Elshua stood by the window in his private chambers, the morning light filtering through arched windows, casting golden vines across the marble floor.
The room's opulence—frescoed ceilings depicting Aeloria's triumphs, silken tapestries embroidered with silver stars, and a canopied bed draped in translucent gauze—was a familiar comfort, but his mind churned with restless purpose.
The encounter with Kael Vaelor, the protagonist of Requiem of the Fallen, had ignited a fire within him, a resolve to guide the outcast prince and defy the novel's tragic arc.
Elshua's golden hair fell loosely over his ears, his golden eyes burning with determination, his lean frame poised in his pale gold robe, its sun-embroidered hems catching the light.
He paced, his sandals soft on the marble, his thoughts spilling aloud in a low murmur, Jun's voice breaking through.
"Kael, here, now," he said, his voice tense, his golden eyes darting to the spires beyond the glass.
"A year early, not even a hero yet—just a boy, like me, carrying too much. Why's he with the envoy? Veltharia's playing a dangerous game, and he's their pawn."
He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed.
"I showed him kindness, brought him to the banquet, made sure they saw us together. It worked—the court noticed, his standing's higher now. But it's not enough. I need to know what they want, why they're risking Aeloria's neutrality."
He resumed pacing, his robe rustling, his voice dropping.
"The novel's shifting, and I'm the Spark. I can't let Kael fall, or me with him. There's got to be a way to change this—think, Jun, think."
He paused, his fingers tracing the air, and summoned his status window, a shimmering golden panel materializing before him, its runes pulsing with divine energy.
⟪System Notification: Status Update⟫
༺═════════════════༻
Character: Elshua (Saint of Aeloria)
Title: Spark of Aeloria
Status: Divine Energy (Recovered)
Health: Stable (Minor physical fatigue)
Level: 3
Affiliation: Lion Hearts Knight Order (Allied), Holy Empire of Aeloria (Saint)
Role: Support/Offensive (Divine Caster)
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Active Skills:
- Mendlight (Support, Advanced): Channels pure divine light to heal one ally or self, restoring significant health and curing minor status ailments (e.g., poison, burns). Cooldown: 20 seconds. Duration: Instant. Cost: Moderate divine energy.
- Aegis (Support, Advanced): Summons a radiant barrier around one ally or self, absorbing multiple attacks or one powerful strike, reflecting minor damage back to the attacker. Duration: 15 seconds. Cooldown: 8 seconds. Cost: Moderate divine energy.
- Bless (Buff, Advanced): Imbues allies within a 30-meter radius with enhanced strength, resilience, and divine fervor, increasing attack, defense, and speed by 30% for 45 seconds. Cooldown: 50 seconds. Cost: High divine energy.
- Grand Cross (Offensive, Advanced): Unleashes a cross-shaped burst of holy light, dealing massive divine damage to enemies in a 10-meter line, burning undead or demonic foes for additional damage over 5 seconds. Cooldown: 30 seconds. Duration: Instant (burn effect: 5 seconds). Cost: High divine energy.
- Dawnshard (Offensive, Advanced): Conjures a spear of condensed divine light, piercing one enemy with precision, dealing severe damage and reducing their defense by 20% for 10 seconds. Cooldown: 25 seconds. Duration: Instant (debuff: 10 seconds). Cost: Moderate divine energy.
- Holy Chains (Debuff, Advanced): Summons ethereal chains of light to bind enemies within a 15-meter radius, reducing their movement speed by 50% and attack power by 25% for 12 seconds. Cooldown: 40 seconds. Duration: 12 seconds. Cost: High divine energy.
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Passive Skill:
- Heartsmite (Regenerative): Innately recovers minor injuries over time (e.g., cuts, bruises) and regenerates 1% of divine energy every 60 seconds, even during combat, enhancing endurance and resilience.
༺═════════════════༻
⟪Objective: None Active⟫
⟪Note: Your light grows, Young Saint, but shadows loom. Forge your path with wisdom, lest the past's chains bind you.⟫
Elshua's golden eyes traced the panel, his lips curving into a resolute smile, Jun's analytical mind cataloging his progress.
