Chapter 12
Answers & Questions
Nyxis’s POV
Following closely behind the Record Keeper, Nyxis stepped back into the lightly dim banquet hall. Upon reentry, her mouth immediately dropped at the scene before her, hardly hiding the astonishment.
The banquet table no longer stood expertly dressed with delicacies or expensive platters. Rather, the shattered wood and all of its contents were colorful smears along the walls. The tall drapes were shredded or charred into a charcoal black along with broken candelabras melting wax onto the pristine tiled floor.
Riatris continued towards one of the untouched side rooms as large pieces of debris abruptly lofted into the air around him, unmoving past the top of his head. Even the glass shards near his feet parted a clean path with billows of stone dust.
When the elf observed closer, she could almost make out wisps of magenta coiled around the airborne rubble, each thread trailing from the man's fingertips.
“Wait, how are you…doing that?” Nyxis asked hesitantly, her brows furrowed.
“Psionic Magicks,” the man curtly responded without skipping a beat, "It's a family trait, so to speak.”
“Uh-huh…” the woman sounded, still bemused but also quite curious.
‘Never heard of that one before…’
Prior to this evening, the elf had only ever witnessed the blue or white aura gradients from Mt. Wynter denizens. That night, she had experienced nearly the whole spectrum of aura wavelengths.
It was a vibrant world of colorful people, more inviting than the cold mountain. A comforting warmth she felt when she attended her first Fall Banquet.
Far different from what she thought she had found upon her arrival at Chakram.
As they strolled past the prominent hole in the far side wall, Nyxis couldn’t stop her eyes from peering in, and for once, she was stunned into stillness.
The devastation was wholly apparent; the crimson carpet was obscured behind shattered colored shards from the glass chandeliers, four of the six stalwart pillars of stone were mere fragments of white rock and dust, and various sized craters sat plastered across the walls with horrific blood spatters. Loose leaves covered the ground; some burnt while others were untouched.
However, what brought a pause to her soul were the remains of a darkwood tree. The bark was stripped to its base with the branches curled outward, like something ruptured from the inside.
The hole from the center oozed a grimey green ichor that strangely burned black; another color of aura that the commander had never seen before.
From the Rem Garden, the initial battle sounded closer to a schoolhouse scuffle, but after observing the men’s tattered clothes, listening to the battle cries, and now witnessing the aftermath, Nyxis could hardly fathom the seriousness of their “contentious history”.
‘Contentious my ass. Was the beef that serious?!’
Suddenly thinking back to her sparring session with Rhyddid, she did hit the ground twice, but the zephyr nymph had practically given up when she slammed him just once. There was no way he assisted in causing this, and if so, then she had underestimated him severely.
‘Was Rhyddid holding back?!’
The damage was unimaginable and it would probably take ages to restore the space to its former glory. She was truly stunned, though not enough to miss a learning opportunity.
Regardless of how she felt about her peers, the aftermath proved that she should at least take them seriously.
“I'm not exactly sure why you requested this meeting as a condition of your attendance, but I hope you find whatever it is you're searching for.” Riatris stated.
The elf snapped her attention back to the Record Keeper, but didn’t respond, moving past the wreckage. The moment her eyes moved away from the hole, the shock in her stomach melted into nervousness.
She couldn’t be distracted now. The moment she carefully prepped for, stood mere feet away, and quickly approached with every step.
Nyxis knew that her request would surely raise some brows, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reach someone outside of the mountain that wasn’t one of the Witch’s possible minions.
She was tired of being held secret in the castle, unamused with the lack of proper teachings, and enraged with herself for believing the deceit for so long.
So with the backing of both Bast and Father Wynter, she sent her confirmation with the towering carrier kraven that Lady La Muerte sent from Remisia, along with a message.
Regardless of how bold her demand was, especially towards foreign diplomats, her surprise sat within their eager confirmation.
She did RSVP fairly late to no fault of her own and she half expected to be ignored, what with the passing of years. But when that same kraven returned earlier that afternoon with a response from the Reyes, her heart raced into her ears.
Nyxis recalled her nervous excitement when it arrived, and as she read the letter with shaky hands, a smile curled onto her face at the script. The fire in her stomach warmed the freezing silence she had endured from the mountain.
Its contents were brief, but it spoke volumes on repeat in her head.
‘Dear Commander Frost,
We are honored to receive your letter. It was a wonderful surprise to finally receive a response from you after all these years, and we are thrilled to receive your reservation for this year’s Fall Banquet!
Regarding your request for an attendance with the Reyes de Los Muertos, I have forwarded your letter to King Xibalba of Remisia, whose response is stated below:
Your request has been granted. We wholly apologize for the delayed explanation of the events regarding the Fallen Leaves Incident, and we did not intend to withhold this information for any purpose; however, we waited with the hope that the passing years would heal your wounds and your heart enough to consider a future conversation. We eagerly await your arrival.’
The bottom of the page ended with the curly cursive signatures from the Los Muertos Royals, and stamped with three different colored sugar skulls; one a vibrant yellow, another a bold green, and the last a deep indigo.
