Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Toren Daen
I killed the rest of the Bastards Victorious before I set back for Burim. They were destined to die regardless of my actions: separate and alone in a dangerous land, all that awaited them was to succumb to the elements, a predator, or the edge of my blade.
I simply expedited the process.
I was confident Wolfrum had told them nothing of substance about Seris. After all, the knowledge he held was the only thing that made his survival worthwhile to the Vechorian mercenaries. He’d slowed them down and made them easier to track all throughout the hostile Glades, and it would have been far harder–if not impossible–to track them without Wolfrum in their party.
Wolfrum might have been a traitor, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew what made him valuable, what kept him alive amongst monsters.
The wind whipped across my hair as I flew on Aurora’s back, her massive bronze form glinting in the morning light. Returning to Burim was far simpler than tracking the Bastards: all I needed to do was cut south and reach the ocean. After that, my bond and I flew westward with our prisoner clasped tightly in her mechanical talons as we made for our base of operations.
I didn’t worry too much about being sighted. Aurora was exceptionally fast in the sky, and superiority over the waves was held by Alacrya with our steamships.
Currently, I was edging around the southern tips of the Grand Mountains as they pierced the clouds like spears. The Earthmother’s Isle visibly swarmed with activity, even from the sky. I narrowed my eyes as I watched a dozen ironclad steamships coasting about, maintaining a perimeter and effective blockade against any Dicathian ships.
Many of these ships–and people–are no longer directly under Seris’ control, I thought, noting Truacian colors flying from more than a few of the steamships. At the thought of Alacrya’s northernmost Dominion, my mind slipped toward the Scythe I’d recently dueled.
Aurora flapped her wings, maintaining a hovering position as I stared down at the people below, all small as ants. Something was going on in the Beast Glades that I didn’t understand. I remembered Bilal’s words to his brother about a plan and about trees.
Something separate from what I’d call “canon,” probably, I thought. But what? Does this change the plans to infiltrate Elenoir via sentry? By Circe Milview’s spellform?
My hands gripped my bond’s burnished feathers as my brow furrowed, these and a hundred more worries bouncing around in my skull.
“You will not be able to parse the meaning of all that was exchanged so easily,” Aurora said over our bond kindly. “We have a mission right now, Toren. Let us see to its completion before we lose ourselves in our heads, hmm?”
I chuckled slightly. Yeah, you’re right, I thought, forcing away questions about Viessa Vritra and everything I’d heard in the Beast Glades between Bilal and Bivran.
It didn’t take long to reach the cliffs of Burim. The waters were still as always, a few steamships sitting tensely at the dwarven city’s docks. And someone was already waiting for me in the sky.
Cylrit’s impassive red eyes flicked to where Wolfrum was clasped in Aurora’s massive talons. The traitor had elected to pass out from the whiplash of flight rather than remain conscious, and his arms hung weakly in the air like dangling branches.
I thought I could see Cylrit’s impassive mask crack slightly as a slight smirk threatened to curve across his face, but then it was gone again.
“Hello, Cylrit. I’m sure you can see that my mission was a success,” I said conversationally. My face darkened slightly, however, as I thought of what had happened after I’d found Wolfrum Redwater. “But I have more important things to report.”
Cylrit nodded sharply. “Master Seris is already waiting for you, Spellsong,” he said, and I was glad to notice that the undercurrent of disdain that usually coated our interactions was gone. “And she is already aware of the complications that faced your mission.”
Aurora, I’m going to alter the tether now, I said in warning.
“Understood, my bond,” she replied seriously, her mind on the upcoming report as well. “I am prepared.”
With a bare tug, I altered the source of Aurora’s relic from my core to her shade. In real-time, the massive bronze sculpture–which at times appeared like a living statue–flashed white as it began to shrink in on itself.
And Wolfrum began to fall as his base of support vanished from him. His eyes blew wide open as he was awoken with a sudden jolt, his body falling through the expansive skies toward the cliffs far below.
He opened his mouth to scream in terror, but I was faster. I reached out with my regalia, clasping the traitor with my telekinetic grip. His body flared with an outline of white as he went rigid, suddenly unable to even scream as the sound mana around him stole the scream from his throat.
“Yeah,” I said evenly. “Let’s go, Cylrit.”
