Toren Daen

A smattering of clouds blocked out the stars from my sight as I left Bloodstone Elixirs. It wasn’t cold out; far from it. The early summer breeze carried a note of salty sea spray as Aedelgard quieted down. Fireflies flashed intermittently in the sky, attempting to return the starlight.

My body ached in a familiar way. My muscles burned and lagged just as they did so many months ago when I’d first come to this world in the wake of Lady Dawn’s training sessions within the Clarwood Forest.

The eyes of what employees remained in Bloodstone Elixirs headquarters had tracked me suspiciously, clearly noting my exhaustion and sweat-drenched clothing after leaving the tempus-warp room in the middle of the night without their master. It certainly did not help that my clothing was covered in cuts.

And one idiot had even given me a thumbs-up and a jaunty grin.

I wonder if he’d like it, I thought with exhausted annoyance as I left the building at last. What I just went through is not nearly as fun as what he’s thinking about.

I had a feeling whatever rumors spread around would be exactly what I’d been worried about.

Goddamn Scythe, I thought piteously as I plopped down on a bench. It gave a nice view of the Aedelgard cliffs opening up toward the Vritra’s Maw Sea. An endless expanse of water stretched from horizon to horizon, vast in a way that was awe-inspiring. Her and her stupid politics. Should’ve just taken the Red Light District offer before we tempus warped, I thought crankily, feeling a bit annoyed at how Seris had thrashed me in blade training and needing an outlet to vent.

Though I had a distinct feeling that taking up the alternative offer would have made my training worse. And more painful. I probably would have lost a limb if I did that.

There was just no winning sometimes.

I shifted my arm to try and drape it along the back of the bench, but even that movement sent sharp aches along my deltoid muscles. I opted to just let it lay limp on the seat.

I would have expected some sort of scathing remark by now, I joked tiredly to my bond. Considering your opinions on Renea Shorn. Seris. Whatever.

The Unseen World blanketed my vision, and I turned my head to the side. Through the misty cast to my vision, Aurora’s shade was leaning against the bench, her eyes solemn.

“One of the greatest lessons I was ever forced to learn was to change my perspective in the face of contradictory evidence,” she said. “It is still difficult to do so.”

I looked back at the sea, watching the calm waves as they streamed through the bay. The port of Aedelgard was often called the Vritra’s Lip considering how the continent looked from far above. I wondered now if we were not truly crushed in a Sovereign’s jaw instead, ready to be swallowed and digested whole.

Most people don’t know how to do that, no matter their age, I said, trying to be affirming to my bond.

Aurora held me on the shoulder, her gaze distant. “I told you once that Renea Shorn moved like Agrona. And that is true, Toren. And you must never allow yourself to forget that. But…” The phoenix shade quieted as a firefly drifted near, its light a desperate attempt to match the liquid fire in my bond’s eyes.

She raised a gently glowing hand, lifting it as if she were actually holding the tiny insect. She inspected it with sadness in her gaze. “When I fled in fear from the High Sovereign, it was Seris Vritra who rushed to your aid,” she said quietly. “When I could not be a mother to my son, it was a child of the Vritra who stood to defend you against their god.”

I thought of how Seris had thrown herself in front of me as Varadoth’s attacks had rained down against Agrona. I wasn’t certain I would have been able to withstand the deluge on my own, especially while protecting Greahd. And Seris had stood her ground, ready to defend me when I couldn’t defend myself.

“I do not dismiss your future knowledge, Toren,” Aurora continued, lowering her hand as the firefly flitted up in a spiral through the night sky. “I do not doubt that Seris Vritra conspires against Agrona; that her plans lay pieces for a far away rebellion. But a person’s convictions are made true by their actions, not their words. Agrona was willing to slay his own fiance and condemn his daughter to death. But in moving to protect you, Seris showed herself to be different from Agrona.” My bond’s lips twisted into a rare, knowing smile as she looked down at me. “And when you collapsed from backlash in the wake of your battle with Mardeth, I was always watching. I would not allow her to hurt you. You must imagine my surprise when the Scythe treated you… tenderly.”

I turned my head away, unable to really answer. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought too much about what must have happened after my collapse after fighting Mardeth, but Seris was certainly involved.

We sat in silence for a long, long time, watching the sea and admiring the beauty of the world. I thought of the future, and of what I would need to do once my boots stepped onto Dicathian soil.

My thoughts came full circle as they all threaded back to one single truth.