In her mind, it didn’t matter if the letter wasn’t a sonnet of words or thousands of pages long. Nyxis knew the letter was concise because its true contents were, perhaps, too difficult to place into text.
But at this point, no tome nor book on this realm could soothe her spirit. She would only accept verbal answers.
Not even the pain of her hurting feet would halt her.
Approaching a room with grand Weisswood doors, Nyxis’s thoughts were interrupted by voices.
“Mi amor, I know you're upset…” A man’s voice echoed in the quiet space, his tone hushed.
“¡Enfadada es quedarse corta, Xibalba. Estoy furiosa!” An enraged shrill of a woman answered back, seemingly angrier by the man’s statement. “¿Podrías haber arruinado un año de planificación, y para qué? ¡¿Vuestros egos trágicos?! María, ¡¿sabías esto?!”
The commander flinched at the screeching words reverberating off the broken walls, the unfamiliar voice's frequency heightening from the room they were slowly approaching.
“Mi vida, yes, I understand, but-”
Nyxis then observed Riatris lift a hand to the closed door, rapping a knuckle against the face with a loud knock and silencing the voices behind it. After a couple of quiet seconds, another voice echoed through the wood; one of a stern woman, differing from the screeching one.
“You may enter.”
‘Inner peace…be calm…Inner peace…be calm…’
When Riatris opened the white door, a plume of indigo haze pooled from the room, a gentle nod of his head beckoning the Paragon to cross the threshold.
‘I have to learn for myself…and decide for myself…’
Nyxis took a quick second and a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she entered, lifting the hem of her cobalt gown over t.
“Good luck,” he whispered dully, carefully closing the door behind him.
As the elf continued further into the thickened purple smoke and suffocating warmth, she scanned the room with swift eyes. Another darkwood table centered the space, quite smaller than the banquet hall and surrounded by seven matching ornate chairs. The walls remained unmarred with golden chandeliers flickering softly as they hung.
Across the room, at the head of the table sat King Chamiabac, his head resting on the palm of his hand and face exasperated, yet shameful. It seemed as though he was fervently trying to compose himself.
Nyxis noticed a woman draped in a golden orange hued gown sitting to his left, gently soothing his hand, though her gray patchwork face wore a calming, soft smile. She absently recalled meeting the woman in her youth, but she did not initially see her during Rozaliya’s quick rundown of attendees.
Lady La Muerte and Lord Xibalba were standing to the side of the table, with a smokey deep purple seeping from the Remisian Queen, whilst her husband stood almost defeated behind her. However, when they turned their attention towards the elf, the heat of the room seemingly subsided with the haze of purple.
‘…Found the source of the heat…and the screaming…’
Behind the indigo haze stood Lady Wrath against the side mantelpiece, her arms folded under her chest, but eyes pinned to the elf entering the room. The Paragon was surprised to find the SINN here, but then again, this was technically a meeting between nations, so mediation was probably recommended.
But she could clearly feel the tension in the room.
This was an unfortunate evening of battles, which was felt to all through the exhaustion worn on their faces, save for Lady Wrath, who stood impartial.
Nyxis tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but all moisture vanished.
‘Time to lock in.’
“Good evening Your Majesties, Lady Wrath; please forgive my delay.” The elf announced calmly, bowing low respectfully, “I know my request was rather bold and incredibly short notice, but I do appreciate your willingness to meet with me.”
The Remisian Royals shared a quick glance with each other, adjusting their postures and expressions before approaching the young woman.
“Good evening, young commander; your request was more than reasonable. We've been hoping to speak with you for a long time,” the Elder assured, gesturing to the table of Los Muertos Royalty, “And there’s no need for such grand titles in this room. This is a conversation amongst adults, and you will be considered as such.”
Nyxis watched as King Chamiabac gradually stood to his feet, and slowly walked over to her. The patchwork woman stayed close on his heels, holding his hand. As soon as the man was within range, Lady La Muerte swiftly elbowed the king’s side and flicked her head towards the elf with fierce eyes.
“It is an absolute pleasure to see you alive and well after a decade.” King Chamiabac softened, bowing in kind to the younger Paragon, “Please forgive us for the… events that occurred this evening. We would normally have a simple dinner with conversation, but we hope that tonight didn’t cast a shadow over our reunion.”
Standing up straight, the Paragon shook her head, but kept it bowed, “Quite the contrary, in fact, Your Majesty. Everyone seems just as welcoming and colorful as I remember, plus or minus some…managerial aspects, but I suppose that would be standard with large-scale events. In my eyes, a minor hiccup during a dinner wouldn’t be enough to affect my view of the royal family.”
The Remisian King made an audible light huff, though it felt playful rather than offended. “I see. Then perhaps, would you enlighten us in how you perceive us?”
Nyxis finally lifted her head and took in the semicircle of royals, eyeing each esprit carefully. The royals stood close to each other, but just within reach of the elf. Despite the tight proximity, she didn't feel cornered or constricted, and they didn't appear aggressive.
