My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World-Chapter 928 The Seven Seasons

"Child of… Twilight?"

Again, I expected something more dramatic than what was given.

"Child of Twilight, Twilight Child, Newborn of both Day and Night, Nara'hym," Irene said, ticking off titles one after another. "You may take your pick."

So… was that it?

It really was just some nothing-moniker and nothing more? Not some accursed brand that'd forever damned me to an eternity of suffering? Or maybe the name of a dark wizard that'll zap your eyebrows off if you dare say it out loud or something?

"You look relieved," she remarked. "Were you expecting something else?"

"Something worse," I muttered, nodding once. "You just never know with luck like mine."

"Granted, you hear this coming out from the mouth of Death herself, so I'd say your concern was well warranted. Still, a Nara'hym…" There she goes again, her head piqued and tilted in interest. "It never crossed my mind. It's not a shock, a surprise… but I suppose it's an interesting little tidbit about yourself, so there's that."

"Interesting? Interesting how?" I asked. "In a good way, or… should I be watching out for something I don't know about myself?"

"Look at me," she said. "You see me squirming anywhere before you?"

If she had asked me that ten minutes ago, the answer would have been a resounding and definitive 'yes', alas, the detective here was made of much sterner stuff.

"Nara'hym is just a term used for people who were born at a certain point in time," Irene said, rising from her seat and stretching her legs with a couple of paces around the cabin. "Here, in your realm, you have your horoscopes, zodiac signs—Kronocia, on the other hand, had the Librato Incan'hym, or in more comprehensible terms, The Seven Childs."

There it was. The gravitas and flair I was looking for, one that had my head popping with questions like corn kernels in a bowl.

"Childs?" I said, reeling out the first thought my lips managed to snag. "Not children?"

"Translation's wonky if you want total accuracy," she said, shrugging, her aimless wander bringing her over to the rustle and sways of trees by the window sill. "I'm an Elva'hym. A Child of Cleansing."

Just more questions. They just kept on popping, don't they?

"And what does that mean?"

"It's just like I said—horoscopes, zodiac signs. The Seven Childs represents an entity born during any one of the seven cycles of Kronocia; cycles being seasons. Seven Seasons, Seven Childs, you get the gist."

"You have seven different seasons?"

"Some vary only slightly from yours," Irene went on, each statement she spoke its own bottomless can of worms entirely. "We have Summer, Yuvfra. The Winter months, Limim. Then Spring, which is Lit…"

"Lit?" I said. "Like, you mean the word…?"

"Yes, I know, very funny. Laugh it off," she then moved on, speaking as if I'd never interrupted her. "After that, Autumn, Rinstra. Which is when I was born. Which makes me an Elva'hym. A Child Of Cleansing."

"Why Cleansing?"

"It's widely regarded that it was during the cycle of Rinstra that the Realm was cleansed anew. Alitro Elvanos. I'm not sure if you know what that—"

"A.E.," I nodded my head. "I know that one."

Irene nodded back. "Hence, Elva'hym. A child of new beginnings."

"And Nara'hym?" I asked, twisting and leaning up at the back of the couch to properly look her way, hanging onto every word she said. "What's the context behind a Child of Twilight?"

The bulb hanging overhead us gave a dimming flicker, still sputtering a candescent yellow in its last few moments of life. Meanwhile, a cold began seeping into the cabin, the fireplace dampening into nothing more than a weak simmer. And through the window panes, the passing white of moonlight, of night, shone the brightest between both.

Seemed quite fitting for the topic at hand…

"Reenma. A cycle between cycles," Irene said. "Following Kronocian customs, that's roughly around the period you were conceived."

Can't help but feel at the moment that the more I'm learning here, the more I'm starting to feel and sound like a squawking parrot. A very confused one at that.

"A cycle between cycles. What the hell does that…?"

"The last three cycles can be… quite tricky to elaborate," Irene paused, hesitating a breath, an explanation, before ultimately deciding to forge on. "They're less cycles per se, occurring far less often, unfolding from one to the next in a sequence, and would always override, overlap an already evolving cycle."

