Toren Daen

I stepped out into the night sky, feeling the warmth of the ballroom abandon me as the chill night air took its place. My assimilated physique–crossed with that of part-phoenix–shrugged off the cold as if it wasn’t there. And a deeper part of myself felt a flow of warmth from somewhere else.

Renea Shorn stood by the balcony railing, her delicate pale hands resting on the balustrade. The full moon smiled down on her, casting a shimmering silver light over her almost petite form. Her midnight black dress drank in that silver greedily, the lines and furls demanding my attention. Flashes of deep purple accented the elegant dress, and I felt she looked more regal than any of the highbloods within. Her bangs shadowed her eyes as I pushed myself forward, leaning on the railing a few feet away.

We were in the Central Dominion in the heart of the country, well east of Cardigan City. Small mountains dotted with forests meandered in the distance, sloping in easy flows. A stream cut through the estate, a gurgle of quiet water barely perceptible to my ears. From the balcony’s elevated position, I could see a near-endless expanse.

And towering above it, stretching to either side as far as the eye could see, were the powerful peaks of the Basilisk Fang Mountains. I spotted the famous smoking Mount Nishan, the volcanic mount belching its simmering discontent into the atmosphere. They dwarfed even the small mountains around us, seeming to project their majesty as Varadoth enforced his strength. Each peak looked like the spike of a crown.

And if they are a crown, I thought, Who is the king?

Renea’s gaze was locked north, her eyes contemplatively tracing the massive spears of the Fangs.

“Have you ever thought about the High Sovereign’s home?” she asked me, not turning away from her inspection. “Taegrin Caelum; the mighty fortress of Agrona Vritra himself.”

I locked my fingers together as I peered at the shadowed mountains. Far in the distance, my final quarry waited. Nico Sever trained there under Melzri and Viessa Vritra, slowly honing himself to try and bring his old love to this world. After High Vicar Varadoth’s questions regarding the reason for my strength, I’d found myself subconsciously contemplating my enemies.

“I think about that mountain more often than I care to admit,” I said. What was Agrona doing up there? Did he know of my presence yet? I didn’t think so. While he’d ignored Arthur’s meteoric rise, thinking him beyond his plans, Lady Dawn was an escaped prisoner. A lost game piece. I didn’t think Agrona’s ego could handle me running free. And if I were suddenly discovered, what risks would I take to escape? Who would be hurt in the aftermath? “Those mountains cast a shadow larger than any other on this world.”

Renea exhaled through her nose. She wore no mask, unlike everyone else in the ballroom. Her pale skin seemed to shine as the starlight kissed her face, making her deep red lips burn starkly. A thin streak of dark eyeshadow drew my eyes back to hers.

“They stretch so tall,” Renea said, a complicated cast to her tone. “Higher than anything there is. Higher than I could ever reach.” Her hands clenched tightly around the banister. “When High Vicar Varadoth asked you why you strove for power, you didn’t tell the full truth, did you?” she asked, finally turning to look at me slightly. Her lashes seemed to split the light like blades.

“I told him what he wanted to hear. I told him the truth, of course, but only part of it.” I brushed a hand against the burnished steel mask on my face. “I wore a mask.”

“And what did you hold back from him?” Renea inquired, her face slightly pursed in focus. “What is underneath that mask of yours?” she pushed, sounding nearly insistent.

“I grow strong not just for the sake of killing,” I said with an exhale. “There are those I wish to protect as well. You know this, don’t you?” I asked, cocking my head at the austere dark-haired mage. “It is what caused our first clash of wills, way back in East Fiachra.”

Renea smiled slightly, the edges of her lips curling up softly as if something had settled into place for her. It was an expression that seemed almost shy. “I started the same as you,” she said. “I built my enterprises around the ethos of serving myself. I would take and take what I needed to keep myself afloat. But as time wore on…” the woman said, trailing off slightly. I sensed as her own cover of protocol gradually began to plaster back over her honest admissions.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not when we were so close. “You saw the effects of your actions,” I prodded.

