Sevren Denoir

It should have been impossible. I absorbed all that I saw with rapt eyes, trying to find some sort of deception. Some sort of trickery involved that could cause an illusion of unity.

But there was none. The same could be said for the preceding days I’d seen similar acts of unity and a lack of care for social status. For the blood that ran through each other’s veins.

I watched as Toren was swallowed back up by the crowd, the deafening chant of “Fiachra! Fiachra! Fiachra” rattling every stone nearby down to their foundations. The waters of the canals themselves resonated with each drumbeat, a collective outpour of every emotion running through the city.

I’d disavowed Toren’s goal. I told him that it couldn’t be done; that highbloods would never risk mingling with the lower class of Alacrya. But for the past several days, that was all I had seen.

I’d spotted a few highbloods who tried to cling to their status, deeming their hands unfit to dig through rubble or carry supplies to and from the Fiachra Ascender’s Association.

But those were few and far between. I had the feeling that they would be remembered, and not in the way they desired.

Caera watched the tumultuous mass of people by my side, a pinched frown on her face. My sister had awoken before me, and when I’d felt the need to sneak out of our quarters in the Association, she’d offered to join me.

I supposed I’d instilled a healthy disdain for authority in her. The thought made me swell a bit with pride inside.

“It’s still difficult to comprehend,” she said absently, her navy hair shadowing her face. “Everything that happened. It came so fast. So sudden.” My sister huffed. “I mean, half a week ago I was twiddling my thumbs in my room. And now, I feel like I’m watching history. Taking part in history. It’s strange, Sevren.” She looked at me oddly through her midnight blue hair. “Is this what you’ve been doing without me?”

I snorted. “Making history?”

“Or being a part of it,” Caera added.

I worked my jaw, thinking of Renton Morthelm’s sacrificial charge toward the vicars. Without his actions, I wasn’t sure Naereni and I would have made it to the Joan Estate. I’d only recently learned the man had survived, but his legs had been paralyzed, and he’d pierced his own mana core when the plague eventually reached his veins.

“There is history known to all,” I said absently. “And some things that others may never know.” I smiled slightly, nudging my sister’s shoulder with my own. “I’ve been taking part in both. Feeling jealous?”

Caera scoffed, her cheeks flushing slightly at my teasing. “Only that you’ve been doing this without me,” she said. Her eyes flicked to where my right arm used to be. “It seems… exciting at the best of times.”

My smirk fell slightly. I opened my mouth to say something, but then the majority of the crowd moved away from the Sehz.

I spotted Seris Vritra’s contented–almost fond expression–as she watched Toren go. She seemed to sense my attention after a moment, though, because she turned sharp eyes toward me. And when those eyes spotted Caera, they became very visibly discontented.

Caera froze, looking like a rat caught in a trap. “I, uh,” she said, looking between Seris and myself. “I should probably go. I wasn’t supposed to sneak out.”

My sister gave me a quick hug, then darted off toward her mentor with nervous steps. As she did so, the Scythe of Sehz-Clar bored into me with her eyes, silently peeling apart my secrets layer by layer.

My mind flashed back to what Caera had told me in the wake of our escape from the Joans’ underground estate. Just after we’d hauled Naereni’s limp body to shore.

“I awakened years ago,” she’d explained, deactivating a pendant around her neck to reveal a twin set of horns. “And Scythe Seris gave me a choice. I could go to Taegrin Caelum to be experimented on, poked, and prodded at until I developed further as a mage, or I could keep my manifestation a secret, training under her regularly.”

Part of me thought the Scythe was trying to create some sort of private army of Vritra-blooded mages, especially after I next saw Naereni. She’d been asleep, but no horn was visible on her head. But after seeing this intentional political play, where she essentially promoted a man who actively damaged the Doctrination’s powerbase as some sort of folk hero…

Seris turned to Caera as she reached her, my navy-haired sister visibly apologizing and trying to explain her absence from the Fiachra Ascender’s Association. The Scythe watched it all impassively, saying something I couldn’t hear as she turned back toward the Association, Caera following meekly in tow.

But then I spotted another figure, this one hooded with features shadowed from my sight.

