Toren Daen

I settled myself in the protective embrace of a great Clarwood Tree, trusting that I wouldn’t fall or be prey to an ambush. My arms burned with every move I made, mirroring bone-deep exhaustion that seeped from my pores.

I pulled off my mask, grateful to finally be rid of the metal clinging to my sweat-slick face. The cool breeze of the late autumn night was a welcome balm to my soul, weathering away the tension of the day.

I stared off into the sky through a light canopy of sheer white leaves, a layer of clouds obscuring the stars. A growing feeling welled in my chest, pushing away many of my other thoughts. But my vision quickly darkened as the Unseen engulfed my vision.

Lady Dawn was sitting on a branch not far from me, the purple-orange glow around her form casting everything in a dusky light. She looked contemplative, gazing up into the sky just as I was.

“Are the stars the same here as what you see in Epheotus?” I asked, genuinely curious. I knew the homeland of the asura was a pocket dimension of some sort, but how much was real, and how much was fake?

Lady Dawn was silent for a time. “Epheotus is an attempt at perfect beauty,” she said at last. “But there is an imperfection in everything, even the stars in the cosmos.” The was silent for a beat. “One would see an illusory aurora every night, stretching across the sky like a green-blue blanket, encompassing everything in flawless light,” she said, nostalgia in her voice. “But there is a beauty in imperfection, one that Epheotus will never achieve because the land itself despises the concept.”

The silence stretched between us comfortably, but I couldn’t let it stay. “You know, in my previous world,” I said, withholding a sigh, “One of the things that nearly every early culture of humans did was watch the stars.” I sniffed slightly. “They did all sorts of amazing things. Made astrolabes, sundials, ways to navigate the world just by their alignment over your head.” I gestured vaguely at the clouded sky. “It took amazing minds to do that. The best humanity had to offer, striving toward something better. Real creativity and ingenuity.”

I thought of the path I had ahead, where so much of my new life would be fraught with danger, death, and battle. I barely made it out of this last scuffle alive, and my foes were nothing compared to what would stand in my way of simple freedom.

“And centuries later, humans became even more grand! The cosmos themselves was our final frontier,” I said, staring at the gray darkness. It was cold tonight, probably near freezing. From my constant cycling of mana and endless physical activity, I hadn’t even noticed until now.

“But… I’m not any of those things,” I continued with a bitter laugh. “I’m not a brilliant mathemetician, able to predict the time of day by measuring the sun. I can’t send a man into space through the power of rocketry. And I’m not some hyper genius with a sword and master of all four elemental affinities,” I added self-deprecatingly, the true weight of my promises settling against my bones. “I barely made it out of that expedition alive. And that’s the norm for this world.”

How many more times will this world just hand me what I need? I thought despondently, remembering the strangely compliant Aban. How long can I get by retaining my morals? The principles that make me me?

In the slurry of chaos that pressed against my mind, the question of who I was lingered in the shadow of every thought. When I slowed down to think; took breaks between training or allowed my mind to wander, unanswerable questions coasted around the edges of my mind.

‘Who are you?’ The shades of thought whispered with sly grins and malevolent intent. ‘Are you from Earth? Are you Alacryan? Which parts of you belong?’

The questions loped around the outskirts of everything I did, calling my reasoning for every action into question. Was it Toren who would do this, or me? Where did Toren end and I begin?

The only thing I was sure of–for no reason I could even discern–was my conviction for vengeance in Norgan’s name. That was something that every part of my self agreed on. But everything else?

“You doubt yourself,” Lady Dawn said, cutting across my thoughts with her prim tone. “You doubt your ability to complete the task you promised. To uphold the Contract we have made to thwart Agrona’s plans. You do not believe yourself… worthy.” She peered at me with eyes that flared with solar light. It struck me once more how emotive they were. She lacked any discernible pupil or sclera, but I could somehow read so much in those eyes.

I turned away from the phoenix’s shade, shame building in my chest as she called out my shortcomings. I had made a promise to her; power in exchange for vengeance. And I was already having doubts. My mouth felt dry.

“People died today,” I said hoarsely. “So many died. I’ve asked myself a dozen times if I could’ve saved more. If I could’ve been faster, or applied my magic in a better way.” I remembered the man who died under my watch, his stomach dissolving underneath him. The terrified eyes of the last few men escaping the containment of the hornets haunted me. “If I can’t save a few non-mages, how can I defeat a Scythe?”

The quiet of the night lingered, interceded only by the occasional howl of a mana beast deep in the forest and the chirping of crickets. “You are not alone in your doubt,” Lady Dawn said at last, causing me to wince at the rebuke. My mask creaked in my arms, the metal straining against my strength. It made sense that she would harbor questions about my abilities as well. If I could see my own faults with such clarity, a being with power such as Lady Dawn’s must see them even deeper.

