As the ripples of Corvin’s newly achieved rank spread across Verthalis like a shockwave through still waters, more eyes began to turn toward Raven’s Nest. It wasn’t long before Corvin received word of two very particular envoys approaching from distant lands. One from the elemental archipelago of Aetheris, the ancient homeland of the enigmatic Aetherborne, and the other from the continent of Savaryn, representing the proud Dragonkin of the South.
The news arrived to Corvin not through letters or formal declarations, but via the sharp eyes of his ravens. The moment the dark birds brought him mirrored glimpses of the approaching envoys, he smiled lightly to himself.
"How civil of them to come for a chat rather than a chase," he murmured, amused. "Let’s hope I can manage not to nibble on the guests."
He cloaked his anticipation behind aristocratic calm, though inwardly he was curious, especially about the Aetherborne. This would not be the first time he met them, but it would be the first in peace. In his days as a mercenary, and during multiple missions across Verthalis, Corvin had siphoned and absorbed Aetherborne before. Those encounters had been brutal and swift, but never with Arcane tier variants. He had faced Fireborn, Earthborn, and other primary and secondary elemental types, their essence now woven into the vast tapestry of his own power. But never Gravityborn. Never Spaceborn. Never pure Aetherborn of such rarity.
The Aetherborne envoy arrived first. A small contingent of four beings approached the towering gates of Raven’s Nest, each radiating elemental majesty. Corvin’s eyes narrowed with interest, two were unmistakably Aetherborn, the other two, rarer still: a Gravityborn and a Spaceborn.
They were escorted inside by silent elven butler. The butler moved with fluid grace, leading the elemental beings to the grand meeting hall where Corvin awaited, his throne like chair placed beneath a banner bearing the crest of Raven’s Nest: a raven, black on silver spreading its wings above a broken sun
He stood as they entered.
It was one thing to observe an Aetherborne in the chaos of battle, but quite another to view them in stillness. They were magnificent. Each one a creature of living, condensed elemental energy, their humanoid forms shifting with light, transparency, and the illusion of depth.
The first Aetherborn stepped forward, a tall, graceful figure emanating a soft turquoise glow. Its body pulsed with calming luminescence, shaped like an idealized elven silhouette made of living starlight. No mouth, no face in the traditional sense, but its presence was undeniably sentient, ancient, and noble.
"Firstborn of Verthalis greets the Awakened," it spoke. The voice came not from lips but from the surrounding air, resonant and fluid, as though the room itself translated the thought into sound.
Corvin tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled. "You honor me with your presence, Firstborn. I welcome you to Raven’s Nest."
The Aetherborn who had spoken gave a graceful inclination of its head. "I am Seirial of the Unwoven Stream born of Aether. This is Vaethryn, my fellow Aetherborn. Beside us, Lurox of the Tidal Hollow, born of Space. And behind him, Dorran of the Deep Shale, born of Gravity."
Vaethryn shimmered in a paler turquoise, its body flickering like candlelight underwater. Lurox, the Spaceborn, was a being of shifting lavender hues, its silhouette breaking and refracting subtly as though viewed through a cracked mirror of time. Dorran of Gravity stood firm, carved from obsidian and veined with flowing silver lines, every step he took subtly distorting the space around him.
Corvin’s inner thoughts stirred. Aetherborn of pure Arcane alignment... this is no diplomatic courtesy. This is a message. A test. An opportunity or a trap.
He gestured to the chairs arranged before him. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’m most curious what brings the Breath of Verthalis to my doorstep."
Even as they sat, he observed the strands of Aether weaving faintly around them. Their presence, their power, their purity, it resonated with something deep within him... Dark Parasyte’s base instincts were clawing his will to siphon and absorb. He had siphoned many things in his life, consumed the knowledge and essence of countless enemies. But these were unlike any before.
As the four beings lowered themselves with impossible grace into the obsidian chairs, the chamber felt both lighter and heavier all at once. There was tension in the air, but it was not hostile, it was the tension of potential.
Corvin leaned back, the very image of composure, though every sense he had was alert.
"Now," he said with an elegant smile, "shall we speak as peers... or as predators?"
The shimmer of amusement flickered briefly through Seirial’s light as the chamber settled into silence, on the cusp of something significant.
Seirial chuckled lightly at Corvin’s question, a ripple of ethereal amusement passing through his translucent Aether formed body. "Do you know the reason why we, the Firstborn, call those who reach the Planarch rank ’Awakened’?" the Aetherborn asked, his voice sounding like a soft chord struck on a celestial instrument.
Corvin remained silent for a few measured heartbeats, letting the question settle like morning dew. Then, with a calm and warm tone, he responded, "It is because at the rank of Planarch, the very Laws of magic become visible. Runes cease to be mere symbols for memorization. Elements are no longer wild energies to wield, they reveal themselves as structure, intention, and purpose. The world is no longer felt through instinct alone but seen through its most primal truths. Am I correct?"
