Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Toren Daen
The next couple of days passed by in a blur.
Aurora spent much of her time with Chul, talking with him and offering what company she could as I tended to duties above. I hadn't visited since then, still uncertain of my ability to remain respectful and calm.
And with what I'd been assigned up above, I wasn't certain I'd get a chance any time soon anyway.
I stood on the edge of the Sehz River, staring out at the opposite bank with a calm expression. I couldn't see anything, not without sharpening my eyes with mana. But I could sense the person on the far end.
Lance Aya Grephin, codename Phantasm, lurked on the Dicathian shore, shrouded by her illusions. But I could still sense her heartbeat wherever it went. I could follow it like no other.
Seris had given me a simple task. Whenever the elven Lance looked ready to act, I would simply put myself across from her in a silent warning. Whenever the elven mage slunk closer to the shore in a possible attempt to slip into our camp and wreak havoc, I would be already there, waiting for her to make a mistake.
There had been plenty of skirmishes on those waters these past couple of days between Alacryan and Dicathian troops, but Seris was drawing out any confrontation. She wanted to make the defenders nervous and unbalanced. They waited for a strike that they couldn't anticipate, and any potential counterattack was in danger of phoenix fire.
I narrowed my eyes, focusing mana into them as I honed in on my sense of heartfire. And on the far bank a mile away, I pierced every single illusion set in my way. My knowledge and understanding of sound magic allowed me to weave through every deception layered for a bare instant.
And I saw Aya Grephin, waiting like a poised panther on the sands. The elven Lance didn't seem perturbed by my casual dismissal of her magic as her dark eyes glinted.
She looked different from our last encounter. Her hair flowed nearly to the small of her back like dark curtains as sound magic and illusory mist rippled around her.
"Hello, Spellsong," she said, her voice tinged with a sultry, alluring tone that was intentionally crafted to influence the thoughts of those with weaker wills. Even a mile away, the whisper reached my ears. "It's been so long since we've danced, but you seem opposed to any sort of waltz we might have."
I locked my hands behind my back, on high alert for any sort of deception. "I'm sorry, miss," I countered easily, noting how her hands twitched with wind magic. This far away, I couldn't sense her intent, but I suspected I'd taste only the lingering undertones of blood, "but I can't dance with you. You should stop trying."
In turn, my magic carried my words across the bank to the distant Lance. She tilted her head, allowing her eyelids to lower in a way that was very deliberate as a smile crossed her face. "But we had so much fun last time, don't you think?" she teased, her lips turning up at the edges. "Don't you want to feel that rush again?"
I sighed, unamused. Aya presented a very nice exterior with her little succubus act, but I could sense its myriad cracks. She'd grown substantially in power since our last meeting, enough to maybe be a match for Nico on a cursory inspection, but it was hard to tell at this distance.
That still made her fodder before me, even if I hadn't been able to stop her heart with a simple tug of the tether that bound it.
"There's only one person I dance with," I offered in an easy counter. "And I'm under very strict orders to stop your heart should you do anything else… unwise."
Aya's false smile fell into a thin line as she stared at me, her fingers twitching as she recalled our last encounter. I'd grasped her tether, threatening to activate her artifact's protections. And as the elven woman dropped her pretenses of seduction and flashed the underlying knife beneath the metaphorical dress, I wondered for a brief moment.
It rattled her, certainly, I thought, cool and sure in my ultimatum. More than I thought it would. Olfred taunted her once, didn't he? Something about how she toyed with her victims. There's a connection there.
The Lance didn't respond, but that was okay. I'd gotten the message across.
I turned, whistling lightly to myself as I made my way back to the Alacryan camp. Then I paused, considering something else.
Seris clearly needed me to taunt Aya for some reason. I suspected I was in the process of luring the elf mage toward some sort of trap, but if the dark-haired Lance did something stupid beforehand that jeopardized her health, then those plans might be discarded when they needn't be.
I turned around, my brow furrowing as I considered this for a moment.
"And please don't suggest a dance with me again," I said in a respectful tone, allowing my words to drift across the water. "I'm flattered, but if someone else gets word of it, I might be told to kill you anyway."
Aya blinked in surprise as my words reached her. Then she threw her head back and laughed uproariously. I thought that might have been the first honest thing I'd seen from her since the terror she'd shown when I'd threatened to rip out her Lance artifact.
