Toren Daen

I leaned against a wall in the lobby of the Healer’s Guild a day later. While the lobby always felt sterile and blank, it seemed to be coated in an aura of exhaustion today. The eyes of every nurse and doctor I saw were haunted and worn, dark circles stretching under their eyes.

Before I fulfilled my promises to Sevren Denoir, I needed a level of closure on what had happened to the people I’d rescued. Around the lobby, a few guards employed by Bloodstone Elixirs milled about, providing implicit protection against further Doctrination influence.

You’ve been very quiet since yesterday, I noted to my Bond.

Aurora was silent for a long moment. Our link wasn’t empty and closed off as it had been before, but the phoenix was making clear efforts to contain her own thoughts and emotions on what I’d revealed to her. “What you revealed to me is taking time to process,” she replied. “It was… very, very far from what I expected. I do not know how to…”

She trailed off uncertainly. My phoenix bond was deeply uncomfortable with admitting ignorance.

Or fear.

I hummed. What did you expect, exactly? I queried. I understood the source of my future knowledge wasn’t an easy secret to digest. I’d told her everything I knew over the course of several hours, giving a broad overview of the events within The Beginning After the End.

“In this… novel you read, Arthur Leywin met my brother Mordain,” the phoenix enunciated slowly over our link. “Or will meet. But it is worth noting that my elder brother is an adept user of aevum arts. During his decades in the Hearth, he learned to pull on the strings of Time to give himself glimpses of the near future.” She halted in her words, her thought process stalling like a car engine. “Which I suppose you do know.”

I snorted.

“I think… I suspected something similar. Cast adrift between worlds, your soul delved into knowledge beyond us. But every glimpse my brother made of the future was of the near future; of days or weeks in advance. Beyond that, his sight became hazy and unsure. But what you’ve revealed…”

It’s incredibly detailed, I acknowledged. In the story, Rinia Darcassan was under similar constraints as your brother. But my own knowledge is exact down to facial expressions and the emotions each person expresses. I paused. Do you doubt the truth of what I told you?

Aurora was quiet for a long, long time. Then the Unseen World overtook my vision, casting everything in muted shade. “When I was in Agrona’s dungeons,” she started, staring at her hands, “I never expected to escape. Only hold out for as long as I could; protecting the home of my people. You were hesitant to tell me of my Fate. But the Legacy approached me in tow with Agrona, and I can reason out the rest.”

I swallowed. I’d very blatantly glossed over Lady Dawn’s fate at the hands of the Legacy, avoiding the gruesome depiction of her death. She’d been drained like a battery; her mana and power siphoned away like a withering rose. But the asura was far too intelligent to miss the implications.

“I think I was supposed to die there,” she whispered. “There was something Fated to what you said. Something I should have experienced. My last gamble; casting my soul to the void to escape Agrona’s clutches?” She shook her head. Her eyes were dim; shadowed by her hair. “It should not have worked. I find myself questioning why it did. What about your novel differs from reality? It’s too succinct; too perfect to outright dismiss.”

I don’t think this world is simply a novel, I said after a moment. To say you were Fated to follow the words on a page does not do your will and struggle justice.

Aurora chuckled softly. She rarely ever laughed. “I do not think this world is simply a creation of this ‘TurtleMe’ either, Toren,” she said. “But for someone to have such superb knowledge of another world’s future, such intimate experiences of another’s emotions and point of view as to put it to the page? That is what unnerves me, Contractor. If one can have such mastery over Fate, how can we fight against it? I wonder at the source of your book. Even if this Arthur Leywin has a sort of destined relationship with the highest Edict, we are like gnats in a thunderstorm before such utter knowledge.”

As far as I’m aware, I said, watching as a tired nurse carried supplies across the lobby, We’ve already defied that Fate several times. Maybe we don’t know how we did so yet, but there are differences. I smiled. For one, you’re here with me.

The asura’s shoulders slumped. I suspected it would take some time for her to fully internalize the revelations I’d provided, but we’d moved past treating each other like adversaries to dance around. We were united in our souls. In the wake of the asura’s sacrifice, I felt that keeping my knowledge secret was a pointless endeavor.

“Defying Fate,” Aurora said wistfully. She still looked somewhat tired, and glancing at the gaping hole in her shade-like form’s chest, I suspected she wouldn’t always be able to aid me as before. “Such a wonderful idea.”

I felt my lips curl slightly at the edges. Do we even have a Fate anymore? I asked with a hint of amusement. Neither of us should currently exist, as far as I’m aware. What does that mean for the world?

The asura received my playful philosophizing with characteristic stoicism. “The novel you read may have simply been a possible outcome for this world,” she said after a minute. “Our own journeys may have been destined for something else, diverging endlessly.”

I nodded internally. I recognize that possibility, I replied over our link. So far, everything has lined up with what I know down to the dates and the people, I said, thinking of Darrin Ordin. But there’s always a chance there’s a single detail off; or some critical bit of information withheld from me. I plan to use my future knowledge as a shifting outline rather than a stern rulebook.

