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Toren Daen

I didn’t wake up all at once. Instead, I vaguely remembered flashing in and out of consciousness. Images barely recalled flickered like old film in the depths of my psyche. The low heat of someone’s body close to mine. Rhythmic breathing. A dimly lit room. The cold as I was left alone. Metal biting into my wrists. Firelight. Something soft beneath my body. An effervescent ache that yawned from my core and dripped like boiling water across my veins.

I slowly pulled my eyes open, the action like lifting the portcullis of a castle wall using only the strength of my body. I groaned in pain as the lingering sensation of backlash scratched at my channels. I blinked blearily, adjusting to the low light of whatever room I was in.

I was in a small chamber of dark stone. There were no windows within these confines, leaving me in mute darkness that seemed to blanket everything in a chill. Yet despite the grim state of the room, the bed I lay on was remarkably soft. A blanket was draped over me with notable care, warding off the chill.

Groggily, I tried to wipe my face with my arms.

And realized they were shackled together.

I felt the pit drop out of my stomach as I stared at the metal cuffs binding my hands. Belatedly, I realized I couldn’t feel my own mana. I was cut off from the source of my power by the constraining effects of these chains. It felt as if my core were held in the grip of some dark beast, my usual clarity and surety of mind washed away. I was wearing simple linens, none of my usual dress on. My signet ring and dimension ring were gone, whisked away to who-knew-where.

I felt adrenaline flowing through my veins as I slowly turned, observing the room once more. For the first time, I noticed that there were thick steel bars–each as wide across as my arm–barring the far entrance of the room.

I was in a prison cell.

Aurora? I asked out of habit, my mouth dry and my thoughts moving like sap. Can you hear me?

No response. My bond was muted and compressed by the mana-suppressing shackles around my wrists, leaving me adrift and uncertain. My anxiety crested as I tried to calm myself. I was chained and in a cell, but why? What was the last thing I remembered?

I’d healed Arthur, that much I could recall. And afterward, I’d pulled myself out of the djinni sanctuary, stumbling through the Beast Glades on trembling limbs. I’d collapsed against the trunk of a tree some miles away, and the last thing I’d seen–

My head turned sharply as I heard a slight creak of metal. I blinked owlishly at a nervous guard as they peeked through a sliding window in my cell. “He’s awake!” the man called, noticing how I was staring at him. “Send word to our mistress!”

The man quickly shut the little viewing window, leaving me back in the cold of my cell. And just as fast as my adrenaline and anxiety had been rising, it began to simmer away.

I’d feared that perhaps I’d been captured by Dicathians; that I hadn’t been fast enough in my escape from the underground network of tunnels. But the lingering image of Seris as the moonlight anointed her like some lunar goddess assured me of where I currently was.

I knew who had locked me in this cell, and why.

I took a deep, calming breath, moving to sit in a cross-legged position on my admittedly comfortable bed. I couldn’t shift my arms too much, but that wasn’t a problem. I began to meditate, coaxing my lifeforce as I waited.

I couldn’t affect my mana with these shackles. But the aether of my body was entirely unmolested by the cold iron around my wrists. My lifeforce–still aching and twinging from all the strain I’d put it through not long ago, flowed in cycles around my body in tune with my heartbeat.

Breathe in, breathe out. In, out. In… and out, I thought, meshing myself with the flow of energy across my veins.

And as my lifeforce flowed, I found myself strangely contemplative. For me, meditation wasn’t the removal of all thoughts and emptying of the mind. No; my thoughts and emotions were what made me whole. When I meditated, I allowed all I thought, all I felt, to flow through me in steady waves. Just like the steady meander of a river, or the gentle flush of molten metal as it filled in a mold.

Each of my emotions filled in a groove in my mind, bringing color and contrast as they went. Anger and despair at the actions I’d needed to commit in Burim flashed a painful red. The yellow of fear intertwined with those as well: the fear that I’d lose myself. That the reasons I gave for justifying my needs were just rationalizations that let me taint my soul without true cause.

And then there was the steady blue of confidence and determined resolve holding everything together. That emotion danced with the bright fuschias of care and compassion that fueled them. And on the borders of it all, there were specks of black hatred that stood like steady supports to it all.

