Chapter 147: What Flows Through One’s Blood

Naereni

I took a step forward, not fully registering the pain that lanced through my calf and up my leg. The darkness of the basement was barely combatted by the distant glow of the basilisk blood crystal.

“Come on, twitter-fingers,” Caera said, heaving for breath as she helped me move forward. My legs felt like lead as we continued, each step taken with less than half a mind. “You aren’t going to just lay down and die. We’re going to… to destroy that crystal.”

Karsien had pushed me into the hole where the crystal had fallen, and Hofal had sealed the opening over after me. They were still up there, fighting against the vicars that surged toward us like a demented hive. My core throbbed from my near brush with backlash, pain threading through each of my mana channels. But that was nothing compared to the wrenching ache in my heart.

Up ahead, Sevren stumbled before getting his balance back under him. “Only a little bit further,” he coughed. The air was damp and cloying, each breath trying to strangle me with its weight.

My ice-splinted foot caught on a rock, causing me to stumble forward. Caera, tired as she was, failed to catch me in time. I hit the stones, splaying out as I scraped my forearms with barely a grunt. I pulled myself to my hands and knees, staring at the stone as more tears blurred the edges of my vision.

They were going to die. Die alone fighting those horrible, demented vicars.

Something threaded under each of my arms, hauling me to my feet. I hazily noted that Sevren had backtracked, helping his sister as they both worked to haul me forward. The Denoir highblood braced my left side, his face–smeared with both dirt and blood–set into a grim mask of determination. Caera’s was much the same, and for the first time, I thought they looked alike. Though their physical features couldn’t be more different, the fire that burned in their hearts had the same kindling flare.

It made me feel all the more small. Useless. A street rat, undeserving of my magic and friends.

But the world was slowly reaping its due, putting me back in my place. My family was already being taken from me above. I could just barely feel the clash of magic far above, my crew fighting to their last just to give us more time.

Then something in the air changed. A pulse seemed to flood through the cavern like a hammer to the chest, a sense of power reaching us even in the dark basements of the Joan estate. Simultaneously a roaring, raging bonfire, and a soothing hearth that rumbled like a heartbeat. I shuddered as it washed over me, my weakness made all the more prevalent. Caera stuttered in her step, wide ruby eyes turning to peer back whence we came in utter shock.

“Is that… is that Toren?” she muttered, her bangs covering one eye. “Merciful Vritra, what in all the hells is he? I can sense his aura from here! Like a fire burning against my skin!”

“Keep moving,” Sevren admonished, seeming unphased by the shift in the air. “We still have a job to do. Feel free to ask my friend any questions when we’re done.”

“Y-yeah,” Caera said, turning back toward the glowing crystal not far ahead.

The crystal had tumbled into a large room. From the flaming scorch marks and blackened furniture all around, I suspected this was the place where the distillery used to be.

Before Karsien had blown it to smithereens.

There was another exit at the far end of the basement room, but my eyes were forcefully drawn to the hulking heart of crystal.

It was large. Larger than some of the houses in East Fiachra, and from how mist continued to swirl and writhe in concentrated power within, I knew it to be infinitely more deadly than anything my home had faced before. Caera and Sevren set me down gently, propping me against a wall. I slumped as Sevren carefully edged his way closer to the crystal, avoiding the constant stream of energy funneling out of the horns embedded into the side. He laid his single hand on it and engaged some sort of spellform.

Caera shifted nervously, her hand clenched tightly around her red sword. She made sure to keep her body facing the tunnel entrance where I could still feel Karsien and Hofal battling for their lives far above. “What do you think, Sevren?”

“It’s too volatile,” the highblood man said, backing away. “If we want to destroy it, we need to try and break it in one go. But… But the energy inside needs to go somewhere.”

Caera moved forward, holding out her ruby blade–the red metal forged of pure basilisk blood itself. “I can destroy it,” she said. “If I drive my sword into the crystal and ignite my soulfire, that’ll work, won’t it? My flames can erode the energy inside.”