"Noted, Spellsong," the Lance responded, her eyes glinting. "You're not as much fun as I thought you would be."
I shrugged as I turned back around. If Aya wanted to risk Seris' ire, she had her warning. But honestly, between facing the asura themselves and Seris when she was pissed off, I would have rather faced the battle I had a chance of winning.
Despite my apparent leisure, I kept my senses honed on Aya as I moved back toward the heart of the Alacryan warcamps amidst the trenches and stalwartly conjured barricades. She wasn't going to stop probing for weaknesses, and I couldn't afford to relent in my vigilance. I sensed her retreat back toward her defenders, ready to try another day.
I was alone on the sandy beach as I strolled back to the camp, considering all that had happened in the past couple of days as the tension of this war slowly reached a crescendo.
Nico had been sending messages. Many, many messages, each demanding that Seris deploy me to assist him in the capture of Tessia Eralith and confronting Grey. Each had been more and more rabid and exaggerated, and I could almost imagine the thundercloud of the altered mind inside his head as he struggled to maintain control.
And every single time, Seris responded to him with more words of caution and waiting that slowly gnawed at the frayed ends of his patience. "A few more days," she'd say. "Toren is occupied with other tasks. You must be patient."
He was going to slip, and soon.
When I reached the Alacryan camp, I was received with a strange mixture of cheer, fear, and reverence. Everywhere I walked, people made sure to step out of my way. Whispers of my deeds trailed me like a cloak, weighing down on my shoulders.
I ignored those as I trod through the camps, though I did what I could in small ways to assist. Lighting cookfires, using my regalia to maneuver heavy loads from people who needed it, and more.
Seris had also said I needed to be visible. I was a beacon of power and hope for these people, and I needed to play the part. I smiled at the right times, gave little bits of healing to others, and all around tried to be among these soldiers.
But even as I walked among Alacryan and dwarf alike, giving them hope, I felt… separate. As I grew in strength and power, there had always been a widening gulf of understanding between me and those I wanted to form a community with. In East Fiachra first, then with the dwarves in the caverns and Burim. But since the Breaking, that expanse had become something more.
How did a measly soldier of a no-name blood speak with Spellsong, consort to Scythe Seris and warrior who fought gods? How did you relate to something so far above you? What made you worthy of their recognition?
I tried what I could to banish these thoughts. During the nights, when the camps were rife with warsongs and slightly drunken amusement, I did what I could to join in, trying to be one of them again. I was just a man, I tried to convey. Just a man, like all of you. We are not different.
But as time went on, I realized that I would never succeed in fully pushing away that awe and distance between me and those around me. Not unless I allowed them to see everything like I had Seris.
What I had enjoyed in East Fiachra was a dream. A fleeting, wonderful dream, but a foregone one nonetheless.
I found the people I was looking for before long. Jotilda Shintstone stood with a dozen other men in a tall command tent. A few other commanders—both dwarven and Alacryan—muttered about a holographic mana map that twisted and flowed with live updates. I could see twists of color here and there amidst the map, each flowing like ribbons.
From a cursory glance, I could tell that each splash of color represented a previous attempt to cross the river Sehz. Little numbers indicated approximate casualties.
Commander Dromorth—a big, burly man with dark skin, a receding hairline, and almost comically small spectacles—was using hand gestures to manipulate the map, zooming in on the running water shown by the mana display.
"They repelled our attempt to charge along this bank with relative ease," he said, his voice surprisingly measured and even for a man who looked like a fusion between a brawler and a librarian. "The elves are good with their foxholes and other traps. It's making it hard to get in close and overwhelm them. Plus, those new weapons are annoyingly effective at keeping our shields pinned down."
Guns, I thought darkly, still unnoticed at the entrance of the tent as I kept my presence within. They're talking about the guns.
Your average gun couldn't do much against a competent mage, at least if they were prepared. But when you had elves lurking within illusory mist, aiming barrels at you from dozens of yards away and barely any warning other than a click of a trigger?
Well, even a competent Shield might fail to react in time.
The reminder that Arthur had foolishly implemented firearms into this world soured my mood, enough that I let an inkling of my intent escape my iron control.