Renea closed her eyes, her body seeming to tremble for the briefest of moments. “No, Toren,” she finally said, allowing an open air of vulnerability to course through her tone. “No. I saw the effects of someone else’s actions. Someone like me.” She opened her eyes, her pupils searching for something in my own. I stayed still, one hand still clutching the railing tightly. “I wear a mask greater than any others I know, and yet you continue to wrench my secrets from underneath it,” she whispered, sounding nearly sour. Disappointed in herself for letting me past those defenses.

“I don’t see a mask on your face,” I said, shifting closer. “Only on mine. I was the one who lied to the High Vicar tonight,” I teased.

Renea simply hummed. I saw a quiet sorrow in the set of her shoulders as she gazed up at those mountains.

Why does this hurt her? I asked myself, feeling compelled to wrap an arm around her in comfort. I stayed back, however, feeling as if this moment could shatter like glass.

I looked back at where I knew Taegrin Caelum loomed. It was so far away and above me that I felt daunted from where I stood. What could be grander than the dungeon of a god at the peak of a mountain? I thought. What hope is there for all left in its shadow?

And as my eyes traced those distant ridges, I glanced upward.

The stars reasserted their hold on my soul, a hundred different colors weaving across the night sky like Mother Earth’s blanket. I held back a gasp. I’d seen this sight so many times, unobstructed as it was by the lack of pollution in this world. But every time, that tapestry of light never ceased to amaze me.

And tonight, each of those far-distant twinkling stars felt even more special.

“Do you know the names of the constellations?” I found myself asking.

Renea’s saddened eyes finally looked above. As her dark, crystalline pupils reflected the hundreds of stars, she seemed to momentarily forget the horrible cast of Taegrin Caelum.

“I see the Struggling Ascender chasing the Basilisk’s Tail,” she said quietly, raising a hand and tracing the paths of the stars with a delicate finger. “Alongside those two, the Lightning Spell crackles. And even further west,” she said, turning, “is the Obsidian Vault and the First Spellform. They say the High Sovereign looked to the heavens as he contemplated how to grant us mortals magic, and his gaze settled upon that cluster of stars. And from their condensed essence, he created the first mark for the first mage.”

It was a pretty story, but patently false. And Renea seemed more bemused by the fairy tale than entranced.

I nodded, moving a bit closer so our shoulders almost touched. “Do you know how far away the stars are from this planet?” I asked next, peering down at the petite owner of Bloodstone Elixirs.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Renea’s brows furrowed in a nondescript way as if she had suddenly encountered a difficult math problem or a confusing riddle. “I do not,” she finally admitted. “And I suppose you do, Toren?”

I chuckled lightly, then raised a palm up to the sky, gesturing as if the moon was in my hand. A small orb of fire popped into existence on my palm, then solidified with an application of pure mana. Renea watched with a raised brow as I engaged my telekinetic emblem, allowing the small sphere of solid fire to float above my hand and rotate cooly. It cast a warm orange light on both of us, banishing the barest chill and soothing my bones.

I smiled as I peered at the small blip of flame, controlled into the shape of a core. “Light travels six trillion miles in a single year. A light year, for simplicity’s sake,” I said, allowing the orb of fire to bob up and down slightly. “On this scale, if this were our sun, then our planet would be…” I squinted, looking past Renea to the rolling hills smattered with plant life and foliage. “Probably one of those hills, if I were to guess,” I said, my astrological knowledge weaker after over half a year away from Google.

“I feel as if you’re trying to make a point, Toren,” Renea said with an artificially imperious tone, turning to face me. “But I am a busy woman. I do not have time for long-winded diatribes.”

I twirled my finger, allowing the small orb of fire to slowly circle Renea and me. She watched it dance about with a bemused expression. “Patience, patience,” I chided good-naturedly. “There’s a method to my madness.”