Sevren shook his head vehemently, putting himself between the crystal and his sister. “Caera, no! I don’t know how–when, where you got that power, but I know how it works. The reactions soulfire causes in its decay can set off an explosion. Blithe by itself is already highly, highly volatile. But this energy is condensed a hundred times over! The slightest touch of your soulfire would blow us to Taegrin Caelum!”

Caera leaned forward. “Then that’s what we’ll have to do, Sevren! If that’s what it takes to stop this massacre outside. You can take Naereni out of that other exit before I do it.”

“No,” Sevren said, blocking the way forward. “No, give me your sword,” he said, holding his sole hand out and withdrawing something from his dimension ring. “I can channel lightning attribute mana through it with this.”

Caera recoiled, her face twisting into one of pain. She continued to argue with her brother about who would take the final stab at the crystal.

And up above, I felt as Hofal’s mana signature petered out. It was quick, the force–that was already waning–puffing away like it was a candle being snuffed out. I curled inward, quietly sobbing as Karsien’s mana flowed and pulsed above. The man I’d known as an uncle; a better father than mine had ever been, died far above in a battle against his past. He would never know peace. Never get to live out his dreams of soaring monoliths and great structures.

Karsien’s signature held out only a minute or so more before it, too, began to die. But it was slow and seeping, like a waterskin that had a hole punctured in the bottom. I could almost feel as my mentor–the man who had taught me to fight, to steal, to love life–slowly lost his own.

My tears splattered against the ground beneath me as my wretched weeping continued. Blithe had taken everything from me again. Just as I’d always known it would, no matter how I’d tried to pretend. The useless actions of a street rat were nothing against the overwhelming might of the Doctrination.

I felt a horrible, piercing pain along the top of my skull as I slammed a fist into the ground, my blood splattering across the stones. I ignored it, even as something dark and twisting writhed in the back of my mind. As something as black as the night surged to the forefront. I felt my mana core tremble, my power entirely depleted.

My body ached, tremors wracking my form as I screamed. Caera threw herself in front of Sevren, her argument with her brother cutting off as frost spread out around my body. She braced her blade in front of her, warding off the waves of power that ripped themselves from me.

I would never see them again. Hofal would never smoke his pipe, offering oddly thoughtful advice in the wake of a stupid joke. Karsien would never smirk, his eyes hiding a danger that I’d learned to admire. My fathers were gone. Taken.

That deep, dark power–one of shifting scales and blackened wings–finally tore its way to the surface, the pain in my crown becoming unbearable. I yelled as blood spurted from my forehead, feeling as something wrenched its way from the depths of my body. The frost that spread around my feet took on a darker tinge, the cold kiss of deathly frostbite and blackened blood spreading throughout the water. I felt as the power tried to suck energy from my core, to siphon it into its eroding emergence. But there was nothing left to give.

And when it was done, I slumped, tears seeping from my eyes. Blood streamed down my black hair, my head feeling heavier than it had before. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. My family was gone.

I looked up weakly as Caera hesitantly approached, Sevren staying back with wide eyes. She knelt in front of me, laying a comforting yet tense hand on my shoulder. Her argument with her brother seemed momentarily forgotten. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what pushed you to manifest, but… but it isn’t pleasant,” she continued, speaking as if to a child.

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I numbly raised my hands to my bloody forehead, feeling the protrusions there. A set of horns curled back around my scalp, coming to twin jutting points just over my braid. I’d… manifested Vritra blood? My mouth felt dry, a contrast to the horrible mess of blood that came back from my hand.

“They’re dead,” I whispered. “I’ll never see them again. They’re…”

Sevren looked toward where we came from, then back to us with wide eyes. “We don’t have much time, Caera,” he said quickly. “What’s left of the vicars are coming down toward us. I’m going to detonate the crystal, and you’re going to take the Young Rat out of here.”

Caera opened her mouth to respond, but Sevren cut her off. He pulled something from his dimension ring, tossing it to his sister. “Just fucking go!” he said. “Those are my notes on aether. Toren can help you understand. Work with him if you want to tear down this wretched fucking system. He’s the key to it all!”