Dromorth's mouth snapped shut as he sucked a breath in through his teeth. The other commanders stiffened, goosebumps rising visibly on their skin as my intent washed over them in little, tightly wound eddies. As if it was scripted beforehand, most of them lowered their eyes or whispered quiet prayers to the Vritra or Mother Earth. I could taste the reverence, fear, and awe in their intent.
My mood soured even further. Once upon a time, I'd been something more akin to a peer. Not anymore.
"Lord Spellsong," he said respectfully, bowing neatly over the map. "My deepest apologies. If I had been aware of your presence, I would have included you sooner. If any fault is to fall—"
I waved a hand in dismissal. "It is no matter, Captain. I would have been unable to assist in any tactical matters regardless. I'm here for a different reason."
My eyes drifted to a single man amidst the press of the commanders. "Might I borrow Lusul Hercross for a moment?"
I would have rather waited for the meeting to end before I dragged my friend from his duties, but my patience was unfortunately short.
Lusul himself blinked, his near-pink eyes stark against his ebony skin. He looked back to the other captains, gave them a swift nod of acknowledgment, then oriented back on me. "Of course, Lord Spellsong."
He quickly extricated himself from the men planning military strategy, before trotting after me.
I strode back into the press of the warcamp as the musician trailed behind me, both of us taking our time as we wove through the mud.
"Have you been getting letters from back home?" I asked, hoping to fill the silence as I enveloped us in a sound barrier. "From your family? The rest of the Central Academy orchestra?"
The boy's—now man's—intent shifted, the mixed and conflicted emotion suddenly stark within his heartbeat. "I get some," he acknowledged. "I got a lot after what happened in… Burim. Lots of questions. I couldn't give any answers. But I do talk with people back home."
I nodded slowly, stepping around a cookpot as I wandered aimlessly. I hadn't gotten communication from Sevren, Naereni, or the rest of my friends outside a few cursory letters saying they were okay. None of us trusted the Alacryan postal system enough to have any sort of meaningful conversation. "Are you looking forward to going home?"
My question caught the young man completely by surprise. He didn't miss a step or show any of it on his face as we walked, but I could sense it.
There was a degree of rotation in deployment of troops for battles. It was one of the things that made the Alacryan war machine so effective and efficient. It was assured that as many war-able citizens who could contribute to the war would. And there was a high chance once this slew of battles was over that Lusul would be recalled to his home.
"No," the violinist muttered under his breath. "No, I'm not looking forward to it."
The fact was that Lusul had a Dicathian lover and that he would also have a son in approximately eight months. The man hadn't known Anasia for very long, but the stressors of life had a way of making the time spent with those around you weigh so much more than the amount of time together.
I could attest to that. Sevren had been my friend for a few months, but we'd forged a friendship that was worth lifetimes. Naereni and I had only robbed a few people, but some part of me thought we'd been doing it for years. I'd known Seris for barely a year, and she'd made short work of coiling herself leisurely about every facet of my thoughts. Aurora had been my bond for a time longer, but I felt I had known her all my life. Her light illuminated every step of my path.
In that, Lusul and I were the same.
I reached the edge of an outcropping of stone, giving us both a good vantage of the far bank. The wind whipped through my hair, trying to turn it into something uncontrolled and wild. I could almost hear the whispers of fell omens on the breeze, the quiet breath of approaching winter in the far horizon granting me the barest glimpse of what might be.
I had a really bad habit of pulling Lusul away from whatever he was doing and dropping existential crises into his lap. I was probably about to do that again.
"Things will be changing soon," I said gravely, watching the far bank. I could just barely sense Aya within the cluster of Dicathian encampments. "Drastically. Enough that you might question everything."
I shrugged. "Or maybe you won't question anything at all. I don't know."
Seris had spoken a little with me about what would be done after I killed Nico. She wanted to let some time pass, but she'd had an inkling of an idea on how Chul and I would separate from her camp.
Through a feigned betrayal. One where Seris would try and "deliver" Chul to Agrona, and I would "object." It was practically the only plan that had a chance of maintaining Seris' station as Scythe.
It would be suspicious. Very, very suspicious to outsiders. But there weren't many other options available. Furthermore, the Scythe had implied she'd leave the methodology up to me; something about making it seem more genuine and less premeditated, which would hopefully throw some focus off Seris. As much as was possible.
With Seris' usual methodology, one would expect a well-executed, flawless act. No bodies left behind, no men dead, no traces of my passing at all. But if I were to try something, and not Seris? It would probably result in bumbling, a fight with a whole lot of people, and significant property damage.