The upcoming summit. Seris and I both knew I wasn’t merely ‘invited.’ When the Lord of the Vritra said you were to attend, you attended.

“I wish you would not,” Aurora said sadly, reading my thoughts. “I wish you would stay away from that horrible, horrible fortress.”

I know, I thought back sympathetically. But we both know I need to go.

Lady Dawn was silent as her hair shifted in an invisible wind. She knew it, too. Every Scythe and Retainer would be present at this summit, where the war in Dicathen would be discussed. I could provide a hundred different logical reasons to attend. I could get a feel for the political landscape of Alacrya’s upper echelon. I could learn a bit about Taegrin Caelum’s layout.

But those reasons were all insubstantial before the greatest. Because if all the powers of Alacrya were to be present, then that meant Nico Sever would be there, too.

—

Not far down the street on the second layer of the Relictombs, the light inside the Shimmerken’s Hoard flickered merrily. During the ascent where I’d encountered the undead zone, Darrin Ordin had promised me a round on him in that tavern should we make it out alive.

I had a feeling I’d never get that alcohol.

I’d changed my clothes for more conventional battle gear. My pants were breathable down to my leather boots, while I wore a tunic with solid leather vambraces and pauldrons that still allowed my arms a good range of motion. Inversion was shoved into my belt.

I sensed the two approaching a way before I could see them. Caera and Sevren Denoir both wore hoods that covered their faces, masking their features from onlookers. When they saw me, they quickly hurried over.

“What took you so long?” I prodded jovially, smiling at Caera’s slightly irritated face. “I could’ve gone on an entire ascent in the time it took you to get here.”

In reality, it was ten minutes past the agreed-upon meeting time. But it was more fun to exaggerate.

“I had to sneak out, Toren,” Caera snapped, her head darting around nervously. “It’s only the second time I’ve done this. I need to be careful! So I took my time.”

I chanced a glance at Sevren, namely his missing arm. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get away with a legal ascent considering…” I said, trailing off. His family likely would rip away his Ascender’s Badge if they hadn’t already, using his injury as justification.

Sevren’s face darkened slightly, the white-haired striker’s intent closing off. “It’s fine. Mother won’t be… interfering in my activities now.”

I looked between the siblings, sensing an undercurrent of something painful and unresolved smoldering there. “Okay,” I said, pushing off the wall behind me. “You told me you had a plan for this specific ascent. Care to tune me in?”

Sevren shook his head as we began to walk, Caera at his side. “Wait until we’re in the Tombs,” he said. “I can’t chance anyone overhearing.”

While I could muffle any sound the Denoir heir made, it seemed to be the principle of the thing that held him back more than anything. I could understand that.

“Hey,” Caera piped up, a wrinkle to her pristine expression, “What exactly is a Shimmerken? I don’t know of any sort of mana beast called that,” she questioned, referencing the tavern we’d just left behind.

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I blinked, realizing belatedly that I didn’t know either. “That’s a good question,” I said, subtly looking at Sevren. “I don’t actually know.”

“I suppose you both want me to explain it to you,” Sevren said with a suffering sigh. “Well, back in the days before preliminary ascents were strictly vetted and registered, young mages used to disappear frequently whenever an ascender took them up. The wogart farmer would return unharmed, of course, claiming some random aether beast had eaten them alive. And then their own rune cards would suddenly have metric tons more cash. A truly strange coincidence,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s why we have to vet ascenders first, now,” Caera replied, nodding along. “And most men who take mages on preliminaries put something valuable down for collateral should they return alone.”

“You remember your lessons,” Sevren said proudly, earning a smile from his adopted sister. “But the trend became large enough that the term ‘Shimmerken’ was coined as a catch-all for whatever monster ate the poor preliminary ascenders. The mythical Shimmerken supposedly preyed only on prelim-goers, taking all their wealth to a special hoard.” He waved dramatically. “Thus, the Shimmerken’s Hoard.”

Huh, I thought, That’s actually kind of fascinating. I wonder what other tidbits of lore are like that?

Caera chuckled slightly. “Ah, so it’s a kind of fairy tale. Like the dragons coming to snatch you from your cradle, or the Wraiths descending down when you fail your lessons.”

Sevren nodded. “Yeah, it’s made up. Like the Wraiths. Just a way to–”

“The Wraiths are real,” I said seriously, cutting across my friend’s words as I kept my gaze focused on the upcoming portal. “Agrona’s half-blood warriors do exist.”

