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Toren Daen
Another figure of flame slowly coalesced across from the Ascender. The little figurine of fire affected a severe and calculated air, her chin turned up and a mask covering her face as well. The Sorceress stared imperiously at the Ascender as they faced each other.
“Now, those among you in the crowd probably think you know where this is going,” I said, sparing a glance up at the watching audience, “it’s a really, really basic story, I guess, as far as these sorts of things go. But I implore you to listen anyway.”
The Ascender–formed of solid fire and burning brightly–went through a dozen familiar martial forms. Little figurines of flame popped into existence, mirroring aether beasts as they charged at the man of heat. The spectacle was something to behold.
Barth’s control of his golems was supernatural, clearly honed over many decades to a precision point. When I watched him control them and make his little play, I wondered if he was a silver core mage from the level of skill.
But I? I was a white core mage. The world itself rushed to respond to my barest whims, and organic casting was beyond instinctual. This showed clearly in the great dance of the Ascender as they wielded a thin saber of plasma, striking out and felling aether beast after aether beast. Slowly, my little demonstration grew in size and scope, extending out past the little field Barth had conjured. The figures grew and grew as the awestruck crowd stepped away from the solid constructs, each nearly lifelike.
The earth rose a bit from the ground, creating a slight stage as someone else used their magic. I shot a thankful look at Barth. His grin was so wide you’d thought he’d just won the lottery as he watched me flex my skills.
He really does love stories, I thought, sensing his intent in a way I never had been able to before. I’ll have to make this one worth remembering.
“The Ascender was a master of the blade and deadly with his magics,” I finally said, allowing my voice to travel with a touch of sound magic. “There was no beast he could not kill; no monster that could bar his path. Up and up and up he went, as all ascenders do, through the Relictombs.”
A tower of fire rose from the cobblestones, twisting and winding as I exerted my will over the forming energies. It rose like a spear to the heavens, drawing gasps of awe and surprise from all present. In tune, almost without having to ask me, Barth conjured his own tower within my fiery construct, giving it definition and detail I couldn’t manage with my flames. We worked together, he and I, in this little display of showmanship.
“In Alacrya, we don’t have dungeons,” I said, stepping out from behind Barth’s little stand and toward the stage. It was around three feet off the ground, and the tower on top stretched to nearly four times my height. “Instead, we grind our mettle against the unending challenges of the Relictombs. To fight and battle within brings glory to your Blood, and one hones their edge and prowess through countless trials.”
I couldn’t exactly model the Relictombs, seeing as how they were a nigh endless connection of pocket dimensions linked together: but a tower seemed fitting. And considering the awe-struck intent of the mages around me and the enthralled looks from the many people I was performing for, I assumed I was on the right track.
With the barest iota of will, the Ascender figure—just about as tall as my shins—stepped into the tower of earth and fire. Little applications of sound magic mimicked the roars of beasts and the clashing of steel inside as the conjured puppet rose and rose, the windows of the circular tower flickering with mimed spellfire. I absorbed the gasps of the crowd as I stood off to the side, sensing more and more people crowded around. Barth gave a throaty chuckle as he moved to stand beside me, two performers moving as one.
I smiled, the edges of my eyes crinkling as I felt the heartbeats of these dwarves, men, and elves slowly sink into tune as they were absorbed by the wondrous display. It made me think of when I’d played music with Korsted, when individuality drained away into something greater.
I snapped my fingers, and the tower melted apart, flowing like candlewax to the stones. Without a moment’s hesitation, Barth allowed his conjured spell to crumble to the stage floor, too. The fiery Ascender tumbled, rolled along the ground, and came up warily, fiery eyes looking around in fear.
“Except,” I said quietly, my eyes glinting as I let them roam over the crowds, “Things are never as they seem in Alacrya. The shadows hold trials of their own, not just the Relictombs.”
And from the smoke of Barth’s conjured rubble, something large and looming rose. With a push of my regalia, the stones lifted, forming a mocking, twisted grin as it strung itself out malevolently. Even as I stared at it, I felt something like bile surge angrily in the back of my throat. The massive serpent of sand hissed with malevolence, a shadow cast over the Ascender that made his light dim.