And by talking with Lusul, I inadvertently reinforced any idea that Iwas acting on my own.
"Are you going to battle soon, Toren?" Lusul asked slowly, catching the melancholy in my intent. It was a strange thing, knowing that this young man could taste a bit of what I felt. "I mean… the troops have been ordered by Scythe Seris to restrict our forward advance. Wear on the Dicathian resolve. I assumed it was because she has some sort of other plan kept in store."
I shrugged my shoulders. "She most certainly does," I said honestly. "But this isn't about that. Is Anasia here? In this warcamp?"
I could sense immediately how the second Hercross son became uncomfortable. He worked his jaw, memories of our conversation along the cliff's edge rising in his stomach like a slow-burning fire. "What's this about?" he demanded harshly, suddenly agitated. The gradual erosion of the war, Burim, and the knowledge of his lover rushed from him like a tide.
He felt trapped. Hemmed in on all sides, with no way out. When Alacrya won this war, there would be a reckoning for him. He didn't know that Seris would see to his protection, and neither did he trust the future ahead of him. All of that rolled-up uncertainty and fear oozed from him like blood from a wound.
I let it wash over me, an unbothered stone in the depths of a river, as I gazed over the Sehz. "Follow your conscience," I finally said, considering my words. "I still don't really have the answers you need from me, Lusul. But when the time comes, do what you think is right. That's all I can really say."
The young man shuffled in place, his agitation rising. He scoffed, turning on his heel and marching away as he projected his anger around him. Not anger at me, really. Anger at the world. Anger at everything he'd been seeing and understanding, and anger at his own powerlessness.
I stayed on that outcropping for a while more, just allowing myself to think. I brushed against my bond with Aurora, gaining, taking some small solace in the warmth and compassion she allowed to flow along it.
I didn't want to say goodbye to these people. I didn't want to leave for who-knew-how long and lock myself away in a cave again, sheltering my wings and barring myself from the sky.
My pondering was interrupted by a familiar, slow heartbeat as it hobbled toward me on plodding steps. I didn't turn as the person approached, still watching the eddying currents of water far below.
"Spellsong," Elder Rahdeas said with his characteristic accent. "Didn't expect to find ya here. I had to go looking for a while."
"Is Mordain not giving you visions of the future anymore?" I retorted. "Having to think for yourself must be difficult now. "
I almost immediately regretted the stinging barb of my words as Rahdeas stuttered to a stop, his intent dipping very, very low, laced with sorrow and pain. I could sense the muscles of his face squeezing together in weary exhaustion and hurt through Sonar Pulse in exquisite detail, the knife within my words sinking into his heart.
The dwarven elder didn't respond for a little while. I could sense him considering the right thing to say, but there wasn't really anything he could say. His mind had begun to heal somewhat in the aftermath of Burim's Breaking, and it had only left him with despair.
But I couldn't dismiss the anger I felt. Mordain could see into the future. He'd been speaking telepathically with Rahdeas, using him as an outlet of information. And he still had not prevented the end of Burim.
"The Hearth is rife with internal turmoil in the wake of your banishment," Rahdeas said quietly, tapping a cane on the ground as he looked away. "The Lost Prince hardly has the time to talk to a tired old dwarf anymore. Not with all the others looking to follow in your path."
I blinked, then turned to look at the old dwarf in surprise. His face was older than I last remembered, and his eyepatch made him seem even older. He always carried a grandfatherly air about him, the kind that made you think of Uncle Iroh. But now, he looked a bit more worn down. He was a sharp-edged rock that had been ground down to solid smoothness by the passing of time and the world around him, but the hammer blow that had struck Burim had lined him with cracks.
"The others looking to follow in my path?" I whispered, utterly astonished. "What, you mean—"
"Banishment, aye," Rahdeas interrupted, tired. "Aye. A whole host of them want to follow after you. They're sayin' that… That if the vote had been different, none of it woulda happened."
My heart began to beat faster as Rahdeas' words registered. My hands clenched at my sides as I felt a swell of sudden hope.