“I do not know if my training can bring you to where you need to be, Contractor,” she added, a somber note in her voice. “You vowed to do all in your power to forestall the descent of the Legacy. In turn, I promised to grant you power to the best of my abilities.”

I looked at the phoenix in growing shock. “What?” I asked, my voice hoarse from crying. “What do you mean?” I said again, not sure I understood.

“I fought Agrona once. I used everything I had and still came up short. I waged a battle against a foe with millennia of experience and knowledge behind me, pushing me onward toward victory. But I fell short of that victory.” she said, peering at me from the side of her eyes. “Does my own doubt scare you, Contractor? I promised you power. But that power may not be enough.”

I swallowed. Did her doubt scare me?

It should. This was an asura, the closest thing to a physical god this world had. For her to admit any sort of weakness should put my enemies into a grand perspective. She would grant me power, but what use was strength that was already deemed insufficient?

But it didn’t. Lady Dawn’s fear anchored me to my task in a way I hadn’t felt before. I felt alone in my thoughts and fears; a sole man displaced on a mission to thwart those with power he could barely comprehend. I was thrust into an unfamiliar world with nobody to share my burdens; nobody who could comprehend my upcoming battles.

But I wasn’t exactly alone, was I? Lady Dawn was far from her home, displaced from her own comforts and luxuries. She had power and knew it well, but also understood where that strength failed.

We both had cast our lifelines to an unlikely source, it seemed.

“No, it doesn’t,” I responded at last. “That soothes me, actually. I do not feel so alone.”

Lady Dawn’s lip upturned the barest of a fraction, the asura cocking her head in response. “You speak the truth, Contractor. That surprises me.”

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I chuckled slightly, my mood settling into something more stable. “What about that surprises you?” I asked curiously. “Speaking the truth at all, or the fact that I believe what I say?”

Lady Dawn hummed. It was a surprisingly musical tone, though I doubted she intended it that way. “Both. Rarely do my kind speak words without hidden meaning. Such earnesty is only found within our youth.”

“It seems a shame that an entire race would be doomed to speak in politics,” I said honestly. My eyelids were starting to weigh heavily upon my brow. After the long events of the past day, the loss of adrenaline and release of so much stress was finally reminding me of the need for slumber. “I can’t imagine you would be able to trust anyone at all.”

“When the alternative is for an entire race to speak with the blade and bow,” Lady Dawn said matter-of-factly, “Politics is much preferred. Words come before violence, even if it is a facade in many a case.” A slight pause marked her next words. “But that does not mean the loss of honesty is not mourned.”

“Oh?” I asked, forcefully keeping myself awake. “And how do the asura mourn the loss of honesty? With grand balls and auroras across their skies?”

Lady Dawn quieted once more. “By salvaging what was left,” she said at last.

I felt a spot of cold grow in my chest. Above me, the first snowfall of the year slowly drifted from the sky, covering all in a haze of white.

—

I awoke from a fitful sleep. The ground was dusted with a light layer of snow, washing everything in a blanket of white. It blended in remarkably with the colorless leaves above, creating a strange collage of brown and white where the trunks of trees intersected the leaves and snow.

I still felt exhausted. My sleep on the tree branch wasn’t comfortable by any means, and nightmares of men dying plagued my dreams.

The trip back to the edge of the forest was remarkably quick. I stood out like a spot of paint amidst a white canvas. My outfit, which I had originally purchased for stealth, instead made me stick out like a skaunter in a coffee shop.

But no mana beasts tried to challenge me. By now, my killing intent was enough to cow most in the lighter stretches of the Clarwood Forest. I had slain enough of their ilk that I felt confident fighting any of them.

I lightly washed in the frigid waters of a stream, trying to imagine my failures washing away with the sweat. It didn’t work, but the effort was important.

Once I vaulted over the walls of Fiachra with a mix of telekinesis and mana-enhanced strength, I found a secluded alleyway to change into my normal civilian garb. The city was more lethargic this morning than I had yet seen.

As I slowly wandered the streets of South Fiachra toward my makeshift hideaway in the East district, I noted the changes to the city. Most noticeably, It was strikingly warm. After a quick minute of inspection, I realized the road itself emitted heat in a wave, like a hot plate dispelling its heat into the sky. It didn’t take much thought to realize why.

It melts the snow away, I realized with interest. And funnels it toward the sewers

That was better than the methods of Earth, where the constant use of salt would gradually weather away the roads. I assumed some sort of artifact powered the heating, running under every major street.

I was proven wrong when the temperature abruptly dropped as I stepped past the boundary line for East Fiachra. With mana cycling through my limbs, I was able to ward away most of the cold with only my hooded cloak. Most of the people I could see were bundled up much more, wrapped in layers of wool and cloth.