“There was a monster too great for even the Ascender. A serpent whose fangs were too sharp; whose venom stung too deep. And that serpent was crafty and intelligent. It knew precisely where it needed to sink those fangs to bring its adversary low.”
I exhaled a shuddering breath as I watched the Ascender slowly back away from the massive, flaming serpent. And behind the conjured snake, the bodies of countless innocents slowly sizzled away. Barth’s intent shifted as he created a dozen tiny gravestones from the stage, his emotional high from earlier at finding a new story whittling away.
Because he’d sensed by now that this story wasn’t just any. It was personal. Real.
I looked back at the crowd, meeting the eyes of as many as I could. Searching. Probing. “Alacrya is not a kind place. It is a place of strength and magical might. It is a place where the weak are subsumed as sustenance for the strong, and all they can do is accept their fate. This Serpent was a manifestation of that, you understand. It was cruel and wretched, yet it only brought to light the ills already present.”
Barth’s movements became a bit more still beside me as I spoke. He’d wanted an Alacryan story, and so I gave him one. I gave everyone one. I wanted these people to understand—dwarven rebel or not—what awaited from a continent away. If they understood it, it would not hurt them as much as it otherwise might.
But I also wanted to find that one mana signature I’d caught earlier. That one heartbeat that had made mine skip. I wanted to call to it in a way they’d understand.
I clenched my hand. “Yet not everything was doomed by this malevolent creature. Because the Ascender had caught the eye of a very special someone: a Sorceress of the greatest renown and skill saw what he could become, what battles he might face. And so the Sorceress weaved an illusion about her form, before striding to face the Serpent herself.”
The illusory Sorceress placed herself between the Serpent and the Ascender. The Serpent halted, rearing back and hissing with fear as the conjured woman–her face still covered by a mask and her hair flowing in the barest breeze–stood strong against the wretched snake’s threats and posturing.
Darkness could be contested, I tried to convey to all and one. There was a point to it all. A goal.
“The Sorceress was strong of magic, of course, but what made her unique–what gave her true beauty–was the way she could weave her words. As strong as any spell and as solid as any construct of man, the Sorceress’ words pressed the Serpent back,” I said, my heartbeat rising in my chest in tune with the memories. I struggled to keep my intent suppressed as I relived those tense days.
The Sorceress raised a single hand, waving it dismissively. The act created a streak of orange that lingered in the air, a mesmerizing effect flowing like liquid fire as embers drifted down to the stage below. But the Serpent? He slunk into the darkness, dissipating until only two watching eyes remained.
“The Serpent wasn’t gone,” I said to the crowd, “for only the Ascender could strike it down. But what of the snake’s victims, the ones who had been subjected to its horrid venom?”
And this time, I couldn’t restrain my intent fully as I remembered a girl. Kori, Wade’s sister. Her pleading eyes and the broken bodies of the East Fiachrans were all around.
My audience shied away as I took a deep breath, their eyes widening as my aura fluctuated slightly–but I refused to scare them off. “The Serpent was cruel. Vindictive. Hateful. Very few could hope to surpass the sheer malice engraved into its very flesh.”
The scene shifted, revealing a fiery Ascender sitting beside a hospital bed. And across from him? Across from him was the Sorceress.
I could sense Barth’s eyebrow rising as he looked at me, then looked at the crowd. He’d evidently noticed I’d been searching for someone there. I could sense the realization of what I was doing slotting into place in his mind, and he suppressed a sudden burst of laughter at the entire thing. His eyes sparkled and his intent rose with such merriment that a smile rose on my face, too.
That’s right, I thought, projecting my intent through the world around me. This isn’t all a tale of sorrow. It’s one of hope, too.
“When first the Ascender met the Sorceress,” I said solemnly, “he thought her manipulative. Cunning. Apathetic. He believed her to be uncaring for the venom trailing in the Serpent’s wake.”
I shook my head slowly as the audience stayed transfixed on the static scene. “The Ascender was wrong. So, so very wrong. For the Sorceress was ice to all around her, but her heart was set on her course, and none could sway it.”