My blood ran cold as the figure retreated, something in my blood telling me to follow.

I engaged Dictate of Mass, blurring toward their retreating figure. The figure slowed down as they turned a corner into an alleyway, the ground coated in water from a nearby flooded canal.

I whipped around the corner, already searching in my dimension ring for some sort of weapon. If they were–

I froze, water splashing in slow motion as I saw the face of my target. They’d turned to face the alleyway entrance, lowering their hood in a methodic act.

Their long, brilliant white hair reflected the sunlight above, a stark mirror of mine. I stared into familiar eyes, feeling some part of my blood freeze to ice.

I clenched a single fist. “Mother,” I said, restraining my anger. “How are you here?”

The teleportation gates had been locked down days ago, and the gates barred against visitors. The entire city was in quarantine. And if my mother had breached that quarantine…

Lenora Denoir’s eyes flicked to my empty sleeve, then back to my face. An expression of steel washed over her normally faux-sympathetic mask. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I should have done something to hide the gaping hole where my right arm used to be.

“Highblood Denoir’s contacts are large and varied, son,” she said with a clipped tone. “Even extending to tempus warps in many cities.”

I scoffed, feeling my shoulders hunch as if I were a razor grimalkin preparing to attack. “This entire city is in quarantine, Mother. Your rash actions risk spreading the plague all over Alacrya.”

“I am prepared to submit myself to quarantine after this,” she said, her voice irritatingly calm. She focused once more on my empty sleeve. “And what would you have me do, Sevren? After I received reports that Fiachra had been struck with Alacrya’s worst disaster in half a century and that my son and daughter were running around in the interim, seen rushing to fight the Vicar of Plague himself! What would you have me do? How else can I ever get a chance to talk to you but when you yourself are trapped in quarantine?”

“Mardeth is dead,” I said angrily, ignoring the rest of my mother’s words. “The Plaguefire Incursion ended days ago.”

“Ended by your friend, Toren Daen. Spellsong, they’re calling him now. You sent him to our estate to avoid going there yourself, did you not? Because of how you hurt yourself.”

I turned around, shutting out my mother’s words out of my mind. I stalked away through the puddles of water, forcefully banishing the inevitable repercussions of my family learning of my crippling injury. There were still things I needed to do.

“Are you going to shut this out, too?” my mother called after me. “Will you keep avoiding pain?”

My thoughts flashed to the words Toren had told me not long ago. Of how I couldn’t lock myself away, ignoring everything outside. Of how I would let all my relationships crumble to dust.

I didn’t know why, but those thoughts only served to make me even angrier. I whirled on my foot, my palm bleeding from how hard I clenched my fist. I stomped back through the water, my mana fluctuating in my core as I strode back toward Lenora Denoir.

“You know why I avoid you?!” I snarled. “Why I hate everything you do? Because I know if I dared to set my feet back in that estate, you’ll sink your claws into me, ripping and tearing everything I am to shreds until only puppet strings are left.”

My mother shuffled backward, seeming to feel a modicum of fear for the first time. I didn’t care.

“Just like you’ve done with Caera! I refuse to be a bird trapped in a cage; to be toyed with and maneuvered like a piece on a board. I won’t become another Abigale!”

My head rocked to the side with inhuman force as my mother slapped me with mana-enforced strength. I blinked, stars and confusion muddying my thoughts.

Lenora looked at me, tears gathering at the edges of her vision. “How dare you!” she seethed, her normally even voice cracking as she bared her teeth. “You don’t even know! You never even dared to ask! All you have are assumptions, yet you spit on her sacrifice, using it to separate our family!”

My world suddenly came back into focus. Her sacrifice?

“Of course, you wouldn’t know this, Sevren, because you thought yourself beyond us. Thought we weren’t even worth the question. But do you know why Abigale was taken away that day?”

My head slowly, mechanically, turned back to my mother.

“Every few generations, our High Sovereign sends envoys to take someone from the households of Alacrya’s highblood families. The occurrence is sparse enough that rebellion does not ferment, instead constituting fear. But our spies are thorough. Sometimes, they’re too thorough. We discovered early who was to be taken next. Do you know who was next on that list that fateful year?!”

