In the end, Linden passed out while getting treatment anyways, so he didn’t have to fake waking up after Acacius.

The school doctor informed him that heat exhaustion and blood loss had nearly done him in. Healing magic had been ineffective on his wounds for reasons she was unsure of, so they’d stitched and bandaged him instead. She gave him a couple tonics to drink, instructed him not to remove his saline drip, and told him he should schedule an appointment with his doctor to investigate his condition.

Not that Linden had any intention of doing so.

The infirmary staff left him with a pamphlet of resources from the Dragon Shrine that could help his recovery. They wanted to keep him under observation for a while just to be safe, but expected to release him by the end of the day.

Xander was the first person to know about his recovery, because he’d stayed in the infirmary room the whole time, hunched over in the chair by Linden’s bed.

“I’ll kill that bastard Acacius,” he said darkly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together in a white-knuckled grip.

He really looked like he might try it, so Linden said, “You can’t.”

“The fuck you mean I can’t? I’ll duel him, too.”

“I’m stronger than you, and I lost. What do you think you can do?”

“That loss is bullshit. Acacius only won by a technicality.”

“Right,” said Linden. “So, who looked worse when we were brought into the infirmary?”

Xander fell silent before changing the subject.

“How did Acacius defeat you, anyways? Did the Duval family ritual really grant him some mysterious and awful power?”

It would have been better if he did. As it was, Linden could only smile bitterly.

“He used first-circle 6E spells and Initiation stage aura.”

“…You’re making this up.”

Linden shook his head. “His battle sense is better than mine now. He controlled the flow of the fight from beginning to end.”

“How the hell does that work?”

The thought of explaining the details of his loss was unbearable, but Xander had done so much for him. Since Xander was an aura-using swordsman, too, the least Linden could do was warn him about Acacius’ tactics in advance.

Linden looked up at the ceiling and walked Xander through the battle as calmly as he could. How potent Acacius’ new fire magic was, how he had tricked Linden’s senses and gained a measure of his sensing range. How he must have been moving a small ether domain around Linden to conserve his energy, instead of creating a larger fixed field. How he must have been calculating his spell placements relative to both Linden’s movements and the domain’s.

Acacius was someone who was good at planning in advance but struggled to make split-second judgments.

At least, that was how it was before.

Xander clenched his jaw. “You struggled this much after reaching the Trajectory stage…” he muttered. “I’m only at the Projection realm. What am I supposed to do? Carpet bomb the area with attacks and hope it hits?”

“Take him out before he expects a fight.”

Xander grimaced. “Damn. With that battle sense, if he learns aura properly, he’ll turn into a monster. Why is it the worst people in the Duval family who become the strongest? Ah, crap. Not to say you’re weak. Now that you know his abilities, you can beat him next time.”

Linden punched his shoulder. “Don’t butter me up.”

Xander laughed and punched him back. “I’m serious. Even with all that bullshit, you still got a critical hit on him in the end.”

What kind of expression would Xander make if he knew what really happened?

Linden swallowed down the truth and lowered his eyes.

“Acacius is as qualified for the throne as you are. Now that I’ve lost, I have no grounds to keep him from the Fellowship anymore.”

Xander scowled.

“I don’t think there’s anyone there who actually likes him. One day, I’ll find a way to kick him out.”

Linden tactfully refrained from saying that he didn’t think any of the Fellowship liked Xander either.

After he reassured Xander that he was fine, and that he should go back to class so that Linden could rest as well, Linden received a trickle of other visitors. Friends, classmates, and teachers, some of whom were aware of his relationship with Acacius. Most of them weren’t.

Then, late in the afternoon, Cynara arrived.

“Linden, are you okay?” she whispered, taking up the seat by the bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position. “What about you?”

Cynara punched his shoulder. He winced.

“You’re not healing as fast as you should be,” she said. “Haven’t you been taking your blood?”

Linden averted his eyes.

“Linden!”

“Sorry. I used my last vials during the duel.”

Cynara glowered. “I gave those to you to preserve your life, not for you to kill each other!”

“Sorry,” Linden repeated. “But I really did think he was going to kill me.”

She maintained her glare a moment longer before slumping down in the chair. “Whatever. It’s not like you dying in the duel would have wasted all my efforts to keep you alive.”

Linden felt terrible, but he didn’t know what to say.

Cynara didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, she took a syringe and a few glass vials from her pocket.

“Cynara…”

It was his own fault for wasting what she’d given him.

“Shut up. If you die in the hospital because of your stupid title, I really will spit on your grave.”

Linden bit his lip and watched Cynara jab the syringe into her arm, slowly filling it with her blood.

