Wyn tried his best to keep up with what was going on once the ward-breaking started, but to his untrained ears, they may as well have been speaking Khadati. They were bent over the notebook Nathae had brought, a page of which had been covered in sigils and lines—which Wyn was pretty sure represented the warding scheme somehow? Nathae had performed some sort of ritual involving a mana stone and the notebook, and Wyn had watched as ink appeared on the page, drawing itself into the primary hexagonal structure they were discussing.

"...so you can see the four access frequencies at these points here. If we had a sample of any of these mana-signatures this would be a breeze."

"The sepals, most likely," Eryndor rubbed his chin. "If we could find them, this wouldn't be necessary anyways."

Nathae glanced towards the spirit knight out of the corner of his eye. It had taken a good bit more convincing after he'd found out they were breaking into a sepal's home, but Eryndor had twisted his arm—with the utmost positivity—until he'd finally given in.

Luscien didn't notice, pointing at another spot on the page. "How about here? This is a general bypass isn't it?"

"Yes, but the frequency is still tied up. Likely to a keyed manastone."

"Perhaps we could try frequency iteration?" Eryndor suggested. "I trust you know the requisite spells as a ward specialist."

"Of course, but this ward is quite sensitive. With how long it would take, we may as well just siphon it. I'm thinking…"

Wyn felt his eyes starting to glaze over and turned away. Corrin had given up almost immediately, but he'd been determined to power through. But what was the point? He didn't understand any of what they were saying. What had happened to circles?

A part of him wished he'd put more effort into learning manaweaving and magecraft since leaving Estin, but between developing his channels, learning more about bonds, and mantling, he'd… well he'd somewhat forgotten. Nereus hadn't included much about it in his notes either, so it had fallen by the wayside. Still, considering his circumstances, it was bound to be useful. Not that he thought he could've gotten good enough to matter in this situation.

You're sure you can't get in? He thought to Eia. He wasn't sure what he'd even do if she could. He hadn't mentioned her to Eryndor, but if she had been able to get through the boundary of the home, he might have seriously tried convincing her.

Eia's response was dry. Well darn I guess not. Might as well try again right? Hey are you sure you can't just walk through the wall? I mean you haven't even tried once!

Wyn snorted, drawing a look from the three in the huddle. He waved vaguely, unsure of how to explain.

Eventually, he settled into a meditative posture, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, and began the exercise Eryndor had shown him, which he was calling the aura compression cycle, rapidly expanding and compressing the mana in his body, slowly expanding his aura reserves, little by little. He'd practiced it enough the previous day that he didn't collapse from the strain, but it still seared his body with pain, and he had to focus to keep his breathing steady.

Eryndor had warned him that he might need to take a break between cycles to avoid too much mental strain—but thanks to spirit fire, the recovery time was basically nonexistent. He closed his eyes and fell into his inner world.

Expand. Compress. Expand. Compress.

"Got it!" Nathae's voice, suddenly excited, broke Wyn from his concentration. He looked up just as the golden light shimmering over the door fizzled out, and Luscien and Eryndor celebrated with him.

The sun had reached its peak in the sky—how long had it been? At least a few hours if Wyn had to guess, he'd seriously gotten into the zone. Without spirit fire, his muscles may have been stiff, but he stood without even noticing, walking towards the door.

"You got it?"

"Yes! There was a weak spot in the warding scheme in the third hexagonal, so we isolated it from the rest of the mana flow and…" Nathae trailed off, realizing Wyn didn't understand any of it.

"We broke a small part and the whole thing collapsed!" Eryndor exclaimed. "Easy as pie!"

Wyn thought about protesting that some pies could be quite involved to make properly, but he bit his tongue.

Corrin stepped up to the door, holding a half-eaten wrap in his hand as he tried the handle.

"Oh, duh. It's still locked." He chuckled, drew his foot back, sheathed it in aura, and kicked a hole clean through the door. His leg got stuck on the other side. "Huh."

