Fire Emblem if: Resonant Blood

by JustaSoulsFan

3 years after the Conquest Route, Corrin is still haunted from the war between Hoshido and Nohr. The sacrifices she made to expose Garon wear heavily on her. Yet she tries to fulfill her duty as Nohrian princess regardless. On a mission to solve a dispute between allies, she encounters the mysterious Hunter Abel Deville. Together they must confront new enemies and their dark past.

10. Dark Revelations I

Chapter 8 – Dark Revelations I

By the time they reached Abel's chamber, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the castle corridors. Corrin and Felicia carefully eased him onto the bed, his face pale and drawn with pain.

"I'll fetch the healers," Felicia said, darting out of the room with a determined expression.

Corrin remained by Abel's side, brushing a strand of hair from his sweat-dampened forehead. "You're going to be okay," she whispered, more to reassure herself than him. "Whatever's happening, we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this."

Abel opened his eyes, the crimson hue dimmed with exhaustion. "Thank you," he muttered weakly. "For staying."

Corrin smiled softly, her hand lingering on his. "Always, Abel. Always."

The door creaked open, and Lord Rolent strode in with his characteristic smirk, his sharp eyes immediately landing on Abel.

"Ah, excellent to find you here, Abel," Rolent drawled, his tone carrying its usual mix of amusement and disdain. "I was just wondering if we might continue our discussion from before."

Corrin, who had been seated beside Abel, instinctively straightened, her protective instincts flaring at Rolent's casual demeanor. She shot him a narrowed glance, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of Abel's bed.

"Now is not the time, Lord Rolent," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for debate. "Abel collapsed earlier, and he's still in pain. The healers are on their way, but whatever you want to discuss will have to wait until he's feeling better."

Rolent arched an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as if he found her protectiveness amusing. "In pain, is he?" he asked lightly, as though the very notion intrigued him.

Corrin's eyes flashed with irritation. She didn't like the hint of mockery in his tone. "Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "He collapsed suddenly, and we don't know why. Whatever you're here for, it can wait."

Rolent hummed noncommittally, his head tilting as he took a deliberate step closer to Abel. "Collapsed, you say? How intriguing."

Abel, lying back against the pillows, managed to glare weakly at Rolent. "Hey... what are you—"

Before Abel could finish, Rolent placed a hand on his chest, silencing him. Corrin almost leapt to her feet, her instincts urging her to intervene, but she forced herself to stay still, her hands balled into fists. Whatever Rolent was doing, she needed to let it play out—at least for now.

Rolent closed his eyes, his face becoming momentarily serious as if searching for something. Abel stared at him with a mix of annoyance and confusion, his sharp eyes narrowing suspiciously.

After a moment, Rolent withdrew his hand, his amused smirk returning in full force. "Ah, I see now," he said, chuckling softly. "For an experienced Dead Apostle, you are remarkably reckless, my boy."

Corrin blinked, her mouth opening slightly in shock. "What... what are you talking about?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "What did you find? What's causing this?"

Rolent turned to her, his grin widening as though he relished her confusion. "The healers will be of no use to him," he said airily. "His current predicament is not something they can remedy."

Corrin's irritation flared again at his cryptic tone. "Enough with the riddles," she snapped, her voice sharp. "What is wrong with him? What did you find?"

Rolent chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention. "The boy has burned through his Magic Circuits," he explained, gesturing lazily toward Abel. "They've effectively shut down for now. Quite a painful little condition, as you've undoubtedly noticed."

Corrin's brow furrowed as she processed the unfamiliar term. "Magic Circuits? What does that even mean? I've never heard of such a thing."

Rolent gave a knowing nod. "Of course not. Nohrians rely on tomes to channel their magic. But Abel's magic works quite differently—stemming from within rather than through external tools. Overexertion has left his circuits fried, hence the... unpleasant sensations."

Her mind raced as she pieced together the information. Abel's abilities, tied to his past and the otherworldly origins he had shared with her, functioned on entirely different principles than the magic she knew. And now he was paying the price for pushing himself too far.

"I see," she said softly, worry creeping back into her voice. "But what can we do to help him? Will he recover?"

Rolent shrugged, stepping closer to Abel. "Oh, he'll recover," he said lightly, "but he'll need a little assistance." Without waiting for permission, he placed his hand on Abel's chest again.

Abel's eyes narrowed, and he groaned in protest. "What now?" he muttered, but Rolent ignored him. His hand began to glow with a faint purple light, and almost immediately, Abel's body tensed, a sharp cry of pain escaping him.

"Stop! What are you doing to him?" Corrin exclaimed, horrified as glowing blue lines appeared on Abel's body, tracing a strange pattern across his skin. She instinctively reached out to intervene but hesitated, biting her lip. Whatever Rolent was doing, it seemed to be forcing some kind of reaction.