“If I may be blunt, I have no perception of the royal family. Granted, all I’ve heard were stories, tales and urban legends either cursing or besmirching your names, but I have yet to make my decision.”
“Prudent,” Lord Xibalba murmured, “A rather respectable approach.”
“Young commander, before we begin, I feel my brother and I would be remiss if we didn’t convey our deepest condolences for the tragic loss of your father.” King Chamiabac professed gently, his voice strong, but lowered. “But rest assured; on our honor as kings of the Autumnal Ruins, and as your father's friends, we swear to withhold nothing from you, no matter the query.”
The elf quietly observed the silhouette of the Remisian King nodding in kind from her peripheral vision. Between the men’s regretful faces and demeanors, they seemed solemn enough.
She didn't respond back immediately, though her thoughts did wander slightly off of one word.
Friends?
‘I would’ve expected they were acquaintances at best, but were they really friends of his?’
Her mind wanted to immediately unpack those facts, but she pressed the urge down.
“I appreciate the sentiment greatly. I admit that I’ve had many years to mull over my thoughts and experiences, so forgive me if I start approaching information out of my title.” Nyxis mentioned cautiously.
“If that is your only worry, then we will advise you carefully if the time arrives.” King Chamiabac stated softly.
The elf gave a light nod before slowly exhaling from her nose. She had so many questions, many of which ranged from generally vague to incredibly complex. She was still trying to phrase them carefully, but in truth, she was still in a heart-thumping fog.
She never thought she would ever get this far, and where could she even begin?
If the elf led with heavy topics, it could make it difficult to proceed if she couldn’t contain her emotions.
If she started light, she could come off as too aloof and not serious about the situation.
She had to find the middle point, and do so gently.
As such, a different approach was necessary.
“Nine years ago, I stood at my window the night the world shook. I watched ordinary citizens walking down the street morph and mutate into strange amalgamations. For years, I passed it off as a figment of my imagination, until recently when my family’s advisor explained what had truly happened.” Nyxis prefaced, her mind travelling back to what she saw that night.
The innocent civilians that were changed, the mutation she witnessed before her own eyes. She was also learning answers for them.
“I know now that the Fallen Leaves Incident was a Void Spawn Event; if I may be privy, what was the threat level?” the young paragon asked, her voice resolute.
Upon verbalizing the first of a many questions, the room fell into a befuddled silence. The royals all shared puzzled glances with each other, minus Lady Wrath, who remained still.
It may have been a strange way to open, but she wanted to test the waters and carefully pose the next question.
Depending on their answer.
All eyes returned, fixed ever so gently on the elf. They seemed cautious to answer, but the Remisian King cleared his throat.
“It was the highest threat level, due to the proximity to a capital city,” Lord Xibalba answered with a puzzled face, “We had initially suspected the incident as a level 3, but the reports we received in the aftermath revealed the truth of its severity; what we consider to be a level 5.”
The elf nodded gently, immediately recalling her advisor mentioning Void threat levels and its equalized severity during their tutoring session.
A Level 5 threat was indeed catastrophic, but as such, there was a clause placed into the Equinox Treaty that rendered automatic aid from all nations of New Temperantia.
‘So, if they received reports on the incident, then surely, they should know more than they let on.’
“From my recollection of that night’s events, I can’t recall of any other nation arriving to the mountain to support or aid. Forgive my bluntness, but if you were all friends with Nicholas while the Equinox Treaty was still in effect, then where was New Temperantia during the incident?” Nyxis followed up carefully, facing Lord Xibalba with an inquisitive gaze.
As calm as she stood, the elf’s heart thrummed in her chest. It was a bold inquiry and a calculated question; not to attack their character, but to test it.
She had to take advantage of this situation.
Why not mentally collect alibis to knock suspects off of her mental list?
“There were many mitigating factors that made it difficult for the other three nations to assist, but attempts were made,” King Chamiabac shared calmly, “There were a stark lack of seasoned Paragons across the realms, and while Einherjar was powerful in his own right, we couldn’t justifiably leave him to assist by his lonesome.”
Nyxis immediately thought back to Rozaliya’s friends. She had met them originally when she was eleven years old, and Lady La Muerte did tell her that the group was closer to her in age.
Back then, they all would have been far too young to assist in such an incident.
‘But if the Elders were such good friends as they claimed to be, why wouldn't they help him?’
“We did receive an urgent request for assistance, same as the other nations, and while the Cape sent Einherjar, we ourselves chose to assist Mt. Winter. My brother and I arrived second on the scene,” the Remisian King explained, “Regarding the after events, both the Valley and the Isle attempted to send medics and supplies. However, they were all turned away at the Equinox Court Gate.”
The elf felt her brows furrow. Her initial round of questions were answered, but now she had to investigate several aspects, allowing her mind to sink briefly.
All nations received the same dire message, but no logical Elder would risk sending in their youngest Paragons, which the elf thought was completely understandable. Bordeaux and Verne Valley sent medics and supplies, while the Cape sent Tyr.