"Your aura has a sharp impact," Eryndor explained. "Likely due to you mostly trying to condense it on your sword edge. It's not a bad habit, but you can see its limits here. You'd have had better results without mantling at all."

Corrin extricated himself from the door, and Eryndor finished the job, kicking it hard enough it flew off its hinges and skidded six feet across the floor.

They started to walk inside, when Eryndor abruptly stopped them.

"Wait! Young Nathae, I must request that you wait outside! Your assistance is greatly appreciated, however it is best you divorce yourself from this situation!"

Though disappointed, the mage reluctantly agreed, and the remaining four of them stepped through the threshold.

Dust kicked up from the floor beneath him as he looked around the dimly lit home. A moonstone lamp, meant to be set out during the day to soak up the sun, sat on a shelf, completely devoid of light.

"It looks abandoned," Corrin muttered.

"But for how long?" said Wyn

"Too long." Eryndor's voice was grim as he gestured them towards the kitchen.

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Wyn reeled back as a sick, rotting smell filled his nose. The rest of the house had just been stale and musty, but the kitchen was rancid, and he soon saw why.

A basket of fruit was sitting on the counter, untouched but by time. The sipa within had rotted, its usually reddish-brown scales turned a moldy grey. Past that, Eryndor was holding open a strange box, from which a thick, cool mist spilled down onto the floor. Within were spoiled and rotting meats and fish the source of the horrid scent.

The spirit knight's face was tight, his eyes glaring at the fruit basket on the counter. "Sadof was a conscientious man. He would not have left his home in a state like this if he knew he would be gone. It's clear. He did not realize he wouldn't be returning anytime soon."

Wyn felt something heavy settle in his stomach.

"Search thoroughly. From what I remember, Sadof kept a journal. It's possible it remains here." Eryndor said. "Tell me if you find absolutely anything of note."

Wyn stepped carefully through the dim interior, the sour kitchen air still clinging to his nostrils. The floor creaked underfoot as he moved toward what looked like a study, Corrin already tugging drawers open one by one.

"Nothing, nothing," Corrin muttered, rifling through paper slips and stamped seals. "A recipe for honeyroot stew."

"I think I've got it!" Luscien's voice called out from the bedroom.

"That was fast."

"It was lying on the ground next to his futon. It wasn't hidden or anything."

He passed the book to Eryndor, who opened it, his eyes scanning the pages. The handwriting was neat and deliberate, quite organized for a personal journal.

He flipped through slowly. The entries were mundane at first—notes on his meditations, complaints about the price of fish going up in the markets, his disapproval of a new appointment to the Ecclesia.

"Here," Eryndor finally stopped, having reached the last page. "The last entry is from over a month ago."

He turned the book so they could read over his shoulder.

I dreamt of fire once again. Rot infecting Haoma's roots, the sanctum falling. I have seen it.

I cannot help but feel uneasy.

It is as if a rat has infested my kitchen. I can hear it in the dark, I find its excrement in the corners of the room. But whenever I look, it vanishes into the walls.

Lady Nasrin, I wish you had only passed on your knowledge. The lantern, the mirror, the wheel. If they are so important, then why would you do such a thing? I wish I could curse you for your actions, but I cannot bring myself to. I suppose in the end, you never trusted me at all.

Wyn broke the stagnant silence that hung in the air. "Lady Nasrin? As in—"

"The sepal from eighteen years ago," Eryndor nodded. "It seems there is something to her story I do not know."

"It seems like the two of them were close," said Corrin.

"She was his mentor in his youth. At the time, she was the first sepal, the same position he would later take up. I was only a child when she passed—I never met her—but if I am to believe the stories, her power was such that she could walk amongst the aegis themselves."

"Do you think her death could be related to the disappearance of the sepal now?" Luscien asked.

"I think it's unlikely, it seems like he was just venting onto the page. But we can't rule anything out. In any case, one thing is clear, Sepal Sadof suspected something was wrong in this city—that creeping rot infecting the roots of Haoma. Taken in tandem with Wyn's dream, and the watcher in the night, there is no doubt."