"Relax, Princess," Rolent said smoothly, his tone too casual. "I'm merely jump-starting his circuits. Think of it as... resetting a stubborn clock."

Abel let out another scream as the blue lines pulsed brightly, his body arching slightly before the glow began to fade. When Rolent finally withdrew his hand, the purple light vanished, and Abel collapsed back against the bed, gasping for air.

Corrin rushed to his side, her hand immediately on his shoulder. "Abel! Are you okay?" she asked urgently, her voice trembling.

Abel groaned, rolling his shoulder as he sat up slowly. "Yeah... I think so," he muttered. "But that... that treatment hurt like hell."

Rolent smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "A necessary discomfort, I assure you," he said mockingly. "That's what happens when you use a slingshot to fire arrows, young vampire. Try not to be so careless next time."

Corrin shot Rolent a glare, though her attention quickly returned to Abel. "At least you're feeling better now," she said softly, relief washing over her.

Corrin's eyes narrowed at Rolent's mocking sneer, her irritation rising. But her priority was Abel, not Rolent's smarmy attitude. She leaned closer to Abel, her voice soft but insistent.

"Just take it easy for now," she whispered, her tone gentle but firm. Then she turned her attention back to Rolent, her gaze sharp.

"What you did... it healed him, right? The pain is gone?"

Rolent's smirk didn't waver. "Yes," he replied smoothly. "I reactivated his Magic Circuits. Opened them up and let out the excess magical energy. A simple fix, really."

Corrin nodded, though her mind was spinning. The concept of "Magic Circuits" was utterly foreign to her, but she clung to what little she understood. If it had helped Abel, that was enough for now.

"I see..." she murmured. A thought struck her, and she glanced at Abel. "If his Magic Circuits are reactivated, does that mean he can use magic again?"

Rolent chuckled, his amusement growing. "But of course. However, if our dear Abel continues his reckless habits, he'll find himself in the same predicament. Or worse."

Abel flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hand experimentally. "This is the first time anything like this has happened," he said, his voice tinged with irritation.

Corrin frowned, her concern etched into her face. "You need to be more careful," she urged, her tone a mixture of worry and scolding. "You can't push yourself like this, especially if it's going to cause this much pain."

Rolent turned to Abel, arching an eyebrow. "Did your master teach you nothing about the basics of magecraft?"

Abel scowled, sitting up straighter. "She taught me spells. Basics. How to use them effectively."

"And Magic Circuits?" Rolent pressed, his voice laced with incredulity.

"Yes," Abel replied, though his tone was defensive. "I know what they are."

Rolent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to suppress his frustration. "Then why, pray tell, are you burning yourself out like this?"

Abel huffed, crossing his arms. "Because it never bothered me before," he muttered.

Rolent's gaze sharpened, and a flicker of realization crossed his face. "Oh, you naïve boy," he said with a dry laugh. "Do you think the Curse of Restoration makes you invincible? It has limits, you know."

Corrin's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Curse of Restoration?" she repeated, her eyes darting between Rolent and Abel. "What does that have to do with this?"

Rolent smirked, his gaze turning to her. "Ah, the princess is lost again," he teased. "It seems you need a proper lesson on how magic works in his realm."

Corrin felt a twinge of irritation at his tone but forced herself to nod. "Perhaps I do," she admitted, glancing at Abel. "Please, explain."

Rolent gave her a smug grin before launching into his explanation. "Magic in Abel's world is known as magecraft. It's the supernatural counterpart to science, using spells to achieve results that science might theoretically accomplish. The limits of magecraft evolve as science advances, making old miracles mundane." He paused, enjoying her rapt attention. "Those who wield magecraft are called magus—or magi in the plural."

Corrin tilted her head slightly. The concept wasn't entirely alien to her, but the blending of magic and science was strange. "So... magi draw upon their Magic Circuits to perform these feats?" she asked. "But what are Magic Circuits, exactly?"

Rolent's smirk widened, clearly relishing the chance to explain. "Magic Circuits," he began, "are akin to a nervous system, unique to those capable of magecraft. They convert life force into magical energy and grant access to Thaumaturgical Foundations—the 'collections' of spells a magus can use. They're deeply tied to an individual's essence, making them both a gift and a responsibility." He glanced at Abel. "In his case, I sensed circuits tied to a system of Kabbalah—specifically, Gematria. Rare and powerful."

Corrin's eyes widened, absorbing the unfamiliar terms. "Kabbalah?"

