Tessia Eralith
Today.
The word thrummed in my veins, a vibrant counterpoint to the nervous flutter in my stomach.
Today was the day the world unfurled before me, the day I stepped beyond the familiar stone and ivy of home towards the unknown melody of adventure. Excitement, bright and fierce, bubbled up, momentarily chasing away the lingering shadow of the long months of pleading, the desperate arguments, the tearful frustration.
I owed this, fiercely, to myself… and to my brother.
My gaze instinctively sought Corvis, leaning against the wall, a quiet, watchful presence amidst the farewell bustle. My amazing brother. The architect of this hard-won achievement. He had found the chink in Grampa's formidable resistance, a path where my relentless passion had only met stubborn walls. Gratitude, warm and profound, washed over me, tinged with the sharp edge of that unspoken promise I'd made him.
I will do my best. For me and for him.
Then, warmth enveloped me, soft and familiar. Mother's arms, smelling of lavender and home, pulled me close. Her fingers, infinitely gentle, traced through my hair, a tender caress that held a universe of unspoken worry. "Are you really sure you want to go, sweetie?" Her voice was a soft murmur against my temple, laden with a mother's love and the fear of letting go.
Of course I am! The affirmation screamed inside my head, a joyful defiance. After four months of battles, of wearing down your resolve and Dad's stoicism, of pestering Grampa until I nearly exhausted him? This is a dream, Mom! But I tempered the internal fire, meeting her anxious eyes with a smile I hoped radiated unwavering certainty.
"Yes, mom," I said, the words firm, confident. A shield against her understandable fear.
Before the familiar wave of paternal doubt could crest, Dad cleared his throat, his expression a masterpiece of gruff concern. "I am still not entirely sure about all of this—"
I cut him off, the playful spark Corvis had helped ignite now flashing brightly. "Well," I declared, drawing myself up, the weight of the packed gear on my back feeling like wings, not a burden, "Master Cynthia already made me take the Adventurer's Exam. So…"
I let the implication hang, punctuating it with a deliberate, impish sticking out of my tongue. A small rebellion, a reclaiming of my victory.
Grampa's head snapped around, his eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. "What!?" The single word boomed, echoing around us. "And when did you think to tell us!?" Betrayal warred with astonishment on his weathered face.
The moment hung, charged. My eyes flickered back to Corvis, my partner-in-crime. A thrill, part mischief, part profound gratitude, shot through me. "It was Corvis' idea!" I announced, my finger pointing unerringly at my brother.
Corvis merely gave a minute, almost imperceptible shrug under the sudden, laser-focused intensity of Grampa's betrayed glare. "Traitor!" Grampa sputtered, aiming the word at Corvis. "I thought we were on this together, Corvis!"
Then, my brother spoke. His voice, calm and measured, cut through the theatrics. "Adventuring will help Tessia a lot," he stated, his gaze steady on Grampa, then encompassing Mom and Dad. A simple, undeniable truth. "And moreover," he continued, the hint of that familiar, clever spark in his eyes, the one that could unravel complex magical theories or, apparently, grandfatherly obstinacy, "it's what she wants. Aren't we, as her family," he paused, letting the weight of the word settle, "obliged to help her?"
My heart swelled. There it was. Not just permission, but affirmation. He hadn't just found a loophole; he had framed my desire as something sacred, a family duty to support. That quiet intelligence, wielded for me, was his greatest gift.
"Your Majesties, the portal to the city is ready," a guard stationed at the entrance to the flying city of Xyrus called out, his voice firm yet unobtrusive.
I turned to Corvis, stepping forward to embrace him one last time before my departure. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, heavier than I had expected. "Just remember what you promised me, okay?" I whispered, clinging to the warmth of the hug.
"I'll do it," he replied, his voice quiet but resolute, as he held me in return.
When Corvis failed to develop his mana core, the shock rippled through all of us, but none more than him. I had watched the realization strike him, watched the way his body stiffened, as if he had taken a blow to the chest.
Corvis had always fought—always pushed himself beyond limits as though battling an unseen force, a specter only he could perceive. There was a fire in him, a restless drive to prove himself, to master the impossible.
And he could have mastered the impossible.
Even as a child, Corvis's brilliance had been undeniable. At eight years old, when others I was just beginning to grasp the depths of mana, he had already devised something entirely new. Mana Rotation—a technique so revolutionary that Master Cynthia and Grampa had been left stunned, their disbelief clear in their wide eyes and parted lips.
Yet he taught me it by theory alone.
Despite all of this, despite his mind, despite his talent, the cruel truth remained: he had never awakened a core.
If I could have given him mine, I would have done so without a second thought. Because for all the praise I received—for all the times people marveled at my abilities—I knew the truth. I was not the prodigy. I was not the true talent. It had always been Corvis.
His struggle, his loss, taught me one of the harshest lessons of all. That the world did not always reward those who deserve it. That effort and willpower did not always shape destiny. That life, no matter how much we try to control it, was not fair.
