Intricacies and revelations

[A/N: Hello! Quite the break it's been! I turn around for a second, and the site undergoes a complete metamorphosis.

I believe from now on, we will be getting semi-frequent updates to both this branch and Travis Salliv one. Stay tuned, and thanks for waiting!]

Lucas could not help but count the seconds passing as he looked at his sister. Aveline, in turn, reciprocated the stare, the two pairs of amethysts not relenting in the staredown as though the loser was going to meet a terrible fate. Lucas felt a strange feeling well up in his abdomen, something similar to anticipation that sent a bitter aftertaste up his esophagus.

"So, to begin," Aveline sighed, breaking the silence. "As you probably realize, Nimue is... not exactly who you pictured her to be."

The white-haired man glanced sideways, toward the elf in question. Nimue was sitting on his bed, hands intertwined on her knees, her gaze down. However, judging by how her ears twitched, she seemed to sense his stare regardless.

"'Not exactly'? What do you mean by that? That she knows magic? Or that-- Wait..." he looked back at Aveline. "You knew?"

The blonde nodded. Her violet eyes looked toward the notebook under her finger.

"Yeah."

Lucas felt his heart thundering in his chest. "...how long have you known that for?"

"A few years. Father told me the truth a few months before he passed."

His eyes lifted, scanning his sister's face. Underneath the composed countenance, he could faintly sense the sorrow she felt, nibbling at her spirit.

Lucas felt his own mind spiraling. The fact that his sister was aware of Nimue's condition carried tremendous implications. However, even though he understood his sister's words, one part of Aveline's words made him flinch with a realization.

"Father knew, too?"

"...yes," she answered hesitantly.

"But then--"

"Lucas," Aveline cut him off, her expression growing rigid. "I know you have questions. But first, there are things you must learn. Just... let me explain the situation. I'll answer what you want after that, alright?"

The white-haired man looked at her with a pause. It was seldom he'd seen Aveline get serious. She usually held a lofty, easy-going expression, more often than not accompanied by a smirk. But now, her face was like a stone mask, and the expression etched on it was anything but laughter.

He found himself nodding before he found the words he wanted to say. His eyes went down to his hands on the table, the torn skin marred with smudges of blood from him punching the wall.

Aveline sighed. Everything about her spoke volumes about how unprepared for it all she was. But despite the uncertainties, her mouth opened, "Forty-three years ago, Grandfather Iwo was in Inallel, in the city of Velna. During his stay, a facility on the outskirts of the city was attacked by demons."

'Velna?' Lucas almost frowned at the thought. He knew that city name. It came up several times in 'Adventures of Luccius'. 'I know grandfather went to Inallel many times, but I've only heard he was in the capital. What was he doing in the biggest coastal city?'

"When they investigated, they found an underground structure," Aveline continued. She stole a glance leftward, toward the black-haired maid. "And within, they found Nimue."

"Nimue...?" Lucas's gaze followed his sister's, immediately locking eyes with the woman in question. Nimue's hands shook gently, visible trepidation stirring her from within. "Wait," he looked back at Aveline. "What kind of facility was it? And... why was she there?"

The blonde sighed. Tapping the notebook gently, she answered, "Lucas, have you ever heard of a creature called 'homunculus'?"

Lucas frowned. The strange word was unknown to him. However, as though to counter his confusion, a thought immediately surfaced.

'Homunculus... a fickle fusion of dragon's flesh with an elf's. A soldier produced en masse to fight in the Eternal War.'

"I... I don't know," he answered with uncertainty. "I feel like I know something, but... I don't know where I've read about it."

"Homunculus is a hypothetical being," Aveline explained. "A product of alchemy so advanced that it could ignore restrictions of nature itself... allowing an otherwise impossible existence. It can be achieved by, for example, infusing a piece of a dragon into an elf."

A shiver ran down his spine. His gaze escaped to Nimue again. The sitting woman didn't look back, her gaze intensely focused on her hands. Her expression, half-hidden as it was, told him all he needed to know.

"You mean..." he trailed off.

