Toren Daen

The mood shifted for a while as Renea and I hashed out initial details about my first concert. I’d had some time to think about what I wanted since our first agreement, so when the topic finally reached where I wanted the venue to be, I knew my answer.

“I was thinking of doing the show outside Fiachra. Maybe by the Sehz River,” I said, taking a final sip of my tea. I looked at the bottom of the cup a bit forlornly. I might have been a coffee person, but Renea had good taste. “And I’d like to make it free to attend.”

The aforementioned businesswoman looked up from her pad of paper, a confused cast to her face. “Such a location–and lack of entrance fee–would not be conducive to profit,” Renea replied.

I set my teacup down. Renea had finished her own cup a while before me. “Well, I’m not really looking for money,” I said honestly. The profits I’d made from scouring the Relictombs so far were more than enough to let me live comfortably, and truthfully, that was all I needed. “I want everyone to be able to see me play, regardless of their wealth.”

Renea tapped a pen against her little pad of paper. “It will be difficult to sway those of financial means to attend something if there is no monetary transaction involved. It lends a sense of exclusivity to the venue. Furthermore, I will be making a loss on setting up such a show if there is no way to recoup funds.”

I’d thought of this, too. While it would be difficult to attract noble attention right off the bat, I felt sure my music would gradually draw people in regardless of any ‘ticket prices.’ But I still understood Renea’s concerns.

“You could sell some sort of merchandise for those who could afford it,” I interjected. “Something exclusive to the venue. Shirts, lapel pins, maybe some sort of stylized jewelry.”

Lady Shorn scrutinized me. “You truly are not in this for the profit, are you?” she asked. “Even if I manage to recoup what I spend on assisting this setup, you gain little.”

“My music should be for everyone,” I said honestly. It was such a pure way of connecting souls. To have that locked behind the barrier of money made part of me shrivel away in disgust. “Perhaps we can plan exclusive venues where you do charge an entrance fee, but I’d also play to the public for free as well.”

I’d rather not charge at all, but the problem of capital wasn’t something I could do away with my idealism.

Renea snapped her little notebook shut with a crisp click. “I can work with this. In a few weeks, I’ll send out advertisements and have you practice for the show. Do you think you’re ready for this, Toren?”

I stood up, noting how the light was getting low outside. I felt my mood plummet slightly as I envisioned what I would have to do after this meeting.

I enjoyed talking with Lady Shorn. She was intelligent, witty, and above all else, she shared a mote of my same idealism, even if it was buried deep under layers of carefully crafted masks. Something in my gut clenched at having to cut this meeting short, especially with what I would have to do next.

“Without false modesty,” I said, “I think I can match your expectations.” I worked my fingers as I kept my eyes on the slowly setting sun.

Renea stood herself, then carefully walked to my side. “Toren,” she said seriously, laying a hand on my shoulder, “You plan to investigate Mardeth’s blithe supply, don’t you?” Her eyes were hard.

“I do,” I said honestly. “It’s something that needs to be done. The threat of Scythe Seris won’t keep him chained forever.”

Lady Shorn tilted her head. “I might have been able to protect your people in East Fiachra from the Vicar of Plague’s retribution,” she said sternly, “But should you follow this path, I will not be able to shelter you from the powers that surround this. There is only so much I can do.”

I clenched my teeth, feeling a bit of irrational anger surge through me. I suppressed it, speaking in what I hoped was a measured tone. “I’m more powerful than I let most believe,” I said honestly. “And what I say is true. He won’t stay back forever. He’s a rabid dog; an animal that knows no restraint. Only the fear of the whip keeps him from lashing out. But that whip will not always be there.” My words came out clipped and harsh. The mana around me flexed involuntarily.

Renea’s perfect brows furrowed as she retrieved her hand. The demure woman took a step backward, and I found myself missing that floral perfume of hers and the warmth of her palm on my shoulder. “I’ll say it again, Lord Daen. This is a path of ruin. Do not follow it; not without more time.”

I sighed. “I don’t work for you, Lady Shorn,” I said tiredly. “There are things in this world that need to be done regardless of the danger to myself. You acknowledged that yourself once, didn’t you?”