I took a single step back, feeling my eyes widen and my heart pound against my ribcage.

“Abigale knew. We sat, Sevren, we sat and talked. Decided, together!” Tears streaked down the edges of my mother’s cheeks, the drops splashing into the floodwater below her cloak. “She offered herself up, so you wouldn’t be taken in turn!”

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My mother, who had always displayed an outward appearance of sympathetic calm, broke into deep, wrenching sobs as she fell to her knees in the water. “All I’ve done, I’ve done to try and keep my family safe,” she said. “And it is never enough!”

My knees shook as I struggled not to collapse into the water. I used my sole arm to brace myself against the alley wall, feeling a wave of dizziness spread across my system. The matron of the Denoirs, once so proud and powerful, continued to cry wretched tears into the flooded alleys of Fiachra.

Time seemed distant as I tried to process what my mother told me. Abigale… for me?

I remembered the day I’d seen her taken away. The look in her eyes had haunted my nightmares for years. That look of quiet acceptance. Of subtle resignation. I’d always assumed that was because she understood the manipulations of my family better than any other, but–

My mother’s breathing slowly evened out as she gathered herself back under control. Though the red puffiness around her eyes and bleeding mascara belied her earlier distress, she slowly managed a pale mimicry of her usual mask.

My mother slowly stood, her cloak soaked in floodwater. She took a single, evening breath, that mask threatening to shatter once more.

“I should have known earlier,” she said quietly, striding forward. “It is a pointless endeavor, attempting to keep you safe. If you are so ready to burn yourself away; so quick to lay your head along the chopping block, it doesn’t matter how many executioner’s axes I break. You will simply find another way to destroy yourself.” Her voice cracked as it left her throat, sounding ragged and raw. “I can’t stop you from killing yourself, Sevren. No matter how I try. Go on your ascents. Attack the Doctrination. It is no longer in my hands. Because everything I do is clearly not enough.”

She left me quaking and adrift in that alleyway. My purpose, which had once felt so certain, had been thrown into the wind.

I looked down at the reflective floodwaters at my feet, seeing the uncertain fear in my eyes. Here was another bit of flotsam, matching perfectly with the driftwood and decimated architecture all around.

—

I plodded through the Fiachra Ascender’s Association, my thoughts blank and my feet heavy.

From a distance away, I looked up at the purple portals that led into the Relictombs. Around both ascension and descension portals, tall, temporary walls had been erected. From asking around, I knew there were mana-reinforced structures inside that allowed the passthrough of goods and supplies while preventing possible contamination.

I could get by those. I could use the spellform emblazoned on my chest to change the Relictombs zone to anything I could want.

I could leave this place. I still had half a hundred experiments I needed to do. The prototype weapon I’d been developing in the wake of Toren showing me that otherworld weapon. My mana-gathering system, and–

My thoughts were wrenched back to that fight I’d had with Toren. Where I’d been working for days on end, not a care for my body or soul.

“But they made a mistake, cutting themselves off from the world outside. Of isolating themselves and their emotions from the scourge of the asura in the waking world. Their passivity doomed themselves, in a way. You’re the closest thing to a legacy they have, so don’t do the same. This world and people are worth your time and attention.”

I wanted to reject his words. As I stared up at the towering portals, workers streaming around me, I saw an escape. A way to avoid those horrible questions. That horrible truth. Because if I’d been wrong about Abigale all along…

Then I saw her. My sister was talking with someone near the edge of the portal dais, gesturing weakly toward the nearby portals.

I saw two paths stretch in front of my eyes, twisting roads unfurling like roots of a tree. I could go into the Relictombs as I always did. I would never need to leave; never need to face the world outside. Mother was right: I could avoid all the pain.

Or I could reach a hand out. The world wasn’t as heartless as I’d initially thought. After all, hadn’t the people of Fiachra rallied together, regardless of their blood? Hadn’t Renton Morthelm sought to sacrifice himself to give a few unadorned more time?

I took one step forward. Then another, then another. I didn’t know if the decision I was about to make was the correct one, but I couldn’t afford doubt.