"Yes," Nimue answered this time. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze, her voice heavy and eyes glossy. "I'm one of them."

A few seconds of silence passed. Lucas felt his heart thundering in his ears. Memories, thoughts, questions, realizations, his and not his alike - everything erupted in his mind like an active volcano. Lost in the incessant chatter of his brain, he found himself looking toward the notebook under Aveline's hand. Its worn surface and yellowish pages sticking from under the cover told him it was most likely older than either him or his sister.

"Grandfather brought Nimue here to keep her safe," the robust woman continued. "And he studied her condition to the best of his ability, hoping he could help her. He documented everything in his notebook. When the time came for him, he told the truth to Father, who did the same to me."

A protracted moment of silence befell them as Aveline gave her brother time to digest the new information. Immediately, one thing became apparent to him.

"Why are you telling me about it? Are you in danger?"

"Not me. Nimue is."

Lucas's heart halted for a split second. Then, it beat painfully. Remembrances appeared, smothering his vision. Nimue was in pain. Half her face was missing. Blood trickled. And in place of her left eye - normally a captivating emerald - a vast, black sclera sat, its golden, vertical iris constricting and widening as though it had a mind of its own.

A name pressed itself from the back of his mind, parting his lips.

"...Nefrelith."

Aveline's expression turned to shock in milliseconds. Her hands twitched like he'd touched a nerve he shouldn't have. Nimue also flinched, both women taken aback by the name.

"How do you know that name?" the blonde asked.

"I... I don't know," Lucas responded slowly. "It just feels... like I've heard it before."

'Not just heard, but seen, too. For some reason, I feel like holding a blade the moment I recall of that name... the 'part of me' fought it, I think...'

"What is Nefrelith?" he inquired.

Aveline's lips twisted unpleasantly for a moment. Then, she squinted, a sorrowful expression written on her face. "Nefrelith is one of the Primordial Dragons... a piece of it is fused with Nimue."

...

"...why are you telling me this?" Lucas eventually broke the silence. His gaze bounced between the maid and his sister expectantly.

"Simply put, because of what happened yesterday," Aveline responded with half a sigh. "Nimue overexerted herself, and Nefrelith almost took over. If she stays here much longer, Mother will catch the whiff of what she is. And when that happens... well, you should be able to fill in the blanks."

"So, you're sending her away? Her illness comes up, and the first thing you do is dispose of her?!" Lucas's fist slammed against the table. His reaction immediately made his sister flinch back.

"...I'm not disposing of her," Aveline gave a hesitant answer. "If it were up to me, she'd stay here. I made a vow to help her as long as I can. But I can't do it while you send Mother on my head."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. It was already hard keeping everything under Mother's nose, but now that you've admitted to what's happened with Tessa, she will be looking at my hands for probably several months. And I don't know about your senses, but Miri can really sneak up on people."

Lucas almost snorted. This conversation already felt like a fever dream. But as a few seconds passed and he absorbed everything once again, he found it increasingly difficult to rebuke Aveline's words. He couldn't explain it, but he subconsciously agreed with her. If Ismeria learned of Nimue's status, she would not pass it off quietly.

"This is the best of both worlds," Aveline continued. "Nimue has someone who can look after her, and you have someone who can look after you."

"...And what's that bottle?"

"This..." Aveline lifted the item, about a third full of a silver-colored fluid. "This is Gereval. Grandfather found it together with Nimue, and though he and Father searched far and wide, they never found more. We don't really know what it's made of. We only know it can suppress Nefrelith's presence."

Lucas gulped, realizing the liquid's importance. He still didn't understand much about Nefrelith - neither his sister nor 'his' memories were particularly vocal about it - but he knew that if it came out, bad things would come.

"So, this is..."

"Nimue's lifeline," Aveline confirmed flatly, her expression steeling.

Deft silence filled the room. Lucas felt the maid's emerald eyes on him, but his attention was focused on Aveline's form.

"So, that's why you've been hogging the alchemy lab all the time?"

"Partly. Most of it was just keeping up appearances (and some genuine interest. I did inherit Father's knack for alchemy, after all)."