A small pathway through the cobbles was cleared of slush and snow to allow foot traffic. There wasn’t too much snow in the way, but the contrast from the wealthier streets of South Fiachra stuck with me.

I slowly meandered through the morning hustle and bustle toward the derelict building whose rooftop I had claimed. As I wove out of the way of a rushing child, I pondered the information I had received from Aban.

Blood Joan is taking risks, he had said. Big ones if they were using non-mages for such a dangerous job deep into the forest. I grit my teeth at the remembrance of dissolved corpses and dead men. With an effort of will, I suppressed the images. I needed to think rationally.

Aban had claimed that Blood Joan seemed tight on cash. That wasn’t much information by itself, but it opened up a slew of opportunities. It told me where I could hit the Joans where it hurt: in their wallet. But that also brought another flurry of questions. Why were they strapped for cash? Did they incur debts, or was it a result of lavish spending? Perhaps a business deal went wrong?

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. I needed more information, though. Specifically on what industries or ventures the Joans tended to invest in. If I knew that, I could work to actively sabotage them.

That won’t bring you closer to your vengeance, a voice whispered from the depths of my mind. You’re casting darts into the sea, hoping one will stick a fish in the murky waters below. How close are you to actually avenging your brother? It asked, brushing against the edges of my thoughts. What does this actually do to bring Norgan’s murderers closer to the edge of your knife?

I stamped out those thoughts with the same relentless force I used to quash my guilt over the dead men in the Clarwood Forest. I couldn’t afford to second-guess myself now; not with how far I had come. I had revealed myself to the Joans prematurely by saving the Rats, and the remains of the expedition crew would no doubt bring my description to the powers-that-be of Blood Joan soon enough. I could not backtrack.

I reached an alleyway beneath the rooftops. I quickly checked both ways, then leaped into the air. I wall-jumped a couple of times, using the momentum to propel me onto the roof.

Everything looked as I had left it, except covered by a thin blanket of snow. My rough firepit was blackened with the ashen remains of my makeshift fuel, and the tarp I stretched from a spire to an abandoned roof access door protected a small area from the elements.

But something was wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, prickling against my cloak. I stood frozen, suddenly feeling as cold as the snow around my feet. I surveyed the rooftop, watching the horizon and turning in a slow circle.

Sensing another person was a lot like the innate sense that someone was watching you, but fine-tuned and pumped up to eleven. It was a skill that took some time to master but was lifesaving in the depths of the Clarwood Forest when beasts constantly wanted to rip a piece out of you.

And those senses were warning me. I didn’t feel any outright threat in the way bloodlust exuded, but it was never good to be watched in the first place.

As I completed a full revolution scan of my surroundings, I looked back down at the ground.

There was a change. A letter sat propped over an extruding log of my makeshift fireplace, taunting me with its appearance. It was in a dark grey envelope, and though I could tell it was sealed with wax, I couldn’t make out the symbol from this distance.

Cautiously approaching, I scanned the area around the letter. I felt hesitant to touch it. What if it was a bomb? Or was packed with some sort of lethal substance? I’d rather not get the magical equivalent of anthrax poisoning.

Swallowing my fear, I picked up the letter from the ground. I couldn’t sense any mana signature from it, which was a slight relief. What wasn’t a relief was the message on the front of the envelope.

In elegant swooping letters, a message was laid out on the front.

Toren Daen.

My heart froze in my chest. I had been discovered by someone, and they left a calling card. I would have to move. Was it from Blood Joan? I didn’t know anybody else who would contact me out of the blue. I knew my element of surprise was compromised, but not to this degree. They had already tracked me down.

Mana leaked from my core, thrumming throughout my body as I prepared myself for a fight. If Blood Joan left a card, then no doubt that bitch of a lightning striker would be here to try and finish the job. I clenched a fist, the creak of my leather gloves my only solace.

My breath misted on the air. I moved about the rooftop slowly, this time looking for targets. They had been able to sneak up on me while I was searching for them last time, so I didn’t expect to see them until it was possibly too late.

Instead, my eyes zeroed in on a small pattering of footprints in the snow leading from the edge of the rooftop to the middle of the campfire. They were difficult to see in the dawn light, but with my shadow cast over them, they became apparent. From where I was standing before, the glint of the sun would’ve made them nearly invisible to the naked eye.

From some sort of rodent? I thought with alarm. I looked down at the letter in my hand, turning it over to peek at the seal.

No, I realized with a start. Not just any rodent.

Stamped in red wax, the seal used to clamp my letter shut displayed the caricature of a specific kind of critter. With long buck teeth, notable whiskers, little round ears, and a prominent snout, the insignia that kept the envelope sealed was easily familiar.

It was a rat.