Chapter Four: Light in the Leaves
James hadn't always lived in order and marble.
He was born in the root-halls of Nethra, in the moss-choked city of Durn Vale, where fog clung to the wood like breath, and even the shadows had their own rumors. There, among rune-scented incense and warbling insect choirs, he and Aleister had first opened their eyes.
Twin sons of a minor herbalist and a glass-fixer, nothing special, nothing noble.
Until their cards came.
James' had appeared before his mother finished cleaning the birth blood from his skin. Brilliant white. Light-aligned. Sharp runes carved like divine etchings. Even in Nethra, a place ruled by Morphers and tricksters. Light was revered. Feared, even. It didn't belong there.
Aleister's card floated in later that night.
Pitch black. Silent. Empty.
Where James was received with incense and gifts, Aleister was met with warding marks and superstition. The Elders of Durn Vale whispered of balance upset, of twins born with a vacuum between them. Some thought Aleister's card had stolen something from James. Others believed James' presence had suppressed Aleister's gift.
James didn't know which scared him more.
They were ten when James was taken.
The delegation from Valedren's Outer Mission arrived on the back of a white-banded glider beast, robed in sunlight-colored armor and veiled in holy chains. Their scouts had tracked the birth records. The moment they saw James' card, they called him "a misplaced scion of light."
He was meant to be elevated.
Aleister had begged him not to go.
"Don't leave me here," his brother had whispered. "I think something's wrong with this place. With me."
But James had seen the Lightcarrier's crest. Had heard the word Chosen. And he was tired of being asked if his brother's presence dulled his own.
So he left.
Now, seven years later, James sat beneath the silver lattice canopy of Crestlight's Outer Hall, perched high over Valedren's capital city, Aurisel, where every road gleamed and even the birds flew in regulated formation.
He had become what they wanted.
Disciplined. Bright. Structured.
But not whole.
Across from him, two other Light bearers laughed over field reports and wine.
"The Null boy? Please. They found no body, no rune fragments. Just Arc feedback burns and a scrambled Glove reading."
"They say he tried to activate a stolen Morpher card with no conduit. That he fused with the card and the terrain rejected him."
James looked down at his drink, eyes unfocused.
They still spoke about Aleister.
Even after all these years, even across national borders, the mystery of the Blank Card lingered like ash on white robes.
"You're from Nethra, aren't you?" one of the boys asked.
James said nothing.
"You knew him?"
"He was my brother."
The silence that followed felt honest.
Later that night, in the silence of his quarters, James sat with an old memory stone. He activated it, not to replay data, but just for the comfort of holding something warm, flickering, familiar.
> I don't know if you're out there, Aleister.
But you were never the void. You were the question.
And I'm starting to think Valedren doesn't like questions it can't answer.>
He let the memory stone dim.
Unknown to James, the Sanctum of Five had elevated Aleister's classification from Null anomaly to Category Gray: Unaligned Volatile Presence. It was the kind of designation normally reserved for Cradle cultists or rogue elementals who defied the rune system altogether.
The file was sealed to the public.
But in the basement levels of the Royal Arc Bureau, analysts were still tracing fragments from Aleister's disappearance. A backtrace of Arc waveforms from the Grove of Third Names, buried under a dozen falsified reports.
They didn't know what he'd become.
Only that he wasn't dead.
And wasn't Null.
Not anymore.