Renea’s face smoothed over to that cool, icy stare. The warmth and familiarity that had slowly grown over the course of our many hours of talking steamed away like vapor off the top of a teacup. “Very well, Lord Daen. Your choices remain your own.”

At those words, I excused myself, walking out of the headquarters of Bloodstone Elixirs with heavy steps.

—

I crouched on a rooftop in the late night, the chill in the air trying and failing to pierce my skin.

It was late winter now, and there was snow coating the many buildings in Nirmala. I felt a flash of nostalgia as I surveyed the many homey rooftops.

Just like my excursions with the Rats so many months ago, I thought. The capital city of Etril was more densely populated than Fiachra, with a greater focus on mining expeditions into the base of Mount Nishan to the northwest. The active volcano provided a myriad of exotic and rare materials which allowed the Nirmalans to prosper.

I felt a stirring in my mind. I smiled slightly, withdrawing a certain feathered relic from my dimension ring.

I felt Aurora’s touch as she slowly connected to the feather in my hands, the relic glowing bright white momentarily as it shifted into a now familiar steampunk sparrow.

“Welcome back,” I said as the phoenix shade manifested next to me. “Are you feeling better?”

Aurora sat on a nearby ledge, her burning eyes looking me up and down. “I am feeling stronger than I have in a long time,” she admitted. “And piloting this little creature gives me a measure of influence I thought long gone.”

The clockwork bird chirped slightly, hopping up to my shoulder and settling itself down. I felt a quiet warmth thrum over our bond, reinforcing her earlier words. “Did the Artificer give you leave to take this relic?”

“He did,” I replied. “So long as you catalog how you actually control it. He still wants to learn the secrets of aether.”

My bond drooped slightly, no doubt remembering our conversation in the wake of Sevren’s confrontation with her. I opened my mouth to say something; maybe provide a bit of comfort, but she shook herself, seeming to banish some of that darkness. “I am curious though, Contractor, why you wear that mask.”

I raised my hands to my face, running my fingers down the antique filigree that lined my deep steel mask. Twin horns stretched from the side of the solid cover.

“When I bought my first mask, I did it because I thought it looked intimidating,” I said honestly. What I wore was nearly exactly the same as that first Doctrination mask from so many months ago. “But now, I think it’s thematic. I’m going to infiltrate one of Mardeth’s old bases while wearing the old masks of his order.”

Aurora frowned, then turned to the side. In the distance, a cathedral stretched into the sky, dwarfing the structures around it. The moon cast it in an eerie light. I couldn’t help but see it as a predator’s den.

“I shall test the limits of this puppet of mine,” the asuran spirit said, flexing her fingers. The little clockwork bird on my shoulder whirred, then stretched its wings with the sound of scraping knives. “It is a perfect scout for our purposes.”

I nodded as the bird made a few hops, then leapt off my shoulder with wings spread wide. I watched as it struggled for a second or two to balance itself, then began to fly with remarkable ease toward the distant structure.

“It has been so long since I have felt the joy of flight,” Aurora said, her voice wistful, “Even if it is merely by proxy.” She shifted her fingers in a complicated gesture, and I heard the threads of lifeforce around us twist. The mechanical bird–now just a bronzish speck in the night– did a barrel roll midair, then stretched its wings wide. Lady Dawn smiled. “It is such a wonderful thing, to be relieved from the tyranny of the ground.”

I hummed as the clockwork bird entered a broken window near the top of the abandoned cathedral.

Hofal had told me Mardeth’s last stronghold in Etril had been based out of this temple in Nirmala. What he saw here had deeply scarred him, but I knew if I wanted to understand Mardeth’s true goals, I needed to brave these depths.

“The inside of the temple seems to be abandoned,” Aurora said, her fingers moving intermittently. That wasn’t unexpected. Mardeth had practically been chased from Etril by Scythe Melzri.

“From a cursory glance over your thoughts,” Aurora began, “You met with that Renea Shorn again. Did you reach a satisfactory agreement on this... concert thing?”