The door swung open.

“Cynara,” said Acacius. “What exactly are you doing?”

In the silence that followed, frozen in the thought of what might happen to Cynara if their father found out, Linden wondered if he should try killing Acacius again after all.

Cynara spoke first. “I didn’t know you were discharged,” she said, removing the syringe and hiding her tools beneath her coat sleeves. “So you’re all better now?”

Acacius closed the door behind him. He’d changed back into one of his usual clean suits, and he looked absolutely pristine — nothing to suggest that he’d ever been hurt.

Or that he had inflicted that wound on himself.

“I came to speak to the loser of the duel.”

Cynara flared up. “You really think your victory means something, third best? It was just luck you woke up first!”

Acacius gestured at Linden. “Then you think someone in this sorry state should be the winner instead? He didn’t put a single scratch on me.”

“Liar.”

The Acacius that Linden knew was afraid of being seen as weak. Even if he played his cards close to his chest, there was no way he would simply accept Cynara denying everything he’d achieved. But now, Acacius only lifted the corner of his lips, as if he were laughing at a private joke.

What kind of expression had he been watching Linden with, in the darkness?

Linden felt deeply uncomfortable.

Acacius, strangely enough, didn’t press Cynara about the syringe. Instead, he turned his gaze to Linden. “What about you, Linden? Am I a fraud to you, too?”

What could Linden even say?

“If you aren’t satisfied with the outcome,” Acacius said, “Let’s fight again.”

“Are you serious?” Cynara said, raising her voice.

“Since he seems to find it such a good way of resolving our differences, why not?”

Before, Linden would have assumed Acacius was just bitter and frustrated, but now, it felt more like Acacius was secretly mocking him. Linden curled his hands into fists under the hospital blanket, careful to keep it out of his siblings’ sight.

“Don’t assume everything will go your way just because you won this time.”

Acacius’ lip curled. “Oh, please. Let me make something clear. The outcome of the duel is only thanks to your lucky last strike. But Linden, do you really think you can win against me next time?”

When Linden didn’t speak, Cynara looked back and forth between them, fingers curling against the hem of her skirt.

“I’m sure many people have wondered what I gained from the ritual,” Acacius said. He spoke with his usual emotionless tone, but its calm and unhurried pace gave it a magnetic draw it didn’t have before. “Maybe you thought that I had a trump card, some great power that would give me the confidence to face you head on. But what is the end result?”

He moved closer. His golden eyes glinted in the shadows like a lion’s.

“I reduced you to this state with nothing that a complete beginner couldn’t use.”

Another step closer. He was looming over the bed now. Cynara sat up straight, craning her head back to keep him in sight, but Acacius didn’t pay any attention to her. His attention was fixed on Linden like a hunting snake.

“I don’t like being threatened,” he said softly. “You don’t like me. That’s fine; if you leave me alone, I’m happy to leave you alone too. But if you want to come after me…”

He smiled — nothing as bright as when he’d accepted the duel, but it sent a shiver down Linden’s spine all the same.

“Why don’t you think about how easy it would be to kill you if I didn’t hold myself back.”

Before, Linden would have retaliated without question.

But now, he could only avert his eyes as he struggled to keep a straight expression.

“…I understand.”

“Linden?” Cynara said, voice small.

A hint of satisfaction seeped into Acacius’ smile before he tucked the emotion away and took a step back, returning to his usual expressionless self.

“It’s good that we can communicate so smoothly,” he said, which made Linden want to hit him. “Cynara, come here. I want to talk to you too.”

He turned and walked out of the room, heedless of the grave silence he’d left behind.

Cynara looked at the closing door with wide eyes, then looked back at Linden. He did his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine, Cynara. This won’t keep me down forever. Go talk to him.”

Cynara’s mouth tugged down unhappily.

“There’s only so much I can do to help you. You idiot.”

She flounced through the door, layers of white petticoats rustling as she went.

Linden only waited a minute before he slowly pushed himself out of bed, circulating aura through his recovering body. The senses of the Trajectory realm slowly bloomed in his mind, outlining the movements outside the room. He carefully placed his ear against the door.

Cynara and Acacius’ voices, though muffled, came through the wood.

“How much blood does Linden need?” Acacius said. “Be honest.”

A violent chill went down Linden’s spine. No, Acacius couldn’t know. He had to be talking about the blood loss from the fight… right?

“Are you going to tell Father?” Cynara asked after a pause.

“What would I tell him?”

“That I have an arrangement that has nothing to do with you.”

“I see. So why does Linden need your blood?”

