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Toren Daen
Arthur plummeted from the sky like a fallen angel, an almost perfect picture of the Dragon from Revelation streaking toward the underworld as they were cast from heaven. As the Lance dared to bend the world to his whims, he was rejected for trying to usurp the true order of the cosmos.
My power retreated as I watched the graceless fall. Resonant Flow slowed as my heart squeezed painfully, the light streaming from my chest simmering away. My hair shifted back to its normal colors as the Unseen World vanished from my view, Soulplume retreating into my core.
I stumbled, almost falling immediately as backlash began to assault my body. Yet familiar hands wrapped under my arms, supporting me and refusing to let me collapse here. Aurora’s steady limbs kept me aloft even as my vision doubled and tripled, red tinting everything within my sight. I felt as if my brain had been removed from my skull, stuffed into a blender and mixed with fire, then meticulously poured back into my head.
Arthur’s body hit the ground. There was no grand crash; no resonant boom of impact. Just a dull thump as the earth welcomed him into its heartless embrace.
Sylvie’s mournful bellow resonated through the cavern as she pulled herself on weak limbs toward her bond’s dying form. I felt a strange sense of detachment as my own bond supported me, my fingers twitching limply in an attempt to form a fist.
“Art!” another voice cried out desperately, just as filled with pain. With how weak I currently was, I couldn’t dissect intent in the ambient mana. But from the wrenching grief laden in that tone, I was suddenly grateful I couldn’t. “Art, no! Please!”
It took my mind a minute to register what it was seeing. Tessia Eralith–her face streaked with tears and horror–was running toward Arthur’s body, throwing herself at his bleeding form.
How… How did I miss her? I thought headily, wavering on my feet. Each second seemed to stretch like tar, the pain coursing through my body taking my perception of time and beating it over the head. Whenever I let myself waver, double and triple images of the world overlapped my sight. How is she here? She should’ve left by now!
“Toren,” Aurora said sadly, “we should leave while we can.”
My eyes stayed locked on Sylvie as she desperately breathed aether over Arthur’s body, attempting to heal him with her dragon’s arts. Nothing happened. His dwindling heartfire didn’t even react as her energy spread across his body.
“Toren,” Aurora implored again, her tone softer. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“No,” I whispered, my lungs feeling like they would collapse inward from simply uttering the word. “No. I’m going to see my consequences through to the end.”
I took a shaky step forward. The phoenix shade reluctantly complied as she helped me walk on trembling limbs toward the trio. Sylvie no doubt knew I was approaching, but she didn’t turn away from her fruitless task, her tear-laden yellow eyes entirely focused on the body of her bond.
Tessia Eralith, however, turned eyes filled with rage and grief my way as she cradled her limp childhood friend’s body in her arms. Yet when she opened her mouth to speak–to berate me, or hurl accusations, or demand I fall on my sword–only a ragged sob tore its way from her throat.
I stared down at Arthur’s body, and I knew somehow. Knew it instinctively.
In that otherworld novel, Arthur entered the Third Phase of Sylvia’s Will far later in time–and it had nearly killed him, tearing his body apart from the inside. In a bid to save her bond, Sylvie had sacrificed her own body–her physical form–to remake Arthur anew, allowing him to survive.
But that wouldn’t happen now, I knew. Whether that be because Sylvie hadn’t yet broken her seal, or something I’d fucked up in Fate, Sylvie would not be able to sacrifice herself now.
Arthur was going to die.
My hands clenched slowly as I came to a decision within the depths of my very soul.
“What are you willing to sacrifice?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Sylvie’s desperate eyes turned to me, and Tessia’s turquoise pupils seemed to shatter into a million shards of green glass. “For him to survive?”
There was power in sacrifice. Raw, pure power that couldn’t be obtained anywhere else.
“How dare you,” Tessia hissed, pure venom flashing through her. “After what you’ve done–”
“Anything,” Sylvie replied in a low, low grumble, cutting the elven princess off. “I’ll give anything.”
And I knew she was telling the truth. I strode forward, kneeling in front of Arthur’s dying body. I raised a shaky hand toward his sternum, my heartfire flickering weakly and painfully as I called on it. Without realizing it, I’d already touched a bit of my lifespan in desperation. I’d probably shaved a decade off the top at least.