Like oxygen to a flame, each emotion worked together to make me me. If one was gone, then all would become unbalanced. Weighty and unstable, like a candleflame in the breeze.

And as I immersed myself in my emotions and thoughts, I noticed another rise in waves that hadn’t been as prominent. A burning, passionate red that simultaneously seared anything in its way, while keeping everything in its vicinity warm and comfortable. A true paradox of self slowly interweaved through the troughs of my mind, following its own path and pattern.

The deepest subconscious parts of my psyche had sensed something familiar. Something that aroused those emotions as if by reflex.

The scent of flowers–of a deep perfume that invaded the soul–tickled my nose.

I opened my eyes slowly. Seris stood within my cell, staring down at me with a look of barely restrained anger. With my core shackled, I couldn’t sense her intent even if I wished to, yet I suspected her emotions had pushed past her cloaking artifact nonetheless.

“Do you know why you are imprisoned, Toren?” the Scythe asked, her perfect alabaster face shifting as she struggled with her emotions.

“I do,” I acknowledged solemnly, remaining in my meditative pose. I allowed my breath to flow like the blood in my veins.

“Tell me why,” Seris demanded sharply, her onyx eyes flashing. “Why are you chained and imprisoned? I want to be certain. Certain that you understood everything that you’ve done.”

I met her eyes with my own solemn ones. “I disobeyed direct orders, leaving Burim without notice or consultation and abandoning my duties. And along the way, I freed a high-profile prisoner, an act considered treasonous within Alacrya,” I said succinctly.

The ease with which I admitted my guilt made Seris’ brow twitch. Her mana–her intent–radiated out in a suffocating wave that sought to steal the breath from my lungs. But the pressure seemed to part around me as my meditative state allowed this, too, to simply enter my stream of consciousness.

More acknowledged emotions.

“Then you should know the consequences for treason,” she hissed, striding forward. Her dark dress billowed around her on small eddies of power as she approached me. “What I shall have to do in response.”

I allowed my eyes to close as Seris drew closer, my meditative state beginning to shift and quake as her proximity sent ripples of unsteadying emotion through my mind. I needed to remain calm. Needed to–

“Why?” Seris demanded, her voice taut with anger. With… betrayal. “Why did you do it? Reports have come in; whispers from the highest echelons of the Triunion. That Godspell and Spellsong engaged in battle. What was your purpose?”

I wrenched my eyes open. Seris’ face wasn’t far from my own, and in her hands…

The dwarven puzzle relic settled in her long, slender fingers. The single glyph at the center glowed a brilliant orange, making her face seem as if it were behind a fire-kissed window.

Before I’d left, I’d dropped the puzzle–completed at last–off in Seris’ chambers. Just in case something happened. In case I failed, so that she’d know I hadn’t forgotten. That she wouldn’t be left with questions.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself again. To settle the tremble of my heart as Seris’ eyes–swirling with a mix of fury, fear, and… something else–bored into my own like Varadoth’s horns themselves. “Before our assault on Burim, I was hesitant. I would need to take actions I’d never imagined. I’d never comprehended before.” I tilted my head, allowing my long, golden-red hair to shadow one of my eyes. “Cylrit relieved me of that folly, Seris. He told me that you’d put so much of yourself forward, that it was wrong of me not to reciprocate.”

I exhaled, then took another deep breath. I allowed my diaphragm to fully expand, the sensation of air in my lungs telling me that I was alive. “He told me that I needed to dedicate my whole heart to your cause.”

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Seris snorted derisively, pulling away and turning sharply on her heels. “And I suppose getting yourself locked away in a cell was part of your plan, hmm?” she said. “That this position you’ve cornered me into is part of my cause?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” I hedged.

Seris whirled again, and this time there was only fury in her obsidian eyes. A blade of solid black light extended from her hands in a heartbeat, and in the next, it was pressed against my chest. I grit my teeth as it opened a cut over my heart, the edge inching forward ever-so-slowly. “You presume so, so much, Spellsong,” she said, her voice cold as a grave. “You presume my emotions. My self. And now my cause? I am a Scythe, Lord Daen. My motives are not something you can assume so casually.”

I closed my eyes, listening to the barest hum of the Scythe’s black mana blade as blood streamed down my chest. Yet I didn’t break my pose. I didn’t move as that knife threatened my heart.