Without another word, we both flew down toward the massive cavern entrance of Burim. Wolfrum’s leashed body trailed behind us like a balloon on a string, his face trapped in an expression of fear.
When I entered Burim, however, it was easy to recognize that something was different. As dwarves and men alike traipsed about the infinitely winding corridors along the massive stalactites, I could sense the anxiety in each step. The nervous tension seemed to grasp the dwarven city like a slowly squeezing claw as it pressed the air from its lungs. Even the lavaducts seemed to take care of how fast they flowed, the normally bright molten rock dimmed in anticipation.
Burim was always dim, but rarely did it feel this dark.
As I flew toward the Divot, I noticed how many people were hefting supplies–and unlike usual, there were far more Alacryan mages out and about. My mind flashed back to the steamships I’d seen at the docks outside.
“Cylrit,” I started, watching as a few Alacryan soldiers worked with dwarven earth mages in a sparring ring, “what exactly has happened since I’ve been gone?”
Cylrit clearly expected my question. “Master Seris’ plans are shifting to match the tides,” he said lowly. “Above all else, she knows to adapt. And so she is.”
Aurora’s songbird fluttered around us, its glowing eyes seeming to take everything in around us. “She prepares for true war, Toren,” my bond said, the words making me feel uneasy. “There are battles ahead. Your lover has been content to sit and wait out this war, but the entry of a competitor forces her to change her approach to this conflict.”
A heavy silence weighed across my shoulders as Cylrit and I finally settled down in the Divot’s landing area.
Seris was already waiting for us, the mask of a Scythe bleeding her face of inflection. Though I doubted anyone else could see it, I saw the flash in her eyes as she spotted Wolfrum, and the ever-so-slight softening of her features as she saw me approach from the sky.
There was a small crowd waiting as well. Many of Seris’ advisors, a few of the key figures of the dwarven rebellion, and more. They shuffled uncertainly as Seris stepped forward, her expression contemplative as she stared down at Wolfrum’s rictus form. He shook as the Scythe inspected him with a casual air, but I could almost taste a dark sort of…. grief buried deep within the lavender-haired woman’s psyche. Somewhere far beneath the masks.
Seris tilted her head, savoring the attention of the crowd. I’d been embroiled long enough in politics and knew my lover well enough to understand precisely what she was doing. She was performing for an audience. “It is an uncommon thing that traitors last so long beneath my boot. Uncommon that the wheat forgets the cut of a Scythe. It’s even a bit impressive, don’t you think?”
The watching audience shuffled nervously as Seris’ aura coiled like a shifting serpent as it surrounded its prey. From the spiking heartbeat in Wolfrum’s chest, he knew his position. His intent wasn’t composed of orderly, distinct emotions anymore. It was more like a mishmashed slurry of primal fear: the kind of fear a rabbit has when it sees the reflective gleam of scales in the dead of night.
Seris raised a brow as she looked Wolfrum up and down. “I suppose you can’t answer that, can you? A shame.” The Scythe’s dark eyes flicked up to mine. “Continue to escort the traitor with me, Toren. We all have much to discuss.”
Without another beat, the Scythe casually swiveled on her heels, her dark dress like a hundred dancing shadows as she strode toward her residence in the Divot, her slim chin turned high.
I exhaled slightly, sharing a glance with Cylrit, before we both moved to follow. Aurora’s Puppet Form alighted on my shoulder as the darkness of the cavern abode swallowed us like a predator’s jaws.
“You did well in his retrieval, Toren,” Seris eventually said into the darkness as she marched in front of Cylrit and me. “I had my doubts about your chances of success considering how long ago the trail had been laid.”
“A paltry thing,” Aurora’s construct echoed melodically, its burning eyes fixed on Seris’ back. “Our quarry knew not to cover their traces effectively. Their base brutality was their downfall. They thought to escape an Asclepius on the hunt.”
Seris turned onyx pupils toward the steampunk puppet as we finally entered her rooms. “It seemed I was mistaken once again, then,” she said simply, before her attention shifted to me. I could tell from the purse of her lips and the slight furrow of her perfect silver brows that there was something else on her mind. “But even despite your success in your hunt, there were complications.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose at that, my thoughts immediately darting to my confrontation with Viessa Vritra.
“ ‘Complications’ is a weak word to use,” I replied with humorless mirth, my eyes roving over the many cuts and tears across my clothes where Viessa’s void wind had torn into them. “I’m not surprised you know about it, though, despite the distance.”
