Belial's alma mater was nestled in the heart of Asgardthe Holy Capital.
The current headmaster, a dwarf named Gullveig, received a letter from Belial requesting access to the school's magic stone and permission to freely enter the academy's library.
The letter, sent from the land of the elves under the dukes name, swiftly reached Headmaster Gullveigs hands.
Within days, the headmasterwho shared a close relationship with the duchesssent a reply. As Belial had provided the thunder dragons bones, a material capable of saving the duchesss life, her request was granted. The duke, in his eagerness, had shared this secret with the headmaster before securing Belials promise of confidentiality. Now, all that remained was for the duke to complete the treatment, after which Belial could leave the elven homeland and travel to the Holy Capital.
Days passed, then weeks. On the fifteenth day of the small June, the duke completed his preparations and commenced the duchesss treatment.
Belial waited anxiouslymorning turned to afternoon, then stretched into the depths of night. Every elf who knew of the situation, bound by an unbreakable vow of secrecy, prayed fervently for the success of the procedure, hoping that the duchess would be freed from the shadow of death.
At precisely eight in the evening, an intense, blinding light erupted from the duchesss chamber. It came so suddenly that even with her eyes closed, Belial could still feel the radiance piercing through her eyelids, imprinting itself upon her retinas. Forced to shield herself, she fumbled in the dark and hastily donned her glasses.
The brilliance lasted for nearly five minutes before the castle was once again swallowed by silence. Belial, after steadying herself, slowly opened her eyesonly to be seized by an inexplicable sensation. It was as if something vast and unfathomable had been disturbed, as though countless unseen eyes had opened in the night sky, fixing their gaze upon her from above. A shiver ran down her spine.
Yet just as quickly as it came, the feeling vanished. Belial barely had time to extend her senses in search of its source before the world returned to its previous tranquility.
Meanwhile, in the Holy Capitalten minutes earlier.
At the First Academy of Magic and Warfare, within the headmasters office, Gullveig was engaged in lively conversation with an old friend over tea and cake.
Dwarves were renowned for their craftsmanship, and the headmasters office was a testament to that mastery. Alchemical artifacts of various shapes and purposes adorned the spacesome were of Gullveigs own design, while others were treasured pieces she had collected.
Among them stood an intricate contraption resembling a metallic table. Engraved with an array of runes and arcane circles, it gleamed with embedded elemental gemstonesone for each of the eight elements. Suspended above its surface were seven metal spheres, each orbiting in a slow, methodical dance, moving in varying heights and patterns.
As Gullveig spoke, a sudden shift in the air drew her attention. She turned toward the table just in time to witness one of the spheres splitting in two.
Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Without a word of explanation to her companion, she shot toward the table with such speed that the chair beneath her skidded across the floor, leaving a blurred afterimage in her wake.
Bracing her hands against the tables edge, she tilted her head back to examine the newly formed sphere. Her sharp eyes traced the intricate runes upon its surface, mind racing as she deciphered their meaning. And then, in an awestruck whisper, she murmured,
Incredible
Behind her, her companion approached, cradling a cup of tea. Whats incredible?
Without tearing her gaze away from the orb, Gullveigs voice took on an almost dreamlike quality.
Just now someone has rewritten the future that was meant to be.
**The Tower of Tomes.**
Abyss sat at his desk, diligently completing his and Baldurs holiday assignments. His quill glided smoothly across the parchment, leaving behind precise and elegant script. When he switched from one assignment to another, his handwriting shiftedno longer crisp and neat, but instead flourishing and ornate.
Placed side by side, the two assignments would appear to be penned by different hands entirely.
Abyss, accustomed to ghostwriting for his other self, continued without a second thought. Until suddenly, the skeletal hand pressing down on the paper was no longer his own. It had transformed into Baldursa flawless, pale hand so immaculate it seemed almost inhuman.
Startled, Abyss froze, his quill hovering just above the inkwell.
Whats happening? Baldurs voice rang out, signaling that he was now in control of the body.
Yet before he could even process the change, the hand revertedflesh dissolving into bone once more.
Abyss set down the quill and strode toward the floor-to-ceiling window.
Beyond the glass, the world was bathed in midnights glow. Distant lanterns flickered like stars, and above them, the vast Milky Way stretched across the heavens. The glass pane, faintly reflective, served as an imperfect mirror.
Both Abyss and Baldur peered into itonly to discover that their form had become erratic. One moment, they were a specter of the undead; the next, they bore the divine visage of their celestial lineage. The shifts were unpredictable, the intervals inconsistent, and neither had any control over the transformations.
For five long minutes, the instability persisted. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it ceased.
They inspected themselves but found nothing amiss.
Far to the north, deep within the barren lands of the continents edge, a cavernous abyss lay in darkness. There, whispersonce faintrose in a frenzy, overlapping in a cacophony of unrest:
Someone has altered what was already set in stone
He was telling the truth!
He found it. He found it found he
A being from the future.
A mage who dares to touch time itself
Not enough merely returning to the present is not enough
We can leave we will leave
Turn back step back return back
The murmurs twisted into an eerie chorus, a dreadful, ceaseless susurration that lasted through the nightonly fading with the first light of dawn.
The duchesss treatment was a resounding success. The duke remained by her side each day, tending to her with utmost care, unwilling to let a single mishap befall her.
Im not made of porcelain, you know, the duchess sighed, her tone carrying equal parts amusement and exasperation. After finally regaining enough strength to walk, she found herself held fast by his overprotective grasp. Honestly, Im starting to wonder if I was poisoned at allor if I simply had my legs broken.
At her complaint, the duke merely pressed a kiss to her forehead. You are strong, he murmured. But I am not. Indulge my paranoia, just for a little while longer.
The duchess could only sigh. Though she had spent years in the western lands, she had never quite grown used to their unflinching directness. And when it came to her husband, she had long since resigned herself to helpless fondness.
Meanwhile, Belial received the promised compensation for her aid. Preparations complete, she set forth for the Holy Capital. If all went according to plan, she would soon reconstruct the magic circleand leave the year 6582 behind.
On the day of her departure, Gu Lian, acting on the dukes orders, arrived to see her off.
Belial, in high spirits, met his gaze and removed her hood. As Gu Lian froze at the sight of her face, she pushed her glasses down slightly, peering at him over the rim. A faint, crimson gleam flickered in her eyes.
Tell me, she asked, a slow smile curving her lips, is there something strange about my face?
And at last, she had her answer.
You Gu Lian whispered, caught in her gaze. You look just like the duchess.
Belial stilled.
Then, as understanding dawned, the amusement drained from her expression.
So that was it.
That was why her father had never been able to bring himself to kill her.