Novel Full Chapter 1245: Truth of the Past [part 2]
Chapter 1245: Truth of the Past [part 2]
Anike’s smile faded into something more somber, more weighted with years of held secrets.
“Your grandmother was Asgardian,” she began, her voice quiet against the wind. “Your mother—your birth mother—knew very little about the tribe. She was born after the submission, after everything had already fallen apart.”
Northern’s expression didn’t change, but internally…
’Asgardian.’
The name meant nothing to him. He’d never heard of them in any text, any historical record, any conversation. ’Which means either they’re so obscure they’ve been erased, or someone deliberately buried them.’
Neither option was particularly comforting.
Anike continued, her gaze distant as if seeing into the past.
“The Asgardians were a tribe from the northernmost edge of the northern continent. Small, isolated, but incredibly powerful. Every single one of them possessed unique eye abilities—different for each person. Some could see through walls, others could perceive the flow of essence, some could even glimpse the soul itself.”
Northern’s hand unconsciously moved toward his own eye, then stopped.
’Eye abilities.’
’Shingan.’
“They were founded by a man named Artemis,” Anike said, and there was reverence in her voice now. “He was the only one among them who had foresight—true foresight, not just perception or analysis, but the ability to see what was coming. He gathered them, built a community to protect them.”
She paused, her expression darkening.
“The Reimgard Empire saw them as a threat. A tribe of people with such potent eyes, living outside imperial control?” She shook her head slowly. “They descended on the Asgardians with military force, demanding submission. When Artemis refused…”
Her voice trailed off for a moment.
“He died defending them. And the tribe was scattered. Some went into hiding in their own lands. Others… disappeared into history entirely.” Anike’s jaw tightened. “The Reimgard justification was that Artemis was creating weapons of mass destruction, that the Asgardians needed to be subdued for the safety of the world. With their naval power, it was easy to ensure that narrative stuck.”
Northern’s expression remained neutral, but his mind was already connecting pieces.
’Of course. Can’t have people with dangerous eyes running around unsupervised. Easier to crush them and call it protection.’
“Your grandmother was one of those survivors,” Anike continued. “After a long and seemingly unending battle with such a small tribe, Reimgard was shamelessly losing more than they could afford to lose. So they brokered a deal through marriage.” Her voice carried old disgust. “The eyes of a beautiful young maiden were taken, and she was married off to the Emperor of Luinngard—a brother nation to Reimgard.”
Northern’s brows knitted slightly.
’It’s all beginning to come together.’
“Let me guess,” he said quietly. “The Emperor of Reimgard was trying to create the perfect lineage?”
Anike nodded.
“Indeed. The plan was to water down the gene of the Asgardians and instead dominate it with the Imperial family’s powerful gene, then marry them to each other. Controlled breeding.” She sighed, the weight of centuries in that single breath. “The failure frustrated the Emperor of Reimgard so thoroughly that he later abandoned the project entirely.”
She looked at him with an expression caught between fondness and regret.
“Your birth mother never got to see all of this. But she was told stories. Stories of what the Asgardians once were, of Artemis, of the tribe’s history.”
“And my mother?” Northern asked quietly.
Anike’s expression softened with something like pity.
“She was born into the era after submission. She knew almost nothing of her heritage beyond her mother’s stories—fragments, really. Half-remembered legends.” Her voice grew gentler. “She grew up not understanding what she was, what bloodline ran through her veins.”
The old priestess turned to face Northern directly, and her eyes held that particular intensity that came before significant revelations.
“But the Asgardians who remained—those who survived, who went into hiding—they held onto one certainty.”
Northern waited.
“The Eyes would return.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Not a person,” Anike clarified, raising one weathered hand. “Not you specifically. But an event. The prophecy said The Eyes would come again. Artemis, before he died, foresaw it. He saw that the original eyes—the first eyes, the All Eyes—would manifest once more in the world.”
Northern felt something cold settle in his chest.
’Oh. Wonderful.’
“There’s a myth,” Anike said, and her voice took on the cadence of someone reciting ancient scripture. “That when El Fach first saw light at the dawn of creation, he shed his original eyes to create more advanced ones. Those first eyes—the ones that witnessed the very first light in all of existence—were cast aside.” She paused, letting the weight of that sink in. “But nothing divine truly disappears. The myth says they would return when they were needed most.”
Northern’s Shingan flickered unconsciously, the azure glow reflecting off the bark of the ancient tree behind them. The light seemed almost mocking.
’El Fach’s eyes. The Constellations again. Everything connects back to them.’
Of course it did. Nothing in his life was ever simple.
“The survivors learned to track the prophecy through the stars,” Anike continued. “They studied, calculated, spent many years trying to determine when and where The Eyes would manifest. And seventeen years ago…”
She paused, meeting Northern’s gaze directly.
“One of them came to me.”
Northern’s expression sharpened slightly, his full attention now on the priestess.
“I was on a temple visit to Reimgard,” Anike said. “Performing rites, offering guidance as a priestess of Astrin—our name for El Fach. A woman approached me in secret. Desperate. Carrying information about the prophecy.”
“What did she say?”
“That The Eyes would be born. That she knew when and where.” Anike’s weathered face showed the ghost of that conversation, the memory still vivid after all these years. “She begged me to ensure someone would be there—someone kind, someone strong, someone who could protect the child when the time came.” She shook her head slowly. “I thought she was mad at first. But there was something about her certainty, the way she spoke of the stars and their calculations…”
She looked at Northern meaningfully.
“And as a priestess of El Fach, prophecies about eyes felt… relevant.”
Northern was silent, processing the implications.
’So this was planned. From the very beginning.’
“I contacted Eisha,” Anike confirmed. “We’d known each other for over a century by then. At the time, she was better—sane, stable. She’d found this human boy whom she often hunted monsters with. Things were looking good.”
Anike chuckled, the sound fond despite everything. “So I wanted Eisha to have a beautiful life. She deserved it, after everything.” Her expression shifted, becoming more complicated. “I began to orchestrate things from that point.”
She looked at Northern, seemingly pleased and displeased with herself in equal measure.
“I implanted the solution of a child into Eisha’s head. Technically, it was the solution for her to escape her situation back home—a way out, a purpose.” Anike’s smile turned wistful. “Things got better with the human boy, but nothing happened. No child.”
Northern looked at the priestess sternly, understanding dawning.
“You already knew it’d be impossible for a royal elf to conceive with a human.”
Anike’s smile turned rueful.
“Turned out I didn’t know shit, though.” She gasped as she caught herself, hand flying to her mouth.
The next moment, she frowned at herself with genuine disapproval.
“I truly need to avoid Judgment.”