“I just said it has nothing to do with you!”

“Fine. Let me change the question. Is there a reason why my blood would be sufficient as well?”

With every word from Acacius, Linden’s blood ran colder. He’d been so careful to keep his wretched title under wraps, so why were Acacius’ questions so…

“Why would Linden want your blood?” Cynara scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Acacius said. “I hear giving blood too often is bad for your health. Maybe you should have Linden ask for donations from his new family instead.”

Linden let out a breath. At least he didn’t understand exactly how it worked… or where it came from.

“Linden’s not adopted. He’s a protected ward and a vassal. And since when have you cared about my health?”

“Oh. How quickly you forget about our good times together.”

“…The moon path incident was about self-preservation.”

“I notice that you didn’t toss my unconscious body in a ditch somewhere after we escaped safely.”

“Maybe I should have so you wouldn’t be here annoying me so much.”

“Ouch. How could you be so hurtful?”

“Please. This level of hostility is nothing for our family.”

“Is that so,” said Acacius. “I guess I’m not a real Duval after all.”

With the pattern in the conversation, that statement had to be a joke too, but it was unquestionably his worst one yet. Acacius was the most exemplary Duval of them all.

And since when was he someone who could joke with Cynara?

“Liar,” Cynara snapped. “If that’s all you have to say, then leave already. Can’t you tell that neither of us want to see you here?”

“Mm,” said Acacius. “About that.”

Acacius paused and worked his mouth, struggling for words. He ran a hand through his hair, looked away, and then he sighed.

“Cynara.”

“What?” she said warily.

“Sorry for asking you why I shouldn’t kill Linden.”

Then, without waiting for a response, Acacius walked away.

Cynara stood frozen in the corridor, and Linden couldn’t blame her.

Acacius?

Apologizing?

For that?

It was as inconceivable as the end of their duel. When Cynara opened the door again and saw him standing there, she didn’t yell at him for eavesdropping, or for moving around while wounded. They just looked at each other in silence.

“Has Acacius developed a sense of humor?” Linden asked finally.

“I hate it,” Cynara said immediately.

Linden had to agree. “How did the ritual even give him a sense of humor? There’s no way he would have asked for that.”

“What do you think he asked for?”

“I don’t know. A moral compass?”

Cynara snorted. “Yeah, because it’s so clearly working.”

Her disdain faded away in favor of confusion when Linden didn’t laugh.

“It wasn’t a mutual knockout,” Linden said.

“What?”

“Our duel. I lost completely. Acacius faked his injury so that Dalileh would have an excuse to intervene, but he thinks I don’t know.”

Cynara stared. “What? But why would he even…”

Unable to offer any answers, Linden could only shake his head. “He definitely wanted to kill me when I challenged him.”

“And he wasn’t sorry when I talked to him.”

“So he changed his mind sometime between then and now?”

“And,” said Cynara slowly, “he did it even after getting Father’s letter.”

The two of them stood there in silence, trying to make sense of what it could mean.

“You said before that he was acting different after the ritual,” said Linden, after a while. “Do you think he’s really… changing?”

Cynara snorted. “Not that much. If it was so easy for people to change, there’d be no need for the Scribe.”

“The Scribe doesn’t help people change,” said Linden with great finality.

“Linden…”

He changed the subject. “Are you planning on going through with the Void Calling Ritual too?”

“I don’t know. I need to if I want to compete with Acacius as the heir.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll come up with something.”

“Because your duel went so well?” Cynara said sarcastically.

Linden couldn’t find a way to refute that, so he asked something else.

“What do you think you’ll ask for? From the ritual.”

Cynara lowered her head until her bangs shaded her eyes.

“I want to be powerful enough to break free of any bonds,” she said quietly, into the empty space of the room. “Power enough to be free, and to be kind.”

“If you ask for that kind of power, your trial will be that much more difficult.”

Cynara looked back up and gave Linden a smile that made him ache painfully inside.

“What else can I do? I can’t think of any other way out for me.”

It wasn’t the first time Linden regretted what had happened. If only he’d made better choices; compromised on different things. If only he had been stronger — without needing to sacrifice what he did.

“Then I’ll support you,” he said. “Whatever you want to do.”

He didn’t think it would end well to ask for so much from the Void Calling Ritual.

It was just—

With his mistakes, he didn’t have the right to stop Cynara from struggling for her freedom, too.

---

The day he was released from the hospital, Linden went to find Dalileh.

She was lounging in the office in the gymnasium, feet kicked up on the desk as she flipped through notes on a clipboard. When she saw Linden, she waved for him to come in and close the door.