I shifted slightly on my perch. The way Aurora asked me about the concert had the air of a parent awkwardly questioning their son about their friends at school. I looked at the asuran shade, opening my mouth to respond.

Then the majority of my meeting with Renea Shorn replayed in my mind. Most of it didn’t involve discussing my eventual concerts in the slightest. I remembered the woman’s blood-red lips curling into a wide smile as I handed her back her tea. Flashes of those onyx eyes burning holes into my own.

I felt myself flush slightly. “Yeah, we got a plan in place,” I said a bit too quickly. “In a couple of weeks, I’m going to play on the fields of Fiachra. Hopefully to a crowd.”

Lady Dawn clearly sensed the shift in my emotion. She raised a perfect red brow, ready to ask me something else, but then her hands twitched.

“I believe I have found the entrance to this Vicar’s lower labs,” she said, making me settle slightly.

Frowning, I reached my hands out to the strange tethers of lifeforce stretching from Aurora’s hands. As my fingers brushed the air, I got flashes of what the little construct was seeing. A dark, dimly lit expanse funneled toward an ominous door near the back of the altar.

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Aurora floated her bird puppet a bit closer. The door was opened the barest of cracks, and I saw a nauseatingly familiar stretch of stairs trailing into the darkness.

I exhaled a shaky breath. “Yeah, I think you found our target.”

The phoenix looked at me. “Be careful, Toren. You don’t know what is beneath this stone.”

“I will,” I affirmed, before dropping from the rooftop. I used a slight telekinetic push to cushion my fall. A small nimbus of snow pushed out from me at the center as I landed. My breath steamed in the air.

The massive temple was larger than the one in East Fiachra. On the inside, it was even more grand; though potentially more decrepit. There was a hole in the roof that let in the moonlight, and the elements that had entered had slowly worn away the structures within.

I slowly meandered toward the back room, feeling sweat tickle the back of my neck. In the Fiachran temple, a large mosaic of a basilisk’s human form oversaw the entire inner chamber. Its eyes would stare into the soul of each individual worshipper. Judging them. Weighing them. Determining their worth.

Here, there was no such mosaic. Instead, a hundred eyes peered in from the stained glass windows, the colors refracting strangely in the dim light. Instead of one, all-powerful god, this created the illusion of countless watchers.

No matter where you look, eyes will be at your back, I thought, feeling my spine tingle.

As I approached the door, I was forcefully reminded of the last time I’d investigated Mardeth’s basements. I desired deeply that I wouldn’t see something akin to the last torture room.

I could only hope so. The door loomed large as the jaws of any aether beast I’d faced. Aurora’s steampunk sparrow landed on my shoulder as I inspected the door. It chirped, the noise somewhere between a whirr and a birdcall.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said a bit sarcastically.

“You are welcome,” Lady Dawn replied.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the solid iron slab, then pushed it aside. It was heavier than expected, but under my increased strength, it shifted easily.

The steps down to the basement were slick with snowmelt. As I walked down the stone path, my boots clicked against the rock. I had to be careful to avoid slipping. As the moonlight from above faded, I had to conjure a flame in my palm to light the way. The warm orange glow of my mana-empowered fire defied the cool depths I traversed.

But as I reached the bottom, I was not disappointed. Rows upon rows of old chemistry equipment lined the room. Beakers, bowls, and diagrams charted a dozen different tables. It was like a rendition of what film directors expected a meth lab to look like, except it had been industrialized and expanded upon. I swept my hand around, shedding light on objects that must not have seen it in an age.

I walked through the rows upon rows of vials, the stale, musk air scratching at my mask. Keep an eye out for anything noteworthy, I said to my bond. I’m not exactly a chemist, but anything that looks important we should grab for inspection later.

The little clockwork bird left my shoulder, darting around the room on bladed wings. “I am no scientist either, Toren,” Aurora said, using our mental link alone. “But I shall keep wary for anything that catches my eye.”

I walked past a many-faced device that appeared to take several inputs, funneling them through a crystal-clear tubing network that centered around a final beaker. I held my firelight closer, noticing a strange discrepancy in the glass.