“My resources might be more limited here on this continent, but wars are won and lost by information,” Seris said seriously, her expression settling. “But enough about this for now. We have a prisoner to detain.”
I was just about to ask what she meant when the Scythe tapped her foot along the opaque obsidian floor beneath her boots. The floor rippled slightly as she applied a precise sequence of mana inputs, and my brows rose in curiosity as one of the walls at the far edges of her rooms seemed to melt away, the stone turning to sand and sinking lower and lower.
“The dwarves are no strangers to hidden passageways,” Seris said sadly, staring into the darkness beyond. “You must know this by now, Toren.”
She turned slowly, her gaze settling on Wolfrum. For once, he didn’t cower in fear of the Scythe. The wretch instead stared at the darkness, subsumed by it.
Seris strode forward, before her hands grasped Wolfrum’s collar. This seemed to pull him out of his stupor, and he tried to thrash. My telekinetic spell held him, however, as Seris pulled his body through the air. With unwavering steps, the Scythe carted her prey toward the dark room beyond.
Then she tossed him in. The traitor’s body hit the ground with a few weak thumps as he rolled, his eyes staring fearfully back toward us. I felt that pity return as the boy stared out at me, a foolish, terrified hope in his eyes.
“You are right to pity him,” Seris said, breaking me from my thoughts. She imbued mana into the floor again in a pattern, and I watched as sand rose from the floor once more to block all light and chance of escape from Wolfrum.
I sighed, my shoulders slumping slightly. “Will he run out of oxygen in there?” I asked, hoping the young man wouldn’t simply be left to suffocate.
Seris shook her head slowly, her silver hair swaying rhythmically. “This is only a temporary solution,” she said. “I will need to outfit Wolfrum with mana-restricting shackles and provide basic amenities.”
The Scythe shifted slightly, seeming to shrink a bit. Her ineffable presence became just a little bit smaller. “I try to give them another path, those youths with Vritra blood,” she said quietly as the mask she’d worn to the public fell. “One other than experimentation and cruel laboratories.”
I swallowed as the grief swelled in the Scythe for a bare instant, tainted by blackened wings and shifting scales. “Yet despite it all, they sometimes still choose the wrong one.”
I took a step forward on instinct, but I hesitated. There was something about Seris’ intent–something about this grief–that told me I shouldn’t push further. I couldn’t afford to lay my hand on her shoulder.
I pulled my sense of intent inward, knowing that my lover would not want me prodding at whatever wound this was.
I thought of Caera Denoir with her hidden horns. Of Naereni as she darted about East Fiachra. And there was another woman that she’d sheltered with Vritra blood, too. Maylis Tremblay, if I recalled correctly. And now Wolfrum Redwater.
Seris had a strange habit of finding young mages with burgeoning basilisk blood before they manifested. She mentored them and raised them like a teacher. Almost like a mother.
She doesn’t want you peeling away another mask, I chastised myself, stepping back and smothering the direction of my thoughts. Don’t do so. You promised her.
“Those we teach will not always follow the best path laid for them,” Lady Dawn said, sensing my thoughts and the air about us. “Their choices are their own. Wolfrum Redwater made his.”
Seris pulled her shoulders back into their naturally poised position from where they’d slumped, resuming her earlier mask. “Indeed, he did,” she said quietly, turning to look at us as she banished that dip in emotion. Her face was once again an even mask, no trace of her earlier cracks. “Now, I will need a detailed report from you, Toren. I will have my talks with Wolfrum later, but I must know if anything sensitive was lost.”
“We ensured that none of the Bastards Victorious still bared fangs,” Aurora said from my shoulder, fluttering her metallic feathers as she shifted the topic. “There are none left with the will or ability to speak ill of you, Scythe of Sehz-Clar.”
Seris’ eyebrows rose as she inspected the metallic construct on my shoulder, before gesturing to the various seats around the room. “Good to know, Lady Dawn,” she said respectfully. “But I implore you to take a seat. I suspect this will be a long talk. I am going to need a very detailed report.”
Cylrit moved with the clank of his dark plate armor as he maneuvered toward the door, standing guard there like a sentinel. Seris lowered herself gracefully into a tall-backed chair that faced the door with the regal poise of a queen. She settled a hand as she inspected me closely, a single brow raised.