I kept quiet. Of course, there was so much with what she had said to unpack, to inquire. But I fear that stopping this train of thought now would just violently derail me off the tracks. For now, I just listened.

"Every five to ten years, a phenomenon occurs. A point in time when the Realm of Kronocia is cast into a long period of everlasting sun. An eternal day."

Irene looked up, the enfeebled light from the bulb barely reflecting in her sight. She raised a hand toward it, twisting her wrist in a slow swivel, and in turn, in compliance with her motions, the bulb began to brighten, to burn, a dazzling light engulfing even the darkest corners from the room.

"Twint'tra, it's called. The cycle of Blessed Light. People born in this time are named Fara'hym. A Child of Fortune. Because it essentially is a cycle of great flourish and prosperity. Crops are bountiful. Magic is brimming. Population rises. Everything doubles, triples… almost as if deliberately on purpose in order to prepare people for what is to come next…"

She moved her hand again, spinning in inverse, and the light immediately vanished, the room plunged into a near-pitch blackness. Dying embers feebly danced across the darkness as the fireplace gave its final smoldering breath before darkness too consumed it whole.

"Nu'moor stands at the opposite end," I heard Irene's voice echo throughout the void. "The cycle of the Long Dark, a prolonged night. In this cycle, which can span a few months to a few years, magic is at its most enervated, and more adaptable beings take reign of the Realm. The Elves, Vampires, Sik, Reno. Travels and tradings during this period were scarce. Birth rate plummets. Miscarriages and stillborns are common tragedies, and the lucky few that make it past birth are often born Speakers, and are branded Corrah'hym. A Child of Pestilence."

That didn't sound very nice.

"Feels a bit biased, that one," I remarked.

The bulb suddenly flickered back on again, emanating a weak glow that struggled to even shed any light at all, and Irene dropped her arm back to her side.

"You aren't too far off," she said. "People like to think anyone born in this time are taboo, bad luck. No merit to any of it, of course. But that doesn't stop superstition from spreading. Another rumor claims that Terestra herself was born a Corrah'hym. A long, long time ago. "

"Is that true?"

"I wouldn't know," she said with a shrug. "If you're interested in finding out, that's something you'll have to ask her yourself."

Duly noted, then. Next time I'm feeling homesick, and I'm dialing for Sammy… I'll have to remember to rifle through the branches of our family tree with a closer eye. Speaking of which, I wonder what Sammy's a child of? Can't say why, but Fara'hym sounded like her through and through.

"Then, finally, there's Reenma. The cycle between cycles. Your cycle. The shortest, briefest of all the cycles. The intermediate between Twin'tra and Nu'moor. A state of existence of never fully light nor dark. It is a most beautiful time. If nothing else, that is one thing I do miss about Kronocia. The never-ending purple skies, the orange grasslands swaying beneath it. The vast ocean pulsating with light. I wish you could have seen it too. Nothing I can say would do it any justice."

I didn't need overt descriptions to see what she saw. I could feel the peace and serenity just from her words alone. The way she talked about it, how her eyes gazed far into an unknowable distance. Another drifting beam of moonlight basking her figure in a glow almost mystical.

"Some may say it's a cycle of balance, of harmony. That, for a fleeting moment, the Realm transcends to a state of perfect equilibrium. If only for a little while. I mostly agree with that sentiment, but of course, not everyone is as optimistic as some."

There was another quiver, the bulb dimming even more so than before. It was putting up a fight, a losing one at that.

"Others believe that Reenma represents a flux, a sort of silent struggle for control between the light and darkness. Not an equilibrium, but of opposites clashing, resulting in this odd transitional period as one sought to usurp the other, which ultimately ends in Nu'moor's arrival. The cycle of darkness."

The light was fading even more, such much so now but not yet. It hadn't gone yet. So there I sat, peering back at Irene through an empty void of not darkness, not light… but a harmony, or a dissonance of both.

"And a Nara'hym, a rare Child of Twilight can represent either or both of these stances," she said to me, her words weighed with many untold meanings. "A being in perfect control of both states of their nature… "

Then it finally happened. The light flickered once more and no more. And only darkness remained in its place.

"Or as one that would inevitably be overtaken by the other."