Her tone was vicious. “You’re the one who undid a seal that shouldn’t have been undone in the cursed city of Kimluck. It was your meddling that upset the balance between Aureole and the goddess and invited the calamity we face now. We spent two hundred years leaving Kimluck and that accursed pope alone, and you proved that we were right to do so.”
“I see. Everyone would have been able to remain happy if we’d just sacrificed Aureole alone for the rest of time.” After immediately coming back with that, Leticia—or rather, Azalie—realized that the woman wasn’t going to be provoked and changed tacks. “I’m kidding. But you can’t foist the responsibility onto me completely either. Aureole foresaw her own end. As the founding sorcerer, Aureole shared her senses with Sister Istersiva, her familiar, which is why Istersiva was able to predict the destruction of the Ayrmankar barrier two hundred years ago.”
As Leticia said all that smoothly, she watched Preenia’s expression carefully as the other woman listened and noticed that it wasn’t changing at all. She realized Preenia was already aware of everything Azalie was saying. “Aureole was right on the verge of death—more than that, she desired death. The goddess had a way to kill the founding sorcerer. And if the immortal founding sorcerer despaired, she would die. That’s why the goddess never let go of Aureole’s neck. She waited for hundreds of years for Aureole’s willpower to run out.”
“Hmm... Let me confess, then. We also foresaw the destruction of the Ayrmankar barrier and made our own preparations for the event, though almost all of it proved useless. Frankly, Aureole lived much longer than we anticipated. Was that the will of Aureole you mentioned?”
“No,” Leticia murmured. She had been leaning over the table toward the other woman but sat back now. Suddenly curious, she glanced at the man in the priest’s robes. The man was unmoving, just watching the proceedings. It wasn’t even obvious to her if he was listening to them or not.
Rather than the three priestesses, it was more like they were exchanging information with just Preenia now. The other two seemed to agree, since they had moved their chairs back from where Preenia’s was.
It was a pitifully small gathering for such a grand assembly hall, Leticia thought to herself. This whole thing was a stupid farce. No one here really believed that they would be deciding the fate of the world. They were just buying time here, after all.
Isn’t that right, Azalie? Leticia asked silently, but her sister ignored her. Or had she not heard her?
With all the eyes focused on her, Leticia suddenly realized she’d been silent for too long. She hurriedly opened her mouth once more. “Her will was nothing so emotional, and I didn’t bring it up for a reason like that either. But there are a few things I’d like to confirm before I go into that. Depending on how you answer, maybe everything really was pointless.”
“At this point, everything is pointless. Every single thing...” Preenia cursed, though her eyes—her not-green eyes—didn’t seem entirely lost to despair. Not as much as Preenia professed to be, at least.
“You called yourself Sister Preenia, right? Let me ask one more time. Are you truly in charge of the sanctuary right now?”
“If you’re asking if we represent the empty house of the dead that is the sanctuary, then without question, that is us, yes.”
“And how did that come to pass? From what I’ve seen and heard, I can’t even understand how humans came to be in the dragons’ sanctuary at all.”
“I do not know the extent of your knowledge, but when our ancestors first drifted to this continent, they were taken into the protection of the sanctuary. You know that, I’m sure.”
Leticia couldn’t help rising to the other woman’s provocation. “So you stayed here ever since, like rats in a ship’s hold? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Preenia was offended by her words, just as Leticia expected. “The Celestials’ decline had already started by then,” she added, obviously annoyed at Leticia’s interruption. “They had already lost more than half of their population due to the poison of the basilitrice unleashed upon them a thousand years ago by the gods. More than half. Including every single male of their population. They may have been a long-lived race, but their extinction was staring them in the face.”
“And?”
“Even putting aside that imminent problem, they required a labor force. When humanity drifted here, having lost our culture entirely, they educated most of the species outside of the sanctuary, but invited a small number of them inside as workers. Those were our predecessors. Time passed, and when conflict broke out between the sanctuary and the outside, they were called traitors, Doppel X... It wasn’t just your master who was called that.”
She cleared her throat, resting her chin on her hands, both elbows on the table. “What do you suppose happened to the sanctuary when the Celestials died out? It was utterly foolish. The Celestials created almost all of the sanctuary’s systems, but when old age began to degrade their bodies, they left most maintenance and operation of those systems to their servants. Before we knew it, we were the only ones who could manage the sanctuary.”
“Did they ask you to do so?”
“Hmph. Of course not. Naturally, we made use of the situation for self defense. We’d lived in the sanctuary for generations and couldn’t just leave at that point. If those ferocious Red Dragons wanted to live as equals to us here, then we were forced to make use of everything we could to do so.”