Slowly, I settled into the chaise lounge that faced Seris. I let my thoughts drift away from that unintentional vulnerability Seris had shown me earlier. Internally, I began categorizing everything about the fight in my mind. My eyes flicked to the small table between us, noting the lack of usual teacups.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
The Scythe, evidently, noticed my attention. She sighed slightly in disappointment. “No tea today, Toren. It is not a drink I spoil with prisoners about.” Her expression settled into something far more serious. “Regardless, tell me of your fight.”
I exhaled, then began to recount the tale from beginning to end. Seris listened attentively as I spoke of how I cornered Wolfrum, then became more pensive as I alliterated the appearance of the corrupted mana beasts.
“I slew them easily enough,” I said, tapping my foot as I recalled the scene. The unnaturally still intent of the beasts still haunted me. So devoid of any sort of inflection. “But that was when it happened. I knew those beasts couldn’t have targeted me without a master. And I sensed her, true enough.”
My hands clenched along my legs as my expression darkened, anger surging from the pit of my chest as I fought back a snarl. Aurora bristled on my shoulder. “She caught me in one of her illusions,” I said with irritation. “Picked at my mind. I broke through eventually, but if there is one place that I hold sacred…”
I looked up from my clasped hands, sharing an understanding look with Seris. “We fought after that,” I said gruffly. “She utilized her reanimation magics to throw the S-class beasts at me, but I nearly speared her through her core. It was only then that I truly thought of the impact killing her would have. She claimed she wanted to take Wolfrum herself, as the Beast Glades were her jurisdiction. But that was a lie. I was her target from the very start–that much was easy to deduce.”
Seris was silent for a time as my words settled in. Her face shifted as she massaged her chin with her hand, something she did whenever she was thinking deeply. “I concur with you on that point, Toren,” she said slowly. Her eyes darkened slightly. “Are you certain Viessa did not obtain any knowledge from Wolfrum himself, or the Bastards he might have been traveling with?”
I shook my head. “The Bastards would have happily killed Wolfrum if he gave away even a pinch of information. That was all that kept him alive as they carted him around like a useless doll,” I sneered. “And either way, I made certain to finish the rest of them off.”
“And I can ensure that my son’s thoughts were not pried at deeply. Not deep enough for the worst. The spell she used scraped at surface-level thoughts. If she were to delve deeper, she risked my fire,” Aurora said gravely from my side, a mirrored anger across our bond. “Your schemes are safe, Scythe.”
Seris actually chuckled slightly at that. “No they are not, Lady Dawn,” she said with mild amusement. “It is in the nature of my craft that I will never be truly safe.”
The austere woman across from me likely did not intend the effects her words had. I slowly unclasped my hands, wondering at how long she’d kept her secrets. How long had she kept her true desires hidden and worked to balance an entire plan decades in the making?
I hadn’t even managed a year in Alacrya before the Plaguefire Incursion blew every bit of security away. But before that, I’d lived with a constant, nibbling anxiety in the back of my mind. The fear of discovery, that all my secrets would be laid bare.
“Nonetheless,” I said, pushing those thoughts away, “I fought Viessa Vritra. I nearly slew her as well–and I am confident I could have if I pressed. But I didn’t wish to risk it. Considering your plans, Seris, I didn’t want to draw more attention than was necessary to you.”
The austere leader of Sehz-Clar sighed deeply at my words. “You did well, Toren,” she said, affirming my decision after a moment. “Such action needs to be considered thoroughly before it's taken. Though I wonder… you thought it possible to kill Viessa?”
I locked eyes with Seris, noting the dark glimmer there. I nodded slowly. “I am unpracticed with my new levels of power,” I said slowly, saying the words as they formed in my mind. “I should be capable of far more, but this was my first true battle in the white core. There were places I wasn’t fine-tuned enough. Wasn’t fast enough or didn’t use my senses like I could’ve.”
I thought back to my battle with Viessa with a critical eye. I’d begun to rely so heavily on my sense of intent and heartfire as indicators of my foes that I’d been caught unawares by the resurrected S-class beasts. They didn’t have intent in the same flavors I was accustomed to, and their heartfires were dark and murky.
I’d been taken by surprise several times in that fight.