And within the Sorceress’ chest, a different color fire emerged. Instead of the orange of common flame, a deep red bloomed over her heart, spreading through her illusory ribcage and pulsing in tune with my own. And as that red fire spread, so too did the Ascenders grow to match–two hearts pulsing in unison.
I smirked wryly at the crowd. “I don’t know how many of you have ever fallen in love,” I said, “but those who do can surely see what’s happened here. The poor Ascender made what many would call a mistake, and what others might say is the smartest thing they ever did. He let the Sorceress get close.”
I felt a smirk rise on my lips as I caught another trace of what I was looking for, startlingly bright against the smoldering emotions of the crowd.
“So the Ascender vowed to prove to this Sorceress that he could complete his goal. The Serpent would fall in time.”
The scene I conjured glimmered with light. The Ascender–a burning bonfire of deep red in his chest standing stark against his otherwise orange composition–darted around, scraping at shadows and swinging his blade in a mimed training kata. With every swing, the fiery outline expanded just a little, swelling in strength and power as he sought the apex of his might. More and more and more it grew with every swing, bursts of fire and flame swirling about him like an intricate dance.
I fell into my Acquire Phase as I focused on the performance. Flame cast the entire world in warm orange light as the Ascender jumped, spun, and kicked outward, little glimmering crystals of spiraling telekinesis carrying every ember in a beautiful display. Gouts of controlled and spiraling heat burst over the gathered spectators, dropping little, harmless embers like red snowflakes as they went. The crowd gasped in awe as the spectacle unfolded, watching the primal power of the flames dancing above and around their heads.
Throughout the entirety of the Ascender’s mimicked training, the Sorceress weaved about him, inspecting and watching like some sort of ethereal fae. Her heart was the same deep crimson as the Ascender’s, and her mask glimmered lightly. Even as the Ascender turned, she kept to the shadows, her hands drifting inquisitively over the growing power of the fire-borne figurine. One might have almost caught a smile on her lips.
“And finally, the time came,” I said in a whisper that carried like an ocean current. “Finally, the time came to face the Serpent for his evils. The time came for them to clash blades again. The Ascender had chased the Sorceress’ vision, and now he was at the peak of his might. The Serpent had languished and committed fell atrocities to improve his strength.”
The stage was set. The Ascender stood on one side, a nimbus of rising power. The night air bent and warped around the conjured construct, the light twisting as if the figure were a summer afternoon made manifest. At the far end of the stage, the Serpent rose once more, bigger and more threatening. It hissed savagely, towering over the little figurine and the crowd as well. I felt the intents of the many mages watching shudder from the mana compressed into the twisted representation of a foe long gone.
The air was silent for a moment. Tenuous and stark, as anxiety built. Hushed murmurs and anxious grinding of teeth reached me from the many men and women gathered about the oncoming confrontation. Like an overstretched rubber band, I let the momentum grow.
And then it snapped. The two figures—one barely three feet tall, the other fifteen—collided in a controlled explosion that made gasps echo all around me.
But even as I created a controlled rendition of a long-past battle, with little dots of colorful fireworks busting all through the sky and colorful fireflies that zipped and weaved in a display that would put any stage performer to shame, my eyes were focused on the crowd again.
I finally caught sight of that intent I’d been looking for, just for a moment. They were shrouded in a dark cloak, slightly small in stature, and seemingly blended perfectly into the crowd.
And as everyone present kept their eyes focused on the night sky as little fireworks popped and two ribbons of flame danced, came apart, recoalesced, and crashed together again, I reined in my aura, and flowed like the breeze.
The figure was already gone when I reached their shadowed corner, leaving only a faint hint of floral perfume. Orange light danced across the cobblestones in a warm glow as a few young women seemed to belatedly recognize I was there, each of them squeaking in surprise and backing away, flushes in their cheeks.
I ignored those reactions, instead pushing out all other sounds. Explosions and pops of power danced overhead, light flashing behind my eyelids. I focused. I honed in. And I heard it.
I moved again, this time further away from the growing spectacle of the fight between the Ascender and the Serpent. The crowds were thick during this festival, and I had to push my way past a number of startled men and dwarves as I wove through the party-goers. I caught a few more flashes of that dark cloak and that shadow-clung figure, but then they vanished again, swept away by the crowd.