“I’ve been expecting you, Linden boy,” she said. “Got a lot on your mind?”

That was an understatement if anything.

“Master Dalileh, what did Acacius ask you to do? Did you know what he was planning from the beginning?”

“That’s right. An entertaining brother you’ve got there.” Dalileh tossed her clipboard to the side and grinned. “He also asked me to perform emergency healing on you if the need arose, especially with regards to heat exhaustion. Ha! Me, the Unrelenting Storm, healing? I haven’t heard something so funny in ages.”

“You’re a good healer though, Master Dalileh.”

“Pshaw. These hands have taken far more lives than they’ve saved. Your brother sure has a lot of guts to talk to me like that.”

With the way she was smiling, it didn’t seem like she disliked it.

“So he planned to throw the duel from the beginning?” Linden asked. “Why didn’t he just… call it off, then?”

Dalileh laughed.

“Same reason you didn’t, boy. He didn’t want you to be too comfortable. ‘Why should I reconcile with someone who wants me dead? It’s better to just teach him a lesson he won’t forget.’ But he also didn’t want to tell everyone that he didn’t want you dead. And you don’t really want to kill him either, do you?”

There had been a time when Linden was excited to have new siblings in the manor.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Linden asked. “Acacius couldn’t have wanted me to know.”

Dalileh hummed. She removed her boots from the desk and spun around in her chair, until she was facing away from him.

“Acacius has the look of someone who’s been alone for a long time now,” she said. “There were soldiers like that during the war. When you return home, everything is the same, but nothing fits, because you’ve been through something words can’t explain. So why try to breach the invisible wall that separates you now?”

She let out a long sigh.

“He won’t make an effort to be understood. But since he’s my student, I can’t let him be too comfortable, either. So don’t you dare forget anything you’ve learned today.”

Linden left the office with his head spinning.

Acacius had never explained why he killed their brother, why he was driving Linden out of the manor, or why he kept standing in Cynara’s way. No matter how much Linden raged or Cynara cried, he only looked at them with a deepening hatred, as if hating them for hating him.

How could Linden reach out to someone like that, trust them, forgive them? Who was this Acacius that Dalileh had described?

A lifetime of tearing into each other’s wounds couldn’t simply be erased.

It must be Dalileh who didn’t understand. Acacius was playing her for a fool.

In the end, unable to grasp what Acacius was playing at, Linden decided to confront him. That night, he looked up Acacius’ name in the student directory, went to his dorm room, and knocked.

When Acacius opened the door, he had a familiar pinched look on his face — the kind of tension that he’d carried for as long as Linden knew him. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign that it was back.

“I think I was quite clear when I said I didn’t want to be bothered by you anymore,” Acacius said coldly. “So? What is it?”

Linden lowered his voice.

“I know that you faked the end of the duel.”

Acacius stared at him for a long moment, face unchanging.

“What an accusation,” he said finally. “Why don’t you explain that to me and why I’d even bother to do such a thing.”

“That’s what I want to ask you,” Linden retorted. “What exactly do you want? Is this blackmail? Extortion? For the record, I don’t care if you drag my reputation down into the mud.”

“I already said what I wanted from you.”

“You really think I’d believe that you want something so simple?”

Acacius tugged at his neatly-buttoned collar absently as he considered his reply. He looked at Linden with a familiar and calculating gaze.

“In fact, there are some things you could do for me,” he said finally. “What are you willing to do for your peace of mind?”

Linden narrowed his eyes. “Depends on what you want me to do.”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Nothing I couldn’t do without.”

Then why ask him? “That’s it? You don’t want anything else?”

“No.”

“Will you swear by the Tripartite?”

“Whatever suits you.”

As a vassal of the Morgan family, there were powers that he had access to as a result.

A thin black flame twisted around his hand as he stretched it out, coiling like a snake.

“Swear it.”

Acacius looked down, expression unchanging, then grasped his hand. His palm was hot.

“I swear by my name that this statement is true,” he said. “Linden, answer three questions for me, and I won’t weaponize the duel against you.”

The black flame coiled around Acacius’ hand and settled under his skin in thick loops of Divine Script before fading away out of sight.

Acacius let go quickly and let the door swing open wider.

“Come in. Let’s talk.”

Acacius’ dorm was boring. It was missing his usual giant collection of books and was almost entirely devoid of personal touch, but there was a stack of notebooks on the table that seemed more like him. The kitchen, on the other hand, seemed well-stocked. Linden sat at the table and watched Acacius pour tea from the stove into a pair of truly ugly mugs.