I remembered distinctly as I was nearly trampled into paste by the rhinoran. I’d only escaped with the use of Resonant Flow, which still was a dangerous technique to risk using.
“But I could have killed her, Seris,” I said, hoping the Scythe could sense the seriousness I imbued into my words. “And I’m confident I could if I fought her again.”
Seris nodded slowly, and I knew she understood. “Was there anything else unusual that you noticed during your battle?” she pressed after a moment. “With Viessa Vritra’s arrival on this continent, my information and knowledge of the Beast Glades has slimmed down significantly. I need eyes wherever I can manage them.”
My mind immediately jumped to the conversation I’d overheard between Bilal and Bivran in the Beast Glades. Their talk of supplanting Retainer Mawar, but also…
“I think there’s been a change in the plans to assault Elshire Forest,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I overheard a conversation between Retainer Bilal and his brother, Bivran. They’re planning to assault the forest still—likely with sentries and mana relays, as originally planned—but Bilal, Bivran, and Mawar are going to do something soon.”
Seris’ serious expression didn’t change an inch as she inspected me. Behind me, I was aware that Cylrit was watching me with an uncertain lacing to his intent. Seris’ intent radiated contemplation and focus.
“Interesting indeed. I’ll have to press for more information from our spies,” Seris said slowly. She tapped her fingers against her armrest. “The High Sovereign has shifted his attention from Sapin—at least for the time being—and has shown interest in the elven forest. Perhaps because of the Vessel you told me of. Word from what spies I possess has informed me that she is being interned in the Royal Palace of Elenoir in Zestier. I must move quickly, then.”
I ground my teeth slightly at that, my brow furrowing. Still, that bit of information actually made me relax slightly.
The Dicathians thought their floating castle was the greatest stronghold they had. It drifted under a veil across the Beast Glades, giving no easy entry or exit to any enemy that dared approach.
But it had a crucial weakness. Sylvie Indrath was a mouthpiece for Agrona Vritra, and her body could be controlled on a whim by one of the great tyrants of this world.
Except Agrona will not find it so easy to push Alduin Eralith toward betrayal. Not with Tessia healed of her ailments, I thought, an unwitting smirk growing on my face. And the Alacryan forces will struggle to chart their path through Elenoir without Circe Milview at their forefront.
Tessia was far, far safer than she was in canon. And that meant that Agrona’s plans–at least for now–were effectively foiled before they could even be enacted.
“That is an interesting smile you have on your face, Toren,” Seris commented idly, one perfect silver brow raised nearly to her hairline. “What do you find so amusing about this?”
My smile widened as I leaned back, nestling into the chaise lounge and allowing the cushions to envelop me ever-so-slightly. I crossed one leg over the other, resting my arms leisurely against the back of the seat. “Healing Tessia Eralith isn’t the only thing I’ve done these past few months to help this world,” I said. “Tessia will be safe in Elenoir, despite Agrona’s plan to thread his way through the Elshire Mist.”
This, at last, finally managed to stump Seris enough that she leaned forward, her intent radiating curiosity even if she restrained it across her person. Her eyes flashed in a way I recognized whenever she saw a puzzle to solve. A problem that needed a solution. “And are these all as grand and earth-shattering as the event that led to your confrontation with Lance Godspell?”
I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it slowly as I considered my response.
Because the answer to that question was a very big yes. Probably a bigger yes than Seris could comprehend. Because how was one supposed to process the fact that I had future knowledge from a deeply intimate perspective of Arthur Leywin’s life because of a book?
My continued silence was more than enough to tip Seris off to my secrets, but she gave me time to gather myself. I’d told her honestly before that I still had more of those.
“I don’t think you have dominoes in this world,” I finally said, “but there were these little rectangular tiles back on Earth. You could stand them up on end and line them up by the dozen–and when you knocked one over, it would knock the next one over. And the next, and the next. It would cascade to affect one at the very end. A butterfly effect.”
“You did not consult me on this,” Seris said after a moment, her earlier curiosity shifting to discontent. “You acted without authorization or my authority.”
I paused, only now realizing that Seris might take issue with my actions. “I set up these ‘dominoes’ a while ago. Before our talk about Earth,” I assured the Scythe, trying to assuage her worries.
“Before you were certain you could trust me,” Seris replied, more to herself. “Regardless of this, you will tell me of any more dominoes you lay down.”
