Ersia: Raven Dawn

Queen Catalina and the three others rowed the small boat onward. The vessel clearly had long since outlived its prime, its weathered planks groaning whenever the lake's swells struck from an unfavorable angle. More than once, a sudden surge of water rocked the craft hard enough to make it tilt alarmingly, forcing its occupants to steady themselves against the gunwales.

Beyond the veil of mist, a pair of crimson eyes continued to watch them.

The creature never moved closer. It did not call out or stir the waters. It simply remained there, somewhere within the endless whiteness, its gaze fixed upon them. The knowledge of it was enough. Every creak of wood, every splash of an oar returning to the water seemed louder beneath those unseen eyes.

Two lanterns provided the boat's only light, one fixed at either end. Their housings had been fashioned from enchanted crystal and commissioned from a legendary artisan whose craftsmanship was spoken of throughout the land. Their quality was beyond dispute. A cavalry charge could trample them beneath iron-shod hooves without leaving so much as a crack. Even submerged beneath water, they would continue to shine uninterrupted for three full days.

Yet Lake Sérénité appeared indifferent to such assurances.

The lanterns flickered without warning, their glow dimming and brightening at irregular intervals, as though even lifeless objects hesitated to remain in that place. The cause was well known. The concentration of Meta surrounding the lake was unlike anything found elsewhere in the world, turbulent and disordered to a degree that defied explanation.

No one spoke much during the journey.

The steady rhythm of the oars continued for nearly half an hour before the first change appeared.

It was the Queen who noticed it.

"The water," Catalina said quietly.

The others followed her gaze.

The moon's reflection stretched across the lake in a near-unbroken path of silver. Only the faintest ripples disturbed its surface. The restless waves that had accompanied them since departure were gone, leaving behind a stillness so complete that it felt unnatural.

General Genon and Bellero exchanged a glance. Since the beginning of the voyage, they had rowed together without pause, neither willing to leave the burden entirely to the other two. Now, slowly, they rested their oars across their laps.

The boat continued forward.

No current was visible. No wind filled a sail, for there was none. Yet the vessel glided onward as though guided by an unseen hand.

No one questioned it.

Thirty minutes later, they reached the center of the lake.

The mist receded.

Not all at once, but gradually, drawing back toward the distant shoreline until a wide circle of clear water opened around them. It resembled less a natural change than a silent gesture of invitation, as though the lake itself had made room for its guests.

Only then did they behold Mistus in full.

The dragon rested upon the water with the ease of a mountain resting upon the earth. His immense form stretched beyond the limits of immediate sight, portions of his body fading into drifting strands of mist. Crimson eyes regarded the boat from a distance that should have felt safe, yet seemed impossibly close all the same.

No one found words.

Even drawing breath required conscious effort.

Above them, the heavens lay unveiled. Countless stars shone across the night sky with a clarity rarely seen from the mainland, their reflections scattered across the dark water until lake and sky appeared almost indistinguishable. The horizon had dissolved beneath the lingering mist, leaving only silver moonlight, quiet water, and the immense silhouette before them. The world felt strangely distant, as though the shores they had departed belonged to another place entirely.

"Greetings, Catalina Rosalia, Queen of Rosmayne," Mistus said.

His voice carried across the lake in deep, measured tones. The water stirred gently beneath the sound.

"I am most grateful for you honoring my request."

The dragon observed the four figures in silence for a moment. Their rigid postures, the careful control of their breathing, the effort required to meet his gaze—none escaped his notice.

"Casts your fear aside. Nothing within this lake shall bring you harm. When our meeting is concluded, you shall stand upon the shore no different than when you departed it."

For a brief moment, only the whisper of water answered.

Then Catalina inclined her head.

"I ... offer you my greetings, Mistus, god of the Mistari."

The words emerged with deliberate care, neither hurried nor uncertain despite the strain beneath them.

Mistus regarded her quietly.

Much could have been said beneath that endless sky. Questions centuries old might have found answers. Histories forgotten by nations could have been spoken aloud as easily as ordinary conversation.

Yet the dragon merely lowered his gaze slightly toward the small vessel.

"Much wisdom could pass between us," he said. "But I am afraid this meeting will be brief."

As countless folktales carried from one tongue to another had long claimed, Mistus possessed powers befitting a higher being. As the one who had directly fathered humanity—its literal creator—such things were hardly surprising. Yet few knew that among those abilities was the capacity to glimpse the memories of others, not in their entirety, but as scattered fragments: isolated moments, emotions, and impressions untethered from the full tapestry of a life.

However, even for an entity such as his, the gift was not without limits.

Mistus lowered his gaze toward the four figures standing upon the boat. What he had seen within them was incomplete, fleeting and imperfect. Yet perhaps that was enough.

For a time, the dragon remained silent.

Then he reached his conclusion.

"I have seen your hearts.