‘If Tyr was there…why wouldn’t he tell me?’
‘What did he know?’
The Reyes themselves showed up to help the mountain in lieu of their youngest Paragon, which meant they were on the mountain at the time of her father’s death.
New Temperantia collaborated together to help to the best of their abilities for the situation at hand. The claim that they were at least acquaintances was gradually proving to be valid.
That was the real concern. No reasonable country would turn away help during a crisis, especially when Father Wynter just returned the next morning from the Capricornous Mountain Range.
‘A Realm Elder wouldn’t deny his own country aid after a tragedy… especially not after the death of his niece and his best friend….’
The Paragon blinked away her thoughts, moving on to her next questions.
Unfortunately, they would be one of the heaviest of the evening.
“I understand and thank you both for your assistance. I must ask however… for my own knowledge. Regarding the ones we lost, Lady Keoné… how…did she die?” Nyxis questioned the men, both of which nearly froze in place.
The Reyes said they had the reports. The Reyes said they were on the mountain. She was sending a warning with her current inquiry while delaying the inevitable.
The royals in the room all understood where the conversation was heading, the dread thickening with the tension in the air.
But, they would move at her pace. They were on her time.
“We weren't made aware of the young lady's passing until the morning after, but the reports detailed that her injuries were a result of an unspecified mana blast. When her body was discovered, Chakram’s Local Unit found her holding an injured child of the Blue Flake Orphanage,” Lord Xibalba revealed, his eyes dropping from the Paragon's face, “Thirty-one children died that evening, but the boy Keoné shielded survived with critical injuries.”
Nyxis's heart sunk in her chest, almost reliving the initial pain of the news, but holding herself together.
Lady Keoné was a calming presence on the mountain, a stark contrast to the coldness of its people. She was stern when necessary, but also incredibly fair and filled with love to give. So much so that the commander had considered her a pseudo mother-figure, since her own was so far away.
She remembered how routinely the woman visited the orphanage for the children, often bringing Bast and herself. The advisor would’ve given her very life for those kids in a heartbeat, since they probably reminded her of her own child.
And it seemed she did just that.
But Nyxis tugged on the hairs of her fur shrug with uncertainty. Something wasn’t right; there was something she was forgetting.
Per the traditions of Mt. Wynter, it was a common custom of Yule for Mrs. Claus to personally oversee a caravan of presents and meals to the outskirted slums of Chakram’s Cold Corner, accompanied by a trusted advisor. The Claus Advisor assigned at the time was the late Lady Keoné, and she distinctly remembered Bast mentioning shadowing his mother for the evening.
The elf pulled the layers of her mind back, attempting to remember past moments she tried to lock away.
The elf knew her advisor; he would never leave his mother’s side if she was working, unless he was fervently ordered to. While it was the Ringfeld Family’s priority to keep the Claus Family safe, as a mother, keeping her child safe was Keoné’s top priority.
Of the three people she witnessed leave that night, only Bast returned to the castle.
From her recollection, the Witch didn’t resurface until hours after the tragedy, uninjured and hysterically crying about her husband.
Nyxis had heard the legends and stories of the Witch’s combat and magick prowess, but to her, that's all they ever were; legends and tall tales of a bitch.
She could easily kill a Void Spawn, if she wanted to…
“I was merely told that she was killed by falling building debris, so I greatly appreciate the clarity for my advisor's sake,” Nyxis shared, rubbing her thumb over her forearm.
“Ah, yes, young Alabastor. It was unfortunate that we were unable to speak with you collectively all those years ago. But rest assured; we immediately informed the Ringfelds of what befell Keoné as soon as we were made aware.” King Chamiabac interjected respectfully before eyeing his brother solemnly. “We wouldn’t dare withhold a parent’s fate from their child. Such a concept is too cruel.”
The woman nodded her head, recalling Bast’s very words to her regarding his mother.
They matched exactly, word for word, bar for bar.
‘Either they’re being honest or Bast just internalized the answer.’
‘On to the next test.’
She dreaded her next words, but they had to be spoken aloud. So, she mentally braced herself.
“I know this is a difficult conversation to have, what with how long it’s been since then.” Xibalba stated calmly, taking a single step forward, “If you need time to process this information, we can pause for a moment of reprise.”
The elf shook her head swiftly. This was not the time to lose momentum.
She had to know.
“I’m grateful for the thought, but when I inquired with Mrs. Claus regarding the events of the incident, her answers left me confused and uncertain of its legitimacy. For years, Father Wynter and even my own advisor had withheld much for my sake and mental wellbeing. However, while I may be a mere Tier 1 Paragon, due to bloodline and lineage, I am still his daughter.” The elf prefaced, not entirely dismissing the King’s words, but also attempting to be firm in her position.
‘Inner peace…be calm…’
“I want to know what happened; how he died, who was responsible, and everything Your Majesties know about it.”