“Caera,” I said, my voice sounding faint. My sister turned to face me as I approached, her face taking on a worried cast.

“Sevren,” she said quietly, moving closer to me and leaving the attendant she was talking to. “I saw Lenora. She submitted herself to quarantine procedures a few minutes ago, but…”

My sister’s brow furrowed in concern as she looked at me. Really looked at me. “Vritra’s horns, Sevren, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I opened my mouth to reply, the urge to say “Yes,” and see it over with. I could still stop this. Still avoid the pain.

“No,” I admitted, my voice feeling raw. “No, I’m not okay.”

My sister scanned the crowd, then wrapped an arm around my shoulder. She led me away, weaving through the Ascender’s Association and shielding me from watching eyes. I felt myself both savoring the warmth of her closeness and fearing the distance from the portal so far back.

In what could have been minutes or hours, she eventually led me back to our rooms on the higher floors. I followed in her wake numbly, my sole arm grasping her shoulder for support.

I weakly collapsed onto the bed at the center of the room, the soft covers seeming to swallow me like a cloud. Caera locked the door, then moved to the bed as well, sitting on the edge.

I looked up at her, forcing myself to take in her appearance. I’d always assumed she was like me before Abigale’s abduction. Naive; unknowing to the true cruelty of this world. It was my duty as her brother to protect her; to shield her from that potential pain.

But she had never been what I’d envisioned, had she? My adopted sister had awakened years ago. Seris Vritra herself had illustrated the peril of her situation in painful detail.

That had been one of the foundations for my goals. Alongside wishing to avoid meeting Abigale’s fate…

Both of my supports had been shown to be false. Mere illusions I’d held under myself. I felt cast adrift, as if the bed underneath me was a roiling sea.

And there was only one, sole light amidst those turbulent waves.

“Sevren,” Caera said softly, something deeply understanding in her eyes. “Talk to me. Please. What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth, and words flowed forth. Stories and pent up emotion and everything that had been building toward an eruption for years. My body shook as I struggled not to break down, my voice cracking.

I told my sister everything. How I’d pieced together the workings of simulets. How I’d stolen a relic. How I’d followed Toren Daen through the Relictombs, sensing his strange power over aether.

My sister let me speak. Her face darkened at times as she heard of the risky actions I’d taken, then twisted into deep sympathy as I forged forward. She only interrupted to ask for bare clarification, her hand on my shoulder a comforting press.

Time seemed a foreign concept as I laid all my secrets bare. I didn’t know how long it took to explain all the experiments Toren and I had done regarding his powers, nor did I know when the sun had gone down. I hazily outlined the final fight I’d had with Toren, where he’d returned with the kit, when my sister finally decided to speak her mind.

“Toren told you to reach out,” she said, her voice small. Her navy bangs shadowed her face. “What finally pushed you to do this, Sevren?” she asked, her fingers squeezing my shoulder.

My mouth felt dry. I didn’t know how long I’d been talking, but my voice sounded worn and ragged. “I met Mother,” I said weakly. “And… and she told me why Abigale was taken. I thought, all along, that it was simply political strategy. Bare apathy and maximizing power. But Lenora–my mother–she said that I was supposed to be taken instead. Abigale offered herself up in my place.”

My sole hand covered my face. “Everything I’ve done,” I said distantly, “I did because I thought I was protecting you, and protecting myself. But those were all false. I– I don’t know what to do anymore, Caera,” I lamented, feeling a tremble wrack my body.

I felt as my sister’s arms wrapped around me, her warmth transferring to me as she hugged me. The hug lasted just long enough before she separated, looking me in the eye. Tears of her own welled in those scarlet pupils. “Thank you, Sevren,” she said. “Even if you think it was false, all you’ve done… you did so much for me. That means something.”

A silence slowly grew between us as we settled into a comfortable quiet. My thoughts drifted once more to what I should do next after this. That was always how I acted, thinking in the barest short-term. Always step after step after step.

My sister broke the silence first. “You said you were given a spellform?” she said, a hint of curiosity lacing her tone. “From a living djinn? What does it look like?”

