Naereni

The battle being waged above made my teeth rattle. Despite my earlier insistence, I felt a shameful fear of approaching whatever was happening. The mana I could sense being thrown around… Could I survive that? Was I any use there?

I clamped down on those thoughts, banishing them into the back of my mind. I wouldn’t be the woman who refused even to look.

The group of mages followed after me with a bit of hesitance in their steps. Vaelum and Aban were mostly unharmed, and the three shields were even better off.

Another explosion made me pick up my pace. After the last one, the fight seemed to be winding down. There were fewer and fewer attacks making the light fixtures shatter, which might be a good sign.

The first sign of the fight was a seared hole in the wall, one I recognized as caused by that red beam that interrupted my fight. It must have traveled all the way from two stories up to reach down that low.

Debris littered the hallway as I approached the door, hearing the fight begin to settle down. Everything not nailed down had been smashed to the floor, and fires were burning in small patches everywhere.

I looked at the door with trepidation, then remembered the look Karsien had given me earlier. He trusted me to see this through.

I pushed open the door, not aware if I was being followed.

And nearly fell back from the sight.

The entire back wall and ceiling of the room had been destroyed, revealing the courtyard below. Parts of the supporting walls creaked under the weight of what remained of the roof, bits and pieces falling from above.

Fires blazed in a dozen different points of the room, flickering with the starlight.

A man knelt in the center of the room, staring up with hollow eyes. His fat body was coated in blood and dust, and the clothes he wore were shredded to pieces. His corpse looked like it was kneeling in supplication, asking for a boon that would never come.

And standing over him was the source of the presence. I recognized Toren’s strawberry-blonde hair, even from a distance. His chain tattoo glowed with red light, shining through the dust and blood that coated him. There was nothing left of his shirt, revealing a body marked by uncountable bruises and cuts. He stood over the body like a judge, deeming it unworthy.

My breath caught in my throat as Toren turned to me. His face, even partway down his cheeks, was covered in blood from a gash over his forehead. Orange runes that looked like feather stems shone under his eyes, fighting to be seen through the red as they glowed like simmering coals.

And then I met his eyes. His pupil burned like a star, and I felt like he could see right through me. He held my gaze for a long moment, keeping my breath from reentering my lungs. I wanted to turn away, close my eyes, and protect them from the glare. It was like staring into the sun, but there was a beauty there that was hard to relinquish. Then he finally spoke.

“You’re a bit late.”

And then the glowing markings on his body faded. The chains on his arm became ink once more, dulling to a normal sheen. The fire in his eyes winked out, accompanied by the burning feather stem runes. His legs gave out under him, letting him crash to the floor with a thump.

I should’ve caught him, I thought to myself. It was the least I could do.

The men behind me released a collective breath. We waited there like confused ants for a moment, wondering what the hell we were supposed to do. But then Aban approached Toren, laying a hand on his chest. Vaelum looked down at the body of the plump man. I couldn’t see under his helmet, but I had a feeling he was frowning.

“Is he alright?” I asked Aban as I quickly hurried over, pushing past my reservations.

Aban ran his hands over Toren’s body, poking and prodding at certain places. “He’s facing extreme backlash right now. There’s… something restraining it, though I can’t figure out what. His core is practically empty.”

Aban turned the body over gently, inspecting Toren’s back for injuries. I felt myself grow curious at what runes Toren must possess. He’d displayed so many abilities, and most mages our age only had a couple of spellforms to their name.

Toren had been intentionally secretive about what runes he held, so I felt a stab of guilt as I sneaked a peak at his spine.

But what I saw there was surprising. A curving red rune was stamped right above the lip of his pants. It was intricate and detailed in a way I’d never seen before. I realized with astonishment that this was certainly beyond a crest. Probably an emblem.

But my surprise quickly turned to confusion. There was only one rune on his back. Where were the others?

Aban hastily turned the body over. “Does anybody have a spare towel? Something to wrap the boy in? He’s already facing backlash. In this chill, he’ll catch a cold as well.”

One of the shields retrieved a blanket from his dimension rune, handing it over to Aban. He gingerly wrapped the young mage in the cloth.