If even a fraction of the Asclepius from the Hearth join me in the djinni sanctuary, then our odds against Agrona increase many, many fold! I thought, adrenaline beginning to course along my veins. If I hadn't failed— If it wasn't all for naught, then—
But then my pounding heart caught in my throat as the old dwarf looked away, something deep and broken inside of him weeping the life's blood of his ideals out onto the dirt around him. Rahdeas stared up at the sky, unblinkingly absorbing the sun's warmth. My rising joy and fervor bled away in tune as the dwarf's melancholy despair hung over him like a shroud.
"I've doomed my entire race," he said quietly. "Doomed everythin' of Darv. Now, the asura will come, and every inch of Darvish sand will be turned to glass by the fires of their spells."
Suddenly, I wasn't looking at the willingness of the phoenixes in the Hearth to join my cause from my point of view, so high in the clouds and assured of my power and hope. I saw it from the perspective of this leader who sought a place for his people, who had so long been oppressed and penned in by those who thought them lesser.
If the Asclepius join me, I thought with a spike of dread, how can I prevent Burim from ever happening again?
"Olfred does not talk to me anymore, Spellsong," the old dwarf said distantly. "I failed him. Failed my son, and I had lost him before I ever knew he was someone I could lose. Out on the western battlefront, he remains silent. It's a strange thing, losin' someone when they yet live."
The addled dwarf's sole eye focused back on me with startling, empty intensity. "Ya get what I mean?"
I didn't understand what he meant. Even though his emotions leaked from him in an almost desperate, intentional bid for me to know them, I realized that I did not. I could not. I had never alienated someone in so fundamental a way. I had never failed someone in the way he had.
Rahdeas had meant well. He'd wanted Darv to be free from the clutches of Sapin and Elenoir, and so he'd turned it over to Agrona. He regretted it all. He wished he could turn back the time and undo everything, to a time when he still had his son and his ideals and a Darv that was still whole. When his very culture was not on the brink of utter erasure from his deeds.
This is what Chul feels, I realized with painful clarity, my shoulders loosening. The very same.
"If you could go to another world," I asked suddenly, "where would you go?"
The dwarven elder's sole eye slowly blinked in what I thought might be confusion.
I turned to look at the man more fully, centering myself slightly. "I've read a lot of dwarven literature over these past few months. If you could travel with Garzand and the Golden Horde, would you? Or would you choose to act like Drumble the Traveling Bard?"
I had done what I could to draw Alacryan and dwarf together in my time on this continent, and my work and input on dwarven-Alacryan relations was clear to see wherever Seris levied her laws. But the folktales, music, and ideals of the stalwart people weren't included in all of that.
Yet I remembered them. Not all, of course. But some. It was a small, pinprick of a candleflame that I could offer. It was a trembling hand in the darkness to someone who saw no light.
Rahdeas' face split into a soft, easy smile as he saw through my attempt to lift his spirits with ease, but he took the bait. "I think I would like to travel with Drumble," he said after a moment. "So much mystery is lost in this world. It is so devoid of color, sometimes. I would like to see color like that, in another life. It seems less than probable, though, ya know?"
I smiled back, remembering when I thought the same so long ago. I gave the dwarf a pat on the shoulder, hoping he could take some small solace in this moment. "Maybe there's a world out there where Rahdeas can travel along the bards on their adventures. You might be surprised how books shape reality around us."
Before I could say anything more, I felt a slight mana pulse from my dimension ring. I frowned, withdrawing my communication artifact. An urgent message from Seris flashed there across my senses.
I felt my heartbeat stop. Seris never used the urgent line. There was only one reason she would. The only thing that this meant would be…
Nico. Nico had made his mistake.
"It seems ya've got your own story to complete," Rahdeas muttered, looking off into the distance. "Leave an old man to his musin', won't ya?"
My hands clenched around the communication artifact protectively. I nodded slowly, hoping that Rahdeas got whatever he needed from this conversation.
And then I lifted into the sky, flitting off toward the central castle that Seris called her home base.
—
Aurora's shade returned to me as I marched through the halls of the castle. Already, I felt adrenaline rising along my limbs as I prepared for what was to come—but nonetheless, I informed my bond of what I had learned from Rahdeas.
"If there are those willing to accept the Brand as well…" she muttered, her emotions flickering with hope, "then our plans will not all be dust in the future. To have allies of our family… of our clan…"
I worked my jaw as I approached Seris' rooms, looking at my mother and shade. The burns all along her body seemed to melt off of her, each scar shed for a brittle instant as some mote of her former self flickered in her eyes. Will we be able to contact them in time to bring them to the new refuge? This pseudo Hearth?