I considered this for a moment, rolling the possibility in my head. I still had plans I wanted to complete. If I wanted to ease the Dicathian resistance in the wake of the continent’s inevitable fall, I would need to find the djinni sanctuary in Darv. I could leave more resources and items there than Rinia ever could. And maybe some sort of hidden message to encourage refugees about Arthur’s survival?
But how can I explain all of this without revealing the… nature of my knowledge? I wondered, still uncertain about telling Seris that last secret.
“On the topic of that conversation,” Seris said, leaning forward, “and your personal goal, we will have to make some plans.”
My focus snapped back into place as I observed the Scythe with such swiftness it nearly gave my mind whiplash. Nico Sever, and my assassination of him.
“He will arrive when the High Sovereign deems the game is close to its end,” Seris continued. “This could be in weeks, or it could be in months. But I suspect it will be sooner than you think, Toren.”
My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. Aurora’s relic whirred, its eyes searing through Seris’ soul.
“I can give you a chance. That is all I can promise you,” she said, her voice utterly serious. “By necessity, it must be done with no suspicion whatsoever pointing to us. It cannot be traced back to us.”
The Scythe’s fingers twitched. “If you had not impressed upon me the consequences of letting that cup be filled with the wrong tea, then I would never have even considered the possibility of spilling the drink. But the stakes have never been higher.”
I nodded slowly, thinking Seris’ coded message over in my head.
“It is greater a chance than I would have expected,” Aurora thought to me. “And you can say for certain that Nico will join this war.”
Indeed, I could. Regardless of the changes I had made to the war so far, it was inevitable that Nico would seek out Arthur and Tessia. It would probably just take a really, annoyingly long time for him to actually find Lady Eralith, considering she no longer had the corruption infecting her core.
But throughout all of this, someone had remained completely and utterly silent. Cylrit was more like a tombstone than a man, even as Seris and I conversed about plans that must have been foreign to him.
“Is Cylrit going to be brought in on this?” I asked aloud, to both Seris and the Retainer. I felt a little uncomfortable talking so candidly with the Scythe as if Cylrit didn’t even exist. “He’s trustworthy. Maybe I don’t trust him like you, Seris, but I trust that he has your best interests at heart.”
Seris opened her mouth to reply, but it was Cylrit who spoke. “Do I need to know this information?” he asked, piercing me with eyes of curdled blood. He had only shifted to stare at me with a meaningful expression. “Is what you’re speaking and planning relevant to me in any way?”
I blinked, then frowned. “Well, not really, no, but—”
“Then I do not need to know,” he said succinctly, turning his face forward. “If Scythe Seris wishes to inform me of something, she shall inform me of it directly. I have no right to demand more when she has already granted so much.”
I looked at the Scythe out of the side of my eye, nodding slowly in understanding. He is loyal. The most loyal person I have ever met. The moon-blessed mage herself had an ever-so-slight smile at the edge of her lips. Then she sighed, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Regardless of all of this talk of cups and tea, Toren. Was there anything else you noticed during your trek? Anything more about Viessa herself? Her emotions, perhaps?”
I opened my mouth to say no, but then my mind hitched as I focused on something in particular. Seris and Cylrit’s intents were all so full. Even if they did not convey emotion in any particular way, I could still almost taste the nuance behind each and every feeling and pull on their heart. Every heartbeat carried hints towards the souls beneath. Hints I could hear and feel with my own heart.
“But there was one whose intent was not so full. It was weathered away, like a rock ground to powder beneath the pounding of boots,” Aurora thought, reaching the same conclusion I had. “Half a mind. Half a person.”
“Viessa Vritra’s emotions were… strange,” I said, looking up at the ceiling. “Like she was a doll that had been picked apart, then put back together. But not everything was put back in the right way. Things were out of place in her intent. There were times in our battle when she should have felt something, or shouldn’t have felt something, or felt something in a diagonally-upside-down way. Her intent was already difficult to detect, so it took me a while to truly pinpoint it, but…”
I blinked in surprise as I felt Seris’ emotions recede slightly–the same as Cylrit’s. I looked down from where I’d been tracing patterns on the ceiling, and I thought I saw a bit of Seris’ Scythian mask return to her face. Like a barrier of cold stone.