Lucas nearly snorted out of defeat. The image he had painted of his sister over so many years was now being put to the test.

'I always pictured her as a blunt blockhead to whom alchemy was just a side hustle to stave off boredom. I wouldn't have thought she's be doing it as a cover... she's way more cunning than I thought.'

But the feeling waned as quickly as it came. Looking at the items Aveline was sliding over to him, Lucas realized the meaning of the gesture. Although he never saw or knew how this transfer looked between his forefathers or his father and his sister, he imagined it looked similar.

'It is my turn now.'

He sighed. However, as he reached for the notebook, Aveline said, "Lucas. I want you to understand something."

His brows lifted.

"Accepting this bottle and notebook, and this knowledge, you accept the burden they carry," she continued. "You are now holding Nimue's life. You'd best make sure your hold is steady, you understand?"

"...yes," he nodded, grabbing the items. Immediately thereafter, a realization struck him. "Wait, but... how will I even make use of them? I won't have a lab to use. Gods, I won't even have a home."

"I know. I'm working on something."

"On what?"

"Well, how do you feel about moving to one of Reywound residences?"

"Reywound? A farming house, you mean?"

"What? Are you suddenly too good for one?"

"That's not what I meant," Lucas shook his head. "But... Tessa."

The name dropped like a stone into water. The young Stormrider saw his sister's expression shifting from momentary surprise to exasperation faster than he could think of more words to say.

"...I see," she nodded lightly, as though to give him her acknowledgment of his request, unspoken yet obvious. "*Sigh* I do know one of Gareth's cousins runs a small estate four or five hours east. I'll see what I can do to get you three there," Aveline said, her tone undertoned by a faint yawn. She got up, shooting a quick glance toward Nimue. "Now, I need to get go--"

"All three?" Lucas unexpectedly interjected. "I didn't say we have to go there together. I'm not sure if--"

Aveline snapped back at Lucas, "Lucas, just be grateful I'm helping you. I had had less than twelve hours of sleep in the last three days, thanks to you," she nearly hissed, her voice speaking of how angry she was. She halved the distance between them, her towering figure all the more apparent to the sitting man. "Not to speak of everything else that's happened. I don't care how you feel about the situation. Either it's all three of you or just two. I'm not doing extra for Tessa just because you can't face the consequences of your actions."

An ice-cold shiver ran down Lucas's spine. It was rare for him to see Aveline pissed off. Displeased? Yes, sometimes. Discontent? More than once. But actual anger was not an emotion he easily put together with her. The worst part of it all was that he knew Aveline was right. Perhaps not about everything, but enough that he didn't meet her gaze or even voice a word of backtalk.

Suddenly, he felt a hand atop his head. Aveline's fingers combed his hair gently, a sigh escaping her lips as her form deflated.

"Sorry. But hey, cheer up, little brother. It's not like Tessa hates you over everything, right?"

"...right," he answered slowly. 'Tessa doesn't hate me... I suppose she doesn't. She doesn't know why she did what she did, so she doesn't have a reason to hate my guts. What about me, though? Do I even deserve to say I don't hate myself over it?'

"Well, I said what I had to say. I have to get going if I want to make it," she said, patting her brother on his back gently. "I'll be back tomorrow... eventually. Probably in the afternoon. In the meantime, you should talk to Tessa about this. I won't be forcing her to anything, and neither should you."

Lucas turned around in his seat, watching his sister reach the door. The cascade of wavy blonde hair, reaching to her elbows, shone gently against the manalamp's light.

"One last thing," she said, halting just before her hand reached the door handle. "Everything we just talked about stays between us. Got it?" her brow raised as she glanced at Lucas. The seriousness of her expression relayed to the man all he needed to know.

"...Yes."

Aveline's expression softened. For the first time since she entered the room, Lucas felt that she looked at him at least somewhat approvingly.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Be sure to prepare. Bye, Lucas," she said, her voice a tinge warmer than before, before pressing a hand on the handle.

Lucas barely managed to respond before Aveline was already closing the door, leaving the two in the room.

...

...

...