Caera chuckled at first, clearly thinking I was joking. But as she saw Sevren’s sheet-white face and my severe facade, her expression fell into uncertainty. “You are joking, aren’t you? I mean, there’s no way the High Sovereign has an army of these warriors at his beck and call. We’ve never seen them, have we?”

I gave Caera a pointed look. “You were able to hide your own secrets perfectly for years,” I said, tapping a finger against the crown of my skull in reference. “Imagine what could be done if you had control of all information.”

While the navy-haired noble still looked uncertain, she didn’t talk about it again. Sevren’s jaw clenched, however. He alone knew I had the ghost of a warrior asura as my bond, attached to my soul and whispering secrets into my ears. My words had far, far more effect on him than his sister.

It didn’t take long for the three of us to register for an ascent. Caera had gone on her prelim with her brother not long ago, and though Sevren hadn’t explained everything to me yet, he’d told me that he’d gone to a specific zone to collect materials for what we were going to do today.

When the three of us walked up to the ascension portal, Sevren covertly withdrew an item from his dimensional storage.

It looked like a small, near-perfect sphere of dark carapace, with slight ridges here and there. There were half a dozen runes scrawled into the surface, each pulsing with power I could feel flood across my skin.

“This is the secret to what Caera and I did a week or two ago,” he whispered, holding the ball reverently. “I’ll explain it to you once we’re inside.”

“Wait,” I said, laying a hand on Sevren’s arm. “Not that I don’t trust you or anything, but what kind of battle formation are we going for? You don’t exactly have a good way to deal damage in whatever zone we enter.”

Sevren smirked deviously, his white teeth matching his hair. He flourished his hand, another item settled there from his dimension ring.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed, my eyes widening as I looked at what settled into his hand.

It was clearly some sort of gun, magazine and all. Except the silverish-blue metal radiated with barely detectable mana, and I could sense a condensed charge of some sort of fire attribute within.

“I found a way to adapt,” the Denoir heir said proudly. “Thanks to that one item you showed me a while back.”

It took me a bare moment to put it together. Sevren had used his regalia on the Relictombs gun when I’d allowed him to look at it.

I closed my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my fingers as I tried to process this. Most mages below yellow core probably wouldn’t be able to do anything about a bullet. And while I was all for empowering those without strength, the sudden implications of seeing a Glock rushed through my system. But I could think about what effect this could have on warfare later.

“You should see the power that thing packs,” Caera commented lightly. “It nearly ripped his arm out of his socket with every shot until he got the timing for his mass alteration rune down.”

“Have you shown that to anyone else?” I asked, feeling another note of worry. If word got around that Sevren Denoir was using Earthen technology, I had a bad feeling he’d quickly draw the wrong kind of attention.

“Nobody,” Sevren said slowly, sensing my anxiety. “And I didn’t plan to unless it was necessary. What has you so worried?”

I looked at the purple pane of the portal in front of us. “That weapon was created in Scythe Nico’s homeland,” I said, hoping he got the message. “So unless you want the wrong kind of attention…”

Caera’s scarlet eyes widened, while her brother’s sharpened into steel. We both knew I still kept some secrets, but he didn’t press. “I understand,” he said, quietly withdrawing his makeshift gun into his dimension ring. “Let’s get started, then,” he said, facing the portal, too.

Sevren held the scrawled sphere of carapace aloft. “Stick close to me. That should make the aetheric tether bind better.”

Then he stepped into the portal. Not a second later, I followed, trusting in our shared simulets to see us through.

And to my surprise, ended up in the Town Zone. I blinked in surprise. Sevren hadn’t used his rune on the portal to change the destination, had he?

“Sevren showed me this place last time,” Caera breathed out, her eyes sparkling as they absorbed the scenery. I noticed half a dozen strange electric-blue vats far in the distance that absolutely radiated mana, standing stark against the array of Alacryan and American architecture.

“This was what I spent my last ascent with my sister doing,” Sevren said as he turned to look at me, hefting the small orb. “When I first tracked you through the Relictombs, I used the remains of a certain type of aether beast to create a sort of tether between us, not unlike simulets. I called these beasts tethertails, and I hadn’t seen anything like them since. But once Caera pointed it out, I noted that I could return again and again to that zone, farming the tethertails for what were once rare ingredients without burdening my lifeforce.”

Sevren smiled deeply, his teal eyes flashing as he held his sole arm out to the side in a grandiose gesture. “And now the entire Relictombs can be mapped.”