Looking at Toren like that, swaddled in a blanket, clashed deeply with my earlier vision of him, looming over the room like a Sovereign. It reminded me that he was just a boy, really, several years younger than I.

But my confusion returned as I looked at him. How had he displayed such abilities with only one rune? Were those chains on his arm actually spellforms? After all, it was basic knowledge that mages could only use magic with the runes on their backs.

“Aban?” I questioned. “On Toren’s back, I only saw a single rune–”

“Hush, girl,” he whispered harshly, holding the boy and darting his eyes across the devastated room. “Don’t tell anybody about what you saw. Trust me when I say it will bring nothing but harm.”

I furrowed my brows, taken aback by the insistence in the man’s tone. “What do you mean?”

The aged caster looked down at the boy in his hands. I could barely sense a mana signature from Toren’s body. “There are rumors, from the war,” he whispered, so low I almost didn’t hear him. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Dusk here has something very, very special. Something that will endanger him if anybody hears about it. Do you understand me?”

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The way Aban looked at me almost reminded me of how Karsien stared me down a few days ago, a hint of condescension and dismissal there. But this wasn’t the same. This old man wasn’t reprimanding me like a parent does a child. He truly believed what he was saying.

What is your secret, Toren? I wondered, staring at his closed eyes. What are you hiding?

But I’d come here to save Toren. If speaking about how he only had one rune would bring danger to him, I’d keep my mouth shut. “I’ll stay quiet,” I promised.

The man’s shoulders slumped. “That’s good.” Then he looked up, scanning around the room. “We need to get out of here fast,” he said, rising to his feet. He held Toren’s body in a princess carry, making sure not to rock it too hard.

I nodded. We’d accomplished all we came here for, but I had no doubt that reinforcements would soon arrive.

“Lawrent Joan is dead,” Vaelum said from nearby, something strange in his voice. “I never thought it would happen.”

One of the shields grunted uncomfortably. “He was a mean bastard. He had it coming eventually, with all he did.” He side-eyed Vaelum. “Shouldn’t be surprised he was done in by one of the old Bloods he pissed off.”

I scanned the room once more, getting ready to leave, but then noticed something glinting in the far corner of the room. The area had barely remained unscathed, as it was farthest from the fighting. I felt my instincts as a thief perk up unconsciously, and meandered over to the object I’d spotted.

I spat on a shattered syringe as I moved around it, though.

What I had seen was a polished metal case with inlaid carvings. Hesitantly, I knelt by its side and unlocked it, wondering what might be inside. Jewels? Artifacts? Maybe even an accolade from the Relictombs? The container was certainly fancy enough for something like that.

I was taken aback when I saw what was inside. I blinked, recognizing what stared back. It was an instrument, one with strings and a strange contraption that looked like a bow. A violin, I vaguely recognized. One of the musical instruments played by the wealthy. I only recognized it from Greahd’s descriptions, the woman one of the few people I knew to play any string instruments.

It looked old, but had an elegance to its curvature. Like a fine wine that only grew more savory as it aged, this instrument took beauty from the bits of wear and tear it sported. I felt little twinges of mana from the wood, telling me it might’ve been carved of clarwood.

I could sell this for a fortune, I realized. I could buy a tenth of the buildings in East Fiachra with the profit alone!

But then I noticed the glyph stamped into the wood down below. It looked like a long dagger, bleeding runes on either side in streams. I knew the emblem immediately: this was the symbol of Named Blood Daen. Toren’s family.

I swallowed, shoving away my thoughts of selling the priceless instrument. I had failed to reach Toren in time to save him myself. Maybe I could make it up to him by saving this relic from the hands of his mortal enemies.

I sucked the case, the violin inside, into my dimension ring. Standing up, I prepared to leave with the rest of the mages. The building was unsteady on its foundations, creaking and shaking every now and then as it settled strangely. Having explosions rock through its basement would have that effect.

Our group traveled swiftly away from the carnage, avoiding the bodies of the mages we’d defeated. We met up with Hofal near the entrance.

“Where’s Karsien?” I asked, a bit worried that he wasn’t with the shield. “Is he okay?”