Aurora's attention focused on me as we walked. "I know not, but this… this can change everything again."
A solemn smile pulled itself along my lips as I thought of my venture into the Hearth. I wanted that… so, so much. God, I wanted it. Just the memory of it—the ripping sensation of what I'd had for a trembling, fleeting instant—made me weak in the knees.
I leaned against a wall. I had already been hunched over to avoid braining my skull on the short dwarven ceiling, but in that moment, I felt every weight on my wings tenfold over. I felt it all pressing inward as I braced myself like a small pine against a stormwind as I remembered.
Aurora's arms wrapped around my shoulders, holding me in her warm, motherly embrace. I leaned into it so much, restraining the urge to let out a tear. My breath shuddered.
You sure have your priorities, Toren, I internally berated myself, feeling silly for getting so worked up. Think of the community and not the big picture.
Aurora hummed softly above me as she ran her fingers through my hair. "I long for our family again, too, my bond," she whispered. "It is not wrong to wish for them."
Thank you, Mom, I thought, restraining the sudden urge to tremble. God, I felt so weak sometimes. Thanks.
Aurora helped me straighten again—at least as much as I could within the stout hallways—and we finally entered Seris' rooms.
The scent of chemicals and reagents hit me like a wave, but I'd been expecting that. All across the Scythe's bedroom, little experiments and tools waited. I recognized some of them as attempts to utilize the strange inverted deviant that had taken root in her heart. Little vials of burning white energy hummed, pressing strangely against my mana senses as they hovered over a dozen instruments I couldn't recognize.
I need to find a way to stop its spread through her body, I thought, some of my earlier good mood seeping away. Or at least make it controllable. She's able to harness it more, but it's still poisoning her every second it stays in her lifeforce.
The Scythe was easy to spot. She stood in her dark dress at the edge of her writing desk, her pen moving at the speed of sound itself as she wrote with fluid grace. On and on and on her hands darted, weaving words I couldn't trace. Her horns glinted in the low light. Her heartbeat was steady, but it was still weakened from the Inverted Decay lingering deep within.
Seris didn't say anything as we entered. She slowly stopped in her writing, then slowly straightened.
Her eyes flicked to me, meaning deep working its way through her intent as it reached me. My eyes hardened as I sensed her quiet resolve.
She spoke no words, just held out her hand. A single, unsealed letter laid there like a songbird resting in the palm. I looked at it, almost sensing the weight of every drop of ink adorning it. I reached out with my regalia, grasping that letter. It slowly hovered over to me, before settling in my hands.
I felt sweat trying to pierce the veil of my skin, but I denied it as I slowly unfurled the letter, my eyes darting over each syllable.
Scythe Nico has gone on ahead. He pierced the fog, claiming he will capture the elven princess alone. He has sent a missive using a captured spy threatening King Grey as well.
Nico hadn't been willing to wait any longer. Seris' gambit had paid off, apparently. The man had disobeyed orders, charging like a reckless bull into the unknown dark in a misled attempt to capture Princess Tessia.
I narrowed my eyes, before a single spark leapt from my fingers and onto the parchment. The ember caught, before slowly devouring the parchment and turning it to ash in my hands.
I looked up at Seris, sensing the weight in her stare. "From one of your spies in Nico's camp?"
The Scythe tilted her head. "It is my camp, not Scythe Nico's," she said simply. "And indeed it was."
I could fill in the gaps easily enough. Nico was stepping into dangerous, unconfirmed territory within the veil of Elshire Mist over the northern front. Anything could happen there. He might not even leave alive.
I knew for a near fact that Tessia Eralith wasn't along the Northern Front. My sense of her soul told me she was somewhere to the west, but that still made everything more complicated. Part of me was certain that Nico was already walking into a trap of some sort.
I just needed to be certain it would shut around his throat.
"When will I leave?" I asked sharply, measuring the flow of adrenaline already coursing along my veins. Everything—every single punch, kick, swipe of my sword and pull on my mana had led to this. Every second I'd been in this world, I'd been building towards this moment.
Aurora's hand settled on my shoulder in that comforting way as I recalled my last talk with Nico. I had affirmed my will, there. The necessity of my action as it scraped against every moral value I held. But I would do it.