The Reyes halted and shared the same pained gaze with each other, almost mentally fighting the other to not have to speak about it. Those few seconds of silence were excruciatingly nerve-wracking, leaving Nyxis anxious of their answer.
“Tell her the truth.” The SINN suddenly ordered, her tone not authoritative, but quietly composed.
The elf wasn’t sure who the SINN was particularly speaking to, but she surely noticed King Chamiabac’s eyes snap over to Lady Wrath before returning back to the Paragon.
Despite the king’s clear desperation, the Realm Elder spoke up in his place, his face reflecting a thick mask of uncertainty.
“I will clarify as much as possible,” Lord Xibalba frowned through a somber gaze, gesturing towards the table, “Would you prefer to sit down with us?”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’ve waited long enough to finally obtain answers.” Nyxis responded, her tone almost quiet, “A chair won’t give me comfort when I’m this close to a moment of peace. Can you please explain what happened from the beginning?”
Her soft bluntness definitely shocked the room of royals, but when she took a quick glance over to the SINN, expecting to be enraged or annoyed, the elf’s eyes widened.
Lady Wrath wasn’t angered in the slightest. In fact, she was smirking.
‘Why is she smirking?’
Lord Xibalba nodded dejectedly, dropping his arm to his side. “Yes well, to start, my brother and I received an urgent message from Chakram around eleven o’clock, well into the evening, alerting us to an active Void Spawn Event happening in the city. As I stated earlier, we, as kings, chose to go to the mountain to help, arriving thirty minutes after Einherjar.”
Nyxis listened intently, her form unmoving but her eyes shifting between the Reyes. She nodded for the man to explain further, her heart pounding in her chest.
“When we emerged from the Realm Gate, the city square was already under siege by a group of Void Spawn. Luckily, Tyr had already evacuated the city center from all Chakramites and moved to secure the castle.” The Remisian King explained. “We tried to assist him, but he advised us to locate Nicholas instead.”
“We were initially confused, as our assumptions were that he had sent the message,” King Chamiabac quietly spoke, his voice merely a mutter in the closeness. “But in the midst of the chaos, we experienced a spike of aura near the Capricornous Mountains. So, Xibalba and I scoured the northeastern side of the mountain… until we were able to pinpoint the source as Nicholas’s mana. I was the closest to his location, so I rushed to his side…”
The king’s mood seemed to diminish further as he relayed the events of that evening. As the elf listened, she took stock of every second of doubt, every lapse in speech, every slip in the Reyes words for any sign of fallacy or inherent moments of weakness of their characters.
So far, they seemed entirely genuine.
“By the time I arrived on the scene, the signs of a struggle were obvious. Your father was an amazing magi, well beyond even the ranks he mustered. But, despite his feats, his opponent used the chaos and confusion to keep him away from the city. His final battle…was at the base of the mountain.” The man shook his head dejectedly, “We tried everything we reasonably could to staunch the bleeding, but Nicholas’s injuries were too severe, and without proper Restoration Magicks, we couldn’t do much other than listen to his final words.”
The elf heard the popping of King Chamiabac’s knuckles as a flash of anger danced across his face.
A moment of reflection? Or, a moment of regret?
“To the very end, his concern was your safety,” The King of All Hallows stated somberly. “And he died a martyr at the hands of that madman Cucuy.”
Nyxis heard the name, but it was spat with such a tone that rivaled her own hate for her boss.
“Brother.” Xibalba’s soft rebuke carried an unspoken weight behind it.
Ah. This must be the stuff above her pay-grade.
King Chamiabac cleared his throat, trying to repress the sudden sliver of emotion, “I brought him back to Chakram, but by then, he had already…”
Nyxis nodded softly, gradually absorbing their words. The conversation was clearly wearing the Reyes down. Indeed, the topic was heavy, but she had to power through to understand this world’s dynamics.
“Who is Cucuy?” The elf questioned gently, her voice clear, “And if I may, what is their relation to you?”
The Reyes glanced between each other, and like before, Lord Xibalba took over the conversation.
“Cucuy, or who others knew as El Cucuy, was the son of our elder brother. Our brother had long since died, leaving us unaware of Cucuy’s existence. It wasn’t until he grew up and fathered a child of his own that we learned of their whereabouts. We did not expect Cucuy to grow into the monster he had become… until it was too late…”
“Your father ensured that Cucuy would never see the light of day again, but at the cost of his life.” The Remisian King concluded, bowing low at the waist, “Young Commander, we humbly beg for your forgiveness; for our lack of timing then, for neglecting to inform you sooner, and for the pain you may relive due to our delayed explanation.”
As the man lowered himself, so did the other royals of the Los Muertos family. In the same low-waisted bow of Mt. Wynter greetings and apologies.
The elf stood silent, her eyes hesitantly scanning the group. She seemed calm but her head swirled with thoughts and speculations.
It was jarring for her to see royalty bow at her feet. These strangers offered her more grace than the woman that was forced to “raise” her.
For the first time in years, she felt considered.
Acknowledged.