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Seconds silently ticked between them. Only their slow, measured breaths and nervous heartbeats told them that the time hadn't come to a standstill.

Fifteen. Sixteen.

Lucas looked at his hands. With a slow motion, he rubbed the damaged areas, pangs of pain nearly entirely ignored as he broke off the last pieces of loose skin. A bit of blood stained his fingertips.

Twenty. Twenty-one.

He heard a rustle. Within the corner of his vision, he saw the black of Nimue's hair sway gently, momentarily taking up more space before the woman fixed up its position behind her.

Thirty.

"...Lucas."

Nimue's voice, quiet as it was, finally broke the silence.

He looked toward her, seeing the multitude of emotions in her expression. She was clearly as torn up about the situation as he was.

"I... I know it's a lot to take in," her ears lowered to the lowest position Lucas had ever seen them drop. "But--"

"You've been lying to me," he cut her off. "...all my life, I thought you were someone completely different from who you are," his tone was heavy, unshaking, but the emotions he felt were palpable. The betrayal in his voice was clear.

"We had no choice."

"Didn't you?" his hand gripped the edge of his chair, staining the wood with the scarlet that had yet to coagulate against his skin. "And you telling Aveline about everything was also because you had no choice?"

"It was either that or risking your mother finding out."

Lucas's breath was caught in his throat. He wanted to retort, to scream, to berate Nimue - there was no way he could remain calm in this moment. However, from the depths of his mind, a voice surged. His own, yet different.

It spoke just one word.

'Enough.'

Lucas halted like he was about to receive a blow. A sense of pressure appeared in the back of his mind, similar to a headache but distinctly different. His vision fluctuated, everything going in and out of focus as he turned back to the items on the table.

Nimue stood up. With a nigh-silent movement, she approached. Her hand raised to touch Lucas's shoulder, but she hesitated.

"...Lucas," she nearly whispered. "I know it's a lot. If it were up to me, I would've told you everything long ago."

He didn't respond. In truth, Nimue was no longer sure if the man heard her. Still, in hopes he did, she continued her thought.

"Please read the notebook. It will explain everything better than we could. And if you feel like destroying those... I won't stop you."

"...Nimue... please leave me alone," Lucas whispered back. His voice, full of anger before, was now completely devoid of any emotion. In truth, it no longer felt like it belonged to the white-haired man speaking it.

Nimue's heart lurched. She knew the magnitude of stress Lucas was going through right now. And she knew that this was his defensive response to it.

Tenderly, her hand graced his shoulder, right before her lips descended, gracing his temple with a gentle kiss.

"I will be in my room. When you feel ready to talk about it, I will be waiting for you."

Then, the voluptuous elf straightened in her position. With a heavy heart and even heavier steps, she walked toward the door. Turning around, she saw that Lucas's form was completely still, like he didn't even acknowledge her leave.

"I love you."

And with that whisper, Nimue left the room.

...

...

...

His mind was in a scramble. His breathing was slowly growing erratic as he tried to piece everything together. It made no sense. It made perfect sense. Or did it? What did? Why? How?

Layer upon layer, pieces of memories lay scattered in his mind. His, not his, new, old, and everywhere in between. Emotions, events. War, peace, blood, sweat, tears, sadness, joy, elation, anger, disgust... And in between them all, he stood, unable to process what was real anymore.

The silver liquid inside the bottle, while still, appeared to shine more and more by the second. The notebook's yellow pages seemed to gain more color by the second, and even the brown of the table beneath his fingers looked more vivid than it had seconds ago. Sounds entered his ears, sounds he shouldn't be hearing. His heartbeat. The sound of his blood flowing in his veins. The still-distant but approaching steps of hard boots against the corridor's stones. Judging by the fast but unusually stable rhythm, it was most likely Lilia.

Wait. No. Stop. Enough. Concentrate.

His vision dimmed before slowly focusing. With shaky hands, he grabbed the notebook. The rugged, aged cover rubbed against his fingers as he gripped it tighter.

There was no turning back. Not now. Not anymore.

As he shakily turned to the first page, his stomach turned. A realization sank in.

'My whole life was a lie.'

---

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