There was no shame in Preenia’s face, but she still kept it bowed for some time. After her long speech, there was an equally long period of silence. She was the picture of a Celestial—a beast of silence—but she was human.
While she waited, Leticia recalled Heartia’s words. This is the sanctuary. The dragons’ sanctuary.
They were without a doubt in the sanctuary. But there were no dragons here.
Leticia shot a look at Azalie. I wonder if it’s true that Azalie only shows herself to me unconsciously... She had no choice but to doubt her words. But if Azalie was lying, the truth would never come to light.
There are too many lies in this world.
The sanctuary exists. A lie.
There’s no war on the Kiesalhiman continent. A lie.
Master Childman Powderfield is an invincible black sorcerer. A lie.
Family never parts. A lie.
Leticia MacCready is a tough fighter. A lie.
The thoughts bubbled to the surface of Leticia’s mind, where she was forced to confront them.
She sighed, unable to rid herself of them, and began again. “Outside of the sanctuary, Celestials and humans mixed... Let me just ask, since it’s a possibility. If Celestials mixed with humans inside the sanctuary too, are you sorcerers?”
Preenia looked at her with one eye through her hair. “We are pure-blooded. The sanctuary opposed involving humans in the gods’ curse. Sister Istersiva was banished from the sanctuary for clinging to the experiment to leave offspring by mixing blood with humanity.”
She continued, her voice a low growl, “The Celestials must have been desperate, faced with the destruction of their race. They were fumbling in the dark with all sorts of ridiculous plans like mixing their blood with humans. Revival devices, body transformation, artificial beings... Each scheme failed, of course.”
With a slight smile, Preenia included mixing their genes with humans as one of the Celestials’ failed plans. She noticed the change in Leticia’s expression at her implication and laughed ironically. “You understand the reason why they could not be creating human sorcerers as their destruction loomed closer, do you not?”
“It’s not as if you saw the end of the Celestials yourself.” Leticia returned her own sarcastic remark, but Preenia’s expression didn’t change.
“Their despair seeped into the sanctuary, left behind by them. It never fades, so we carry it with us...”
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a comeback. In fact, that’s exactly what Leticia opened her mouth to deliver, however...
The words didn’t come. And her boiling blood cooled in the deafening quiet of the hall. It was true. Despair did remain here.
“Destruction...” Preenia muttered to herself. “If the founding sorcerer Aureole is truly dead, then the Celestials’ sorcery goes with her...”
Leticia straightened her back with a jolt—but it wasn’t her reaction; she was sensing Azalie’s anxiety. She wasn’t sure if the priestess would touch on this topic, but this matter was more important than anything else to confirm. Depending on how things went, this could all become completely pointless.
Calming herself—or rather, willing Azalie’s spirit to calm herself—Leticia asked, “Have you seen any signs of that thus far?”
Preenia went on, still as if she was talking to herself. “There’s no precedent for it, so who can say? Wyrd Glyphs may remain effective for eternity, and they may all suddenly vanish. For the time being...none of the sanctuary’s functions have been affected.”
“Including the Second World-Seeing Tower?” Leticia asked and waited for Preenia’s response.
She turned her head and said aloofly, almost like a true Celestial, “Is that your aim, then?” The slight smile on the priestess’s face was one of pity. “The Second World-Seeing Tower is under our control. It’s functioning, but we have no casters who can control it. In the past, we once used the sanctuary’s facilities to attempt to artificially create such a summoner, but...”
She waved her hand and shook her head. “It was pointless. We were trying to develop an idealized person using the Network, but what we created was...fragile. It immediately escaped the sanctuary...this place of despair.” As her words faded, Preenia’s hands fell powerlessly to the table.
Leticia immediately heard Azalie mutter, “Did it really flee?”
Leticia asked with her eyes whether that was a question she should ask the priestess, but Azalie’s emotions told her it was just a question she was asking herself. The spirit was still muttering to herself, seemingly not even aware of Leticia’s eyes on her.
As if the priestess could see her too, she directed her next words at the invisible Azalie. “It won’t work, Chaos Witch. The Second World-Seeing Tower’s summoner will not function. The summoning of the demon king was nothing more than the Celestials’ final delusion.”
Azalie didn’t answer. She didn’t even seem to be listening.
Leticia was the only one watching as Preenia’s gaze froze over. The voice of the human woman dressed as a Celestial echoed through the hall, shaking. “We chose to answer your questions. Now you will answer ours. We are only interested in one thing.”
She leaned on the table and, as it creaked under her arms, she asked, “If the pact allows you to pass through the barrier, will it open the Ayrmankar burial chamber as well?”