Tessia tensed protectively around her childhood friend, looking ready to lash out like a cat as my hand neared. But then she looked at Sylvie’s weakly imploring gaze, and fell into quiet despair.
I pressed my hand over Arthur’s sternum, feeling the absolute hurricane that raged within each of his cells. My eyes widened at the information I received–something within was fighting against the breakdown of his physique. Spreading energy latched to each and every cell, reinforcing them and fighting back against the inevitable degradation.
But as my heartfire flowed along the man’s veins in a soothing pulse, I felt even more surprised as that… substance drank up the sparse tongues of aether I’d imbued like a parched man in a desert. With how weak I was, I couldn’t resist the pull, the little bits of lifeforce I’d funneled along Arthur’s body taken without a struggle.
But as they were absorbed, that substance surged, fighting back against the tide.
It’s the acclorite, I realized, snapping a glance at Arthur’s palm. The place where Wren had implanted the seed of a weapon–one meant to grow and change, before finally manifesting into something worthy of an asura–was empty. The little black stone had seeped across his body instead.
My mind flashed back to how Dawn’s Ballad had been absorbed into the little stone as Arthur fell into his Third Phase. It hurt to think, but the sword’s strange coloring–different from the teal described in the novel–and the way it drank my blood and cut Aurora’s soul told me there was more to its makeup than I’d originally assumed.
Another divergence, I thought. Will Regis still come to be as this weapon manifests? What was Dawn’s Ballad, really?
But those questions simmered away as I pulled my hand back, a plan of action cementing itself within my mind. I could do this–I could heal Arthur, I was sure. But not with the reserves I currently had.
“Tessia,” I croaked out. “I need… need the horn,” I said weakly, fighting to remain fully conscious. “The white horn. If I want to save him.”
The elven princess’ eyes shimmered with distrust and suspicion, but at a mournful glance shared with Sylvie, she pulled herself out from under Arthur’s body, her arms shaking as she strode over toward where I’d dropped Inversion during the final bits of my fight.
She knelt, picking it up. The touch didn’t burn her skin like it did for Vritra-blooded humans, but she seemed surprised by the warmth I knew was constantly thrumming along its length. She returned quickly, but hesitated as I numbly held out my hand.
“Why,” she demanded, staring at me with eyes as hard as emeralds, “do you need this? What purpose?”
So many questions, I thought with irritation, noting as Arthur slipped further and further. He coughed weakly, blood streaming from his mouth. We don’t have time for this!
“Because I don’t have the energy needed,” I hissed angrily, pointing at my chest. “But she does!” I snapped at the reluctant princess, a trembling hand pointed directly at Sylvie’s chest.
Tessia blinked in confusion, but thankfully, Sylvie seemed to understand. “Give him the horn, mama,” she said quietly. Arthur’s heartfire dipped lower. “Do it.”
I held an impatient hand out to the princess. I didn’t miss the flash of anger she showed when she finally settled it into my palm. We both knew she could kill me if she wanted to. I was too weak to resist.
But in the end, the elven princess’ care for her childhood friend triumphed over her hatred of me. I laid my right hand over Arthur’s chest, then clenched Inversion in my left. I stared up into Sylvie’s draconic eyes, sensing her understanding.
She could feel what was happening to Arthur over her bond, no doubt. She knew what was encroaching on his soul; how dire it was. And in turn, she knew that nothing short of sacrifice would leave him whole once more.
Ruination painted Sylvie’s once-obsidian scales a deep crimson. Blood streamed from innumerable cuts and gashes along her body, the damage Aurora had done in her Vessel Form extensive and hellish. Yet despite her current weakness, Sylvie still bore energy that could be used. That could be harnessed.
If only it was sacrificed. I heard her stable, resonant heartbeat in the depths of my mind. The aether that coursed through her lifespan, expansive as the Southern Sea.