Caera caught it with fumbling hands, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. But the approaching mana signatures of the vicars forced her hand. She pulled me to my feet, dragging me toward the other exit. I stumbled weakly with each step, dizzy from blood loss and the wretched state of my body.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t always the best brother,” Sevren called after us as we got closer to the exit. “Tell Lenora that I could’ve been a better son, too.”

Caera choked back a sob as she hauled me forward, her navy hair a curtain that masked her face.

No, I thought as the exit got closer. No, not another. Not another sacrifice. Not another family ripped apart by blithe.

That was what I’d always wanted to stop, wasn’t it? Blithe broke what little family I already had. And I knew if I did nothing, it would continue to rip families apart. Just like it had done with Karsien and Hofal.

Just as it was going to do with Sevren and Caera.

But what could I even do? I was weak. A useless street rat who thought herself a queen of thieves. Everything that had happened so far was proof of that. I’d slink off here, just like my namesake. A defeated rodent that couldn’t tussle with a cat.

“I should have told him,” Caera muttered to herself. “About all I knew. He always thought… thought I was just a little girl,” she said, her voice cracking. “And now I run like one, too. I’m so weak!”

I looked over at the navy-haired woman, blinking slowly. Through our entire assault on the Joans’ estate, I didn’t think I’d met a stronger woman. She was confident, good-looking, an amazing mage, and with Vritra blood to boot. How could she think she was weak? She’d been the one to face down Mardeth’s horrible spell before Toren had arrived. Only her, prepared to unleash her all in one single blow.

Prepared to unleash her all, I thought, feeling a tingle in my limbs.

We reached the exit, Caera looking back one more time as she prepared to pull me through. Sevren held her ruby sword aloft, the blade nearly as long as he was tall. He’d fastened the lightning contraption to the edge, his finger primed to flick it. His eyes locked with his sister’s as he prepared to drive the point into the basilisk blood crystal.

“No,” I said through dry lips, pushing away from Caera. I stumbled, the woman failing to grab me. “No, not like this.”

My mana core was the driest it had ever been. Not a single drop of energy remained that I could pull on.

But there was another source I could use. One that had just been provided to me.

I raised a trembling hand up to my forehead, my hand caressing one of the onyx horns there. It was remarkably smooth, something that genuinely surprised me. My fingers wrapped around it.

I grit my teeth as I stumbled back toward Sevren, who was watching me with eyes that demanded I leave.

Then I snapped the horn off. I yelled in pain. A sickening crack echoed out as it wrenched free from my skull, the formation still relatively soft and pliable so soon after manifestation. A pain greater than breaking a bone, greater than being cut to ribbons, and greater than having my core drained toward backlash wracked my mana channels.

But it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. I could push through this.

I groaned through my teeth as I forced myself forward, holding my horn in my hands. Caera hesitated in the doorway, before rushing back to me. I ignored her, siphoning mana from the horn.

My core lurched as mana started to fill it once more, not unlike an exhausted muscle suddenly bearing weight once more. But I continued to siphon mana from my horn, the dark energy within seeping in as if it were natural.

And in the other hand, I called on my spellform. A dagger began to grow there, but it wasn’t of the pale blue ice I’d always known. This ice was dark and grim. It was the frozen water you see on a cold winter night. The kind of frost that creeps up your arm as you’re cast out into the snow, your blood freezing purple underneath.

The horn in my hand cracked as I siphoned mana from it, my core groaning in protest. My mana channels burned as I forced the creation of my dagger, the searing sensation of backlash spreading along my everything.

I held the dagger out to the side. “Put,” I ground out, my body shaking and trembling as backlash tried to force my consciousness into the void, “Put your soulfire inside of this,” I demanded.

Caera’s brows narrowed in concern before they widened in realization. I was too dazed to realize when it had happened, but Sevren had somehow walked all the way over to me. His eyes were wide as they took in the dagger. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Graveice reactions are more muted than soulfire’s. The freezing energy can serve to delay any explosion, too, and–”

He continued to talk as Caera hesitantly forced a black, flickering flame into the hilt of the dagger. I took it back from her, stumbling back toward the massive basilisk blood crystal. I raised my fist high, thinking of Hofal; of Karsien. Of how this horrid drug had taken three fathers from me, and of all the families it had destroyed this night.