Graves would have passed out before letting a Duval touch something so tasteless, so Linden could only speculate that Acacius had bought them himself. It seemed like his bad taste wasn’t only limited to his newfound sense of humor.

Acacius placed the mugs on the table, and Linden couldn’t help but notice the slight stiffness in the way he sat down.

“What do you want to ask?” Linden said directly, because the show of hospitality was making him feel weird and unsettled.

Thankfully, Acacius accepted the topic without comment.

“First,” he said, “how much of the Duval family tree do you remember?”

Linden blinked.

Acacius picked up a notebook and flipped to a blank page, presenting it to him along with a pen. “You can write it down.”

“What do you want to know this for?”

“I made a recent discovery that has me wanting to verify the family tree. A second source is helpful.”

Linden wanted to ask further, but Acacius’ firm tone told him that he wasn’t going to say anything more on the subject. Still, he couldn’t help but speculate why Acacius would want his account of the family tree. Had history been altered? Or was Acacius just gauging his knowledge? It was hard to say. He wrote down what he could remember while Acacius stared out the window and drank his tea.

When he finished, Acacius said, “Second, who believes that I staged the end of the duel?”

“You did stage it.”

“Prove it.”

Cynara was right. Acacius had definitely gotten more annoying after the ritual.

“I told Xander about your abilities,” said Linden. “And Cynara knows you faked the result. I don’t know what anyone else knows.”

Acacius clicked his tongue. “You chose to tell two people who’d be happier believing I’d been critically wounded by you?”

Linden almost snapped back that Cynara wouldn’t have been happy, but he didn’t know if Acacius would use that against her somehow… or against him.

Acacius didn’t seem to expect an answer. He curled his fingers around his cup of tea and said, “Last question.”

His gaze was sharp under the lamp light. Linden braced himself.

“What is the name of your World Proof?”

Linden clenched his jaw. It would have been better if Acacius had simply asked how it worked. But why did it have to be the name?

With the way Acacius had worded his oath, if Linden backed out now, there wouldn’t be any consequence but the answers he’d already given.

But.

Linden grit his teeth and forced the words out.

“Its name is [Regretful Devourer of What He Loves].”

“Well now,” said Acacius. “Why would you do that?”

Linden glared out at his brother. He wasn’t responsible for Linden’s choices, it was true, but if not for him, Linden wouldn’t have turned out this way.

“Do you think I want to?” he said lowly.

“I think you regret it, but not enough to stop,” Acacius replied. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be your World Proof.”

“In my position, you’d do the exact same as me.”

Acacius only took another sip of tea, gaze steady and even. His lack of reprisal burned.

He didn’t have any right to judge him.

“You’ve answered my questions. Let’s finish our conversation for the night.”

Linden didn’t want to be here any longer either, so he quickly rose to his feet to follow Acacius to the door.

When Acacius opened the door, though, Linden couldn’t help but notice how he reached up and worried at his collar again.

“What’s wrong with your collar?” said Linden.

Acacius blinked slowly. “Hm?”

“You keep touching it. Is it uncomfortable?”

Acacius raised his eyebrow. “Why would you think so? It’d be stupid to wear something you’re uncomfortable with every day.”

Linden frowned. He looked down the entrance hallway to the tea on the table. The kettle had already been on the stove before he’d been invited in. Hadn’t his hand been hot when shaking hands, too? He looked back at Acacius, at the tension that had made its reappearance in his shoulders and the slight furrow between his eyebrows, and at the slight stiffness in his body as he adjusted his grip on the doorknob.

“Are you… sick?”

This time, Acacius barely blinked. “Sick of you, maybe. If there’s nothing else, don’t come find me again.”

He shut the door firmly in Linden’s face.

Linden circulated his aura to open up his senses. He felt Acacius slump and return to the kitchen area, drinking down some tea before collapsing in the bedroom to rest.

Acacius really was a liar.

But Linden couldn’t make sense of the purpose of his deceptions anymore.

It would be easy if he could still assume that Acacius wanted to kill him or see him dead. Acacius had many motives to do so, not the least of which was his determination to become the heir and the letter their father had sent.

What was so important that he’d go against that?

Was Cynara’s suspicion that Acacius had become a prophet correct after all?

Linden desperately hoped that wasn’t the case. Otherwise, he didn’t know what he would do.

Now that he was resting, he had disappeared from Linden’s Trajectory realm senses. Without any movement, Acacius was no different from a dead man.

…

Linden stopped circulating his aura, and he closed his eyes.

Acacius’ choices couldn’t be erased. The consequences were his own to bear.

He forced himself to turn away.

Chapter 15 Back to Index