Chapter 273: Is he Nyxoria?

Nerissa continue, " to be more specific, the original handwritten manuscript. There are copies outside the vault, but they’re incomplete. The copies were made long after the original was written. Some passages were translated, others were shortened, and certain details were omitted entirely."

They stopped before a tall shelf containing several leather-bound volumes. Nerissa scanned the spines, moving along the row until she reached a book that looked noticeably different from the others. Its cover was dark brown, with several patches of paper exposed beneath the damaged leather. One corner had been badly burned, and the edges were blackened as though the book had narrowly escaped destruction.

"This is the one," she said. "The Vespera manuscript. It was rescued from a temple during a fire many years ago. Most of the other documents were destroyed, but this one survived."

The shelf was high, and the book sat beyond Nerissa’s reach. Kieran stepped forward, stretched out his arm and carefully pulled it free. Despite its age, the volume was heavier than he expected. He carried it to the nearest table and placed it on the polished surface, taking care not to damage the fragile cover.

Nerissa joined him, her expression bright with anticipation.

Kieran opened the book.

The pages were yellowed at the edges, but the ink remained remarkably clear. The script was unfamiliar to most people, written in an ancient language that had long since fallen out of everyday use. Kieran recognised it immediately. He had been forced to study the language as a child because it was used in certain Ravencourt rituals. At the time, he had considered it an unnecessary burden. He had never imagined he would need it for something like this.

He ran his fingers lightly along the edge of the page, careful not to touch the fragile writing. Most of the passages were clear enough. A few regional terms and priestly idioms slowed him, but the core of the account was legible.

The opening pages described Priestess Vespera’s journey beyond the mortal world in dense, careful detail. It spoke of unfamiliar places, strange beings and events that seemed impossible to reconcile with any history he knew.

He read on.

According to the manuscript, the afterlife was divided into two primary realms: Elaris, the land of the gods, and Netheralis, the land of the dead. The text framed Netheralis as the place where souls resided after leaving the mortal world. Kieran followed the lines with his eyes, absorbing the structure without needing Nerissa to translate every sentence.

He still couldn’t see how any of it related to the face in the sketch.

He turned several pages, skimming until an illustration stopped him.

Two women stood side by side. One possessed an ethereal beauty, her features graceful and almost impossibly serene. A long rope extended from her hand, its end disappearing into the darkness behind them. The woman beside her bore a striking resemblance to the first, but her beauty carried an entirely different quality. Where the first radiated a divine charm, the second possessed a seductive allure, her expression holding something darker and more mysterious.

The inscription beneath the drawing was clear enough for him to read on his own.

*The twin goddesses of light and darkness. Nyxoria, goddess of the moon, and her elder sister, Maledicta, goddess of magic and witchcraft.*

Nerissa leaned over his shoulder and made a soft sound of recognition. "Maledicta. She’s the one the old covens still invoke. Legend says she was the one who granted them their magic."

Kieran gave a silent nod and turned the page.

Further illustrations followed: unfamiliar creatures, enormous structures, landscapes that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Then he came across a drawing of a realm unlike anything he had ever seen.

A vast, shadowy landscape stretched beneath a dark sky. It was filled with flowers and tall grasses that never seemed to end

Everdusk. The great in-between.

The accompanying text described it as a place that lay between the realm of the living and the afterlife. Unlike Elaris and Netheralis, it was not a destination a soul naturally reached after death. Entry required an invitation. Some passages suggested the invitation must come from a being who resided there. Others implied that certain individuals could cross the boundary under specific circumstances. The accounts conflicted.

"Do you think a place like this actually exists?" Kieran asked quietly, his gaze lingering on the ink.

Nerissa shrugged, though her expression suggested she had considered the question before. "If Nyxoria exists, then I suppose Everdusk might as well. I’m a librarian, Your Highness, not a priestess. I can confirm what the manuscript says. I can’t confirm whether it’s true."

