor, until she agreed to go for a walk with him. And although Lionel had never presented himself as a romantic interest, Larinca had begun to see him in a different light.
—It’s beautiful —said Larinca—. I had never seen leaves fall before, except on trees sustained by the academy’s magic. Nature, the real kind, is much more beautiful.
—I agree with you. I love the crunch of leaves beneath my boots when I walk. It reminds me of when, as a child, I used to visit these very woods with my nursemaid —said Lionel.
—Didn’t your mother go with you? —said Larinca.
—We never had that kind of relationship. Mother has always been a lady with many social commitments —said Lionel, shifting slightly, somewhat nervous.
Larinca didn’t reply. Instead, she took his hand and hooked herself onto his arm, walking beside him in silence. She didn’t need to look at him to know the knight was smiling, his body had tensed for an instant at the contact, but immediately relaxed afterward. She herself smiled broadly, making no effort to hide her now more than evident feelings.
They veered off the path, venturing deeper into the forest, walking among bushes with vividly colored flowers. Larinca was so absorbed in the walk, her cheeks flushed red, that it took her longer than it should have to notice that the flowering bushes reflected the light unnaturally, and that although the wind blew, it did not move the leaves of certain trees. When she finally realized it, she stopped and looked around.
—Does someone live here? —Larinca asked Lionel.
—No, no one —he replied—. There are people working to keep this place maintained and perfect. They trim the bushes, remove dead leaves from the ground during the falling season, and heal or feed wild animals whenever they find them in poor condition. There are no predators in this forest, don’t worry. The most dangerous creatures here are humans.
—Then why is there a magical barrier? —said Larinca, extending her hand toward a section of the grove.
—There’s no magical barrier. At least, none that I know of —said Lionel.
Larinca grabbed his arm and guided his hand to a specific spot in the air. Without letting go, she placed her other hand elsewhere and spoke a few words. A surge ran through both of their bodies, and the illusion unraveled before them. A section of the grove vanished, revealing a path they hadn’t been able to see before. Larinca’s spell had only managed to deactivate a very small portion of the barrier, so leaves could still be seen hanging directly in the air, unsupported by branches.
—It’ll close soon, whether we go through or not —said Larinca.
—We should investigate. Stay behind me —said Lionel, drawing his sword and stepping through the opening in the barrier.
Larinca smiled, because although Lionel was the only one armed, she didn’t need his protection, she could defend herself perfectly well with her own magic. Still, she appreciated the gesture and stepped through the barrier as well.
They entered a much brighter section of the forest. There, the sun shone directly onto the treetops, giving everything a vivid, luminous appearance. They walked among neatly trimmed hedges and trees with vibrant yellow and green leaves. Larinca could discern traces of magic among the trees, remnants of glyphs and healing spells. When the forest opened before them, they found a small clearing with a garden full of vegetables, a well, a cart, and a fragment of wall with a tower on each side. In front of one of the doors stood a table with several books resting on it, beside a tree stump carved into the shape of a chair. It even had a fabric cushion.
—What is this place? —said Larinca.
—It must be one of the city’s old walls. I thought they had all been torn down when the castle was moved to the upper plateau —said Lionel—. Be careful. It’s clear someone lives here.
—And doesn’t want to be disturbed —said Larinca, pointing at the books. As they drew closer, they could see glyphs drawn on papers held down by those books.
—Do you think they’re home? —said Lionel, gesturing toward the door of one of the towers with his chin.
—There’s only one way to find out —said Larinca, taking a couple of steps toward the door, intending to knock.
But a burst of sparks fell upon her before she could reach the tower. Lionel moved quickly and blocked all the sparks with his forearm, scorching his clothes and part of his shoulder. Larinca felt her heart race, several rapid beats, and her wand appeared in her hands. Though the sun shone in her face, she saw movement atop the wall and aimed her wand there, casting one of her spells, but the glyph vanished into the air almost instantly.