I felt a smirk rise on my face as the chase continued, my heartrate rising. I remembered the scene I’d conjured not so long ago, of an Ascender training and weaving about a goal as the Sorceress kept out and on the side of his vision.
I could sense her, just on the edge of my periphery. She was moving, stalking like a lioness as she drifted naturally through the crowd. Unnoticed and unseen. I was taller than most, and I could see countless different heads and faces moving like a congested tumble as the excited chatter and intent of the partygoers brushed past me like silk weaving a tapestry of infectious joy.
Far and away, I kept the explosive clash of the play going by an effort of will, but I wouldn’t be able to hold it long with such distance.
I continued my forward walk more cautiously this time, goosebumps trailing on the edge of my skin. I could feel flashes of her. Her intent, heartbeat, perfume… It was here and there, spiraling inward like water down a drain. She was getting closer, I thought, her serpentine coils ready to cinch shut around me. My eyes darted across the crowd, trying to find her—but I couldn’t.
I took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly. I closed my eyes, focusing.
I turned around, then lifted a single finger: just in time to brush it against the pale chin of someone who had been about to reach my back. They were shrouded in a dark cloak that masked their features from all, but the pale skin beneath my hand was familiar. As little fireworks popped in the sky, casting everything in warm hues of orange, they reflected off dark eyes and glimmering, hidden horns. Seris’ lips were painted black today, accenting the stark allure of her eyes and features.
“You’re losing your edge, Sorceress,” I teased in a low voice, leaning down over Seris’ hidden form. I tilted her chin up with my finger, my eyes drifting down to her lips, then back to those churning eyes. “Look at this: a snake, caught by a hawk.”
The Scythe’s eyes shone with a predatory light as she moved a bit closer to me, both of us monoliths in the crowd. Nobody else seemed to notice us, the strange masking effect of her cloak turning everyone else into a muted haze. She ran a tongue over her lips, drawing my gaze again as she exposed more of her pale throat. “Is that so, Ascender?” she taunted, moving closer in the press of people roving past us. The hand she’d been about to use to touch my back instead wove upward, grabbing my collar in a grip fit to crush steel. She pulled me a little bit closer, her breath hot on my face. “Do you think you’ve caught me?”
I felt my pulse drowning out anything like reasonable sense as I leaned over her, struggling to put two coherent thoughts together. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” I said quietly, as her plush lips neared mine. Her hood fell away, revealing her glimmering horns and moon-blessed hair to the starlight high above.
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Just as our lips neared, a smile like nothing I’d ever seen stretched across her lips. Instead of meeting me in a kiss, she wove her small body away and past me, leaving me to stumble forward at the sudden lack of presence. I heard her laugh, something I was very rarely faced with, as she disappeared again.
The hold I had on the play promptly broke apart, just as the Ascender dealt the finishing blow to the Serpent in the near distance in a rising cut that split the night. The entire stage erupted into fire that spewed high into the air, mana and telekinetic forces dancing in a display fit for Vesuvius. Gasps of awe and cheers thrummed through the entirety of the festival-goers as the embers became little feathers, each rising into the sky before dispersing into motes of energy.
Meanwhile, I was left trying to remember what was up, down, and what the concept of reason was again as I tried to maintain a consistent flow of blood to my brain. That had been neglected for some reason. I couldn’t tell anyone why. Not at all.
“Fuck,” I muttered, still sensing Seris on my periphery. I could feel her taunting, easy smile like a warm brand. I could almost sense each of those fangs of hers on my throat, each of them leading me on like so long ago. It seemed that I was still a little naive.
I slowly turned, orienting myself toward the Scythe. She indeed bore a loose, knowing smile as she hovered just off the edge of the cobblestone docks, her hands clasped demurely behind her as her cloak fell away. Whenever Seris was amused, her eyes became little crescent moons that glittered like dark stones. And right now, she looked very pleased with herself, as if she had known all along that it would end up this way. She bore the kind of smile a master gives to a pupil when they make an expected mistake.
I frowned a bit, annoyed as I glared at her. Her lashes lowered in a way that split the starlight wondrously across her face, and she clearly knew it, savoring my irritation as she was.
