Interlude - Divergence Point 1 - Sylvie Indrath.

(A/n) A big thanks to my sister --- saiftri0988 --- for doing absolutely fucking nothing. Nah, ok, she did help out, so still, a big thanks to her.

SYLVIE INDRATH

It was white.

Everything was.

A gasp escaped my lips -- hitched and unsteady -- as my hand trembled on my chest. Even with the layer of fabric between my chest and my hand, I could feel a subtle warmth permeate from it. My hand felt like a block of ice against a hot metal surface. My heart's belabour against the ribcage was violent, a maelstrom of emotions ravaging my insides like the tumultuous rage of a storm wreaking havoc on a tiny harbour.

I looked around myself, ignoring the rapid beating of my heart and the sound of blood pounding in my ears, resembling faint bursts or crackles, like distant explosions or the flickering discharge of lightning.

The whole place was white. Sterile and Cold. Despite the glacial cold surface of the floor, I could feel a choking heat all around me. Not just any heat. It was heat from spells -- magic spells -- all around me. I closed my eyes, trying to perceive any sort of semblance towards the current situation. My own emotions were causing wreckage in my mind.

I could tell one thing.

These emotions weren't mine. They felt mine, more than anything. Yet, I didn't feel like I would ever feel these types of emotions. They were uncanny, absurd even. I did not understand it.

After all, I could not relate to them. Emotions of seeing someone close to me, a part of me die, right in front of my eyes. Arthur wasn't dead, I knew that much. But why is my heart twisting in such agony? Why do I feel this pain? This overwhelming dread that continues to just increase with each fleeting, deceptive second, trickling like grains of sand in an hourglass. It's excruciating but baffling -- equally, perplexing even -- because I've never experienced it myself, not yet.

As soon as I closed my eyes, despite having one less basic sense, I could perceive more. It's like closing my eyes granted me more sight. It didn't make sense, but then again, hitherto, nothing had made sense. I could see -- me -- flying, no, fighting and flying. I was fighting someone. Someone with a huge, wide stature. He had the same appearance -- identical to the one Arthur saw in the cave with my mother -- Sylvia.

His sword came down crashing at me, clad in the sickly grey flames as I blocked it with a shield of pure mana. I knew who he was -- Scythe of Alacrya -- military assets like Lances but as soon as I started seeing the scene, my information about him being the killer of my mother started to blur away. There was an interference, in my memories -- temporary. I felt his lips move, saying something but they were muffled amidst the noise of...

...there was no noise. No, there was no sound altogether. All I could see, no, perceive was visual information.

I opened my eyes immediately, and the blurred sight of the fight was again replaced by a sterile white, not a single blemish to be spotted. What was happening? I knew the vision I was seeing was myself -- albeit three times weaker than me right now.

Is it one of the sealed memories?

No, it can't be. I was never this weak. Not for as long as I can remember. What is it? I do not understand. But I knew one thing, this place, wherever this is, as long as I can dull or close one sensory ability, I can use it to manifest that sensory ability into the visions. Letting out a deep breath, I calmed my nerves. I was in a dream, but not exactly any dream. There was an alien interference. I might be a hybrid of dragon and basilisk that doesn't allow me to use Realmheart to see aether, but, being a part-dragon allows me to feel aether. Since I can use vivum art, I can feel it -- ambient aether. This dream-like place -- world, was getting fueled by aether, albeit wee unstable.

(A/N) Idk if it's uncommon or something, but just in case someone doesn't get it, "Wee" means "A little".

This time I shut my eyes and placed both hands on my ears. The floor beneath me started to get colder, making my bare legs and thighs feel like freezing against the cold surface. I do not know or remember when I sat down, but it just happened. I chose to ignore it and once again, as I closed my eyes and replaced the sterile, static white with the blackness of my closed eyes, the periphery distorted, and I was once again in the same place.

This time I could "perceive" it in a much better way. The distant explosions, the battered ground, dust everywhere, cacophonous, discordant booms of explosions ravaging each and everything in its path, leaving a meteor sized crater in its wake. There was still some sort of sensory lack that I could feel...

...or rather not feel at all. I wasn't able to perceive anything. Not anger, not sadness or the thrill of battle. Nothing. I guess that solidifies my assumption of this place letting me perceive only what I've concealed back in the White expanse.

"Lady Sylvie, I'd advise you to surrender to any sort of struggle. Resistance is futile," his voice sounded more genuine that I could think of. There was no malice in his eyes or tone, yet there was a tone of condescendence on his voice, like it was beneath him to even engage in this fight. I tried to reach out for the mana in the body, my body, but I failed. The whole place flickered like an old television before returning back to the way it was.