That was why I chose to leave. Why I needed to journey beyond the confines of comfort and familiarity.
I was doing it for Corvis.
Well… for Corvis, and for something else.
———
Given my identity as an Eralith, I had no choice but to disguise myself. The idea of the elven princess openly operating as an adventurer in a human town would have raised too many questions. Xyrus, however, was the perfect choice—Master Cynthia's presence made it easier to navigate, and then there was her so-called nephew. There was more to that story than they had let on, but uncovering it would have to wait for another time.
Fortunately, Cynthia's nephew—Grey, a boy only a year younger than me and Corvis—possessed an artifact unlike anything I had seen before. He called it Accolade, a magic item capable of altering one's appearance so drastically that even gender could be changed.
In many ways, Grey reminded me of Corvis.
They were both prodigies, yet their brilliance manifested in different ways. Corvis was sharp, analytical—a genius shaped by intellect and study. Grey, on the other hand, was raw, instinctual, a force of pure talent in both magic and combat. Watching him, it was impossible to believe he was only ten years old. He carried himself with an intensity that surpassed his age—just like my brother.
And, much like Corvis, Grey bore a weight unseen yet deeply felt. It pressed on him, shaped him, lingered in the spaces between his words. I had no doubt that if the two ever met, they would understand each other in ways few others could. Both tough, guarded, hardened by their own battles—yet beneath the surface, soft in ways they would rarely admit.
Grey was more stoic than my brother, yes, but their struggles, their burdens, ran parallel. I was certain that if fate ever brought them together, they would see in each other what the rest of the world often overlooked.
And so the other reason I wanted to be an adventurer here in Xyrus was to know Grey better, he also said that he would be joining me in my adventures so I had already a member to my party.
And so, beyond the freedom and challenges of adventuring, another reason I had chosen to become one here in Xyrus was to understand Grey better. He had already promised to join me in my travels, which meant that—without even realizing it—I already had the first member of my party.
Grey was extraordinary in more ways than one. His swordsmanship alone was staggering—far beyond what I had seen from seasoned swordsmen in Zestier. I had practically begged him to teach me, desperate to learn even a fraction of what he seemed to wield so effortlessly.
But his talent wasn't the only thing that set him apart. Grey had a bond—though bond hardly seemed to do justice to what it truly was. It wasn't just a normal contract. It was an Equals Contract, something incredibly rare, something that allowed him to communicate mentally with his bonded companion—a small, fox-like creature named Sylvie.
Watching them interact, seeing the unspoken understanding between them, made me realize that Grey's strength was not just his own. He had someone beside him, someone who knew him in ways no one else could.
Yes, I couldn't wait to see what awaited me.
Corvis Eralith
I was back in Zestier after bidding Tessia farewell, and for the first time since my reincarnation, I found myself without her by my side.
In those early years, when fear kept me from truly connecting with my family, Tessia had been my anchor—the one constant in my uncertainty. What I once mistook for weakness had, in truth, been my greatest strength.
And as time passed, as I finally came to accept that I was Corvis Eralith, Tessia transformed from my only friend into my best friend. Albold may have held that title too, but he was not my sister.
When I trained myself to exhaustion, pushing past my limits until my body refused to move, it was always Tessia who came to help me first—before Mom, before Grampa. She was the one I leaned on, the one I depended on.
Now that she was gone, I felt… I didn't know what I felt.
But deep down, I understood it was for the best. Tessia needed time away from home. She needed to grow—not just in strength, but in independence. She had to step away from me, just a little.
Still, my greatest fear lingered. It had always been the same—the terror of dying and leaving my family behind to grieve. Death itself did not scare me. I had already faced it once, and I did not believe I deserved a second chance. What did terrify me, though, was the pain my death would cause. The suffering my absence would bring.
Grampa's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"It feels a bit too quiet here without Tessia, doesn't it, Corvis?"
"Yes..." I admitted. Zestier Palace felt different, incomplete without her presence.
Grampa smiled, a warmth in his eyes that had always felt like home. "It means we can finally catch up," he said. "You know, I think I've neglected you a bit, Corvis. I am deeply sorry."
"What? No, Grampa, you haven't done anything wrong!" I protested, shaking my head.
He sighed, his gaze heavy with guilt. "Ever since you didn't develop your mana core, I've spent more time with Tessia alone. I was afraid of harming you."
I frowned, unsure how to respond. "...I don't know how interesting I would be to spend time with," I admitted. Besides sparring and training with Albold, most of my time was spent preparing for the future—events I knew were coming, battles I knew were inevitable.
Grampa chuckled, his usual playful tone returning. "Your grandfather isn't just magic and battles, kid! I'm much more resourceful than you might think."
I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I know that, Grampa."
For a fleeting moment, everything felt right.
If not for the looming Alacryan disaster waiting on the horizon, I might have said my life was perfect. The absence of a mana core didn't matter—not truly. Magic, combat, power… none of it was what I cared about.
I only cared about making this life—the life I had been given—as good as it could possibly be.