Aurora looked up at the ceiling, her blazing eyes dimming a fraction. “I wonder who pulls these strings of Fate,” she said absently. “Who puppets us both? It is a rare coincidence that you, who have deep knowledge of this world, are caught by my reincarnation spell by chance. Rare that you would have the same natural mana affinities as I. Rare that you would have a twin soul on this side of the divide.”

The asura’s listless words took me aback. I realized then that I may have miscalculated in telling her my secret all at once. I’d aimed to give her hope for our future goals: after all, Arthur Leywin proved Agrona’s plans were fallible. And perhaps I did give her hope for a better end.

But in the process, I’d instilled a different fear. An entirely existential worry for the verity of her own free will.

I opened my mouth to reply but was interrupted as the door to the back rooms of the clinic swung open sharply.

Trelza stood looming in the doorway for the briefest of instants before his eyes–which seemed set too far back in his skull–zeroed in on me.

I’d compared Renea Shorn to the Grim Reaper on multiple occasions, but as the stone-faced doctor strode towards me, I thought that this surgeon fit the moniker far more.

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“Daen,” Trelza said coldly, looking down at me. I suppressed a subconscious desire to wilt. I was over six feet tall, yet still, this man loomed over me like a scarecrow. “Your employment at this clinic was terminated months prior.”

The Unseen World vanished from my vision, but I knew Aurora was not yet done with her ruminations. I pushed that knowledge aside, recognizing the necessity of this interaction.

“I’m not here to work for you, Trelza,” I said calmly, squaring my shoulders. “But I need to know what you’ve discovered about the survivors that were brought here yesterday.”

Trelza’s unblinking eyes peered into my own, but I didn’t back down. “Patients have a right to confidentiality,” he replied in a stern monotone. “You do not have a right to their records.”

I ground my teeth. Fair point, Trelza, I thought. Or at least it would be in literally any other circumstance. “The mage who did this is gone from East Fiachra,” I said. “But he’s not done with this place. Far from it.”

I knew that in my bones. Mardeth had retreated in the face of Renea Shorn’s arguments, but that equilibrium was barely held together. The Vicar of Plague struck me as someone who held grudges for past slights, and Seris Vritra, the largest deterrent keeping him from returning here, would be leaving for Dicathen in–I internally counted the months, trying to keep the timeline of The Beginning After the End consistent in my head–less than a year, perhaps?

What would stop Mardeth from returning in force once his largest deterrent was a continent away, fighting a war? I needed to find a solution to this problem before that time.

“He’ll hold a grudge for being forced out,” I said coldly. “And you should know what grudges drive people to do.” I paused. “So give me something. Anything that will give me a hint on where to start if I want to stop this from happening again.”

The air snapped between Trelza and me as we squared off. Aurora was silent, allowing me this confrontation.

“Each and every survivor was unadorned,” Trelza said after a moment. His eyes never left my own. “Yet they all showed the exact same signs of damage. A small, barely noticeable hole pierced each of their mana cores, presumably to inject substances directly into their center.”

I paled, remembering Lawrent Joan’s words as he nearly killed me.

“The Sovereigns themselves are said to inject blithe into the core as a torture method,” he’d said. And each and every one of these people…

“Just to cause them pain?” I asked emptily, trying to reconcile this in my head.

“No,” Trelza said, his voice hard. “It was the exact same injection point across all unwilling participants. Living and dead.”

I blinked. “Then…”

“This was an experiment,” Trelza continued. “One conducted with precise goals in mind. Different serums, across similar injection points. A test group and a control group. All I have seen from both those surviving and those who perished is consistent with this hypothesis.”

It clicked. “The reason those twelve survived–”

“I suspect they were part of a control group in testing a specific serum,” Trelza said, not giving me time to think. “Looking at those who died, the picture becomes clearer. From further away, this looks to be brutal, indiscriminate torture. But upon close examination, it is too methodical. Too regimented, with too many signs that say otherwise. The exact injection points for the needle. The times of death; which occurred within hours or even minutes of each other. And each deceased person seems to have been injected with the exact same amount of toxin.”

I was left scrambling to try and assemble all of these pieces, trying to connect them to everything Mardeth had said and done. If this was an experiment, then what was the insane vicar trying to accomplish?

He said he had found some sort of glorious purpose at the Victoriad a year ago, didn’t he? I thought. Is that somehow related to this experimentation?

Trelza turned away. “I’ve told you more than you should know. Now leave my clinic, Daen.”

I slowly settled my nerves, realizing the steps I needed to take next. If I wanted to track down the reasons for this brutal experiment, there was somebody I needed to question first.

“I know it won’t mean much to you, Trelza,” I called after him as he strode away, “But I made an Oath not long ago.”

The man paused in his steps, but didn’t turn.