Rolent nodded. "Indeed. It's a Hebrew system of magic, based on deciphering hidden codes within holy texts. Abel's circuits carry this foundation, likely because of his mistress. I suspect she specialized in lightning-based attacks derived from these scriptures, and she passed this knowledge—and her blood—on to him." He gave Abel a knowing look. "Am I correct?"

Abel nodded reluctantly. "She taught me everything. The circuits, the spells, how to use them."

Corrin's mind spun with the complexity of it all. "So... the magic Abel uses is a combination of his circuits, his vampiric nature, and the knowledge passed down from his mistress?"

"Precisely," Rolent said with a small bow, as if to acknowledge her grasp. "But magic is inherently tied to one's essence, and overuse can destabilize the very core of a magus. Hence, his current predicament."

Corrin looked back at Abel, worry clouding her expression. "Then using too much magic... it can harm you?" she asked softly.

Rolent's smirk widened, his tone as sharp as ever. "Indeed, Princess. You've grasped the concept well. Just like any other organ, the number of Magic Circuits one is born with is immutable. They neither increase nor decrease naturally. Magi don't meddle with the circuits of living members; instead, they focus on producing descendants with a higher number of circuits." He gave a shrug. "But it's not just about numbers. The quality and precision of the circuits are just as crucial and vary by lineage. More circuits allow for greater frequency of spells. Higher-quality circuits allow for stronger, more efficient magic. That balance is everything."

He cast a mocking glance at Abel, who scowled at the attention. "Now, Malkav—the vampire who attacked Windmire yesterday—likely had either a large number of circuits, circuits of exceptional quality, or perhaps both. Abel, on the other hand..." Rolent's voice turned almost pitying, "...has a mere five circuits. And they're of average quality at best."

Corrin's brow furrowed as she processed the information. The strength and precision of one's magic depended heavily on these circuits, but Rolent's words about Abel left her uneasy. She glanced at Abel, noting the tension in his posture, the way his jaw tightened at the remark.

"But... is it Abel's fault that he only has five circuits?" she asked, her voice measured but laced with concern.

Rolent shook his head. "No. Magic Circuits are fixed at birth, determined entirely by chance and ancestry. However," he added, his tone pointed, "what do you think happens when someone with only five average circuits repeatedly casts high-energy spells—spells powerful enough to cause widespread destruction, like the one Abel used yesterday? What happens when such power is channeled through such limited means?"

Corrin tilted her head, the pieces falling into place. She frowned deeply as the answer dawned on her. "It would... it would lead to burnout," she ventured, her voice soft with understanding.

Rolent nodded, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Precisely. Imagine trying to redirect the flow of an entire river with nothing but a small spade. The strain would be catastrophic."

The metaphor sent a shudder through Corrin as her mind conjured the image of someone hopelessly trying to hold back a flood. "The circuits would be overwhelmed, unable to handle the strain... and they'd be damaged," she murmured, her worried gaze settling on Abel. "Is that what happened to him?"

"Exactly," Rolent confirmed. "His circuits were overclocked and forcibly shut down. The excess magical energy lingering in them caused additional strain, which is why he was in such pain."

Abel spoke up, his voice laced with frustration. "Then why is this happening to me now? It's never been a problem before."

Rolent smirked knowingly, his gaze sharp. "Because you're suppressing your nature, Abel. This rosary of yours... it keeps your vampiric essence in check, does it not?"

Corrin's eyes flicked to Abel's rosary, her curiosity piqued. She waited for Abel's response, but he only looked bewildered. "What do you mean?" Abel asked.

Rolent chuckled, the sound grating. "It's obvious, isn't it? You've been relying on the Curse of Restoration—your body's natural safeguard as a Dead Apostle. But now, with your nature restrained, the curse cannot work its magic. Oh, how naïve you are, young vampire."

Corrin's confusion deepened. The Curse of Restoration? She spoke up, her voice firm despite her uncertainty. "What is this 'Curse of Restoration,' and how does it relate to Abel's current state?"

Abel sighed heavily, his tone resigned as he explained. "The Curse of Restoration is an ability all Dead Apostles share. It grants a kind of limited immortality. Whenever a vampire is injured, the curse forces their body to regress through time, restoring them to their original vampiric state. The strength and speed of this ability depend on the moon's phase. The fuller the moon, the more severe the injuries it can heal and the faster it works."

Corrin nodded slowly, piecing the information together. "So... if you're injured, the curse reverses the damage by essentially 'rewinding' your body to an earlier state. But this process... it's tied to your vampiric nature?"

"Exactly," Rolent interjected. "The curse and the circuits are part of the same system. Every time Abel casts a spell as a Dead Apostle, his circuits endure immense strain, sometimes even damaging themselves. But the curse would heal them, just as it heals physical injuries. It's an elegant balance—until, of course, you slap a suppression rosary on the boy."