I waited for a while, listening to the thrum of my heartbeat. To the thrum of Seris’ rapid heartbeat as she held her blade over my chest. That tension lingered, manifesting in the shadows and within the recesses of my mind.

Then Seris scoffed, her mana blade dissipating. I opened my eyes slowly, staring at the woman as she spun on her heel, turning to face the exit. “I’ll be back, Lord Daen,” she said, a familiar coldness seeping through her words. “And I expect you to answer me more fully next time.”

She strode out of the room, the sound of her high heels on the stone echoing out into the stillness. The door to my cell slammed shut behind her, the metal creaking at the abuse.

And as she left, I found myself contemplating what I should say to her when she returned. What I could say. I trusted Seris. Trusted her in a way I did very, very few, in either of my lives. And when she came demanding answers for my actions, what response could I give? How much was I willing to reveal? I needed time to contemplate all that I would say.

I stared down at the small wound over my heart where Seris’ blade had cut me. It still bled a steady stream of red liquid, and if I really, really concentrated, I could hear the little flecks of heartfire within. Without the constant noise of my mana sense, it was ironically easier to dissect the ambiance of heartfire.

With thoughts of Seris on my mind, I refocused on my meditation, trying to center myself. Trying to find an anchor point.

I blinked as the thought came and went like a leaf atop a steady stream. Anchor point.

My bond with Aurora was muted because my connection to my core was suppressed by the shackles around my wrists. Aurora’s essence–her soul, memories, mind, whatever I could call it–was centralized around the feather that drifted lazily in my white-streaked nexus of power.

But my bond with the phoenix shade wasn’t just physical. It was deeper than that. She used not just my core, but my very soul as an anchor point for her own.

And while I couldn’t influence my mana, my heartfire operated on a more fundamental level than even that.

I took a deep breath, then called on the lifeforce in my veins. I began to craft an ephemeral vein of cascading energy–the same kind I used as a supporting weight for my shrouded saber. Except instead of projecting it out into the world as I usually did, I allowed it to thread from my heart to my mana core.

Immediately, sensation began to flow along the highway of energy. Aurora’s feather glowed with the light of a waxing dawn as our bond came alight once more in my mind.

I didn’t know what I expected to feel as the Unseen World washed over my vision. Maybe a somber hope for my wellbeing. Perhaps a tinge of disappointment that I’d pushed myself so far; hurt myself so deeply. Maybe even the same melancholy air that I experienced now as I contemplated my next conversation with Seris Vritra.

Instead, I felt a white-hot stab of fury. Fury and fear disrupted the calm equilibrium of my meditation as Aurora appeared before me, her teeth clenched and her eyes almost wild.

“You’re caged,” she hissed, her hair flaring. “That woman dared to cage you. To put you in a cell. She knows not the violation of her actions, Toren. Of what she’s done to us.”

I reached my arms out on instinct–each still lashed together by the mana suppression shackles–and settled them on Aurora’s shoulder. “Aurora, I’m here,” I said. “I’m fine, okay?”

“No, you’re not fine, Toren,” she snapped, her eyes flashing as she clenched her fists. “You’re caged. Locked away. Your hands shackled and your freedom stripped. It is an affront to all that you are. All that we are. Just like–”

My bond shut her eyes, the light winking out as she visibly shuddered. My hands fell as my brow creased in sympathy.

“Just like Agrona,” I whispered, understanding why she was so distraught at my capture.

Aurora shuddered visibly, before heavily setting herself down on the bed beside me. As usual, the bed made no indent as she did so, but I felt certain that if it could, the entire floor would have caved in from the weight on her shoulders.

“I… don’t like this dark,” she reluctantly said, her eyes dimming. “I know darkness, Toren. I’ve seen plenty of flavors of it in my time in this world. But the darkness of a cage is one that teases the light beyond, tempting and convincing you that escape is just around the corner. That there is hope, only for you to languish endlessly.”

I awkwardly patted my bond on the back with both my shackled hands. “We won’t be here long,” I said quietly. “When Seris returns and I tell her a bit more about my goals and secrets, I’m confident we’ll be released. She can’t afford to keep us locked up.”

“What are you going to say, my son?” Aurora asked, her voice quiet and sad.