“The Ascender never earned his dance with the Sorceress,” Seris mouthed, lifting off the ground and drifting out over the water. All eyes ignored her, too focused on the rapturous detonation and display over Barth’s distant stage. “Try not to disappoint her further, hmmm?”
And in a flash, Seris was gone, speeding away in a blur across the water far beyond. The abrupt acceleration kicked up wind around the crowd that made many men curse and grasp at their hats, but I simply narrowed my eyes in the direction Seris zipped toward, her subtle invitation making my spine tingle and my body tense.
I ran toward the edge of the pier, ignoring the sudden attention of the gathered men and women. The distant, cacophonous detonations had slowed down, and the sudden sonic boom from Seris’ acceleration did much to draw attention toward this little section of the docks.
I reached the edge of the docks. I bent my knees, mana churning around me as the atmosphere rushed to appease my whims. The world stood still for the barest moment as I focused on Seris’ retreating form.
And then I shot upward into the sky, the wind whipping at my hair as I surged after the errant Scythe. I caught a glimpse of Seris far beyond, the moonlight dancing along the surface of the still ocean. Like a single dot of pale silver amidst a sea of reflected light, I honed in on her heartfire as I flitted after her.
The cool spring breeze caressed my face as I chased after the Scythe. I felt a laugh bubble up from my throat unbidden as the sky called to me, drawing me on with sheer purpose of will. The cliffs of Burim faded away behind us as we tracked deeper into the bay, leaving us both alone on the water.
The Scythe dipped and weaved, skirting the edges of the waveless water. A wake trailed behind her that sprinkled me with a light shower as I gradually gained on her, the hems of her fluttering dark robes just within reach.
I reached out a hand, the flare of her dark figure luring me like nothing I’d ever felt. As I got closer and closer to her abyssal temptation, I found my heady mind thinking of the legends of my previous life. I remembered the legends of Pandora’s Box, of all the risks that came with peeling back the lid. But still, I grew closer and closer. My fingers were so, so close–
Seris flashed me a coy, arrogant smile as I closed in, both of us skirting the water. “Not so fast, Toren,” she said teasingly, audible even over the roar of the wind. “One should know not to edge so close to a Scythe. You might just get cut.”
Then she dipped her hand into the ocean below, piercing the surface of the water like a knife through flesh, before flinging a veritable wall of water at me.
I smirked as I surged through the water, driven forward by the pounding of my heart. I burst through the other side, my hand still outstretched, except Seris was gone.
I blinked in surprise as I found myself alone in the bay, only the remaining ripples of the Scythe’s splash cluing me to the fact that she’d even been here in the first place. Like a lone seaman chasing after the haunting song of a siren, I was abandoned amidst the darkness at the end of it all.
And just like a sailor bewitched by the allure of the sea, I listened. I listened for that sweet, sweet sound–the song that had led me along so far.
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply as I blocked out all else. Sight, smell, touch, taste… I focused solely on my sense of hearing.
For a moment, there was nothing–and I found some part of me wilt. But the more I listened, the more it became clear.
A low rumble tump-tump-tumped in my ears, paradoxically glacial and breakneck all at once. I held onto it with my mind like a climber grasps their rope, hauling themself closer and closer to the apex. I inhaled a breath as I turned slowly in the air, orienting toward where I heard that heartbeat.
And suddenly, a hand caressed my chest. A shiver involuntarily crossed my body as my nerves tingled, each alight with tiny sparks as the sensation of her touch seemed to spread much too far.
I opened my eyes, staring down at the siren herself as she slowly trailed her fingertips up my chest. I felt as if I’d been frozen by a spell as I watched Seris’ onyx eyes, her hair drawing in the starlight. Her fingertips traced along my jaw musingly, as if she were looking for imperfections or a place to hold.
Until finally, her hand settled on my cheek. “And you have, predictably, fallen for it all again. So much pomp of being a hawk and hunter, and you are now here in my grasp,” Seris prodded with a disappointed frown, her skin like perfect ivory in the darkness. “You should learn to rein in your arrogant tongue before it earns you a lashing, Toren Daen. There is no Sorceress who would appreciate such a thing.”