“A method to your madness,” the woman said, a thoughtful expression slowly overcoming her features. She tilted her head, her dark tresses rolling over her shoulders as waves stretched against a beach. Her eyes peered at me from behind her bangs. “I like that saying, Toren. I’ll be keeping it.” She waved a hand dismissively as if she held all the power in the world. “Continue. I am interested now.”

I snorted in amusement. The small orb of fire settled back above my finger. “If our universe were scaled down so that the sun was this size,” I said quietly, leaning forward with a conspiratorial whisper, “Then if you traveled the real-life distance from our continent to Dicathen, you would still be far, far from the Struggling Ascender or the Lightning Spell.” I looked past Renea’s shadowed eyes, feeling a touch of buried longing wrench itself to the surface. “Those stars are thousands upon thousands of light years away,” I said breathily, gazing up into the brilliant sky. “Innumerable other suns shining their light. There could be other worlds out there. Things far different from what we know here.”

I felt the cool, delicate tips of Renea’s fingers brush against my forearm, then stay there lightly. Testingly. “Why do you think there are other worlds beyond this one?” she asked, her eyes glued to the night sky as well. She didn’t seem to realize where she kept her other hand.

“Why wouldn’t there be?” I asked in turn. “This ball of rock we live on is nothing compared to the vastness of the cosmos. We’re so small here, Renea. The stars shine above even Taegrin Caelum.” I let out a long, long breath. “Lord Indrath and the High Sovereign? Compared to that yawning distance of space, even they are small. We aren’t as special as we like to pretend.”

Renea raised her other hand to the sky, her body straightening as if to give her more reach. Her fingers splayed outward, and for a moment, it looked as if she grasped a star. Yet when she opened her hand, there was nothing there.

“They seem like they are so close,” Renea said, her other hand tensing slightly on my forearm. Her touch burned and chilled simultaneously, sending shivers up my spine. “As if I could just pluck them out of the sky. And yet when I try, I am forced to recognize my hubris. That a mortal such as I will never scrape the stars, no matter how hard she tries.”

At that moment, I almost felt my ability to make music was a waste. I could capture the rawest of emotions with my chords, drawing on the depths of shared humanity. Yet as silver moonlight pooled around Renea Shorn’s feet, her mournful hand trying to desperately take a star from the sky, I wished I were a painter. This image of sorrowful mortality burned beautifully in my mind, the graceful lines and curves of this woman resting against the balcony etching themselves like a brand.

But another selfish part of me, one that was buried deep, was glad I held no ability to draw. No others would see the shimmering wonder. None would have this privilege. This moment was ours alone.

“Maybe we can’t reach the stars,” I said, moving closer to Renea. I held out my hand as that bead of solid fire settled over my palm. “But we can bring the stars to us. That is our power,” I whispered.

The austere woman gravitated closer, her eyes glued to my palm. I dove deep into my power, concentrating and willing the mana to obey. As I’d assimilated with Lady Dawn’s will, I’d just barely managed to achieve this.

The ball of fire spiked, popped, and began to hum as the sound mana around it pulled on its natural vibrating heat. It puffed up once, twice, then settled into a bead of humming red plasma.

I exhaled, holding out the solid plasma bead to Renea. “The stuff of stars,” I said breathily. Her perfume overwhelmed my senses and her closeness made me heady. I felt the blood rushing along my veins, the pulse of my own heartfire spiking. “Here, it won’t burn you,” I said, offering my hand.

Renea’s eyes watched her fingers almost disbelievingly as she rested her palm over mine, the bead of plasma clasped between our hands. Taking the opportunity, I wrapped my fingers around hers. “See?” I said, leaning closer. “It doesn’t scald you.”

Renea’s hand squeezed my own, and I could feel her heartbeat pulsing through her skin. “It will burn you,” she said in barely more than a whisper, her eyes searching my own as she shifted so that we were less than a foot apart. “Eventually. That’s what always happens.”