Abel scowled. "I didn't ask for your analysis, Rolent."

Corrin, however, ignored their exchange, her focus sharp. "So... with the rosary suppressing his vampiric nature, the curse can't heal his circuits anymore. That's why he's in pain, and why he can't cast recklessly like before," she concluded, her worried gaze softening as it turned to Abel. "You've been relying on the curse without realizing how much you depend on it."

Rolent clapped his hands, the sound dripping with mock applause. "Bravo, Princess. You've figured it out. Our dear Abel is no longer the indestructible fool he thought himself to be. Without the curse to patch him up, he'll have to face the consequences of his recklessness—like the rest of us mere mortals."

Abel narrowed his eyes, his voice edged with suspicion. "How do you know all this, Lord Rolent? I thought you were an advisor of Nohr. How does someone from Nohr know so much about magic from another realm?"

Rolent's grin spread wider, his tone mocking. "Because, Abel, I came from the same world as you. I'm a magus, just like you."

Corrin's eyes widened in surprise at Rolent's revelation. "From the same world as Abel?" she thought, now eyeing him with a new perspective.

"You... you're a magus too? From the same world as Abel? That's... incredible," she murmured, her mind racing with the implications of this new information. "But... why are you here, in Nohr, serving as an advisor?"

Rolent sighed, his expression shifting to something more solemn. "I wanted to escape. I was looking for a better life, a chance to start anew."

Corrin tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. She could understand the desire to leave behind a broken past, to seek something better. She had seen firsthand the horrors that war could bring, and the toll it took on a person's soul. She could empathize with his need for escape.

"I... see," she replied quietly, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "It makes sense that you'd want to leave, to find a place free of the hardships you've known. So, you came to Nohr, hoping for a fresh start?"

Rolent rubbed his temples in a frustrated gesture, his voice lowering. "No, Princess. It's more than that. Our world... our home world is dying."

Abel looked away at those words, a somber expression crossing his face.

Corrin's expression darkened as she processed Rolent's words. A dying world? She turned her attention to Abel, noticing the gravity in his eyes. He understood this in a way she didn't yet.

"Your world... it's dying?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you mean? What's happening?"

Rolent met her gaze, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth. "Our world was... is... far more advanced than Nohr or Hoshido in terms of technology. But beneath that, there was another world—an underground realm of magic and the supernatural. Magi, the Church, and the Dead Apostles like Abel, they've been locked in a thousand-year-old conflict, a war that's drained the world's very life force. After a catastrophic event caused by the elder Dead Apostles, the planet's mana began to dry up. By the 2060s, it was gone entirely. And that's when... the Aristoteles arrived."

Abel visibly shivered when the name was spoken.

Corrin's eyes widened as she tried to digest the information. A world that had been more advanced, with an entire hidden realm of magic—and now 'Aristoteles' were involved, whatever they were. The very idea was too much to grasp, but Rolent's words had a chilling certainty to them.

She turned to Abel, noticing his involuntary shiver. "The Aristoteles... What are they?" she whispered, her voice trembling with curiosity and fear.

Abel took a deep breath before speaking. "The Aristoteles... they're cosmic beings—monsters drawn to a dying planet. These entities began eradicating the remaining factions of humans and supernatural beings, feeding off the planet's residual energy. Even the Magi and the Church's most powerful weapons were useless against them. They're nearly invincible, and humanity has been scattered, fighting to hold on to whatever is left."

Corrin listened in horror, filling in the gaps. Cosmic beings, monsters beyond comprehension, wiping out humanity and everything else in their path. The thought was a nightmare come to life.

They're invincible?" she asked, barely able to voice her shock. "And... there's no way to stop them?"

Rolent shook his head, his expression grave. "Not with the methods of our world. That's why I came here, Princess. The Aristoteles are unlike any creature we've faced before. Each one is different in form and nature. They don't have the same sense of self that humans do, nor can they comprehend injury or death. They require something beyond the existence of a planet itself to be harmed. That's why I left my world. I came here to either find a way to fight them, or to escape their wrath."

Corrin's mind struggled to process the magnitude of what Rolent was saying. Beings that were beyond death or injury, consuming everything in their path—there seemed to be no hope in the face of such power. She glanced at Abel, then back at Rolent. She could feel the weight of his words pressing down on her.

"So... you came here, hoping to find a way to fight the Aristoteles or at least escape them... And now... what about Abel? How does he fit into all this?"

Rolent glanced at Abel, who sighed heavily, resigned. "The ritual that drained the mana from our world... it was called Aylesbury Valesti. A ritual meant to resurrect the Dark Six—the oldest, most powerful Dead Apostles. It was performed fifteen years before the Aristoteles descended for the first time. The Dead Apostles waged a brutal war against humanity, seeking to enslave their race. I was one of them. A vicious Dead Apostle." He looked away, avoiding Corrin's gaze. "I'm sure you can imagine what I did back then..."