“After setting off the distillery, he left, saying he had some unfinished business,” Hofal shrugged. “I couldn’t keep up with him, so I stayed to gather as much evidence about the distillery as I could.”

I grinned at Hofal’s words. I had no doubt Blood Joan was dead in the water after this.

“I take it your rescue was successful?” he asked.

I glanced back at Aban, who was chatting lowly with Vaelum. “He’s pretty banged up, but Toren’s alive. That’s what matters.”

Hofal was quiet for a moment as we waited at the edge of the building. “Things are going to change after this,” he said lowly. “Nothing will be the same after what happened here.”

I felt my smile stretch wider. “You’re damn right they will, Hofal.”

Karsien chose that moment to manifest next to us. I didn’t show much reaction, but the rest of the mages jumped, their hands going for their weapons.

“Everything was successful, then?” he said, ignoring the startled looks he got from the mages around us. “How is Toren?”

Karsien’s clothes had slight singes over them in patches.

And his mask was gone.

The entire upper part of Karsien’s face was coated in a horrible burn. I had to suppress my nausea as I tried to ignore it. I’d only seen his face once before.

What did he do after he left Hofal?

“Dusk will live, though he’s in rough shape right now,” Aban replied, politely avoiding staring at Karsien’s scars. “I suggest you take him to a healer as fast as possible.”

I blinked. “You’re not coming with us?” I asked, hearing the words.

Aban shook his head. “We got tangled up in this quite badly,” the older caster said. “But as great as you Rats are as people, your reputation doesn’t match it. We’ll have to keep a distance.”

The mages behind Aban seemed to agree.

“Thank you for helping us,” I said as Hofal carefully took Toren’s body from Aban. “I didn’t think there’d be anybody else willing to try and make a difference here.”

Aban looked at Toren’s face again. “Don’t thank us, young lady. Thank Dusk. I… I thought long ago that nothing would change in this city. But your friend proved me wrong.” He shook his head. “Go, before this old man gets more sentimental.”

I swallowed, then went out into the night with Karsien and Hofal.

“What did you do after blowing up the distillery?” I asked my leader, trying to take my mind off Aban’s words.

“Tying off loose ends,” my mentor replied evasively. But from how light his step was, I knew there was something more to it. He walked without the silent burden he’d held for all the time I’d known him.

“You killed someone,” I guessed as we reached the fence. There was a gap wrenched through the iron bars that weren’t there before, no doubt caused by one of the shields rushing after us.

Karsien was silent for a moment. “I repaid a debt,” he said.

In other words, he did kill someone.

Wade was pacing back and forth outside the fence, a look of agitation on his face. He paused when he heard us approach. “Naereni?” he asked, a bit fearful.

“I’m here,” I replied, taking his arm. He couldn’t see very well without his glasses, and the dark of the forest made it worse. “We succeeded. Toren needs a healer, though. And you owe me an apple.”

Wade coughed, but my attention was drawn to the other sentry on the ground.

The other sentry was sitting in the dirt, his eyes staring off into nothing. I opened my mouth to speak, noticing how out of it he seemed. Was he okay?

Then he focused on Hofal, who was holding Toren’s body. He looked away as if he was burned. “You’ve got to leave quickly,” he said quietly. “There’s a small squadron of mages coming over from several neighboring estates. The battles that went on here were… attention drawing.”

We began to move after a muttered thanks, but I was held by the sentry’s hand on my arm. Wade immediately turned, his body coiled like a serpent as he realized what happened.

“That boy… the power he has isn’t natural. It… it scalded me when I looked. Like I was staring into the sun. He carries a star.”

I was unnerved by the blankness in the sentry’s eyes, but I carefully pried my arm away. “It won’t burn us,” I said, putting on my usual mask of confidence. “We Rats are good at using the fires near us.”

But inside, I remembered Toren’s burning pupils staring through me, seeming to peel apart my chest layer by layer to look at my heart. I remembered the body of Lawrent Joan, kneeling in supplication at his feet.

Our newest member held far more secrets than he willingly let on. I could only hope my words were true.