‘This is far more sympathy than I would’ve expected. If they are willing to apologize to me to this extent, their sincerity must be genuine.’
‘Realm Elders and kings wouldn’t bow to mere esprits. Nicholas must have really been held in their highest regards.’
‘Like friends should…’
‘Why would I attend a banquet hosted by the family of my father’s murderer?’
Nyxis lightly huffed away her thoughts and returned her attention back to the bowed royals.
Not only were the Los Muertos family trying to reforge new bonds, they were also trying to atone for their faults.
They gave her the respect of an individual; of a normal person just trying to navigate her life alone.
If the Witch wouldn’t give them the courtesy, the elf at least would.
After all, per her mother’s orders, Nyxis gave Nicholas the second courtesy to be a father.
And while it didn’t necessarily work out for them, she could still offer a second courtesy for the Reyes.
“Your Majesties, I recognize that you both are remorseful of the past events. However, I personally cannot forgive you for a situation that was wholly out of your control.” Nyxis finally answered calmly, “I merely wanted to know the truth from the reindeer's snout, so to speak. As I stated earlier, I do not cast judgement on the royal family, and my opinion, regardless of rumors and hearsay, still remains to be said.”
Everyone slowly rose to straighter postures, stunned by the elf’s words. Though, none of them dared to interrupt her, instead listening intently.
“You both seemed to have known Nicholas better than I ever could have, which is far more than I can say about my own relationship with him,” she lamented to the royals, her peaceful gaze lifting to the otherworldly chandeliers. “You had a warm friend; I had a secluded parent that was haunted by parenthood and terrified to interact naturally despite hiding a few doors away. And from the moment I was passed off into his care, I was practically left to fend for myself.”
Nyxis adjusted her posture, shifting her weight to one foot, but returned her gaze back to the Reyes. While King Chamiabac wore a perplexed stare upon his face, Lord Xibalba’s seemed far more concerned, his brows furrowed.
“Even during my pilgrimage to the summit, we barely spoke a word to each other. I hardly knew the man, but before I left Peonía, before I left my mother behind, she told me to give Nicholas what we humans call a ‘second courtesy’,” the elf shared. “When someone makes a mistake, be it towards themselves or to another, a reaction is bound to occur. But those who were wronged allow that person a second chance; to allow them grace and time to reflect and to prove their remorse through actions, not words.”
These strangers made more of an attempt to communicate than he ever did, and they’ve been trying to reach out every year since the elf met them.
Actions.
The Reyes have been trying to make amends through their actions.
She never felt wronged by the Reyes for the Fallen Leaves Incident, and she was never close to Nicholas. If anything, she felt her people’s pain of losing, what their citizens considered, the kindest Leader of Mt. Wynter.
But ‘father’ was never a word she spoke in regards to him, and she could never consider him a dad. Her parents were papercuts and wall-to-wall shelves of knowledge in various unknown languages.
The library that Father Wynter gifted her raised her, but the Witch intended to keep her there.
But the tables have finally turned.
It was a shame that Rowena was distracted this year; she slipped up and now, it will cost her everything.
She should have planned better.
’Well, let’s ruffle her feathers…’
”If he trusted you, a Realm Elder and a king from across the ocean, with his final words, then your friendship with him simply cannot be denied. But you have proven, to me at least, that neither of you were involved in initiating the event, nor constructing it, all whilst assisting in every way possible.” Nyxis gave a sure nod to the men, “On behalf of the Claus Family, I recuse Your Majesties from your alleged crimes towards Mt. Wynter and the Claus Family.”
”My, that is quite the sentiment. We’re gracious, but wouldn’t your leaders find issue with your decision without their counsel?” King Chamiabac questioned the elf with a curt chuckle.
“My Realm Elder; no. By not hindering my decision to meet with you, I can only assume that he is expecting me to step into my role and gradually learn my way around.” The Paragon explained with a light shake of her head. “I’m not superseding my Elder by accepting an apology from another.”
Just as she felt her lip curl into a sly smirk.
Lord Xibalba noticed the shift but remained silent, eyeing her curiously.
“As for my “boss”, prior to her departure to Frostlyn for one of her many “vacations”, she recently named me the public relations representative of Mt. Wynter. She signed it in ink, so unfortunately for her, my words suddenly hold weight.” Nyxis adjusted her posture once again, straightening her back. “I’ve spent too many days trying to rationalize the past while she continues to affect my people's future, and I can wait no longer.”
The Reyes swiftly stared at each other, holding their eyes still for moments longer than she would have expected.
Until the All Hallows King broke away first, with an astonished smile.
The Remisian King returned his gaze to the young woman with a calmer gaze, nodding slowly.
“You may be as studious as Nicholas, but you’re far cleverer than him, by quite a mile. Young Paragon, your words hold more weight than you’d expect.” He acknowledged with a royal bow. “It would seem that, despite your circumstances, you have grown with grace.”
The elf paused for a moment, her smirk fading into a light smile.