Corrin's heart skipped a beat as Abel spoke of his past. The Dark Six, the resurrection of the oldest Dead Apostles—Aylesbury Valesti—it all painted a dark and brutal history. And Abel's admission that he had been one of those vicious creatures... It made her shudder to think of the things he might have done in that time.

She inhaled sharply, trying to steady her breath and maintain control, but the question slipped out before she could stop it. "So... what did you do? As a Dead Apostle, during that war?"

Rolent chuckled darkly, an expression that was soon echoed by Abel. Then, Abel spoke, his voice laced with bitter amusement. "You're the princess of a country, Corrin. I was an ambitious, evil vampire lord back then... So, what do you expect when the de facto kings and queens of your kind call you to arms?"

A chill crawled down Corrin's spine as she grasped the full weight of his words. An ambitious, evil vampire lord.

She swallowed hard, her mind struggling to reconcile the man before her—the calm, collected hunter—with this dark image of a ruthless warlord. The contrast was nearly impossible to believe.

Forcing herself to speak, her voice quivered but remained determined. "So... you answered the call to arms... as a vampire lord, you fought alongside the Dark Six..."

Abel nodded, his expression distant, lost in the past. "Yes. Back then, I thought I could use the forces at my disposal to conquer the two continents I'd been trying to take for decades... North America and South America. But... humanity isn't so easy to defeat. And I made a powerful enemy out of my closest progeny. Not to mention, I had quite a few human adversaries who held grudges from my previous attempt to seize the American states."

Corrin's brow furrowed as she processed Abel's words. An attempted conquest of two entire continents? Making enemies of both humans and vampires? It was so far removed from the man standing before her now that it was hard to comprehend.

After a moment of quiet reflection, she asked, her voice low, almost breathless, "And... your closest progeny... who was that?"

Abel gave a bitter chuckle, his gaze turning inward. "His name was Elias Blackwood. He was the first of my children, sired after the fall of Chapelwaite. He became my assistant and served me faithfully for twenty years... but I saw his potential. He was growing too powerful. So, I decided to eliminate him before he could overthrow me. I threw him into the Abyss. Think of it as a hellish realm in my domain." He paused, a grimace twisting his lips. "But he returned, as something else. A disfigured wraith. He took the name Raziel and came back to the surface, hell-bent on revenge. He eventually became a leader of the human forces against me."

Corrin's eyes widened, the horror of his words settling deep within her. Thrown into a hellish place... only to rise again as a vengeful wraith. She could scarcely process the brutality of what he described.

The name Raziel seemed to echo in her mind.

"So... you saw Elias as a threat to your power, and instead of killing him outright, you threw him into the Abyss," she murmured, her voice soft and trembling. "And he came back... as Raziel..."

"Yes," Abel confirmed, his voice dry and emotionless. "Because I still had plans for him."

Corrin glanced at Rolent, who wore a smirk that suggested he was enjoying the unfolding tale. She turned back to Abel, her confusion mounting. "Plans for him? After all that... you still had plans for him?"

Abel's eyes darkened as he continued. "Normally, when someone dies, their soul is transferred back to the root—the origin of all things. But Raziel, by becoming a wraith, escaped this process. He became an outsider to his own realm. I was fascinated by the concept. I planned to use him to uncover a way to access the root."

Corrin listened carefully, trying to grasp the strange, metaphysical concept he was describing. The root—it sounded like something out of myth.

"The root? What is that supposed to be?" Corrin asked.

Rolent chuckled "Abel refers to the so-called "Vortex of Radix". Imagine it as a metaphysical location that acts as the "force". It is also known as the Root. This Vortex exists at the top of all theories in every dimension, as well as the source of all events and phenomena in the universe. Not only that, but it also archives information of all possibilities and events, past, present, and future, of the world. It's like the origin of all that is. A place from where all souls come from and to where they return after death."

"So... the root is a metaphysical location, the source of everything in the universe?" she asked, her voice uncertain but sharp. She struggled to grasp the magnitude of something like this to actually exist. "And you planned to use Raziel, this wraith, to find a way to access it... for what purpose?"

Abel's lips curled slightly as he gave his answer, his voice low and chilling. "To rewrite the entire foundation of the world. To make it favor us Dead Apostles."

Corrin's brow furrowed as she tried to process what he had said. Rewrite the foundation of the world... to make it favor his kind?

Her voice grew cold as she met his gaze. "To rewrite reality... simply to make it favorable for your kind..." She let the weight of his words sink in. "That was your plan?"