I would see Nico dead.
The Scythe searched my eyes for a moment, reconfirming our plans and will. Then she flourished her hand. A single, familiar item settled into her palm.
A tempus warp, shaped vaguely like an anvil and absolutely littered with cracks. The same tempus warp that I had retrieved from Wolfrum Redwater. The same tempus warp that I thought had been lost in the devastation of Burim.
"This is all I could recover from Burim," Seris said, her dark eyes staring through me. "None know I still bear any sort of teleportation artifact. It only has two or so charges left: enough for you to get in, then get out. Simple. None will even consider suspecting your interference."
I nodded slowly, reaching my hand out for the artifact. "I won't be long, Seris," I said simply. "Not long at all."
The Scythe's fingers tensed around the tempus warp, and I sensed her intent warp slightly. She chewed a bit on her lower lip, her eyes still tracing along my face as if she were committing it to memory. "It still does not sit well with me, what you said of the High Sovereign's words to Arthur Leywin. It has me worried, Toren. Worried for a reason I cannot pin down."
My shoulders loosened slightly as I sensed the undertones of fear in Seris' voice. I had told her what Sylvie had told me, of course, along with all the context needed to understand what the Garden, Adam, Eve, and the Apple were. It had left her particularly disturbed, even moreso when I'd explained what had happened in a different future.
"In this speech of his, Agrona said that there were only two people on this continent he is interested in, while taunting Arthur Leywin with his otherworld knowledge," Seris said slowly. "In another life, it would have only been one. It stands to reason this shift in his motive—this desire for bloodshed and destruction, instead of recruiting the King—is for some goal relating to you."
I laid my hands on Seris' shoulders, massaging them lightly. She felt cold, and I wanted to give her what warmth I could. "I've carried that possibility that Agrona's known everything, all along," I said quietly. "It could all be a trap, set for me to dive headfirst. Like a bird in a net, I suppose."
Seris sniffed slightly, squeezing one of my hands as she held the tempus warp between us. "That's the terrifying thing, isn't it? It all feels so scripted. I feel as if I am missing a piece of this puzzle, or a bit of perspective that will all make it make sense. I feel it, deep in my gut."
I nodded gravely. The Scythe had told me about that sense of hers, how she traced a puzzle to its source. "You'll get it, Seris. I know you will. You're the smartest person I've ever known, and you can figure this out."
The Scythe smiled slightly. It did wonders to the soft outline of her face, that smile. I felt a little spark of joy deep in my soul every time her lips curved up and those restrictive masks fell.
"I do not cater to empty flattery, Toren. I would rather you not be a kiss-ass. I don't like those."
I snorted, gently taking the tempus warp from her hands. I could feel my pulse through the cold touch of the metal. "If I mean every word I say with my soul, it's hardly empty flattery," I said with a wink. "I'll be right back."
Aurora didn't say anything, solemn and stalwart as our goal approached. I turned away from Seris for the moment, pushing thoughts of her, Rahdeas, Lusul, and everyone else from my mind.
"Are you ready to fulfill our Oath, my son?" she asked as I carefully funneled mana into the degrading artifact. They only had so many charges, after all. "Are you ready to make good on your vows?"
I ground my teeth, my features smoothing over as a portal spun into being before me. I could feel Seris' eyes on my back.
There was a time when I thought the worth of a single life was… infinite, I mused sadly. Before that first assault on Burim, I think… I think I really believed that.
I took a trembling step forward, hearing my bond's voice. "Do you still think as such?"
My foot passed through the pane of purple, the shimmer wavering like my thoughts. I don't know.
"No matter what choice you make," Aurora's voice threaded through my thoughts, "I will be here for you when it is over."
The portal stopped wavering, and my mind solidified. I moved forward, entering the pane into the unknown, sure of the warmth at my back.
It was only after I'd stepped through that pane of purple onto the far distant Northern Front that I realized I'd forgotten to tell Seris about the Asclepius clanmembers who might be risking banishment to join us. She would have loved to hear it. It would have given weight to everything we suffered these past few weeks. That her sending me to the Hearth wasn't a waste. That her rebellion would have more than just one phoenix on the wing.
That she would have more hope.
I felt a smile twitch the edges of my lips as I stared at the expansive wall of illusory mist that hid secrets and whispering demons.
I'd tell her when I got back.