Peppered along one of the tubes, a few small crystalline shards flashed under the light. They were a deep crimson red, one that felt strangely familiar. I furrowed my brows beneath my mask, trying to grasp why those shards scratched at my subconscious.

Acting on a hunch, I moved to another table. This contraption wasn’t as complex as the one I’d looked at before, but that wasn’t the point. I leaned in close, inspecting the glass.

Those blood-red crystal shards reflected my firelight again.

I straightened my back, feeling like I was onto something. I darted from beaker to beaker, quickly inspecting each container.

Each and every one of them had a bit of those crystals. Why do I find these so familiar? I asked myself, trying to wrack my brain.

“Toren,” Aurora’s voice said in my mind. “I do believe I’ve found something of import.”

I turned toward where I felt the slow pulse of heartfire which denoted the djinn relic. I slowly meandered toward it, anticipation building in my bones. My hand clenched tightly on the hilt of Oath.

The lower ceiling gradually opened up to reveal a larger chamber. The thrumming of Aurora’s little bronze construct drew me like a magnet, the only light the flame that floated over my palm. As I entered the larger room, funneled more mana into the flame, making it pop a couple of times before enlarging.

And I stalled in my tracks. In front of me was a massive chunk of crimson material. Looking at it, I had trouble distinguishing if it was metal or crystal, the light washing over the edges and casting strange shadows. It was the same substance that had lined the inside of the glasses before.

Aurora’s clockwork bird landed on my shoulder, shaking itself contentedly. “It is nearly five times your size. And considering how it appears to have been chipped away at, I’d reckon it was once larger.”

I felt a lightbulb go off in my head as I finally realized what I was looking at. I drew Oath from its scabbard, the red-patterned metal pristine. I looked at the striations of red metal that ran along my saber’s length, comparing it to the massive chunk in front of me.

“Sevren said this was a material called ‘basilisk blood,’” I said, walking forward. “He said it was one of the few materials that could conduct Vritra mana without immediately decaying and was used for weapons because of that.”

“That begs the question,” Aurora responded, “Why does this Vicar of Plague inject it into his concoctions?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a shift in the air alerted my sensitive ears. I spun, looking toward where I’d come from. An indistinguishable number of pulsing heartbeats were descending the staircase at a rapid pace.

Thoughts of the basilisk blood and what it implied vanished from my mind as my thoughts oriented on this new threat. I clenched my hands around the fire in my palm, extinguishing it and casting the room in darkness once more. I focused on pulling my mana inward, masking both my bare intent and suppressing my mana signature.

I can’t sense their mana signatures, I thought. They have some sort of stealth spell engaged which is making them hard to detect. Which means they don’t want to be found.

Aurora’s steampunk sparrow landed on my shoulder as I peered around the massive chamber I was in, trying to spot any other exits. Can you suppress the bits of light that bird gives off? I asked.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the pulses of orange-purple light surrounding the relic dimmed. “With some effort, I can,” my bond replied.

Good, I thought, then unceremoniously grabbed the metal bird. Aurora made an affronted sound as I stuffed the bird into my black tunic, hiding it safely away from the air.

“That was unnecessary,” my bond complained as I exited the room. I could come back later, but now I needed to find a place to hide. I didn’t want to be discovered down here, and the chances these were Doctrination forces were too high.

Maybe it was, I thought as I scanned the long room of beakers and chemical contraptions. There were many places to hide here, but there was an objective best choice.

Imbuing my legs with a bit of mana, I jumped upward, using the barest application of my emblem to lash myself to the ceiling. I exhaled, flexing my will to keep the mana I used from exiting my control and leaving a trail.

Pulling on some mana from my core, I funneled some of it to my eyes, aspecting it with fire along the way.

Trying something I’d only just understood from my recent assimilation process, I altered the flow of mana around my pupils. Suddenly, the colors in the room shifted as fire mana swirled. Most of the room appeared dull and lifeless.

That wasn’t far off. It was the tail end of winter, and there was no heat to be found. The stone had been soaked through with snow earlier, sapping it of further warmth.

But a few figures leaving the stairwell glowed orange with warmth. The spell I’d cast allowed me to see heat signatures, and though the mages that slowly filtered into the underground lab were able to expertly suppress their mana, their body heat was something else.