Abel gave a single nod, his expression unreadable.

Corrin's heart grew heavy with disgust. The arrogance, the selfishness—it was overwhelming. The very thought of altering reality to suit one's own desires... It made her stomach turn.

She took a deep breath, fighting to keep her voice steady despite the surge of anger threatening to break through. "And you thought... you had the right to reshape reality itself? To change the laws of existence, just to benefit yourself and your kin?"

Abel sighed, his eyes distant, regret—or was it something darker?—flickering across his face. "Yes... back then, I did."

Corrin's anger flared at Abel's admission. The audacity, the selfishness of it all—her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to control the surge of emotions coursing through her. Her voice was tight, barely containing her fury. "And... why? Why did you think you had the right? Why did you think rewriting reality... was something you could just do to satisfy your own desires?"

Lord Rolent chuckled; his tone almost mocking. "Because that's what all Dead Apostles do, your highness. You've seen Malkav Archangel, right? You fought him in battle, if I'm not mistaken? This monster attacked Windmire, slaughtering many brave men, innocent women, and defenseless children. All so he could claim Nohr as his own domain. Dead Apostles are former humans. But they lost their moral compass long ago... And Abel, well, he was no different. He likely wanted to gain more power, more influence, using the war between humanity and the Dead Apostles to his advantage. Isn't that right?"

Abel said nothing, his gaze falling to the floor.

Corrin's anger deepened as she absorbed Rolent's words. The truth of what the Dead Apostles were, the loss of their humanity... and Abel's own actions in the conflict.

She turned to Abel, her eyes hard as steel, and her voice low but filled with barely contained rage. "Is it true? Did you really... use the war between humanity and the Dead Apostles just to gain power and influence for yourself?"

Abel nodded grimly. "I suppose there's truth to Rolent's words."

Her jaw clenched in disbelief and disappointment. She had feared it, but hearing it spoken aloud—he really did use all that pain for his own gain—made her sick. Her fists tightened, her voice shaking with a combination of fury and sorrow. "Why? Why would you do something like that? How could you... use a war, a conflict that's caused so much suffering and death, just to fulfill your own ambitions?"

Abel's voice was raw, almost regretful. "Because back then... I truly thought it was the best path forward for me. I told you, Corrin... I was a monster. I did everything in my power to become the most feared and influential vampire. I killed, I manipulated, I betrayed... Everything that mattered to me was my own status, the pleasure I derived from it all... the blood I consumed, the corruption of the innocent, the suffering of those who defied me. Those were the things that made me feel... alive, in a way."

Corrin listened, her anger slowly giving way to a deep sadness. How could one man be so consumed by his own darkness? How could he be so detached, so indifferent to the lives he destroyed? The killings, the manipulation, the betrayals—it was all for nothing but personal pleasure and power.

She met his gaze, her voice soft, almost pained. "You... you really were a monster, weren't you? You didn't care who you hurt... as long as it brought you power and pleasure."

Abel's response was quiet, strained. "Yes."

Rolent chuckled darkly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "My, my... You're truly a troublemaker, Abel. I've heard of many Dead Apostles causing chaos, but your track record... even I'm impressed."

Corrin's eyes widened in shock, shifting between Abel and Rolent. She had known Abel was a monster, but the scale of his cruelty... had she really underestimated just how horrible he had been?

Rolent seemed to take some dark pleasure in recounting Abel's past, and it filled her with a quiet unease. What was his role in all of this? Why did he seem so entertained by Abel's horrific deeds?

She finally spoke, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Abel... all of that... the killings, the manipulations, the betrayals... it doesn't... it doesn't make sense. How could you have done all of that, and act so differently now? How can you... be the person you are now... after everything you did?"

Abel's eyes met hers, cold and unflinching. "Who said I'm truly a different person now? The Septian Church... they beat me. They sealed my vampiric powers. Maybe they saw something redeemable in a monster like me, or maybe they just thought I'd make a good asset to fight Dead Apostles and other heretics. But once they suppressed my powers... once the thirst for blood and malice were weakened... that's when I felt the faintest glimmer of what it was like to be human again. But when you start regaining your humanity... and you remember all the things you did as a vampire..." He trailed off, his voice faltering.

Rolent's smirk vanished, and his expression became serious as he watched Abel.

Corrin fell silent, absorbing his words. The Septian Church had suppressed his vampiric powers, which had quelled his bloodlust and malevolence. In doing so, they had allowed him to regain a small measure of humanity.

She could see it now, in his eyes—the weight of his past was still there, etched into him. His sins, his guilt, were a constant presence. She could feel a pang of sorrow for him, the realization that his own remorse had become a kind of punishment he had to carry every day.