I laughed deeply and sonorously, the sudden proclamation making something in my core quake in excitement. “Hell, Sevren,” I said, my laughter fading away after a moment. “I think you’re a genius!”

Agrona had been working for millennia to figure out how to map these Relictombs, and Sevren had made a way in under a week by thinking outside the box.

Sevren waved my statement away. “The system is imperfect still,” he said, walking toward one of the houses. Caera and I followed him as he continued to talk. “For each zone, you need an ‘anchor’ and a ‘tether.’ The carapace sphere I showed you earlier acts as the tether. I’ve laid an anchor inside this zone, which was why we were able to reach it without me using my spellform.”

I opened my mouth, about to ask a question, when Sevren opened the door to the house.

Instead, I was left feeling confused as I saw a massive shelf taking up the entire space of the house. The upper floor had been carved away, leaving room for the layered construction to stretch all across the back wall and up past the windows.

There were small divots in the shelves at set intervals, with nameplates in front of the slight dips. The reason for these dips quickly became apparent, as there were several that were filled. I saw a few of the same spherical objects scrawled with runes settled into those divots.

“For each zone we want to mark, we need another tether sphere for an ascender to hold,” Sevren said, staring up at the massive shelf. “It would be far more efficient if we only needed one that you could key toward different anchors, but it is what it is,” he said sadly.

“This is still amazing,” I breathed, imagining the possibilities. “Agrona himself has been trying to do something like this for millennia. And you’ve made more progress in a few months than he ever has,” I said, awestruck.

Sevren coughed into his fist, seemingly embarrassed. “But that’s where you come in,” he said.

Caera spoke up next. “What my genius brother means to say,” she said, smiling at Sevren, “Is that we’ll both be going on ascents. When you go into a zone, you’re going to lay down an anchor, take a few notes on what the zone was like, and snap a few pictures with a recording artifact. Then you’ll eventually make your way back here, storing everything in one big bank!”

The excited way she said it was infectious. I felt anticipation as it gradually subsumed all other thoughts. I slammed a fist into my palm, feeling a grin stretch across my face. “Then what are we waiting for?”

—

Not long after, I stood in front of the ascension portal, half a dozen anchor stakes stashed in my dimension ring. Their requisite tether spheres were stashed in the massive shelf repository, each ready to have a true destination applied. I also had a tether sphere keyed for the Town Zone so I could return at will when I was finished.

Nearby, Caera was working through a few blade forms with her large ruby sword. She was sharp and precise, skilled in a way I rarely saw. Sweat beaded down her face as she pirouetted, her weapon smashing away an imagined foe. I felt slightly entranced as I watched the display, the beauty of her bladework clear.

Sevren was making some last-minute preparations in one of the houses, leaving his sister to loosen her bones. She spun once, meeting my eyes for a split second as she swiveled beneath a curtain of navy hair.

She halted with perfect precision, raising an inquisitive brow at my inspection of her form. “Never seen a woman work through sword forms before, Toren?” she teased lightly.

“Caera,” I said with a suffering sigh, “A day ago, I was training bladework with Seris.”

The Vritra-blooded woman sucked air through her teeth, a sympathetic groan exiting her mouth. “I’m surprised you’re still walking,” she said, striding over and staring at the portal. “She doesn’t exactly play around with that.”

I rolled my shoulders subconsciously, feeling the pain of the time Seris had thwacked me with the flat of her mana blade. “She could stand to let you breathe in between repetitions,” I bemoaned. “But then–”

“You aren’t making full use of the energy you have,” Caera said in unison with me, both of us quoting the Scythe. Caera’s shoulders drooped. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. You can’t even move your legs after it all! What energy?!”

Sevren strolled over, his sole hand holding his gun lightly. His eyes darted between Caera and me, a skeptical brow raised. “What has the two of you looking so defeated?”

Caera and I maintained eye contact for a long moment, a silent bond of shared suffering uniting us. Both of us toiled under Scythe Seris’ training.

“You wouldn’t understand, brother,” Caera said seriously, straightening and pushing a lock of navy hair from her face. “The suffering we go through. All for progress.”

Sevren looked utterly confused as Caera and I faced the portal in unison. He would be going with his sister on their own ascent, while I would ascend solo. We’d be able to map twice as many zones this way.

“Well,” the white-haired striker said, a note of suspicion in his voice. “Let’s chart the unchartable, shall we?”