Tessia’s eyes widened as I lined the point of the dagger-like horn over top of the massive, black dragon’s chest. The world seemed to pause for a moment as I locked eyes with the scion of the Indrath Clan, her resolve and surety bleeding into the ambient mana. Before the elven princess could cry out in alarm, I slammed my fist into the base of Inversion, driving it forward through the asura’s flesh and sinking deep, deep into her body.
Sylvie snarled in pain, but the only move she made was to block Tessia’s panicked advance with a wing. “No, Tessia,” she said with pained resolve. “This is necessary. I know what I’m doing!”
Their words fell away as the dragon’s blood streamed over my hands. The wound I’d created wasn’t fatal, far from it–but it was large, and it opened directly over her heart. With barely an ounce of consciousness remaining, I called on what slivers of hearfire I could spare, shaving another decade off my lifespan as I crafted chains of aether to surround Sylvie’s pulsing nexus of blood.
She could’ve resisted; I was certain. With her power over aether and her inborn strength, it would’ve normally been impossible to cinch these wrappings shut around her heart. But she allowed it to happen, because we both knew it was the only way.
I began to draw her heartfire from her chest. The tip of Inversion had just barely grazed the recesses of her heart, allowing me a conduit to funnel the aether of her lifespan into my body.
I inhaled sharply, my eyes blowing wide as the dragon’s lifeforce streamed across my veins. It was rich and pure, condensed and alive in a way I’d rarely ever experienced. Just the sensation of it coursing along my veins soothed my agonies, giving me a slight bit of needed reprieve as I concentrated on my craft. Within each mote, there were dozens–maybe hundreds–of years worth of life.
I felt almost intoxicated by the power as it overwhelmed my senses for a moment, the little eddies of purple changing to the color of dawnlight as they shifted through Inversion. My perception rose to absurd heights as my senses were overloaded from the sheer quantity of energy coursing across my body. Little tongues of dawnlight sparked and flared around my body as I struggled to keep it all contained.
I felt I might burst from the swell of energy that coursed along my veins, the nectar of aether so dreadfully condensed that I found it hard to even breathe. Hard to think. My heart clenched painfully, nearly overwhelmed by the stream of power that entered it. It felt like a balloon close to popping from the influx of air. It couldn’t beat fast enough; couldn’t beat hard enough to contain it all.
But I couldn’t allow myself to falter here; to lose focus of why I was doing this. And my goal wasn’t to keep this energy. After all, it wasn’t for me.
My hand clenched around Arthur’s chest, feeling his agonies. His slow death. And I began to funnel this new aether into his body, feeding the acclorite as it resisted his destruction. And slowly, slowly, the process began to grind to a halt as the acclorite spread even further in defiance of the laws of mass and energy. After all, it was within heartfire’s fundamental nature to flow. To travel from one point to another. I just needed to be that vein; that conduit.
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I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind aching from trying to do so many things at once. My limbs felt distant and not my own as they swelled from trying to cycle all this heartfire. Above me, Sylvie crooned in pain–but Arthur’s state visibly improved. His sickly skin lightened slightly as a bit of color returned to his cheeks. His breathing became a bit more even, but…
But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t healing him, only keeping the rampaging force in check. Furthermore, I could sense as his core began to degrade, Sylvia’s Will having escaped into the wild expanse beyond us as it broke down.
I looked up, noting Sylvie’s pained expression. Tessia’s mixture of horror and hope as she saw her childhood friend at least appear to edge closer to health. And I knew what needed to be done.
I pulled Inversion free of Sylvie’s chest, the action far easier as my aches and pains had diminished significantly from the torrent of soothing soultether. Sylvie’s wound bled significantly, but I could heal that later.
I shoved Inversion into my belt, then raised bloodied fingers and grasped Tessia’s hand. She startled as I held them firmly, seeming to want to pull away in fear. But then I pressed them into Arthur’s limp grasp.
I looked up at Sylvie, my eyes drooping from exhaustion as I cycled the lifespan I’d taken from her through Arthur’s form in a steadying rhythm.
The dragon, ever the empath, seemed to understand once more. She raised a gigantic claw, settling it over Arthur’s other arm.
Good, I thought, before closing my eyes. Now, it’s time to speak to your soul.