"So... they suppressed your powers... and that allowed you to becoming more human," she murmured.

Corrin's voice softened, but there was still a sharp edge to it, as if she were speaking through a bitter truth. "And as you began to regain your humanity, you started to realize the weight of what you'd done as a vampire... the pain and suffering you caused... and it haunts you now, doesn't it?"

Abel's gaze dropped to the floor. "It haunts me every day."

Rolent looked on, his expression distant.

Corrin's gaze softened, a twinge of empathy threading through her sadness. The burden of guilt, the weight of his actions—it was something she couldn't fully understand, but she could feel the depth of it in the air. It was a punishment worse than death, to have your own past continuously remind you of every dark choice you'd ever made.

She paused for a moment, her voice unusually soft and gentle. "I can't even imagine what it's like to live with that kind of regret... to feel the weight of your past transgressions... every single day."

Her eyes stayed fixed on Abel, watching him closely as she continued. "But... the fact that you regret it, that you feel sorrow for what you've done... doesn't that mean you've changed? Doesn't that prove you're not the same monster you once were?"

Abel shook his head slowly, his expression darkening. "It only means it's suppressed. I can loosen the rosary a little to access some of my former powers, but if it gets damaged... or comes off completely... the monster inside me will return. And then everything... will start all over again."

Corrin's stomach dropped at his words. The realization hit her hard—the rosary was the only thing keeping him from slipping back into that monstrous state. If it broke or was removed, Abel would be lost to his darker nature.

Her voice dropped to a quiet whisper, filled with unease. "So... the rosary is the only thing keeping you human? Keeping the monster from reemerging?"

Abel nodded, confirming her worst fears. "Yes."

The weight of his words pressed down on Corrin. The rosary... it wasn't just a symbol, it was a lifeline. Without it, everything Abel had fought to suppress would return—and with it, the monstrous being he had once been.

She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling as she asked, "But... what happens if the rosary is damaged? Or if it comes off, even just for a moment?"

Rolent interjected, his voice matter-of-fact. "Then the seal would break. And we would have another vampire to worry about, just as dangerous as Malkav Archangel, if not more so."

Corrin's heart raced, her eyes wide with shock and fear. Another vampire... just as dangerous as Malkav... or perhaps even worse.

She clenched her jaw, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and terror. "So... if the rosary is damaged or comes off... Abel becomes a monster again. And possibly... even more dangerous."

Rolent nodded, his expression cold and calculating. "Yes. Malkav was a formidable foe, but he was young—far younger than Abel. Even with his powers partially sealed, Abel held his own against him. Imagine what would happen if Abel could use his full powers again, Princess?"

Corrin's mind whirled with the implications of Rolent's words. Abel, already dangerous while partially sealed, would be unstoppable if he regained his full strength. The devastation it could cause...

Her voice was low and strained as she whispered, "If... if Abel were able to access his full powers... it would be... catastrophic. He would be unstoppable."

She exhaled sharply, trying to steady her racing heartbeat. Looking at Abel, she felt the weight of the situation sink in. Her voice was thick with fear and resolve. "We... we can't let that happen. We can't let the rosary break or fall off. If it does... if Abel becomes a monster again..." Her voice faltered, as the gravity of the consequences swirled in her mind.

Abel's gaze softened, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm sorry... I never wanted to make you worry like this, Corrin. Maybe it would be better if I just left... never to return."

Her heart clenched at his words, a deep, unexpected sadness flooding through her.

"No!" she protested, louder than before. The thought of him leaving, of never seeing him again, caused a knot to form in her chest.

She took a moment to steady herself, her breath shaky as she spoke again, her voice softer. "No... please. Don't leave."

Abel's eyes were filled with uncertainty as he replied, "But why? Now that you know the full extent of how dangerous I am, as a princess, you should understand better than anyone how risky it is to leave me here."

Corrin shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. "I... I know you're dangerous. I know your past. But..." She paused, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"But you're not just a monster anymore. You've changed... you've regained some humanity, even if it's suppressed by the rosary. You're not the same person you once were."

Her voice softened, full of sincerity. "And even if there's a chance you might become that monster again... I... I still want you here. I don't want you to leave."

She stepped closer to him, her heart racing as she searched his face for any sign of what he was thinking.

"Please... don't go. Stay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

She took another step forward, the air between them thick with tension. Her heart pounded in her chest as she spoke again, the words spilling out almost desperately. "Please... please, Abel. Stay. I... I don't want you to go. I don't want to lose you..."

Abel looked at her, his expression conflicted. He gasped slightly before speaking, his voice low. "If you really want that..."

He paused, the silence stretching between them.

"Then... I will stay."

Corrin's eyes widened in astonishment, a surge of joy and relief rushing through her. She felt her heart skip a beat, the weight of his words lifting a heavy burden from her chest.