—Enough! —a voice shouted from above.
—Who are you? Speak, in the name of Queen Matelda! —said Lionel, shielding himself from the sun with the back of his hand.
A man descended, floating slowly down along the outer side of the wall. His torso was bare, and his hair was tousled by the wind. A thick shawl engraved with patterns resembling magical glyphs covered his back and draped over both arms, the only garment he wore, for from the waist down his entire body was pitch black, and his feet ended in thick claws that, strangely, were well cared for.
—Are you a demon? —said Lionel. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, steadying his grip.
—I no longer know what I am, but what I do know is that I am not a demon. This body is part of the punishment imposed on me for… for having thoughts of my own —said the man. His voice was melodious, and his eyes showed sadness. Larinca saw beyond it. It wasn’t a fleeting sadness, but a genuine one, the kind that is cultivated over years—. I recommend you sheathe your sword before you hurt yourself. Swords are useless against me. And as for you —he said, looking at Larinca—, No Velmardian should see through my spell!
—I am not from here —she said.
—Then, you are not a good person —the man replied, brushing his hair back. He took a couple of unsteady steps toward them but kept his distance.
—Well… but… no, I am not —said Larinca, unsure how to respond.
—Fine. No good person defines themselves as such —said the man, smiling. But his smile conveyed neither joy nor amusement, only resignation.
—I demand to know who you are —said Lionel.
—A name, yes. I believe I have one, though… where it might have gone is a mystery. Perhaps, in another life, I was Orpheus. You may call me that, if you wish —said the self-proclaimed Orpheus.
The man went to the stump and sat down to read, ignoring his two visitors. Lionel made a move to approach, but Larinca grabbed his arm and shook her head.
—We should leave him in peace —she said.
—Nothing would please me more than returning to our walk, but this… “man” has erected a magical barrier in Velmardian territory, and I have no record of any special permission for someone to live in this forest —said Lionel.
Orpheus set his book aside and stood up. From behind the stack of books, he took out a key, large, unconventional, decorated with flowers. It shone with its own light and emitted a radiant white aura. Larinca felt no hostility in the key’s magic, quite the opposite. With short steps, Orpheus approached a tree and carved a magical symbol into its bark with the key. Suddenly, the withered leaves in the tree’s crown regained their green color, and its fruits blossomed.
—I am but a simple gardener, my lord —Orpheus said to Lionel—. I have permission to live here, as long as I take care of this forest and the jadesteel tree. I have no intention of abandoning my duty. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must continue my work.
—Permission from whom? —Lionel insisted.
Weary, Orpheus snapped his fingers above his head, and the pages of one of the books on the table fluttered rapidly, flipping at great speed until they reached a particular page and stopped. There, on a small yellowed piece of paper, was the permission Orpheus had mentioned, written by hand, sealed with the Velmardian emblem and bearing a fine signature, with a woman’s name beneath it: “Diane.”
—I hope that satisfies you —said Orpheus, focused on trimming a bush.
—It… I suppose it does. Let’s go —Lionel said to Larinca—. You’re right. We should allow this kind gentleman to continue his work.
—It was a pleasure meeting you —said Larinca, as Lionel almost pulled her toward the barrier. Once they were far enough from Orpheus, Larinca turned on Lionel—. Did you notice it too? His magic is truly powerful.
—I can’t perceive magic —said Lionel.
—Then? You look pale —she said.
—The signature was Queen Diane’s. It was permission written by her own hand —said Lionel.
—So, what he said was true, wasn’t it? —said Larinca.
—Yes. The strange thing is that Her Majesty, Queen Diane… was Velmardia’s first queen —said Lionel—. If he’s telling the truth, that man has been alive for several centuries.
They stopped outside the barrier. Slowly, it closed, reconstructing the false image of dense foliage and the illusion that no path existed. They watched as it erased every trace of the structure beyond, the millennia-old man who lived there, and the mystery that, more than ever, both of them longed to unravel.