My healing, fundamentally, relied on my ability to sympathize with my targets. Only if I understood them could I make a beckoning call to their heartfire; a lifeline for their soul to latch onto. But in turn, their soul needed to be willing to be healed.
And I knew Arthur Leywin. The King, the General, the Lance. The man who feared becoming what he once was–an apathetic tyrant without any to call his loved ones. That was why he fought so hard for them–bled so much for them. Because they were what proved, in some minute way, that he wasn’t a monster. Because they gave this new life purpose.
I took a deep, surreal breath. I felt somehow lighter than a cloud, yet also burdened by the heaviest of weights as words pulled themselves from my throat. “Arthur Leywin,” I said aloud, my hand over his heart, my heartfire caressing his degrading core. “I know you. Perhaps you might not believe me. But I know you better than nearly any other. Your hopes. Your dreams. Your… Your fears.”
I swallowed heavily, feeling tears blur the edges of my vision as I slammed my eyes shut. “I’ve watched your story play out for years. I sympathized with your struggles. I stood on the edge of my seat as you failed, then cheered as you rose again. Every step of the way, I have watched and cared for your journey; for your story. I can say so, so much,” I said breathily.
“But for all I know you, former king of Etharia,” I said with a shudder that seemed to reverberate through my very soul, “You don’t know me. To your grand story, I’m a footnote. An observer with nothing to add; nothing to give. My words mean nothing to you.”
I gnashed my teeth as a tear escaped my eye, streaming treacherously down my blood-stained face. The ruined mask over my face did a poor job of hiding it. “But they don’t need to. I just need to be the bridge for the words of those who can. Because your anchors are here, Arthur.”
Tessia’s hand clenched uncertainly around Arthur’s as my words registered with her, fear, confusion, and hope tracing their lines across her face. At that moment, I thought I understood why Arthur loved her so deeply in his heart. One who could display such pure, pure emotion needed to be cherished. Held close to the soul so that way they’d never forget how to feel.
Sylvie lowered her nose to Arthur’s mop of auburn brown hair as my words echoed out, nuzzling his scalp weakly. I’d siphoned nearly half her nigh endless expanse of years into my body, then continuously funneled it back into the quadra-elemental mage in Tessia’s arms. Yet even as she struggled not to collapse, Sylvie stood stalwart for her papa, unwavering in her dedication and care.
You have all you need, Arthur Leywin, I thought headily. Don’t ever let them go. Don’t ever let yourself go.
“You promised to live a full, wonderful life,” I said to the once-monarch beneath me, beckoning back to his promise to Sylvia. “You made an Oath in this second life of yours, King Grey. And here they are. The ones you fight for. The ones you live for.”
The flow of aether across Arthur’s body began to slow as the work was done, his heartfire beginning to pulse at a normal resonance once more. I exhaled as his core–which was once so close to degradation–mended itself over under my call.
Tessia wept openly as she pressed her forehead to Arthur’s, relief and joy threading through her intent as he was returned to health once more. Sylvie crooned softly, nuzzling Arthur’s head.
“Amazing,” Aurora breathed, her words running through my entire system as her shock and genuine awe simmered like steam off boiling water. “To heal a mana core–it should be impossible. It defies nature itself, Toren.”
The core is part of the Vessel, I thought as I stared down at Arthur’s body, And the Vessel is ours to command, Aurora. Mana cores are no exception, I added a little smugly. One just needs… perspective.
I’d been able to sense the changes within Arthur’s physique as the acclorite manifested in real-time, the strange collage of flesh and metal becoming truly one beneath my watchful eye. I didn’t know what changes this would bring to his future, but…
I’ll see the consequences of my actions through, I thought, shakily pulling myself to my feet. I felt stretched, like taffy that had been pulled too far.
Or butter that’s been scraped over too much bread, I thought a bit giddily, a line from one of my favorite stories popping into the forefront of my mind. I stumbled backward as I began to walk away, leaving them behind. I… I needed to find a way out of this djinn sanctuary. Dicathian reinforcements would no doubt be here soon, and I had to get back to where I was safe.