I snorted, loosening my collar and pushing my mana into the aforementioned spellform. With energy flowing through it, the purple highlights shone through my light tunic. Caera’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in closer, tracing the lines with her gaze. “I need to be careful with it,” I said quietly. “If I use it too often, I risk truly damaging my lifespan, like Toren said. I’ve been…”

Caera’s eyes snapped up to me, her brow furrowing. “You’ve been fine burning your life away, just like that?” she said harshly.

I worked my jaw. “There’s no better way to move through the Relictombs. If I want my safety, I need to use it.”

Caera shook her head, her navy locks swaying. “No, it’s not!” she said, sounding insistent. “You said that that creature that you used to create an aetheric link between you and Toren to track him was from a zone, right? You could just go back to that zone, kill a dozen of those, and create more markers. Place one of those in the Town Zone instead of risking your life every time!”

I blinked, my vision suddenly focusing on my sister as she uttered those words. I’d only been able to create one aetheric tracker due to the rarity of the item needed. There were aether beasts in one of the zones I’d crossed who laid their segmented tails like a trap in the ground, then phased the rest of their body into a sort of un-reality that protected them from attacks while leaving their main weapon behind.

I’d suspected those beasts moved into a pocket dimension while leaving behind their tail. Yet to maintain control over their tails while the rest of their many-legged forms were in more substantial reality, they needed some sort of aetheric connection that could transcend dimensions.

I’d only managed a complete corpse by attaching a grenade to the body of one of the creatures right before it retreated into its little pocket space. When that grenade detonated, the carcass phased back into normal space, the connection between the tail intact.

“I can’t,” I said sadly. “Without my arm, I’m at risk in every zone I go into. My abilities as a striker have been effectively neutralized. A solo ascent is tantamount to suicide, Caera.”

Caera shifted slightly, a bashful smile growing over her face. When I looked at her, feeling confused, she averted her eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

Caera brought a fist up to her mouth, coughing into it. “Well, who says you need to go on a solo ascent?” she said, her eyes jumping with excitement. “I’ve got a perfectly good arm, a really nice sword, and some very useful decay mana arts. That should be enough, right?”

My first instinct was to say no to my sister’s implied request. She was the flower that stayed in the Denoir garden, slowly wasting away under their chains. What did she know of combat? Of fighting through hordes of aether beasts?

But that wasn’t the truth at all. My sister was strong; powerful in a way I didn’t fully comprehend. And what better way to assure my safety than with her by my side? What better way to ensure her safety than by allowing her to grow even stronger through trials and tribulations?

I felt my lips stretch into a grin, a bit of purpose returning to my veins. “I’m very strict with who I take along on ascents,” I teased. “I’m not sure if– oof!”

My sister had socked me solidly in the side of the stomach. “Maybe I’ll just go to Toren,” she said primly, standing up in protest. She batted her eyes playfully, puffing out her chest slightly. “Do you think any man would deny me as an ascending partner?”

I sat up, furrowing my brows. “Now, hold on,” I said. Maybe I’d allow my sister to go on ascents, but she would not be hitting on my friend. “That isn’t fair.”

Toren was one of the best friends I’d ever had. It would really suck if I’d have to get rid of him because of my sister.

“Life isn’t fair, Sevren,” Caera said, sounding aloof. She faked wiping away a tear from under her eye. “Imagine the scene: poor Caera, unable to go on an ascent with her brother. So she goes to his best friend, begging for a chance to–”

I raised a hand, groaning in mental pain at the image. “Okay, okay, you win,” I allowed, though I hid a smile. “How much do you know of the Relictombs?”

Caera looked away, coughing into her fist again. “Well…”

I rolled my eyes, patting the spot on the bed beside me again. “Come here. You’re going to get a crash-course rundown on everything I know before we even attempt anything. And you will be quizzed on this later.”

My sister sniffed haughtily, though she did as I asked. “I’ll have you know I graduated Central Academy with top marks. We both know I was the valedictorian for my year of class. I’ll be able to repeat anything back to you word for word, Professor Denoir.”

Challenge accepted, I thought. “Well, the first thing you should know is…”