“I suppose I have, though not without assistance,” Nyxis confessed. “Father Wynter has taught me much about Mt. Wynter in general, but he told me that as a scholar, I should study the world on my own terms. Bast taught me everything in-between and stood firmly on sharing knowledge. I owe much to them for my survival.”
“That does sound like something Elliott would say…” King Chamiabac sighed.
The Remisian Queen slowly moved towards the Paragon, softly grabbing ahold of her hands.
“You are far kinder than your surroundings.” She said in a thicker Hallowite accent. “Never lose that kindness.”
The action startled the elf, but she did not pull away.
The queen’s hands exuded a warmth that permeated through her gloves, more comforting than burning. A nurturing carefulness.
All Wynter nationals are all used to bowing as opposed to handshakes, being cold-blooded esprits. So naturally, many would have a negative reaction to others' touch.
Nyxis yearned to return back for that warmth.
The last time the elf physically felt warmth from another person…was the last hug she received from her mother.
Blinking away from her memories, she faced the gorgeous woman with a somber smile. “I’m honored, Your Majesty, and forever grateful for your arranging of this banquet. Perhaps next year, we could enjoy it in its entirety without interruptions."
Lady La Muerte’s smile brightened, her brown eyes shining through her carefully painted makeup. “¡Si! You will attend next year, yes?”
“I would be honored to. I seemed to have made quite an impression on Lady Easter, and I believe Lady Valentine would, regrettably, hunt me down for a chance to place me in a dress.” The elf joked with a fake chuckle.
It was not a joke; Rozaliya would definitely do that.
“You meld well with their group. From experience, young Easter has always been rather…expressive.” Lord Xibalba mentioned aloud with a smile. “Tonight, you made her the quietest I’ve ever seen her. She was simply awestruck.”
The elf nodded briskly, shifting her weight from one front to the other again.
Her body was starting to relax now that she had her answers, and she immediately remembered just how much her feet hurt.
“Forgive me. It’s become rather late; I had no intention to keep you for long.” Nyxis apologized, shifting her gaze towards the Reyes. “All of my questions have been answered. I truly do appreciate your time on this matter.”
“Young Paragon, it was the very least we could do, out of respect for you.” King Chamiabac responded, his face no longer wrinkled with stress.
The tension of the room nearly vanished from the space, everyone’s shoulders dropping in peace.
This was a conversation everyone clearly needed, whether they knew it or not.
The elf knew that after the evening's events, she would at least sleep well knowing what happened.
She could start fresh tomorrow.
“As a token of my gratitude, I’ll try to speak with Father Wynter about reconsidering Mt. Wynter’s withdrawal from the treaty.” Nyxis stated to the room, her voice clear.
By mentioning the treaty, the royals all froze, befuddled by the elf’s words.
Seconds after the realization hit, Lord Xibalba tilted his head at the young woman. “What are your intentions in doing this?”
“If I may be blunt, I feel as though you all are genuine esprits. Our countries have been suffering for a decade, and if we can stop it simply by communicating, why shouldn’t we try?” The elf explained, “We’ve proven today that it is possible, in spite of past events. You both have done me an unfathomable favor, and for that, I can vouch to him for a treaty reconsideration. It’s been long enough since our countries had seen peace, and the people deserve that.”
“You are wise beyond your years, young Frost.” The Remisian King acknowledged, her gaze softening on the elf. “We would be humbly grateful if your word reaches Father Wynter’s ears.”
“Perhaps, we should allow the commander to rest for the evening.” Lady La Muerte announced softly, releasing the younger woman’s hands with a quick glance to the bottom of her blue gown. “We shouldn’t keep her from resting off her feet.”
“Of course, of course.” The jovialness of Lord Xibalba warmed the room, removing the remaining tension. “It truly was splendid to see you again, Commander Frost. By your leave.”
Nyxis promptly low bowed to the group, gracious to the queen for recognizing her silent pain, then slowly rose, turning to also bow to the silent woman in the corner. “I promise to not be a stranger. May your night remain quiet, Your Majesties, Lady Wrath.”
The Reyes both nodded assuredly, leading the royals in bowing to the elf. After a good few seconds, the elf stood straight and turned towards the door, until she heard someone clearing their throat.
“Young commander, before you depart,” the Remisian King called aloud, “I know it’s rather a late topic to mention, however, would you care to hear Nicholas’s last words?”
The elf halted in her steps, though she did not turn around, instead sinking into thought for a swift moment.
If she were told, if she knew, would that change anything?
It wouldn’t bring Lady Keoné back to Bast.
It wouldn’t fix the damage that the Witch has caused to thousands of people.
It wouldn’t pull Father Wynter from his constant journeys to the Capricornous Mountain Range.
It wouldn’t suddenly fix their fucked up father-daughter relationship.
Nothing would change.
Nicholas trusted the Reyes.
Not her.
“Respectfully, no thank you.” Nyxis answered back with a brisk shake of her head, her voice more resolute than her request for the meeting. “I have an inkling that those words were never meant for my ears, and I am willing to accept that. I don’t believe its contents would change the current facts of the matter, or my stance on what was spoken about tonight. If you would all excuse me.”