“It won’t. It’s only a steady warmth,” I said in a soothing tone, clasping her hand tighter. I felt nearly intoxicated by the shape of her face, crafted in gentle moonlight. How the lines of her jaw seemed to be made of sculpted alabaster. Her eyes that saw so much of my soul, and her cherry-red lips that beckoned me.

Renea moved the hand she’d kept along my forearm, raising it ever-so-slowly toward my head. Her long, lithe fingers brushed against the course metal of my mask. She gripped the side, then pulled it from my face. She let it drop unceremoniously, but I didn’t even hear the metal hitting the ground. Her cloaking artifact couldn’t hide the emotions roiling through her intent any longer, the passion bleeding through. Her heartbeat quickened under my hand, her pulse heightening as we leaned closer.

My own heartbeat thrummed nearly in sync with hers, the world around me forgotten as the blood rushed to my head. The moonlight anointed us both, and I felt that the moment would never end.

And so I felt when Renea’s passion, so strong and clear over her intent, suddenly dipped. Our lips had nearly touched as her body visibly shuddered.

I froze, blinking as a note of pure fear pierced her passion, like a streak of glaringly yellow paint tainting a red canvas. No longer was her heartbeat one of longing. I was ripped from the moment as Renea hastily withdrew her hand from mine. “I–” she started, swallowing breathily, a flush still prominent on her pale cheeks. “I must apologize, Lord Daen,” she said, backing away and taking the warmth with her. She turned away from me, visibly settling herself. “I cannot do this.”

My heightened breathing slowly returned to normal, alongside my sense of the world. I felt lost and adrift as if I were a sailor cast out to sea, but I reigned my emotions in. My heart still clenched painfully in my chest as I struggled to make sense of everything once again. I slowly curled in my right hand, feeling a startling coldness in the absence of Renea’s slim fingers.

“It’s okay,” I said once I finally regained control of my emotions, taking a careful step backward. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Renea said, her voice trembling slightly. She turned back to look at me, and I saw her attempting to smooth her features back to that of the stern mask she always wore. “You delve deeper and deeper, Toren Daen, ripping away my protections one by one. And I find myself wanting them stripped raw the further this goes. You’re breaking my mask. The only thing that keeps me safe.”

She blinked, seeming to realize the tirade she’d just gone on. She scoffed at herself, then turned back to look at the distant mountains. Her intent finally receded back under her cloaking artifact, closing me off like a heavy steel door slamming shut.

I knelt, picking up the birdlike mask I’d been wearing before. My eyes followed the divots and lines etched into the surface, then inspected the deep handprint Mawar’s decay magic had left. I ran a finger along the beak, a line of blood drawn as my finger traced itself to the point.

“We need our masks,” I found myself saying. I thought of how many walls I’d erected around myself in this world. How many lies I’d told others and myself just to keep my sanity safe. I peered into the dark eyeholes of the mask in my hands, feeling for once how heavy the dark steel truly was. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you,” I said, internally making a decision. I might have said that the plasma in my hand wouldn’t burn Renea, but I couldn’t ignore the reality any longer.

One day, I was going to kill Nico Sever. And what would happen after that? What would become of all the relationships I’d built in Alacrya?

I came back to that ever-present gnawing wound in the depths of my soul. Something I’d known from the start, even as I’d encouraged this burning flame to grow. No matter how close I grew to a woman, I could never show them my true self. I touted myself as an honest man, yet I’d lied when I told Renea I would not burn her.

I was a lit fire. Anything that grew too close to me on this continent would go up like smoke once I completed my mission.

“I’ll endeavor to keep our interactions professional henceforth, Lady Shorn,” I said, standing and putting my mask back on. I ignored the way the words tore at me, wrenching emotion from my gut in a way I didn’t expect. I bowed slightly as I retreated from the balcony. The last thing I saw was the tremble of Lady Shorn’s shoulders.