I felt a lance of guilt stab through me as my mind drifted back to Burim. I’d been… forceful with Albold. And in return for bullying the poor elf into giving me the information I’d required, I’d dropped him rather unceremoniously around the outskirts of the Beast Glades.
And before I’d departed, I’d left the completed dwarven puzzle on Seris’ desk. I was doing something directly against orders, and if anything happened, I’d wanted her to have it. To know that I’d completed the task she’d given me. That she hadn’t managed to stump my mind.
“Toren Daen!” Sylvie called after me as I limped away.
I turned lethargically, looking back toward the towering dragon. She’d used a light application of aether to seal over her wound, staunching the flow of blood. And the questions–all the questions in her eyes that demanded answers. She hesitated, before her large jaw opened.
“Why was Arthur brought to this world?” she finally asked. I saw her burning curiosity and disbelief in the wake of the words I’d said as I healed Arthur. I suspected she could tell I was being truthful, too. But she’d decided to ask the most important question.
My mouth suddenly felt very, very dry. I worked my jaw as Tessia raised her chin to look at me, her wide eyes darting between me and the dragon.
“He has a right to know,” Aurora said solemnly, her hand settling on my shoulder. “The same way you had a right to know in the wake of your own reincarnation.”
I know, I acknowledged somberly. I know.
But I’d been vague so far. I’d hoarded my knowledge like a jealous dragon around its hoard of gold, clinging to what might be the future for some vague sense of assurance. If I told anyone why I was here, what were the chances of that knowledge making its way back to Agrona? What were the chances that things became worse than they already were?
The truth was, I didn’t want to speak to these people. Part of me never wanted to see them face to face. I didn’t want to look at the possibility that I might be damning their happiness to oblivion through my actions. Sylvie’s question rang clear in the depths of my soul. Tessia’s confusion and desire were like a hurricane tearing apart her intent as she was left stranded in the wake of all this knowledge.
But Aurora was correct. For all that the future had in store, Tessia and Sylvie and Arthur had a right to defy their Fates.
Silence reigned in the djinni sanctuary, the multicolored fires that flickered and lingered all about finally beginning to die away. Blue-white frostfire kissed white flames, killing each other softly. The popping of those fires sounded somewhat like cracking wood and shattering ice as the destruction cannibalized itself.
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the weight of Sylvie’s stare. I made up my mind.
“You’re going to swear an Oath,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “That none of what I am about to say will leave your lips, except to Arthur himself.”
Sylvie’s eyes darkened to a deep, deep amber, but Tessia’s emotions finally snapped. “What is going on?” she begged, her tears drying up as my words reasserted themselves. “What… why?”
I belatedly realized that Tessia didn’t know that Arthur was reincarnated. Arthur had kept that knowledge from her–kept it out of fear. He lied to himself, saying that it was fear that she’d think him a monster. But deep down, he feared what he would do if she accepted him far, far more.
But she already heard what I said over his body, I thought with gritted teeth. If she hasn’t put it together by now, she will when the shock leaves her system.
“Just swear,” I said back, ignoring Tessia’s question. I didn’t have much time. “Swear on your mother,” I said, pointing at Sylvie, then shifted my attention to Tessia Eralith, “and swear on your grandfather.”
“W-What?” Tessia said weakly, clutching Arthur’s unconscious body to her chest as if it were a single piece of wood amidst a raging storm at sea. “What is–”
Sylvie only hesitated for a moment. “I swear on the name of Sylvia Indrath,” she said, “daughter of Kezess Indrath, and heir to the crown of Epheotus that I will not utter a word of what you tell me to any other than Arthur.”
I turned hard eyes toward the elven princess next. She swallowed, the yawning pits of my pupils seeming to overwhelm her. I was sure she sensed the gravity of what I planned to say. How it might shatter her world. Her confusion was shoved back into a tiny recess of her mind as the weight of what I needed to say overrode it.
“I swear, ” she said weakly, lowering her gaze as she failed to match the intensity of mine, “on Virion Eralith’s name.”
I let out a breath. Took another. Then let it out again, my adrenaline flowing once more as the two looked at me with raptured expressions of hope and uncertainty.