The elf grabbed a hold of the doorknob, twisting it until it opened, and stepped through, exhaling softly as the hinge sealed shut.
The other side of the white door was quiet and much colder. A feeling she was much more used to.
‘That could have gone far worse than I expected.’
Nyxis sighed as she lifted herself from the floor, finally able to levitate without expectations of standing. Gripping onto her fur shrug, she floated swiftly towards the grand staircase, glancing around the destroyed space freely as she moved.
It was a seriously haunting sight, and while a part of her wanted to peer into the hole to investigate further, the risk of being caught was too great, especially without the ability to properly maneuver.
Instead, she made a subtle, slow pass by the hole, cautiously gazing into it, but mainly towards the ruptured tree.
The elf focused on the base of the stripped bark, squinting hard to focus on the reminiscent aura from its center. It bled a necrotic black that seemingly pooled around the base of the tree and surrounding floor.
And it was gradually oozing out, not unlike how Fixx’s aura permeated from him.
Quite similar, in fact, just not the same color.
‘That isn’t Fixx’s aura…but somehow, it is?’
‘I’ve never heard of an esprit with more than one aura color. That shouldn’t be possible.’
Floating back slightly to inspect the wall, the size of the hole in its entirety was startling.
From her previous studies, the Equinox Court was the longest standing structure on Aeon. Its walls survived through various wars and Void Spawn Events, and somehow, the fortress of knowledge and travel remained pristine over the years. The interior scuffle was not on her bingo card for the evening.
And all it took was one punch.
Nyxis could tell that Fixx looked frail, but the prince of All Hallows really rocked his shit through a wall, with ease and a purpose.
She wasn’t expecting Senior Greenery and Rhyddid to excuse themselves moments after.
Nor was she expecting the prince, or any of them, to stand up for her.
The elf glanced back to the tunnel of the Rem Garden, her gaze switching between the courtyard of Realm Gates. She took a moment of pause, her mind wandering to Rozaliya’s friends as a whole.
They seemed fairly patient with her, and they liked her enough to invite her back. She teetered in-between returning to the mountain or to at least saying goodbye first.
It was probably uncouth to linger, especially after the conversation she just had.
It was also probably very late. Her initial glance around the space didn’t reveal any clocks or ways to tell the time.
With a sigh, Nyxis floated over the debris and up the grand staircase to the gate room. Upon approaching the Mt. Wynter gate, she noticed that the soft blue glow had returned to its face, allowing access to the mountain.
But during a swift glance around the room, she noted the colorful soft glows of the adjacent Realm Gates. They were all unsealed, so she thought that they may have already gone home.
“Excuse me, commander. Your cloak?” A sudden voice from behind he said..
When she turned to face the source, she was met with the same Remisian servant form before, holding her glacier blue cloak over his arm.
With a relieved sigh, the elf grabbed the outerwear and carefully draped it over her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. The Reyes expressed that they hope to see you again soon.” The man nodded, bowing to the woman briskly before shuffling away to his post.
She hoped that poor servant wasn’t part of the cleaning crew, because that would be very unfortunate.
After a few seconds of listening to footsteps receding down the stairs, Nyxis pulled off the cloak and held it in her arms as she passed through the Mt. Wynter gate. The cold night air cooled her skin, and almost immediately, she felt her own shoulders drop in relief.
‘It was supposed to just be a simple dinner. What the hell was that?’
Nyxis floated to the side wall of the space, pressing her back against the cold stone. With a deep sigh, she slowly slid down until she reached the floor, almost instinctively untying the ribbons of her sapphire heels and forcefully pulling them off.
For the first time since the start of the banquet, the elf finally allowed her mind to delve into the madness that was her life.
‘What in the fuck did I get myself into?’
She replayed the whole evening in her head; from arrival, to the reunion, to the dinner, to the meeting.
Most questions were answered how she expected, while others were quite the opposite, leaving more to ask. But, the elf was absolutely certain of six facts.
One was that Tyr knew more about the Fallen Leaves Incident than he was saying.
The second was that requesting her advisor to pry around the Witch’s office in her absence was the correct choice. ‘Checking the furnace’ was code for the woman’s office with the ‘inspections’ equating to the level of investigation. If Bast personally ‘inspected’ it, then he had free reign to search wherever he needed to.
The third was more harrowing, leaving an unfathomable pit in her stomach.
Cucuy was not the only esprit at the base of the mountain; the aura that she noticed from Fixx matched the aura that permeated the mountain. And she was absolutely certain of its origin.
The fourth being that the Los Muertos Family was not the problem, or at least causing the problem. The issue may be coming from the Mountain.
The fifth was that she needed to ask someone if they heard that strange voice.
But the sixth was confusing, as she didn’t understand languages from the Ruins.
Prior to the meeting with the Reyes, when Lady La Muerte was shouting, for lack of a better term, the elf heard a word that she should not have been able to understand.
‘Planificación…what plan was she talking about?’
