Emerald Falls 2

The Silver Dragon slowly descended at its master's command. The gusts raised by its enormous wings scattered the snow across the ground, and the Spell Saint waved a hand, turning the howling wind into an obedient servant that carried the snowflakes somewhere deserted.

"Beautiful young dragon mage, it is a pleasure to meet you," Theodore said with a smile.

Lucia stroked the Silver Dragon's huge head and asked playfully, "Then should I address you as the esteemed Spell Saint or Your Majesty the Emperor?"

"I would rather you simply called me Theodore."

Theodore expressed his wish to meet the Snow Duke. Lucia said, "You have come because of the Undead invasion of Emerald City. My father has been waiting for you for quite some time. Please, follow me."

They crossed Lake Es, its thick ice as clear as crystal, arrived beneath Pandor City, and took the Alchemical Spiral Staircase straight into the inner city. The duke's residence stood here. Unlike the icy, snowbound world outside Pandor, this place was warm as spring, with flowers that bloomed eternally through every season. The Snow Duke sat in a wicker chair in the garden, leisurely drinking red tea. He looked less like he was preparing for a formal conversation than waiting for an old friend.

"Oh, my Lucia has returned, and she has brought an honored guest with her." Duke Snow set down his cup and smiled at them. His age was difficult to define. His snow-white beard was perfectly groomed, yet his face bore not a single wrinkle and even appeared quite youthful. If not for those wise eyes steeped in the passage of years, Theodore could hardly have believed that he was a Saint-tier alchemist.

"Please, sit down, young Spell Saint of Italigis. I believe it is time for a conversation between spellcasters."

Chapter 12: Emerald Falls 2

That day, Theodore and Duke Snow spoke for a long time—about Arcane arts, divine arts, the Holy See and the Sanctuary, and even the Divine Ruins...

Duke Snow believed turmoil had arisen within the Sanctuary, its source being the Holy See's declaration of independence. The Light God's followers had split from the Temple of the Stars, yet the temple had done nothing. This clearly violated the temple's precept of remaining apart from worldly affairs, leaving only one explanation: they no longer had the power to stop it.

"One hundred and twenty years ago, the Grand Theurgist Rodney sent me a message, saying that he had seen disaster approaching. He was a follower of the God of Fate and could glimpse the paths of the future through the tangled constellations. Yet the prophecy was vague at the time. All he saw were corpses covering the ground; the so-called disaster was more a warning from within his heart." Duke Snow paused. "Besides me, only your father and the Grand Theurgist Allen Goethe knew of this prophecy. I did not take it too seriously, since Rodney often made wildly inaccurate pronouncements. But he died—the very day after making that prophecy."

"His Eye of Prophecy shattered completely, and bloody tears flowed from his eyes. Only then did I begin to take it seriously. What kind of foresight could drain a Grand Theurgist of every last drop of life force? Not long afterward, Allen Goethe vanished without a trace. Your father and I tried to piece together the shadow of that disaster, but achieved nothing. Later, the Holy See emerged, while improper research began appearing among mages, so we turned our attention to restraining their actions. Thinking back on it now, it was not only the temple's indulgence. Our own inaction also allowed the Holy See to grow."

"I waited for more than a century, yet I saw no disaster capable of sending a powerful prophet to his death. But now, it is about to appear. This calamity does not come from outside, but from humanity's own conflict—the conflict between Arcane arts and divine arts. Theodore, I am old. I do not wish to see the end of Arcane arts, much less see innocent lives perish because of it."

"That is precisely why I came." The young Spell Saint looked directly at the northern duke. "Legend says the Mourner's Harp can play the voices of the dead and connect the living with the departed. I wish to borrow it from you and uncover what truly happened in Emerald City. My instincts tell me that this is the beginning of a world-shaking conspiracy."

"Father, please allow me to go with Lord Theodore." Lucia suddenly spoke up. The two Saint-tier mages turned toward her at once. The girl in red blinked and said, "I can use the Mourner's Harp, but Lord Spell Saint still needs to learn."

Theodore glanced at Duke Snow and nodded. "It would be my honor to travel alongside the moonlight of the North."

"Then go," Duke Snow said. "Seek the truth. Seek a way to stop the Holy See. Italigis can keep every registered Arcane caster in check, and I will stand behind you with Pandor at my back, intimidating the vermin lurking in the shadows."

Theodore and Lucia set out from the North, following the scent of the Undead until they reached the Softsong Hills outside Emerald City. The beautiful hills, once dotted with tulips, were now shrouded in an inescapable aura of death.

Lucia followed closely behind Theodore. Their journey had not been entirely smooth, and the young dragon mage, who had yet to fully master her power, knew clearly just how safe it was behind this Spell Saint. He was willing to trust her and protect her at his back, while she was equally willing to hold fast to that trust.

After searching the Softsong Hills for most of the day, the two encountered no attacks, but discovered nothing apart from the deathly aura. Lucia said, "We cannot be certain whether Spell Saint Darren still exists in this world as an Undead. Perhaps I can use the Mourner's Harp here. The deathly aura is dense enough—dense enough to bear the obsessions of the dead."

"Please be careful. If anything feels wrong, stop immediately. Your safety matters more than anything. We can seek the truth through other means, but there is only one you." Theodore looked at Lucia, his blue eyes filled with tenderness.

The Mourner's Harp had a golden body and faintly glowing silver strings. Lucia's slender fingers plucked them, playing music that the living could not hear.

Theodore felt the wind and the distinctive chill of the Undead. Without betraying a hint of it, he used the tip of his foot to trace a defensive magic circle around where Lucia stood.

The wind grew increasingly mournful, and Lucia, playing the Mourner's Harp, seemed to hear whispers belonging to the dead.