“I vowed I’d kill the mage who did this. And so far, every person I promised death to has met their end.” I felt my eyes smolder. “If you can’t trust my words, trust my blade.”

Trelza was still for a protracted heartbeat. Then he resumed his walk back to his work.

I could only hope my words had resonated on some level.

—

I found Hofal atop a building in the deeper regions of East Fiachra as night fell. He stared listlessly at the large, refurbished temple, his pipe resting in his hands. He lounged across a few broken stones, his greying sideburns seeming stark on his middle-aged face.

The shield made no overt movements as I approached, though I made my mana signature clear.

“It looks so beautiful, doesn’t it?” he said suddenly, his focus fixed on the temple in the distance. “The arches are a work of art in and of themselves; the mathematics and calculations required to keep them steady genius. The stained glass adds the contrast the building needs to truly pop. That style of dome at the temple’s top was pioneered by a man named Erten Portrel from my home province of Etril. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” I replied honestly. Hofal had always enjoyed the ins and outs of architecture. “Though it does stand out against everything around.”

“That’s the point, Toren,” the shield replied, drawing long on his pipe. His eyes were pinched and reddened. “That temple is the largest building for a mile around. Nothing else in this district can compare.”

An uneasy silence stretched between us. I felt Aurora’s reassuring touch on my resolve. We both knew the necessity of this next step.

“Hofal,” I said after a moment. “I need you to tell me everything you know of Mardeth. He won’t leave this place alone for long.”

Hofal exhaled smoke, then stared at his pipe. He’d broken his last one, and this one was clearly of poorer quality. “I joined the Doctrination when I was a lad,” he said, tapping his pipe free of ash. “I think I told you about that. I was entranced by the wonders they created, stone by stone by stone.” He sighed. “I joined the high temple in Nirmala. Back in the day, the Vicar of Plague hadn’t reached his current standing. But that temple was his in every sense of the word.”

Hofal’s breath misted on the cool night air.

“He had this obsession with pain,” the shield said into the dusky air. “He believed it was the path to true power. That only through pain could something grow stronger. I tolerated it for a while. I thought that because the outside was so wonderful, the inside must’ve been just as grand. I was just too naive to see it, just like I was too naive to see the end result of that temple being built.”

“But the inside was rotten,” I said somberly.

“It was,” Hofal replied sadly. His fists clenched around his pipe, and I feared he might snap it again. “Beneath that temple in Nirmala, he was experimenting. I don’t know what his goal was, but the screams…” the old shield shuddered. “Once I saw what was down there, I had to leave. Had to get out.” He finally turned to look at me. “It’s the exact same thing that happened here. I thought I’d escaped it. I thought I was finally done with that hell.”

Hofal had always looked so sagely and wise to me. Yet in his shoulders, I saw fear and indecision.

“I want to run, Toren,” he said quietly. “It’s what I did before. Maybe I can escape this, you know?”

I walked forward, sitting on a nearby block of concrete. I looked out at the temple in the distance. It did look beautiful; a testament to human power and ingenuity. The mosaics of basilisks in the stained glass seemed to stare at the two of us, sensing our conversation.

“I know what it’s like to run,” I said quietly, thinking of what Toren–what I–had done upon Norgan’s death. I’d thrown myself into the Clarwood Forest, ready and planning to die. I’d told myself it was the only option I could take. I was taking my destiny into my own hands.

And perhaps that was true. But I was also running. Instead of facing my adversaries, I’d chosen to take the easy way out. Instead of giving myself the chance to fail, I cut all chances entirely.

“And it feels freeing, at least at first,” I acknowledged. I thought of what it was like to slowly bleed out on the forest floor, surrounded by corpses of skaunters and broken dreams. Once I’d actually faced death, I realized how much I was going to miss. “But when you realize all the other options you could’ve taken and what could’ve been, you’ll be left regretting it forever.”

Hofal’s shoulders shook. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know.” He exhaled a shuddering breath. “I can’t run now. I can’t be a coward. But Toren… If you want to go after Mardeth, Nirmala is where you should start.”

I nodded, still content to just keep the older mage company. Even the strongest of us needed a shoulder to lean on sometimes.

“Telling you Mardeth’s strength probably won’t dissuade you from trying, though, will it?” he asked somewhat morosely.

I smiled wryly. “I’ve got less than a year to finish this blithe-stained rivalry of mine,” I said. “And I will finish it, Hof. But I’m stronger than you might think.”

The old man sagged. “I know you are. So many things I know, but can’t accept.”

I matched gazes with the glittering stained glass portrait of a Vritra far in the distance. My goals were set. Nico was my ultimate goal, but that was going to take time. Before I was strong enough to kill a Scythe, I needed to fulfill my promise to Sevren Denoir. Spreading my musical understanding was a good stepping stone to changing this continent.

But in the midst of all of that, I had another time limit. Mardeth's deterrent would be gone by next autumn, and the only chance this district had at peace was my blade.