Vaethryn, the Gravityborn, nodded slowly. His obsidian form shimmered under the ambient light like a sculpture made from compressed starlight. "You are, Planarch. And more."
"You are an anomaly, Elf," he continued, his voice like tectonic plates shifting far beneath the earth. "We, are born of elements themselves, geined consciousness distilled of centuries. We can see, feel, and taste the truths of Verthalis more vividly than any other beings. You carry more than just elemental affinity, you carry resonance. I see Gravity itself flowing through you."
Lurox, the Spaceborn, with his light violet shimmer and eyes like folding galaxies, spoke next with a deep hum in his voice. "I see how space wraps around you. It bends, not unwillingly but as if it belongs to you. As if your will is its compass."
Dorran, the second Aetherborn, who shimmered in layers of soft turquoise and azure mist, chimed forward. His voice was the sound of wind echoing through deep caverns. "And I feel the many others. The pressure of your existence distorts the natural flow of mana and matter around you. You’re not a mage anymore. You are a locus of force."
Seirial, their leader, turned once again to Corvin. His face, featureless except for the radiant glow of his eyes, somehow conveyed a grave seriousness. "We, the Aetherborne, confirm and seal your status as a Planarch of Verthalis. This declaration is not rooted in politics or power. It is not given. It is witnessed. Elemental truth recognizes you."
The chamber felt heavier with those words. With a reverent pressure, as if reality itself was acknowledging something profound.
"You are above the laws and customs of the land," Seirial continued. "A Planarch is beyond borders. You belong to no court, no throne, no title but to Verthalis herself. And yet, you are of the Elven race, Child of the Mother Tree. It would be most appropriate that you register under their banners for the coming Planar Invasion. Whether with the High Elves of the Dominion or the Dark Elves of the Synod. This we do not dictate. But the choice must be Elven."
Corvin sat in thoughtful silence, fingers steepled, absorbing their words.
Then Seirial’s eyes pulsed a brighter hue, and the air around him shimmered with raw Aether. He leaned forward slightly, the faint hum of magic dancing at the edge of sound. "Now tell us, Corvin Blackmoor, child of Mother Tree, how do you hold three Arcane elements with superior affinities? Among the beings of Verthalis, barring us whom have only one elemental control, none possess more than four affinities. Two strong, two weak. Yet you...
"You are a kaleidoscope of raw and refined force. Space, Gravity, Aether and oter lesser elements they pulse within you, not in conflict, but in chorus. How do you defy the very laws you were born into?"
His words hung in the air like a solemn hymn, waiting to be answered by the only being who might.
Seirial’s question was a spear aimed at the fragile veil concealing Corvin’s truth. Had he known there was risk in meeting with Aetherborne envoys he would’ve thought something. But he had misjudged the unerring precision of their perception. These beings were not simply elementals; they were pure, conscious embodiments of their origin elements. An Aetherborn of pure Aether, primordial essence from which all elements flowed could peer through the most carefully woven illusions. Now the purpose of their particular composition was unmistakable: they had not only come to confirm his Planarch rank but also to probe the exact nature of his essence.
Corvin’s face remained composed, his voice steady and touched with aristocratic polish as he offered a faint, knowing smile. Meeting Seirial’s bright, formless gaze, he spoke with measured clarity. "It is because I am a Sylvan Elf, Firstborn. You were right to name me an anomaly. I belong to neither High nor Dark courts, nor do I acknowledge the so called Light Elves, whose blood is tarnished by mingling with lesser races. As a Sylvan Elf, the root from which all Elven life first grew, I have no limit upon my affinities, Mother Tree did not imprisoned my essence like the other mortal life forms. There is no ceiling to my reach. I had hoped to conceal this truth, lest I become nothing more than a breeding prize for my jeweled thrones of High and Dark courts."
The four Aetherborne shimmered in unison, their bodies flickering like mirrored water disturbed by a hidden current, silently conversing in the language of elements or maybe with the planet itself. When Seirial finally spoke, its tone was deep as the earth’s heart and fluid as the tides. "Verthalis recognizes you, child of Sylvan blood. We care nothing for the petty wars of mortal courts; our allegiance is to the will of the world itself. Your secret will remain with us. But know this, Verthalis will demand much of you in the invasion to come."
The oppressive air lightened. Vaethryn spoke of an age before the Schism, when High and Dark Elves were one people, when the Council of Arbiters was not even an idea, and the world stood united. Lurox’s voice grew somber as he recounted the Sundering and the desperate war against the Old Enemy, his words painting visions of skies split and lands broken. Corvin listened with careful poise, masking every flicker of recognition whenever that ancient adversary was named.
At last, the Aetherborne rose, their radiant forms drifting soundlessly toward the exit. Corvin inclined his head in polite farewell, holding his composure until the last trace of their presence vanished. Only then did he let out a slow, quiet breath. This was the closest he had come to exposure, both as a Dark Parasyte and as something wholly alien to Verthalis since the day he awoke in the lifeless body of the Elf who once fall victim the the Evolving Nightmare.