Twisted and forthright;

Knotted and unbound;

Distorted and whole;

Fearful and stalwart;

Confused and enlightened.

Truly, the inherent traits of humanity."

The words settled over the lake before fading into silence.

At length, Mistus shifted slightly. The movement was subtle by his standards, yet enough to send gentle ripples across the dark water. One of his immense foreclaws rose from the lake, each talon larger than the boat itself. With deliberate care, he extended a single claw.

"I have three matters for you," he said. "Fulfill them, and Rosmayne shall not perish."

The raised claw remained suspended above the water.

"First."

A second ripple spread outward.

"Rule with wisdom, and let righteousness sit beside you. Let not the powerless cry out in vain, nor the powerful clouded your gaze with their shadow. Labor all your days toward the birth of a virtuous realm. Measure neither worth nor guilt by blood, but by deed. Let justice be firm in your hand and charity remain untainted in your heart."

"Will you uphold this?"

The question lingered between them.

Catalina did not answer immediately. The weight of the charge was not something to be met with haste. She looked beyond Mistus for a moment, toward the distant stars reflected upon the water, before finally returning her gaze to him.

"I may strive toward it, but it would never be by my hand alone."

Mistus was pleased.

Not because she had accepted the burden, but because she had understood it.

"No worthy ruler rules alone. I accept your answer."

Another claw unfurled.

"Second."

His voice remained calm, carrying no trace of reproach.

“I am not the God of the Mistari. I am merely the one who guided the Mistari. Do not turn a blind eye to the whispers of the bygone ages. For the world is an inheritance sanctioned by time. Honor the truth-seekers, kill not the doubters of the books."

The dragon regarded her steadily.

“Can this be entrusted to you?”

Catalina did not hesitate.

“Yes,” she said. “It can.”

For a brief moment, Mistus remained silent. The dark waters surrounding the boat lapped softly against its hull, the sound strangely small beneath the vastness of the lake. Then the dragon shifted, and another ripple spread outward from his immense form.

“The third and final matter.”

His voice was as measured as before, yet the words that followed struck the four more deeply than either of the charges that had preceded them.

“The Hero’s Sword shall be surrendered to the depths of this lake.”

The words settled heavily over the boat.

Catalina felt the reaction immediately. The four of them exchanged glances almost by instinct, each searching the others for some response to what they had just heard. The clergyman turned his face aside. The general gave a slight shake of his head. Their gestures were subtle, restrained by both circumstance and common sense, yet their meaning was unmistakable.

Reluctance.

A silent appeal for their queen to seek another path, despite the position in which they found themselves.

At length, Catalina spoke.

“This artifact is among our kingdom's most precious treasures. The nations of the world entrusted it to our care ... How could we ever answer for its loss?”

Mistus regarded her quietly.

“The object you cling to possesses the power to mend this realm. The floods that return year after year and claim countless lives of your subjects may be brought to an end. Tell me, Queen of Rosmayne, do you place this relic above those who have entrusted their lives to your crown? Do you hold the regard of distant nations in greater esteem than the welfare of the people whose fate rests plainly within your hands?”

Catalina fell silent.

The question admitted no easy answer.

Before she could speak again, Bellero leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“Dear Aunt,” he said softly, “the fault lies not with us, but with the calamity that has befallen our kingdom. They will understand.”

He paused briefly before adding,

“They have to.”

Catalina said nothing for a time. Her gaze drifted across the dark surface of the lake before returning to the sword.

Then, at last, she reached her decision.

And so the deed was done.

The queen stood upon the brittle vessel, and within her arms rested Solus.

Moonlight flowed along its ancient blade.

Once, eight divine hands had labored toward its making.

Once, the hopes of gods had been gathered into steel.

Once, beneath forgotten heavens and in ages now surrendered to memory, a mean had been given form. Held by the most worthy few — Towards ends unseen, hidden beyond the ever drifting time.

Kingdoms had risen around its legend.

Heroes had carried its name across battlefields.

Generations had inherited its glory though estranged of the forge and the fire.

And now, beneath the gaze of an unfinished history and the silent cosmos above, the divine intervention descended once more into the current of fate.

.

.

.

The queen lowered her eyes to the starry edge.

Upon that consecrated steel length lingered the memory of distant truth.

The memory of vows.

Of a world that had changed while it remained.

Of heroes who carved the path of valor.

Of lasting symphony and cacophony.

Then, with neither reluctance nor regret, she opened her hands.

Solus slipped free. Released. Liberated.

Down it descended through the dark waters, its radiance softening beneath wavering reflections of moonlight. The lake welcomed it without a sound, as though receiving something that had been awaited for a very long time.

Deeper it fell.

Beyond the reach of kings.

Beyond the reach of nations.

Beyond the reach of history itself.

Until at last the blade became only a distant glimmer in the depths.

And for a brief moment, it seemed as though the world itself held its breath.