His skills, honed under Pope Seraphius IV's rigorous training, were a testament to his growth, their advanced forms—Mendlight, Aegis, Bless, Grand Cross, Dawnshard, Holy Chains—rivaling the empire's high-ups.
Heartsmite, his passive skill, was a quiet strength, its slow regeneration a lifeline in battle. His divine energy at peak, was a radiant torrent, nearly restored through the healers' care.
The cryptic note stirred his resolve, its warning a challenge.
"Shadows loom," he murmured, his voice firm. "But I'll burn them away. For Kael, for Aeloria, for myself. I'll help him become the hero, and we'll rewrite this story."
He dismissed the window, his fingers brushing the air, and sat, his thoughts lingering on Kael's laughter, his guarded eyes, and the envoy's mystery.
A fleeting ache tugged at his chest, a memory of Caelan's grin, the paladin's letters from the World Academy vivid with tales of sparring and camaraderie.
He missed his friend, the woven cord and wooden lion on his desk a quiet reminder, but he pushed the feeling aside, his focus on Kael and Veltharia's gambit.
"Caelan's thriving," he muttered, his golden eyes narrowing. "I'll write soon. Right now, Kael's the key, and I need to understand Veltharia's move."
The morning brought breakfast in the palace's lesser hall, a warm chamber with rose-tinted windows and a table set with fresh bread, honey, and Lirien's fragrant tea.
High Priestess Lirien, her silver braid glinting, poured the tea with precision, her hazel eyes calm but observant. High Priest Caldor, his bald head shining, broke his bread carefully, his blue robe free of crumbs for once, his brown eyes holding a quiet scrutiny.
Elshua, seated between them, sipped his tea, its warmth grounding him, though his thoughts lingered on the banquet, his calculated appearance with Kael a subtle boost to the prince's standing.
Lirien set her teapot down, her expression composed, her voice measured.
"Your Holiness," she said, her tone gentle but probing, "your presence at the banquet last night was… unexpected. The entire hall fell silent when you entered, a rare sight. Your duties do not require such appearances, yet you chose to attend."
She tilted her head, her hazel eyes searching, and Elshua's fingers tightened on his cup, his golden eyes flickering.
Caldor nodded, his voice low, his brown eyes steady.
"Indeed, lad," he said, his tone respectful but curious. "The Cardinals, Exarchs, even the Veltharians—they all bowed, waiting for your word. It was a moment of great reverence, yet you seemed… purposeful. Care to share your intent?"
He raised an eyebrow, his expression kind but expectant, and Elshua's heart quickened, his mind racing: They're onto me. Keep it vague, Jun.
Elshua set his cup down, his cheeks tinting slightly, and offered a small smile, feigning nonchalance.
"I was merely… passing through," he said, his voice careful, his golden eyes darting to the table. "I'd been in the gardens, got a bit turned around, and ended up near the hall. Thought it polite to make an appearance, show Aeloria's hospitality."
He reached for a slice of bread, his movements deliberate, but Lirien's soft hum and Caldor's faint frown told him his excuse was thin.
"Passing through," Lirien echoed, her tone neutral, her silver braid catching the light.
"The gardens are vast, Your Holiness, but you know them well. And with the Veltharian prince in tow? A curious coincidence."
Her voice held no accusation, only a quiet invitation to explain, and Elshua's smile tightened, his heart steadying.
Caldor leaned back, his hands folded, his voice gentle.
"The prince—Kael, was it?—seemed struck by your presence, as was the hall," he said, his brown eyes thoughtful.
"Your light draws eyes, lad, and your actions carry weight. We only ask to understand your purpose, to guide you if needed."
His concern was genuine, and Elshua's chest warmed, though he kept his guard.
"Just being courteous," Elshua said, his voice light, spreading honey on his bread with focus.
"He was lost, I guided him back. Aeloria's hospitality, as you taught me."
He met their eyes, his smile sincere, and Lirien's sigh was soft, her expression softening, though her gaze lingered.
"Very well," she said, pouring more tea, her tone warm but cautious.
"Your hospitality is noted, Your Holiness, but the Veltharians are here with intent. Guard your light, for their ambitions may seek to draw it."
She handed him a cup, her hazel eyes kind, and Elshua nodded, his golden eyes meeting hers.
