CAIUS: Crown of Threads and Shadows

The fire had burned lower when Sereth finally spoke.

Caius looked toward him. Until then, the dark elf had remained silent while Rokan told the story of what had happened twenty years ago. Sereth had listened without correcting him, allowing the barbarian’s account to stand on its own.

But there were parts of the story that Rokan could never have known, things that had been passed through the dark elves themselves and remembered long after the events had ended.

Sereth looked into the flames before speaking. ”I was not among the warriors who pursued your father.”

Caius watched him carefully.

”I did not know him then,” Sereth said softly. ”I only learned of what happened afterward.”

Sereth rested his arms against his knees. ”Your father was pursued by twelve of the finest warriors sent by the clans. They were not ordinary soldiers. They were among the best warriors the Nyx could field.”

Caius remained silent as Sereth continued.

”When the barbarians refused to pursue your father into the Abyss, the dark elves continued after him,” Sereth said. ”They followed him deep into the Abyss, and the fighting continued there. Five of the twelve died.”

Sereth’s gaze remained fixed on the fire. ”Some fell to the sword. Others died to arrows.”

Caius lowered his eyes. Once again, his father’s warbow appeared in the story. He remembered the heavy weapon in Cullum’s hands, the calm way he had drawn the string, and the lessons he had given his son about seeing beyond the limits of ordinary sight.

”The survivors followed your father deeper into the Abyss until they reached the center,” Sereth paused. ”The place I told you about.”

Caius immediately understood. ”The mist.”

Sereth nodded. ”The strange mist that covers the center of the Abyss. I have never entered it.”

Caius looked at him. ”Because you do not know what is inside?”

”Because no one knows.” Sereth’s voice dropped. ”Even among my people, those who have explored the chasm avoid it. Something about that place is wrong. The mist does not behave like ordinary fog. It swallows sound and light, and even the presence of mana seems to disappear within it.”

He looked back at Caius. ”Your father and mother entered it.”

Caius felt a coldness settle in his chest.

”The remaining dark elves did not follow,” Sereth said, his expression hardening. ”They were afraid.”

The admission carried more weight than Caius expected. He had seen what dark elves were capable of, yet even those elite warriors had stopped at the edge of the veil.

”One of them eventually entered,” Sereth’s eyes narrowed slightly. ”Only one.”

Caius waited.

”He screamed.” The fire crackled softly between them. ”No one saw what happened to him. They only heard the scream.”

Caius stared into the flames.

”After that, the leader ordered the others to wait,” Sereth said. ”They believed your father would eventually return.”

Caius looked at Sereth. ”How long?”

”Five years.”

The answer left the camp dead silent for a moment.

Sereth continued. ”They remained near the edge of the mist, waiting for Cullum and the woman to emerge. Some of the warriors eventually died from wounds they had received during the pursuit. Others were replaced by sentries sent by their clans, but the order remained the same: wait, watch the mist, and kill them when they emerge.”

Caius imagined the scene, five years of watching the gray void in total darkness, never knowing whether his father and mother were dead or alive.

Then, one day, the mist moved.

Sereth looked directly at Caius. ”Your father came out.”

Caius held his breath.

”He was alone.”

The words settled heavily over the embers. Caius did not move.

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”What about my mother?” Caius asked softly.

Sereth was quiet for a second. ”She did not come out with him.”

Caius stared into the fire. His mother had entered the mist with his father, but five years later, Cullum had emerged alone.

Sereth continued. ”Your father had a child wrapped against his chest.”

Caius’s expression changed. ”Me.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crackling wood.

”He carried you out of the mist,” Sereth said.

Caius slowly lowered his eyes. He did not know whether he had been born inside that place or whether his mother had given birth to him before they entered. There were still too many missing pieces in the story. All heKnowing was that his mother had entered the mist, and she had never come back out.

”The dark elves attacked immediately,” Sereth said.

Caius looked up. ”What happened?”

”The fight was brutal,” Sereth said, recalling what he had been told. ”Your father was already carrying you. He fought while making certain you remained protected. One by one, the dark elves fell.”

Caius’s hand tightened around Nightdancer’s hilt. ”How many survived?”

”One.” Sereth’s voice became solemn. ”The remaining warrior was the son of one of the Great Houses.”

”Your father could have killed him,” Sereth added.

Caius frowned. ”Why didn’t he?”

Sereth looked into the fire. ”Your father gave him a message. ’Tell your sovereigns.’”

Caius waited.

”He told the warrior that he would accept any duel,” Sereth said. ”Every year. Until the day he died.”