I smirked under my mask, feeling a jolt of adrenaline as I shifted on the ceiling, slowly meandering toward the exit. A slight push of sound magic muffled any noises I made, allowing me to smoothly approach.

The mages that had entered were dressed in dark clothing similar to my own, but to my surprise, it wasn’t the black-on-red robes of the Doctrination. As I slowly edged toward the exit, I found myself wondering why they were there. Had I tripped some sort of alarm? Or had someone been following me I hadn’t noticed?

I found the latter option more likely. Considering I’d been able to sense the lifeforce of these mages as they’d gotten close, I was certain I hadn’t been tailed.

The bright orange dots moved through the darkness with purpose, honing in on the room I’d just left with the precision of a pack of wolves. There were five I could count in total, their features indistinct in the emptiness.

I watched them pass under me, inadvertently holding my breath. I didn’t need to; not with my sound spell dampening the noises I made. But there was something nerve-wracking about hoping you would go unnoticed. About counting down the seconds as a threat passed by.

I exhaled as the mages began to close in on the room, passing my spot on the ceiling. Now was the time to make my escape while those bright dots were focused on the room with the colossal crystal. My feet made no noise as I darted for the stairwell, my vision of the floor inverted.

But just as I reached the doorway, which glowed softly with moonlight from far above, I felt a shift in the ambient mana. Intent–something I’d grown adept at sensing–told me of hidden bloodlust. Of a quiet desire to kill.

I spun, barely sensing the spell coming. A blackness that seemed even darker than this unlit room blew toward me like a scythe, the edges of the spell indistinct in the low light.

My mind spun through a dozen possibilities, but it didn’t take a genius for me to recognize this as some sort of Vritra-aspected spell. I couldn’t afford to take it head-on.

I let myself drop from the ceiling, releasing my telekinetic emblem in the process. The cutting arc of void wind dug into the stone where I’d just been, carving a furrow so deep I couldn’t see the end. I felt mana pulse in my veins as I prepared to confront another spell from the side, but once again, the darkness proved my enemy.

A tendril of something dark and murky latched onto my ankle, the spell spearing up from the neverending shadows around me. I reacted quickly, unwilling to let myself be taken unawares further. Oath hummed with sound mana as it severed the tendril, but I was still sent flying by a sudden jerk.

I grit my teeth, using a couple of psychokinetic pushes on myself to reorient midair. From that barest touch, my mana barrier had nearly been eaten through entirely. I engaged my telekinetic shroud as I flew, hoping it would serve as a better protection.

But the aspect of stealth was already lost. When I landed with a slight skid in the large, cavernous room from before, the five mages I’d circumvented before were shocked into motion. With barely a beat of hesitation, they moved to surround me on all sides. Their intent flared, the ambient mana conveying their anger and lust for blood.

“I knew one of your kind would be back,” an angry feminine voice echoed from all around. My eyes darted every which way, trying to find the source of the voice. “And so I waited. Waited for so long.”

A burst of black shadow swirled around the door to the room. My mana-enhanced eyes gave me the barest flash of something pale within before it dispersed.

The mages around me suddenly seemed even more predatory as this new figure emerged, bolstered by her presence. The woman’s white hair was cut short to their head, and a set of red eyes promised me a slaughter. Their ears came to a point, something I hadn’t seen before. Their umbral dress swirled with dark mana, and now that they had pulled away from the shadows, I was able to hear their heartbeat.

It was powerful; thundering with the weight of a hundred souls. I could almost feel the decay-tainted heartfire throb in her chest. A palpable wave of killing intent wafted from this mage like a tide.

“Vritra-blooded spawn,” Aurora hissed inside my head. Her little clockwork bird squirmed in my tunic. “This one is powerful, Toren.”

“It was only a matter of time before Mardeth sent someone after his precious basilisk blood. And now you’ve delivered yourself to me,” the woman said, a sneer on her lips.

But despite the near absence of light, I recognized my foe. Her appearance was too striking; too distinct. And her power belied the truth of her identity.

Mawar, the Retainer of Etril, barred my sole path of escape.