"I will," he promised, his voice earnest, though Jun's mind buzzed: They're right—Veltharia's after something. I need answers.
He finished his breakfast swiftly, eager to escape their scrutiny, and stood, his robe brushing the floor.
"I'm heading to the library—some research to do."
He smiled bright, and left, Lirien's quiet murmur and Caldor's soft grunt fading behind.
The Great Library of Lumora was a cathedral of knowledge, its spires piercing the sky, its stained-glass windows casting rainbows over towering shelves of oak and cedar.
Marble columns rose like sentinels, etched with runes of wisdom, and the air was cool, scented with parchment and wax. Elshua navigated the aisles, his sandals soft on the polished floor, his golden eyes scanning for scrolls on Veltharian history.
He wore a simple tunic of dark blue, less conspicuous than his saintly robes, his golden hair falling gently, blending among the monks in gray who scribbled notes or whispered debates.
His purpose was clear: to understand Veltharia's empire, its past relations with Aeloria, and why Kael, the novel's protagonist, was here a year early, a pawn in an envoy's gambit.
He found a scroll on every empires in Philan, its leather cover embossed with an eagle, and settled at a table, its surface inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
The parchment crackled as he unrolled it, his golden eyes sharp, Jun's analytical mind at work.
Veltharia was a maritime power, its fleets of obsidian-black ships dominating the western seas, its islands dotted with arcane towers glowing with wards.
Emperor Lysander Vaelor was a master of ambition, his court a labyrinth of politics where mages and generals vied for favor.
Kael, the illegitimate prince, was a mere whisper, his mother's lowborn blood a scandal, his status a shadow despite his potential.
The scroll noted Veltharia's rare visits to Aeloria—diplomatic gestures, exchanges of arcane goods for divine relics—but Aeloria's neutrality held firm, their relations distant, neither ally nor foe.
Elshua's fingers paused, his golden eyes narrowing.
"No alliances, no conflicts," he murmured, his voice low, his brow furrowed.
"So why now? What's Lysander after, and why risk Kael?"
He thought of Kael's laughter, his guarded eyes, his stammered awe in the gardens, and felt a surge of resolve.
He's a scapegoat... it must be, set to fail by the Empress Dowager. I've got to help him, but I need to know Veltharia's game.
He pulled another scroll on Veltharian envoys, reading of Duke Arvand Vael, a cunning strategist leading the mission, and past exchanges—arcane wards for divine scrolls—hinting at Veltharia's hunger for Aeloria's secrets.
The sun climbed, the library's rainbows shifting, casting blue over Elshua's notes, his quill scratching furiously.
He cross-referenced texts, muttering to himself, "Veltharia's ambitious—arcane experiments, rival empires, but Aeloria's a wall. They've tried before, failed. This envoy's different—Kael's proof, a wildcard. What's changed?"
His voice was soft, his thoughts consumed, piecing together Veltharia's motives and Aeloria's stance. Kael's presence, his vulnerability, was a vow: to nudge him toward heroism, to change their fates.
Hours passed, the library fading, his focus unbroken. A monk offered tea, but Elshua declined with a distracted nod, his thanks murmured, his mind on Veltharia.
I showed up for him, he thought, his heart steady. To lift his name, a small ripple. Now I need to keep him close, learn more, guide him.
His kindness was strategic, but genuine, stirred by Kael's mirrored fears, a boy caught in a larger tale.
As dusk fell, Elshua rolled up the scrolls, his notes tucked into his cloak, his sandals soft as he left the library. Lumora's spires glowed under the stars, their light a beacon.
Back in his chambers, he sat by the window, his golden eyes reflecting the city, his heart steady but heavy. The monastery's betrayal, his drained energy, and Veltharia's gambit were threads to unravel.
Kael, a year early, was a chance to rewrite Requiem's tragedy, a risk if he faltered.
"I'll guide him," he vowed, his voice firm, his eyes blazing. He wrote to Caelan, sharing only the envoy's arrival, keeping Kael's meeting private.
The woven cord, wooden lion, and rosewine charm were his anchors, but Kael's laughter, Veltharia's shadow, and Elshua's resolve wove a new future, where the Spark of Aeloria would shine.