Though she showed none of it on her face, I could hear the surge of her own heartbeat in the air. I snorted with no little amusement. “But you liked it,” I countered, taking her chin in my hand. I wouldn’t let her get away this time. “That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
“I suppose I could learn to appreciate such arts,” she allowed, her tone dripping with arrogance. My eyes caught on her lips as they formed intentionally around each syllable, and her intent smoldered low with satisfaction as she caught me staring. “But they are so, so unrefined. There’s no definite conclusion to the story. No ending that pulls it all together into something worth enjoying. You showed what happened with the Serpent, but not the Sorceress. Altogether, unsatisfying.”
I narrowed my eyes in response to that, remembering the moment not long ago when Seris had played me for a fiddle. Or would a violin be more appropriate? “The Ascender still caught the Sorceress in the end, though, didn’t he?” I teased, forcing the exact smirk Seris disliked onto my face. I pulled her a bit closer, nuzzling my forehead against hers. Shrouded wings slowly grew from my back, the crystalline plates of mana ensorcelling us both as they split the light. “I still think that’s quite the achievement. Maybe the next time I perform a play, I’ll include that bit, too. Make it all ‘conclusive.’”
Sure enough, I felt the spike of delectable annoyance in Seris’ intent as her fingers dug into my skin as my smirk dug into her. “It was never a matter of you catching me,” she said breathily, forced disdain dripping from her tone as her breath brushed my face. “Because if you had a lick of sense, you would recognize that this was part of a plot all along. Can one truly claim to have won in a chase when they were led on all along? How many more times must we play this game for you to recognize I have always won?”
I tried to think of a clever retort, but I was having trouble rubbing two braincells together at that point. I decided that I would think of something witty later. When reason had reasserted itself over everything else.
As our lips drifted closer, I recalled the last time we had inched this close to the edge. “Would you still like that song I promised you?” I asked quietly, so low only she could hear. “I made an Oath.”
Seris sighed contentedly. “Do you always ask pointless questions when a woman wants to kiss you, Toren Daen?” she whispered. “I can hear your heartbeat loud as any drum. That tells me enough.”
We kissed there, enshrouded in the night sky as we stood over the lake. It was a short, sweet thing. I never thought a kiss could feel so fulfilling.
When we pulled away, I allowed myself to look the Scythe up and down appreciatively. My hands drifted to wrap around her waist, holding her there in a quiet embrace. “I still would like to,” I said honestly. “I’m a hopeless, foolish romantic.”
Seris tucked a lock of my hair back behind my ear as she tilted her head inquisitively. “You made that promise because you saw past my cloaking artifact… But I think that my cloaking artifact is useless, now,” she said simply, her eyes searching mine. “I wonder if I shall ever be able to skulk in the shadows again with your infuriating light.”
I hummed in consideration, watching as the Scythe raised a hand. She pulled a pendant from beneath her neckline, before raising it up consideringly. She chuckled lightly as she imbued a sliver of mana into it. Then another. Then another.
A slight smile split her face as she looked down at the pendant, her graceful fingers holding it like the feathers of a dove.
I raised a brow in confusion at her actions, not seeing what she found so amusing. “What’s so funny, Seris? I’m afraid I don’t see it.”
Something about my words acted like a drop of kerosene into an already building fire. Seris’ horns glinted darkly as she threw back her head, her pearlescent hair shimmering in the moonlight as she burst out into pure, uncontained laughter. She melted slightly into my touch, suffusing the air with intent so radiant in its amusement that I felt the urge to laugh as well, though I knew not why.
“I burned so many hours of my life trying to perfect this little amulet so I could hide away my emotions from empaths that saw too much,” Seris finally said as her laughter quieted. Her smile was somewhere between mirthful and truly free. “And now, you cannot tell if it is attuned or not when I switch it on and off. With your ascension to the white core, your sight pierces right through to my heart regardless of what I desire. I almost feel as if it was a waste.”
I swallowed slightly, recalling all the times I’d sensed more than I should have. “You could improve its design again,” I offered. Though I’d probably see past that eventually, too.
“I could,” Seris replied honestly, looking into my eyes. “But it seems I am fated to always be playing catchup in learning more about you, Toren. I have always worked with unfair odds, but this feels especially weighted in your favor.”