“Your father called him here,” I said to Sylvie, pushing the secret from the depths of my soul. I said the words as they came to me, each escaping like a bird flying from a cage. Aurora’s hand on my shoulder helped steady me, giving me direction as I continued. “He called his soul to understand the depths of reincarnation.”
The decimated cavern was silent as a grave. In that otherworld novel, it hadn’t been made explicitly clear if Sylvie knew she was Agrona’s daughter until her return. But the utter terror that washed through her told me all I needed to know.
Sylvie recoiled visibly, her long head pulling back in rejection as her wings flared. Her teeth pulled up into a snarl as she stared at me, disbelief thrumming through her veins.
I met the dragon’s eyes. Even weak and defeated, Sylvie towered over me like a black shadow that inverted the light. Yet as a silent tension built between us, I waited. I waited for her to ask the final question. The one we both knew she needed to ask.
“Why?” she asked, barely a whisper. “Why… Why is he trying to learn about reincarnation?”
I pointed a long, blood-stained arm at Tessia. My finger extended, and for a moment I thought it might appear as if I were the reaper coming to claim her soul. My shadow stretched long and dark as the fires finally abandoned us all.
“In the end, he needs her,” I said. “So he can bring another from the Beyond. One Grey knew, long ago, before he ended her life. He wishes to bring the one who commands the world itself as she pleases. And I will never allow it, as long as my heart beats in my chest.”
I let my arm fall, and then I turned around. Sylvie’s intent thundered with terror, her heartbeat slamming like a gong against my ears.
—
I stumbled to my knees as I fell into the tall grass, my limbs aching from overuse. I struggled to keep my vision focused as exhaustion clawed at my mind. I need… need to move further away.
I didn’t know if what I’d said was right. If I hadn’t further jeopardized the future with my words. By revealing Agrona’s plans to another, I worried–on a deep, terrified level–that it could be traced back to me, and back to all I cared for.
I had managed to stumble through a passageway at the edge of the djinni sanctuary. For the past couple of hours, I’d been barely holding on as I pulled myself through the dungeon and then out onto the surface. Part of me worried that some random mana beast might spot me and gut me in my weakened state, but I was too tired to even be fully aware of that.
Aurora’s arms under mine helped me get back to my feet for the hundredth time. By whatever gods exist, I thought hazily, I need… need to sleep.
I wasn’t far outside the realm of backlash, and though the meager bits of heartfire I’d managed to retain from Sylvie had managed to heal over most of the damage I’d received, I still was far from my best.
I took another step, but tripped on a root before I could fully set my foot down. I faceplanted painfully, what was left of my mask wrenched off my face as I cracked my head against a rock. The armor Sevren had made for me wasn’t regenerating. Something about Arthur’s aether arts had destroyed it utterly.
Fuck, I thought groggily, my limbs refusing to respond. I blinked, and suddenly I was rolled over.
Did I do that? I wondered headily, staring up through the branches of the towering tree above me. I didn’t remember moving.
The low light of dusk streamed through the canopy above me. I felt cold, I realized. As weak as I was and without mana to support me, I was left to truly face the chill of winter. The season itself was nearly over, but it still had one last hurrah to give as a middle finger to me in particular.
I groaned as I curled up into a ball, trying to ward off the cold. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, the light was just a little bit lower.
I was losing consciousness, and fast. I couldn’t afford to... to–
I blinked again, despite Aurora’s protests. And when I stared out once more, night had fallen.
And there was a figure hovering before me.
Seris was outlined in little splashes of moonlight that reflected off her silver-kissed hair like radiant dewdrops. She seemed to me like some sort of lunar goddess as she floated before my battered body.
“Do you have any idea,” Seris said, sounding uniquely angry, “what you have done?”
I couldn’t help it. Even as her small lips turned down into a deep, furious scowl and her intent radiated with a swirling mix of anger and fear–fear for me–I couldn’t help but admire her beauty. I felt a smile cross my face as I stared headily up at her, drinking in her perfect form as a drowning man does water.
“I’ve made a change,” I said at last, my voice slurred from exhaustion. “I’ve changed the course of this war. I spat in his face. Denied him. He doesn’t… Doesn’t get to win.”
And then the darkness claimed me.