A small, tentative smile tugged at her lips, and in that moment, something inside her shifted. Hope began to swell in her chest, a quiet optimism taking root.

Abel's voice, steady and low, broke through her reverie. "I hurt enough people as Nosferatu... I don't want to hurt you too." His gaze was soft, filled with sincerity, and she could see the raw emotion behind the words. He had been a monster once, and in some ways, he still bore the weight of that darkness. But here, now, he was trying to fight it, to hold onto the part of him that had found something worth saving.

Corrin smiled, her heart easing for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She could feel the tension in her chest start to fade, the suffocating weight of uncertainty lifting. He wasn't going anywhere. He had chosen to stay.

"You won't hurt me," she said, her voice gentle but firm, the conviction clear in her words. "I know you won't. I trust you, Abel... and I believe in you." Her eyes locked onto his, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though nothing else in the world mattered. She trusted him, fully and completely, despite the danger that still lingered—despite the darkness that still clung to him.

Abel's eyes softened, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, but it was tinged with sadness. "Thank you, Corrin." There was a quiet gratitude in his tone, as though he hadn't expected her to offer him such unwavering trust. The sincerity in his voice made her heart swell.

Corrin's smile faltered, however, as her thoughts once again turned to the reality of their situation—the danger that still hung over them, the ever-present risk that the rosary might break or fail. The gravity of it, the possibility that everything could crumble at any moment, caused her chest to tighten with unease.

She swallowed and took a deep breath, her expression serious now. "Just... just promise me something," she said, her voice soft, but carrying the weight of her concern. "Promise me... promise me that if there's ever a risk... a risk of the rosary coming off or breaking... promise me that you'll tell me. I... I don't want to lose you... I don't want to lose the human you've become again." The words were laced with a kind of desperation, the fear of losing him pulling at her heart.

Abel's gaze softened even more, and he nodded slowly, as if taking in the full extent of her plea. "Yes. I promise you. Whatever happens... I will tell you." There was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond forged in vulnerability. His promise was more than just words—it was a lifeline, one she could hold onto.

Relief washed over Corrin, the tension in her shoulders slowly melting. She knew, deep down, that he would keep his word. He had no reason to lie to her now. Still, a small seed of worry remained, the knowledge that the rosary, fragile as it was, could be broken or removed, leaving them both vulnerable to the terrible consequences. It was a fear she couldn't entirely shake, but for now, she had to trust him, and trust the promise he had made.

"Thank you, Abel," she whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you for being honest... and for keeping your promise." She stepped just a little closer, her hand brushing against his as if she could anchor herself in his presence, in the stability he offered.

But behind them, unnoticed by Corrin in her focus on Abel, Rolent had turned to leave the room. As he did, a sinister, snake-like grin curled on his lips, one that held more malice than amusement. He left without a word, the echo of his departure barely registering in the air.

Corrin, still caught up in the moment with Abel, did not notice Rolent's departure. Her thoughts were still on the promise Abel had made, her relief not yet tempered by the looming dangers. She spoke again, her voice softer now, but the weight of her words far heavier.

"And... please, promise me one more thing," she said, almost pleading. "If... if the rosary should fail, for whatever reason, and you... revert back to being... what you once were... please... don't blame yourself." The last words came out quietly, with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to express. It was as if, in that moment, she was letting him know that no matter what happened, she didn't want him to carry the weight of guilt alone.

Abel, taken aback by her request, stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he seemed unsure, his throat working as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he nodded, his voice strained but resolute. "I will heed your words. I promise."

Corrin nodded in return, her heart lighter at his response, but her mind still plagued by the shadow of the danger they both faced. Her voice, now barely above a whisper, held a blend of relief and lingering worry. "Good... good…" The words seemed to come from a place deep inside her, a place where fear and hope mingled in equal measure.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them seemed to hum with unspoken understanding. In the silence, Corrin felt a bittersweet sense of peace—though she knew that peace was fragile, and the future uncertain.

Just as the weight of the moment settled, the door to the room creaked open, and Felicia entered, accompanied by a group of healers. The bustle of their arrival brought Corrin back to the present, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Felicia looked from one to the other, concern written across her face. "Is everything all right?" she asked, her eyes searching their expressions.

Corrin turned quickly, her face lighting up with a warm smile, the tension of the moment easing. "Everything is fine, Felicia," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "There's no need for concern."

Abel nodded in agreement, offering a quiet but firm affirmation. The situation wasn't perfect, far from it, but for now, they had found a fragile moment of peace—however fleeting it might be. As the healers moved away, Corrin and Abel stood side by side, their bond strengthened, their fears momentarily set aside.