I had no motor control over the body. I was only able to see and hear what the "I" in question was doing. Was this a vision of the future? Certainly not. I transformed my draconic form into my human form. My frame was a bit smaller than my real one, making me doubt myself. Is it really me? I had a torrent of questions swirling in my mind but the only way to answer most of them was to let everything go and let this play.

As I changed forms, a sword of pure mana formed in my hand and I attacked him. I reached out for something in my mind. My bond's memories of fighting, Arthur.

But wait... this wasn't what Arthur's memories were supposed to be. Him? A king?

What is it?

Copying his swordsmanship techniques, this body started to attack him but was soon countered.

I looked around, trying to spot where Arthur was.

What was happening?

What is all this?

What is the meaning of all this? He could put a decent fight against even 2 scythes. Where is he? What happened to him?

As I looked back, I suddenly felt a surge of feelings, like a stormy wave crashing against a cliff. In front of me I saw Arthur, bloodied and battered, his clothes torn as he fought against someone. A scythe -- Nico, someone Arthur had already defeated. But Arthur looked... different. He didn't have the medium-haired curtain styled hair. Instead, he had long hair that cascaded well below his shoulders. His face too, way more expressive, the difference seeming like heaven and earth. I could see a multitude of emotions flash by in an instant on his blood-caked face -- Frustration, anxiety, doubt, and fear. As I looked further behind and the body continued to fight the scythe on autopilot, I spotted another person, someone I wasn't expecting.

Tess.

Tessia Eralith.

In the epicentre of all the carnage, she held onto someone. A woman with a good physique and a missing leg replaced by a prosthetic one. She was looking at Arthur, her features scrunched into an alchemy of worry and despair mixed in with rage. I looked back at Arthur. All of those prior emotions on his face faded as a shroud of black lightning crackled around him as he let himself sink deeper into the cold embrace of Realmheart. I could feel his inner turmoil right now. He was drunk. Drunk on the power that my mother -- Sylvia's will, was giving him. I had never seen Arthur like this. He was always rational, keeping regular tabs on the damage his powers inflict on his body. This wasn't MY Arthur, no way he could be.

More and more of his feelings trickled into me through our bond. As aether continued to coalesce around him, weaving its ethereal tendrils into his body, I could see the runes spreading and connecting with one another around his body. It felt calloused, numb as the power from the dragon will flowed freely. It was an intoxicating feeling, for him, that is.

The scenery suddenly changed, by me right behind Arthur, as I screamed at him. I wasn't screaming myself, the body was, yet I felt the numbing, burning sensation on the back side of my throat.

"You made it clear to me that you'd win against your friend," the scythe from before said.

"I can—I was, until he entered that form," the boy, Elijah grimaced, as I recognised him from the memories of this body.

"No matter. The fault is mine. I let him live in exchange for keeping the Castle in one piece as Lord Agrona had ordered." The nonchalance that the scythe showed as he disregarded my very presence festered like an itchy sore until I wasn't able to hold it back any longer.

The scene warped, again, much to my displeasure as I now found myself in an amethyst space. I recognised it instantly. How couldn't I? My bond could do the same thing. It was a separate pocket dimension, detached from the outside world, a safe haven. Yet, there was a sickening sensation in my gut. It was incomprehensible but it lingered, like a festering wound. It was...

...worry.

Suddenly, my head seemed like it would explode, the foreign thoughts seemed like they would explode my brain. Arthur was...

...no, this Arthur was dying.

His body was breaking down from the usage of the 3rd will of his beast will. But that shouldn't be possible. How weak was he? Did he not use 'internal mana exposure' to augment his whole body on a more cellular basis? Why? How?

The recent memory of Rinia -- a seer, drawing the aetheric runes on the gate resurfaced and the hours THIS Arthur had spent in that ancient cave watching me, this Sylvie meditate while influencing the aether around her connected together instinctively in a way that my or even this Arthur's mind couldn't fathom but his body could. I sensed the change in the air as I got to work.

"A-Arthur? What are you doing?" I started to cry suddenly, pathetically... desperately, my gaze shifting around as I witnessed his act. A flurry of thoughts crossed my mind. Possible situations and their results. And all of them led to one coherent outcome.

Death. No matter what this Arthur does, or even if he doesn't do it, he will die. It was just a matter of a few moments.

"I'm sorry." He replied, drops of blood frothing from his mouth.

I looked at Arthur. His long ethereal white hair was covered in blood, streams of crimson cascading down his eyes, nose and ears. It wasn't just this. He was bleeding, from his skin pores. Like he was sweating blood. My hands reached out for him, this time not forced. The fuzzy feeling in my heart was not entirely foreign. I felt the same, thinking what MY Arthur would be going through right now. He will be fine, I know, but I can't help but feel bad. Sad for this version of him and this Sylvie.

I do not know what is going on entirely, but I somewhat know.

A thought crossed my mind. Ironically, the same thought crossed this body's mind.

An aether art -- Vivum branch.