I am no simple street urchin, I thought, my palm slick with sweat. The sweat immediately froze over as it left my fingers, the dagger trembling as I hefted it in preparation. I am the Young Rat. And I take from all those who squander their wealth; take when all around me have only been taken from! I show others that it is not our destiny to be robbed! And I will not let blithe steal me, too!

I slammed the dagger into the heart-shaped crystal, the weight of my body allowing it to slide through like steel through flesh.

It went in with the barest resistance, the edge sharpened and hardened beyond belief through the concentrated mana of my horn. I held my breath as I slumped against the reflective ruby surface, my strength spent in that final drive of the dagger. The icy splint around my shin finally collapsed as backlash erupted over every vein, fire flashing through my nerves.

But the crystal didn’t explode. The energy inside still whirled and roiled, but the icy dagger didn’t trigger any reaction. But once the outside layers wore away, releasing the soulfire underneath–

Caera and Sevren scooped me up, hauling my limp body toward the exit as I faded in and out of consciousness. I dimly registered as the vicars–who had been slowly trudging toward our position since they slew Karsien and Hofal–rushed into the room.

Caera sent out a wave of black fire as they threw attacks at us, her spell subsuming theirs without resistance. The vicars backed away in fear as the soulfire ate away one of their few remaining members.

We shoved our way through the exit, pushing on toward the other end. I knew Blood Joan had an underground connection to one of the canals, which was what allowed them to smuggle their drug all over the city without it being traced back to them. We only needed to reach there.

Caera’s long sword was a flash of red as it held off the attacking vicars. Each of them bore the characteristic marks of this new blithe plague, their mouths frothing with contained steam.

But she was slowing down. It was only her soulfire that kept each vicar at bay, their cautious eyes tracing the black flames. They seemed to recognize that her black fire could ruin their energy-gathering plans entirely.

I must have lost consciousness for a moment along the run, because when I came to once more, we’d moved from the dark hallway. I could hear the sound of rushing water nearby, but my head drooped as Sevren tried to hoist me back further. My neck lolled as I looked up, noting Caera’s horribly damaged state.

She had cuts along her body, the three vicars facing off against her stalking back and forth like a world lion pack sensing blood.

“You’re slowing down, witch,” one of them crooned. Caera swiped with her red sword, a flickering trail of black soulfire sputtering into existence. Small motes of decaying power popped in an arc, but the spell was barely worth a mention.

The vicar sidestepped it leisurely, loping forward like a cat. Blithe mist sizzled along his grinning teeth. “You’ll join the ascension soon enough. You’ll become something even more.”

Caera stumbled back, her eyes still blazing defiance.

“You might have killed the Rat,” I said, forcing myself to look up. The vicar’s eyes narrowed when they met my own. ”But he laid a scheme, you see. By sending us down here, he helped me steal something from all of you.”

The vicars shared uncertain looks, the confidence in my voice making them hesitate. I smiled through bloody teeth, finding the strength for one last quip. “I stole Mardeth’s godhood from him,” I said jauntily. “Have you ever done something so grand?”

The lead vicar’s eyes widened, his head snapping back toward the basilisk blood crystal.

Too late.

The decaying ice coating Caera’s spell finally gave way, revealing the soulfire underneath.

The subsequent explosion rocked the entire building, causing the ceiling to shudder and crack. A wave of force, fire, and power blew outward, throwing Sevren, Caera, and me backward, smashing our bodies through a thin wall. Pain consumed my everything as I hit the water of a canal, nearly being submerged. Rocks from the roof tumbled into the water, the ceiling slowly collapsing as waves of fire roiled overhead, obliterating the vicars who were too slow to react. I sank into the fast-flowing water, my thoughts hazy as shockwaves rippled through.

My last thought before losing consciousness was how I wished I could see Mardeth’s face.

Naereni [https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/mt06exfquecvk5yguph6h/Naereni.png?rlkey=qsa4g5dxqdz7oxwn18e0xah5u&st=8augrgrp&raw=1]