"Great, so we know something is wrong?" Corrin complained. "What are we supposed to do with that?"

"To begin, we will finish searching the home, in case there is anything else of importance. We don't want to let the news of the sepals' disappearance get out, that would cause panic, and endanger the city to its enemies. Even more than the tree, I do not wish to endanger the lives of Liresil's people. I will send correspondence to trusted allies in the capital. It will be too late for the solstice, but it must be done all the same."

"We have to find the sanctum," Wyn insisted. "Whatever it is, it's important. That should be our first priority."

"I agree, and yet we no longer have the luxury of taking our time. The three of you will split up and inspect the roots of Haoma. There are hundreds so you will need to move quickly."

"The roots?"

"Not only do I have concerns regarding the health of the tree, but the roots are a likely candidate for the location of this 'sanctum'. Do you disagree?"

"No," Wyn shook his head. "I guess not. But what will you be doing?"

"I'm going to make some social calls. The Ecclesia is acting strangely, and I want to know why."

The look on his face made Wyn think he wasn't telling them everything, but who could make the spirit knight talk if he didn't want to?

"So check out the roots and report back to your manor at the end of the day," Corrin said. "Easy enough. Let's get going."

"Wait." Eryndor grabbed his wrist. "If you encounter anyone you may think to be an enemy, do not engage. Retreat to the manor immediately, and tell Venish to activate the defensive wards. We will reconvene at sunset, do you understand?"

The spirit knight's eyes were hard—intense in a way Wyn hadn't seen on him before. Corrin nodded.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, search the rest of the house. Leave me here for a moment, I wish… to honor my friend."

He turned away. Eryndor's voice didn't tremble.

Wyn realized that Eryndor hadn't once described the sepals as dead, just missing. But it seemed he knew the truth after all.

So the three of them left. And Eryndor remained.

Behind the closed door, for just a minute or two, the fire burned a little lower.

***

Rhaelza watched the four of them leave from a nearby cafe. She was so glad she'd had the foresight to leave a feeler outside the sepal's home, just in case anyone else tried to investigate the property.

"So not just the cult, but a spirit knight as well? With a fire aspect too, that could be trouble." A faint smile stretched across her lips. "Ahhh, things are getting so interesting… I'll have to work hard this time."

And that boy…

"Excuse me miss, would you like me to refill that for you?"

She glanced up at the server, a young man who had come to her table far more than was necessary. His eyes were… wandering, to say the least. Not that she minded.

Rhaelza smiled. "Please. One cube of sugar, two tablespoons of milk. Bring it out quick for me would you?"

"Of—of course!" He hurried off to refill her cup, and she looked back at the empty building they'd been investigating.

She already knew what was inside—breaking into each of the sepal's homes was one of the first things she'd done when she arrived. Sepal Calin… Cal…whatever his name was, had housed quite a few valuables in his manor which she had liberated from his possession. Sadof hadn't been nearly as fun. Of course, none of the sepals would really mind her taking from them.

In many ways, their absence would make her job much easier. However it wasn't without issues. Namely, finding the location of the sanctum. Despite her best—well, despite her efforts, she'd been unable to find the 'vault' she was looking for.

There had been one interesting thing in that sepal's journal though.

The lantern, the mirror, and the wheel huh? Seems you were right once again, boss.

A butterfly of glowing green, almost like a spirit, alighted on her fingertip, where a razor thin cut ran with a trickle of blood. The butterfly's color slowly morphed into a shade of crimson red, and the cut began to fade. When it had healed entirely, the crimson insect flew off, ascending towards the boughs and fading from view.

"Here's your refill ma'am!" The server was back, hands shaking ever so slightly as he held out the cup.

"Thank you so much," she took it from his hands, careful not to let their fingers touch. "Could you just bring me one more sugar cube actually? I changed my mind."

"Right away! I'll be right back!"

As he ran back into the cafe, Rhaelza stood up. Then, cup in hand, she walked out into the street, quickly vanishing in the crowd.

Free food really does taste the best of all.

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