"Arthur, you're not going to make it." My voice, this body's voice sounded distant to my own ears as I reached into Arthur's thoughts. He tried to push me out, tried to keep me from the worst of it, but he was too weak. I, we, didn't shy away from the desperation and despair we found there. We wanted to, but we couldn't, because he couldn't. He thought he knew how this had to end, believed with his entire silly, brave heart there was only one way forward.

"The portal isn't—it isn't going to stay stable for much longer, Sylv. P-please, I can't have you die too." Instead of continuing to shield his feelings, Arthur suddenly reversed course, flooding me with his desperation, sadness, and despair. And hope. So much like my bond, to give me hope, even when he held none for himself. The pocket dimension Arthur had conjured shivered and twisted, but I held back, not allowing myself to be moved through it as Arthur tried to force me into the same portal Tessia and the others had gone through.

From a logical perspective, it was the correct decision to let go of him and escape. But our relationship demanded otherwise. We were each other's bonds. Bonded to each other for life. For a moment, I marvelled. Marvelled at the love this Sylvie and this Arthur shared. I wonder, will MY Arthur love me the same as well? Really think of me as his own?

"Don't worry, papa. I'll always take care of you." Reaching for my true draconic form, I embraced it, simultaneously unleashing and containing myself. My thin human frame radiated violet light as I expanded outward, fair skin becoming dark scales until I was towering over my bond.

"Sylv? What are you—"

"Try to keep yourself alive while I'm gone, okay?" I said, giving him a wide grin to try and ease his hurt. Why did I phrase it like that? I wondered, distant and disconnected, in the back of my mind. There was no coming back from this. Still, though, it felt...right. Better than goodbye. Suddenly I felt stronger, more decisive. No, this isn't goodbye. Just...see you later.

She hoped. I prayed. For her sake.

Sylv, no! Don't do this!" Arthur reached out, pressed his hands into me, shoving, but the process had already begun. His hands passed straight through me. This...wasn't magic I'd been taught. As if anyone in Epheotus would care enough about a "lesser" to do what I was about to. No, this was something inherent in our bond. It unlocked within me the moment I understood that Arthur was about to die, like that knowledge had been the turning of a key.

Everything that made me was intrinsically, inseparably linked to him. We were one and the same. My body, my magic, my vivum arts...they could save him, but only if I gave it up for myself.

I didn't receive this insight in a flash, like thunder from the mountaintops or the quaking foundations of my beliefs. No, it was just there, as if it always had been. He was my bond, and I could always help him, even now.

Even now.

Even later, if... if MY Arthur ever needed it, I will give up all of it for him. Just for his sake. I do not even expect the same from him. I just hope... he carries even a fraction of affection this Arthur has for Sylvie.

My physical body had become ethereal as I gave up my dominion over it. Gold and lavender motes of pure lifeforce floated away from me to stick to Arthur, until his whole being was glowing inside and out.

I could still sense his pain. His body had been shattered by overuse of my mother's will, and now it was being reforged, and every mote of me felt like hot coals and hammer blows to him. I'm sorry, Arthur. If I could take away the pain too, I would. If I, we could, we wouldn't let a single hair on your head break.

As he sagged, I scooped him up and pushed him toward the portal he'd created.

"Until we meet again..." I said, my voice distorted and somehow incorporeal, and I could only hope he heard me. The portal drew him in, then began to collapse, taking the pocket dimension with it. I knew that when it was gone, I would be too, and the last of my essence would be picked up by the warm wind blowing through the ruined city to be carried off and spread throughout Dicathen. Knowing I would be in the grass, trees, leaves, and water of Arthur's home made both of me(s) feel at peace, and I let go of the last vestige of resistance that was keeping me together.

Tears, suddenly, started to roll down my cheeks.

My heart twisted in agony, despite knowing nothing of this sort was going to happen.

The next moment, I found myself standing, although, I do not remember standing.

I was back in the White Expanse, or rather... the White Room.

It was my first time, or rather second time if I include the time when Arthur told me to put up an act of crying after he disappears.

Something changed this time around, in this room.

In the corner...

...I saw a young woman, no, man. A man but with feminine features.

His body was limp but had a huge smile on his face.

"Until next time, Sylv."

As soon as the words left his mouth, my eyes opened as I found myself back in my room, in the floating castle of Dicathen. Sweat clung to my forehead, sticking my hair to it. To my right, I saw Ethan, his grey hair spilled over his face as he sat on a stool beside my bed. On the side table, I saw a tray full of sweets, some half-eaten. Looks like he was here all the time I was... dreaming? No, it wasn't a dream. I don't know what it was. I have to wait for Arthur to come back and know of it.

It felt too real...

I hugged my knees, placing my chin on them as I sniffled, "Please come back as quickly as you can, Arthur."

(*************************)