Kieran turned several more pages, finding illustrations of strange beings whose appearances seemed almost impossible to describe. Some possessed features resembling animals. Others looked entirely human apart from their unnaturally striking eyes and beauty too unnatural for mortals.

Then he stopped at another portrait.

At first glance, it appeared to be a drawing of a man. Or at least, something that resembled one. The illustration had been made with coal and black ink, and the details were less distinct than those in the earlier drawings. Even so, the figure’s face was unmistakably beautiful, its features were sharp and perfectly proportioned.

There was no name beneath the image. Only a short description in the same ancient script.

Nerissa’s expression changed the moment she saw it. Her eyes widened, and she leaned closer.

"That’s Raziel."

Kieran turned towards her. "Who?"

"Raziel, the Angel of Death. Some accounts call him the God of the Dead." Excitement crept into her voice. "He’s believed to be the elder brother of Nyxoria. I’ve seen a similar drawing in an old temple. The details were almost identical, although the temple’s version was more faded."

Kieran didn’t respond. He turned another page.

And then he saw her.

The next illustration depicted Nyxoria, but unlike the earlier drawing, this one was far more detailed. The artist had captured the delicate structure of her face, the shape of her eyes and the subtle curve of her lips with remarkable precision.

Kieran stopped breathing for a moment.

He knew that face.

Not because he had seen it before in a temple or an ancient book. He knew it because it was the face in the sketch he had brought to the archives.

His fingers tightened against the edge of the page.

Without a word, he reached inside his jacket and retrieved the folded drawing. He carefully unfolded it, then placed it beside the illustration in the manuscript.

For several seconds, neither he nor Nerissa spoke.

The resemblance was undeniable. The man in the sketch and the goddess in the manuscript possessed the same eyes, the same jawline and the same hauntingly beautiful features. Even the subtle details around the mouth and the shape of the nose were almost identical.

Kieran stared at the two images side by side.

The earlier resemblance to Aevia suddenly seemed laughable compared to this. Nerissa gasped softly. "No wonder it looked familiar. He looks like Nyxoria."

Kieran’s expression hardened. "But Nyxoria is a woman."

Nerissa blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Your Highness, we’re talking about gods. Do you honestly think they’re bound by the same rules as us? The manuscript describes them as beings capable of changing their forms. Some could assume the shape of animals. Others could alter their appearance to resemble another gender. If the accounts are accurate, there’s no reason Nyxoria couldn’t take the form of a man."

Kieran looked down at the two images again. "Are you suggesting that the person who drew this sketch somehow saw Nyxoria in her male form?"

"Perhaps." Nerissa tilted her head, studying the portrait. "Or the artist might have encountered a statue or another illustration of her in a different form. There are plenty of possibilities."

Kieran’s gaze remained fixed on the drawing. The resemblance was too precise to dismiss, but that didn’t mean the sketch depicted the goddess herself.

He needed more information.

He reached for the next page, intending to continue reading, when a voice suddenly sounded inside his mind.

’Doctor Ravencourt, we have an emergency.’

Kieran’s hand stopped.

He recognised Clara’s voice immediately. She was one of the medical staff at Ravencourt Central Hospital, and she rarely contacted him through the mind-link unless something serious had happened.

’What is it, Clara?’

Her reply came almost at once, strained with urgency. ’The injured warrior from yesterday’s rogue sweep. The one exposed to the biological weapon. His regeneration stalled completely, and he suddenly went into a violent, psychotic rage. He’s screaming for his wolf, violently thrashing against his restraints. We tried administering heavy neural sedatives, but his body is completely rejecting the serum. He refuses to stay down.’

Kieran straightened, his expression darkening. ’Keep him isolated in the padded containment bay. Do not allow any staff near his claws. Don’t give him another dose of sedative without checking his vitals. I’ll be there as soon as possible.’

’Understood, Doctor.’

Kieran severed the mind-link and immediately closed the manuscript.

"I have to go," he told Nerissa, already rising from his chair.

She looked startled. "Is something wrong?" she asked sounding concerned.

"An emergency at the hospital. One of my patients has deteriorated."