“I’m still thinking about that,” I responded with a sigh. “But–”

My words cut off as I heard a heartbeat approaching. It was quick and pounding, and I thought I could discern a hint of something more sinister beneath the resounding overtones. I narrowed my eyes as the Unseen World washed away. Even with my sense of intent muted and blanketed, I could almost taste the nervousness and barebones fear that coursed through that heartfire.

And they were coming directly for me.

I slowly stood as the heartbeat lingered outside my cell door. The little barred window that let in bits of light was cast in shadow as someone blocked it, breathing heavily in an audible manner. Whoever it was hesitated noticeably, leaving my own tension to rise a bit in turn.

Who is it, I thought, and why are they so nervous?

The door finally opened, revealing a familiar figure. Their wavy, moss-green hair clung to their face like seaweed, making their eyes shine more in contrast.

Xander, spy for both Renea Shorn and Seris Vritra, stood in the doorway.

I felt the tension in my shoulders relax slightly as I took him in. If he was here, it was certainly on Seris’ orders. I’d expected to be made to wait a lot longer before the Scythe called on me again, but it wasn’t a bad surprise.

“Oh, Xander,” I said after a moment. “I didn’t–”

“My name’s not Xander,” the man snapped, his posture shifting like a coiled snake.

I blinked, my wariness returning as he stared at me. That strange timbre to his heartfire scratched at the back of my skull like nails on a chalkboard, leaving me feeling uncertain and guarded.

Truth be told, I’d never asked for the spy’s true name, even after I’d realized he was wearing a cloaking artifact. And considering he hadn’t offered it, either, I believed that was the right choice. “Okay,” I said, “then–”

“Have you ever needed to do something, Spellsong?” Xander asked sharply, staring at me with clenched hands. “Needed to take that step that no others could? To truly rise to the occasion?”

My mind flashed with a dozen images at the mage’s words. The moment I’d first accepted my contract with Aurora. The sound of resounding spellfire as I battled the leviathan beneath the undead zone. And the surety of self I’d experienced as I engaged Soulplume for the first time against Mardeth.

But while I’d normally reply that yes, I had–there was something quietly ominous simmering through the air. I felt the hairs on the backs of my arms stand on end, my inborn instincts warning me against something.

“What is this about?” I asked slowly, my expression settling into something hard.

Xander began to nervously pace at the forefront of the room. Back and forth, to and fro. Like a metronome caught in a loop, he seemed unable to stand still. “I told you how I met Renea Shorn. How my family didn’t know that I was under the orders of a Scythe. But I was sent to this war anyways, and they still don’t care,” he seethed, his aura flaring. There was something… dark about it.

“I remember,” I said carefully. I’d had a talk with Xander about that before I’d been sent to the Beast Glades as punishment. “You mentioned this before. How it hurt you.”

“I never said anything about how it hurt me!” Xander yelled, turning on me as his voice rebounded around the cell in a resounding echo. He swallowed, his pupils narrowing into pinpricks as the sound slowly traveled.

I watched him with that same guarded expression. “Okay,” I said more softly, “then what is this about?”

Xander went back to pacing, pointedly ignoring my gaze. At that moment, it seemed more like he was the one chained and I was not. “I received a sign,” he said. “I asked for so, so long for some sort of direction. For what I should do to receive their recognition. And I was finally granted it, not a day ago. Finally,” he said, his breath coming as a shudder.

I felt an ominous chill douse the warmth of my heartfire at his words, finally pinpointing what exactly was different about his heartfire. What that gnawing blackness that scraped against the inside of my eardrums truly was. “What is your name, Xander?” I said, my fingers clasping together. “Beneath that cloaking artifact of yours?”

Xander looked at me, but quickly averted his gaze at the intensity of my own. “Wolfrum,” he said quickly. “Wolfrum Redwater.”

I felt the bottom fall out of my stomach. Wolfrum Redwater. In The Beginning After the End, he’d acted as a spy planted by Dragoth to backstab Seris during her rebellion.

“What is this step you need to take, Wolfrum?” I demanded, my words like commanding iron. “Look at me, Wolfrum. What are you about to do?”

The man licked his lips, his eyes meeting mine defiantly. For a second, I saw black fire in the depths of his pupils. “I’m going to bring about the downfall of a Scythe. And then nobody will be able to dismiss me.”