At Seris’ words, my thoughts drifted back to when she’d presented me with her puzzle, and she’d scarred my hands. In the end, she’d demanded I tear away her masks.
“You asked me once,” I started, my words quiet as they left me, “to tell you what you feared the most.”
I could let some of my masks fall, too.
Seris nodded slowly, the mirth in her smile overcoming the amusement at the recollection. That was a turning point for us. That was where I recognized—really began to understand—what my ability to sense and influence emotions did to someone who wished to stay hidden in the dark.
Things like this… They were a give and a take. I felt like I’d taken so, so much from the Scythe. I could give her more, couldn’t I?
“I didn’t tell you what I feared in turn,” I admitted, the reality of the world seeping back in.
Seris’ smile fell away as she sensed my emotions, no doubt following my train of thought perfectly. “What do you fear, Toren?”
For a moment, the only sound audible to me was the ocean breeze. “I fear losing you,” I finally said. “Losing Aurora. Sevren. Naereni. Everyone I care for.”
Seris was quiet for a time as she stared up at me solemnly, waiting for me as I struggled to put my emotions into words. “But that’s only part of it, I think. I’m afraid that any loss will be because of me. I’m terrified that I’ll cause it all to break, somehow. That if everything goes to hell, it will be my fault.”
I wasn’t anyone special in my previous life. I wasn’t a king like Arthur or a genius inventor like Nico. I wasn’t the Legacy like Cecilia. But I belonged.
This world seemed to have an inherent place for each of the reincarnates. Arthur’s family gravitated toward him, and his place as a Lance and brother and son felt natural. Nico was a burning, dark fire of vengeance. His role was not a happy one, but it was a Fate-destined path. And so too with the Legacy. There was a rhyme in the edicts that laid a path for her, even if she didn’t see it. Even if it was unfair and wrong.
But not for me. I’d carved my own places, of course. I made hearths with the people I loved, but I’d had to work and claw and scrape for those embers. It was through that that I learned the truth. The people around me were who made me special. It was through my relationships that I became worthy of the blessings I received.
But in many ways, I was still an outsider. The people of East Fiachra welcomed Toren Daen, the boy who grew up in the slums and worked night and day in the Healer’s Guild, but they didn’t know the man from another world who might have worked with computers or gone on to live an entire other life. The rebel dwarves of Dicathen cheered for Spellsong, the Alacryan who heralded their freedom and life. But they could never know the man who dreaded, deep inside, that he had been tasked with carrying the last embers of a civilization doomed for extinction.
Sometimes, I felt like every step was that of an interloper, even though I knew I couldn’t blame myself.
But It was hard sometimes. It was hard not to lay the actions of everyone else at my feet as I changed the future, and it was hard to find a place that fit the puzzle piece that was Toren Daen.
I remembered the depths of the Central Cathedral. Where Greahd died because of me; because I called attention to her. And I remembered the yawning intent of Skarn and Hornfels Earthborn, each blaming me. Would they have lived without me?
“I’m afraid that I don’t belong,” I forced out, struggling to say the words. “And I’m afraid that… that because I don’t belong… I’ll hurt everyone I want to help. Because I want to help so, so much, Seris.”
Seris shifted slightly, no doubt feeling the undercurrent of my emotions as my memories drew them to the surface. The truth of my fears radiated across my intent and into the air as a song in and of themselves, sinking claws deep into my beating heart. For the first time, the Scythe knew all I kept hidden.
Seris watched me with a sad, crestfallen expression on her face. And then, she was moving forward, wrapping me in a slight embrace.
The Scythe was a small woman. As she pressed her face into the strong lines of my shoulder, she might as well have been a willow branch before a mighty oak. But she felt far, far larger in that moment.
It somehow felt more… Intimate than our earlier kiss, as I returned the gentle embrace. When she finally pulled away from me, I struggled to meet her eyes, feeling as if I’d thrust a great burden onto the Scythe’s slim shoulders.
“I would never have known,” Seris said quietly, nuzzling closer as she savored my body heat. “So desperately, you play your music. So desperately, you feel everything. Because you want…”
She trailed off, looking up at me as understanding—sweet, beautiful, wonderful understanding—radiated from the crests and waves of her intent. I released a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding as I stared down at her.