“So that confirms it,” Seris said after a moment. She uncrossed her legs as she prepared herself to stand. “It is a carefully kept rumor in Taegrin Caelum that Viessa Vritra received special attention from one of the Sovereigns early in her tenure. What reports and information I could find stated that she returned differently. Wrong. As if part of her mind had been damaged.”
The implications fell into place quickly. Aurora’s puppet seethed as it flapped its wings in agitation, the little steampunk sparrow tapping its feet.
“There is only one who can compare to Agrona in sheer malice and apathy in the face of the mind,” Aurora said across our bond. “Only one who meddles with the stream of consciousness as if it were putty, poking and prodding where he shouldn’t.”
“Sovereign Orlaeth,” I said, certain of my words. “He is an empath, is he not? A powerful one. And he toys with minds.”
Sovereign Orlaeth had only been seen once. The two-headed Vritra had been—would be?–-summarily executed by Seris herself as an announcement of her rebellion. A proclamation that mortals could make gods bleed.
But before that, Orlaeth had picked apart the minds of Caera and Cylrit. With barely a touch, he’d divined Seris’ treachery and the trap laid for him. It had gone sideways for the two-headed psychopath in the end, of course, but to so casually peel apart thoughts…
Seris nodded slowly, her mask up, almost like a trained response. And it probably was. “Sovereign Orlaeth is among the most dangerous of the Vritra, Toren, for one reason above all.”
I frowned, my body feeling suddenly cold as the mood darkened. “Because he can influence the mind. Because he’s an empath who can do more than just sense your emotions. He can peel away your thoughts.”
I restrained a shudder as my mind went to that grim, blood-stained Central Cathedral. Repressed memories flashed like lightning in my mind, and the resounding thunder threatened to make me tremble. I remembered the phantom pain of Agrona’s dark, horrid touch as it gouged troughs across my mental world.
There was no greater violation. No greater indignity, no greater dehumanization than to have another tear apart your thoughts against your will.
Aurora’s healing touch across our bond helped center me again. I forcefully unclenched my hands as I took a deep breath.
Seris waved a hand as she slowly stood, her mood deteriorating as well. “That is not the reason why, Toren. That is part of it, but it is only a compounding factor for the base dangers beneath,” she said seriously. “Orlaeth is dangerous because he takes interest in lesser affairs in a way the others don’t.”
The air around us stewed for a time as Seris strode to the center of the room, staring down at the opaque floor. I knew it could be turned semi-transparent with barely an input of mana, which would give the Scythe a piercing view of the city far below. She could watch all the mages below like ants as they went about their days, unaware of the powers that gazed from above.
Now, more than ever, Burim felt like a cage—a place where my wings were clipped and my freedom restricted.
What is she thinking? I wondered, restraining myself from where I sat on the chaise lounge. I sensed that my lover needed space right now. Space to think. What worries cloud her mind?
Seris had a deeply contemplative look on her face as she gazed at the floor. Anyone else might think she was simply gazing at the glass, but I knew better. As a white core mage, Seris could no doubt sense nearly all the mana signatures across Burim. She could feel as the city itself moved and flowed with the preparations for war.
But mentioning Orlaeth seemed to unsettle the silver-haired Scythe in a way I didn’t anticipate. Her masked intent made it clear that she didn’t want her thoughts to be known, and the dark cast to her features warded me away.
“Can you sense what I am feeling right now, Toren?” Seris finally asked, her voice cutting through the gloom.
I worked my jaw slightly. “I can. If I try.”
“Are you trying?”
“I’m keeping my attention inward,” I responded after a second, my brow furrowing. I leaned forward in the chaise lounge, resting my elbows on my knees. “I got the sense that you wouldn’t want me to look right now. I respect that, Seris. I always will.”
Seris exhaled a breath that seemed to make her seem a bit smaller. The dark-dressed Scythe always filled whatever room she entered with her presence. Wherever she walked, none could ignore her. She drew the eye in the same way a full moon did. Beautiful, awe-inspiring, great beyond comprehension.
But she also held most in the palm of her hand, pulling on their fear and directing them like a master. As much as she was the moon, Seris was also a grim reaper. But all of that fell away for a moment as Seris thought of what to say next.
Except what she asked next was entirely outside of my expectations.
“I need to know, Toren,” she said, turning to face me with the mask of a Scythe fully on her features, “do you know what the rune on your back has done?”