Caius remained silent as Sereth explained that this was the price Cullum demanded for sparing the warrior’s life. The dark elf agreed and returned to his people, but he never went back to the Great House that had sent him.

”He was ashamed,” Sereth said. ”He had been sent to kill your father. Instead, he had been defeated and spared. For a warrior belonging to one of the Great Houses, returning home alive after such a disgrace brought ruin upon his name.”

Caius listened carefully. ”So he went into exile.”

Sereth nodded. ”The following year, another warrior came. And then another. For fifteen years after your father emerged from the mist, the Great Houses continued sending champions to fulfill the challenge.”

Caius’s eyes narrowed. ”Every year?”

”Every year.” Sereth looked into the fire. ”Your father faced them all.”

Caius imagined Cullum standing against warrior after warrior, each one arriving with the intent to kill him.

”Did he kill them?” Caius asked.

Sereth looked at him. ”No.”

Caius stared at him. ”None of them?”

”None,” Sereth’s voice carried a heavy weight. ”Your father spared every dark elf who came to challenge him.”

Caius remained silent.

”They came to kill him,” Sereth continued. ”Some were stronger than others. Some were arrogant, seeking the honor of defeating the human who had embarrassed the Great Houses. Others came simply because they were ordered to. But your father defeated them all and allowed them to live.”

Caius lowered his eyes. That was not the story he had expected. His father had slain warriors who stood between him and his family, yet when the dark elves came seeking him in accordance with the challenge, Cullum had refused to take their lives.

Sereth’s expression grew grim. ”But the final duel was different.”

Caius looked up.

”The warrior who came that year was stronger than the ones before him,” Sereth said. ”The fight pushed your father farther than any previous duel.”

”What happened?”

”Your father’s mana core was damaged.”

Caius’s expression changed. ”How badly?”

”It was fractured,” Sereth replied. ”Not destroyed completely, but damaged enough that he could never use it as he once had. His mana pathways were torn as well. His ability to circulate energy became weaker. He could still fight, but the strength he once possessed was no longer available to him.”

Caius felt his chest tighten.

”Yet he survived,” Sereth said, nodding slowly. ”And the Great Houses considered the challenge fulfilled. Your father had defeated another of their champions, but this time he paid a far greater price.”

Caius stared at the flames. ”From that point forward, his core remained broken.”

The words brought back another memory, the night before the battle at Castle Precipice.

His father had sat beside him, guiding him through the formation of his first mana core. Cullum had known that his own core was already shattered, yet he had still chosen to spend what strength remained to forge his son’s foundation.

Caius lowered his head. ”He helped me form my core.”

Sereth looked at him. ”Yes.”

”He knew it would weaken him further.”

”Your father knew.”

Caius’s fingers curled into tight fists. ”He still did it.”

”He believed you needed the strength to survive what was coming,” Sereth said quietly. ”By the time the orcs attacked the castle, your father was fighting with a fractured core and ancient injuries. Then, the night before the battle, he used what strength he had left to guide you through the formation of your own core.”

Sereth’s voice remained calm, but the meaning was heavy. ”Your father entered that final battle far weaker than the man who had survived the Abyss and defeated fifteen years of challengers.”

Caius looked toward the darkness beyond the tree line. ”Then the orc warlord killed him.”

”Yes.” Sereth’s gaze settled on him. ”But you should understand something, Caius. The man who fought that orc warlord was not the Cullum Macrae whose name the Great Houses feared. If that warlord had faced your father in his prime, before his core was fractured, before the injuries accumulated, before years of strain had worn down his body, the outcome would have been very different. There was a far greater chance Cullum would have cut him down.”

Caius looked down at Nightdancer. The weapon his father had left him suddenly felt infinitely heavier.

His father had not been weak. He had been worn down, scarred, and depleted, and even after all of that, Cullum had still chosen to spend his final sparks of strength to give his son a chance to survive.

Sereth looked back toward the fire. ”For fifteen years, the Great Houses sent warriors to kill your father. He defeated every one of them and spared every life. Then, when his strength had finally vanished, he still stood at the castle gate.”

Caius said nothing. He looked into the flames, thinking of the man who had carried him out of the mist, taught him the bow, forged his core, and stood between him and the tide of orcs until there was nothing left to give.

There were still too many questions.

What had happened inside the mist? Why had his mother never returned? How had Cullum survived for five years within the Abyss, and why had the dark elves continued sending warriors to him for fifteen years?

Caius did not yet have the answers.

But one day, he would. He would survive, grow stronger, and when his power matched his resolve, he would uncover the truth behind his father’s past, his mother’s disappearance, and the darkness that had haunted his bloodline for so long.