“You give me hope, Toren,” Seris said, leaning her head against my chest. I exhaled, trying to center my thoughts as I held her small frame against my body. “Did you know that? Even with all this fear of yours.”
I remained quiet, gazing up at the moon above. And as I recalled my fears, I imagined them as a two-sided coin. On one side was the gripping doubt and fear, cultivated in each step I’d traveled through this war. On the other…
“You give me hope, too,” I finally replied, allowing that emotion to flow into the sky.
“How so?” Seris’ quiet voice asked, muffled slightly from how she nuzzled against me like a contented cat. “I want to know more of your secrets, Toren. Fears are nice to know. They’re human, as you said. But they’re not everything.”
My brow furrowed slightly as I rubbed circles on Seris’ back. “When I first came to this world, my vision for the future always ended with Nico,” I said honestly. “I need to kill him, to stop the descent of the Legacy–but I saw no path after. Everything just… ended, at that point. I think I expected everything to go up in flames.”
I sensed Seris’ eyes on me as I traced the constellations far above, the wind buffeting my shrouded wings, yet no breeze whisked away our warmth. “A bold plan,” the Sorceress admonished playfully. “And you were barely a mage a year past, were you not? Fascinating, that a Scythe has decided to grace you as her consort in such a short time.”
I chuckled slightly, tracing the Struggling Ascender as the constellation chased the Basilisk’s Tail. “Except that wasn’t part of the plan,” I said honestly. “Neither was Aurora, or Sevren, or Naereni and all the others I care for. And now I look forward to what will come of my days after Nico. Days beyond not just the Scythe, but the Sovereigns, too. It gives me hope that there is a place where I can belong.”
We stayed like that, enjoying each other’s company for an indeterminate infinity. I allowed myself to imagine it. Already I’d set this world down a different track than the one I knew. I could lament and fight against the future all I wanted, but I needed to learn to act like the Scythe in my arms. To take each blow in stride and push forward. I’d need to work out some sort of plan with Seris to ensure Nico’s death, too.
Even as I held Seris close, I felt my mind trickle down long-worn paths and worries for a bit. This time, though, there was a glimmering silver lining that traced my thoughts, giving each plan and idea a bit of hope. Both sides of the coin of fear reflected the light.
But then something in the air shifted.
I felt it in the mana first, like a dozen questing tendrils snaking across the sky. On instinct, I looked up once more: and I nearly gasped in awe.
The Aurora Constellate weaved its way across the sky. Like curtains of delicate light, the pale greens and bright scarlets flared, yet each cascading ribbon was transparent as the most fragile fabric. Each swung like a graceful dancer, charting paths across the atmosphere.
I knew not how long I stared up at the lights, quietly in disbelief. It had been a long time since I’d accepted my place in this new world, but I felt a dreadful uncertainty sneak its way into my psyche again.
Because it simply couldn’t be true, could it? The skies crisscrossed by magic that came only once every few years, with a woman that shone like the moon itself in my arms? The surreal nature of it all washed over me in that instant, and I wondered–for the second time since I’d awoken in this world–if it was all a dream.
“Seris,” I said quietly, gently distancing myself from the Scythe, “back in the ballroom so long ago, I failed to ask you something.”
My wings swept behind me as I bowed slightly, mirroring my position earlier in the night as I stared meaningfully into Seris’ eyes. I held an inviting palm aloft, my fingers cold without her touch. “Will you dance with me?”
“Trying to be romantic again,” Seris said, smiling softly as she took my hand, squeezing lightly. “Are you going to dazzle and awe me with dances from another world?”
I shook my head lightly. “I’m afraid I don’t know that much, Seris,” I said honestly, “but I’m sure I won’t disappoint.”
It turned out that I was a poor dancer, even in the skies. Seris clearly knew every move better than I did, but her subtle prodding ensured I didn’t step on her metaphorical toes.
But that didn’t really matter. Beneath the Constellate, all my thoughts of the war drifted away. My tensions and fears of Agrona and the looming battles to come became less than afterthoughts as I allowed myself to relax for this brief moment.
Indeed, the stars weren’t so far out of reach.