Toren Daen

I sipped my stew gratefully, savoring the warmth as it went down my throat. It was the familiar hearty recipe Greahd always made, the meat and veggies slowly filling me up.

I watched the festivities from a small distance away, noting the change in everyone present. Greahd had recently started up her small gatherings for the community again. A large bonfire roared near the canal, spreading heat to all who needed it. Snow coated the ground all over East Fiachra, but in this little section, there was none to be found.

It had been a month since the collapse of the Joans. The people here didn’t magically get better now that the supply of blithe was removed, but I thought I could see an unusual cheer in the eyes of the people as they conversed and celebrated.

It would’ve been around Christmastime in my previous world. A time for companionship, family, and brotherhood. Alacrya didn’t have Christmas, but they did have a New Year's Festival.

A man bumped past me as he meandered toward the fire, turning to me with surprise.

“Sorry about that,” I said, waving. I’d been slowly getting lost in my own thoughts, not looking where I was going.

The man, who had lost all of his hair and was wearing a ragged brown coat, blanched when he saw my face. He tucked his head, muttering apologies as he scrambled off.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I meandered back to a thick log and sat down with a heavy thump. Whenever somebody spotted me, their eyes sparked with hesitation, and in the worst cases, fear. It was obvious in how they quickly averted their gaze, seeming to find the packed dirt increasingly interesting.

It reminded me of the last time I’d participated in this gathering. I had nearly been killed by a lucky knife, and then I’d threatened a man in front of the entire crowd. To these unadorned men and women, mages were synonymous with power. They didn’t understand me, so they feared me.

It made my heart clench whenever I saw them shuffle away from me, my mind drifting to the dancing joy I had experienced when I joined them in their festivities. Around me, people found solace in each other. I was alone.

“You’re looking glum,” a voice said from behind me. “I think you could use some company.”

I turned to look at Hofal, knowing I couldn’t suppress the expression on my face. He sat down next to me slowly, complaining slightly about his back.

The shield’s sideburns were beginning to grow out slightly, and a bit of a beard formed around his chin. His thinning hair, however, wasn’t cooperating with that. It stubbornly refused to grow.

We sat in silence for a moment as I stewed in a helpful dose of self-pity. Greahd was serving bowls of stew nearby, and she was pointedly keeping me at arm’s length. I didn’t know how to treat her now after my success with the Joans.

“You know, you could try and talk with them,” Hofal offered, pulling out his pipe. “I heard what happened here last time from Naereni. You handled yourself well, all things considered.”

“They don’t seem to think I handled anything well,” I said a bit bitterly, gesturing to the collage of people milling about. A young boy almost tripped as he ran after another, kicking up dirt onto the legs of an older woman. She didn’t even seem to notice. “Considering every time I approach, it’s all ‘Lord Mage this,’ and ‘Lord Mage that.’”

Hofal took a puff of his tobacco. “They’re unadorned, Toren. Their entire lives, they’ve been told the reason they are condemned to this slum is because the Vritra spurned them. That they are here because they are not blessed by magic.” The older man frowned contemplatively, his eyebrows scrunching together in the way only possible when in deep thought. “You confuse them. And considering their only interactions with mages have been when the nobles peddled drugs to their loved ones, they expect the worst of you.”

I opened my mouth to speak. I don’t view them as lesser than I do simply because I wield magic. “But they’re not any different than you or I,” I said a bit stubbornly. “Maybe I can throw things with my mind, but my mind isn’t any different from theirs.”

“These people don’t know that,” Hofal said patiently. “They’re used to having everything taken from them. Chances are you’re here to take from them, too. And they have so little left to give.”

I spotted the young boy who I’d saved from the blithe addict a month or so ago. He was missing his pinky and ring fingers on his right hand from frostbite, according to Naereni. The boy spotted me and gave me a gap-toothed smile, waving excitedly.

I smiled back, waving lightly before he was hauled off by his friends.

The children don’t fear me like the adults do, I saw.

I realized the problem, then. It wasn’t just that all of these people’s experiences hardened them against mages. I was operating under a fundamentally different mindset than most of Alacrya, where might made right. In a way, my thoughts were like those of these children, where curiosity often won out over caution and common sense.

“It will just take time, I suppose,” I said with a hint of resignation.

A man nearby retched into the canal, heaving his stomach out. I turned concerned eyes to his form, his mottled greenish-yellow patches of skin marking him as a blithe addict in withdrawal. He couldn’t keep down the stew for long.

“It will get worse before it gets better,” Hofal said, following my gaze. “But the worst of the effects have passed now. Greahd wouldn’t have been able to host this if things hadn’t started to turn for the better.”

That pulled my mood back a bit. “Thanks, Hofal,” I said, looking at the stars in the sky. I could pinpoint a few constellations now, courtesy of peeping on Lady Dawn’s reading. There was the Basilisk’s Tail. Beneath it was the Struggling Ascender, struggling endlessly to grasp the Tail. To the right, a nimbus of glimmering suns lightyears away made the Lightning Spell.

I wondered what their names were on Dicathen. How much did these cultures diverge?

“You’re going to need to be in your right mind tomorrow,” the old shield said, patting me on the shoulder. “I can’t afford to let you stay down.”

I smiled slightly. Hofal was a retired ascender himself, giving him the right to sponsor me for the ascender’s assessment. Tomorrow, I’d be venturing with him to the Fiachran Ascender’s Association to finally progress. After my prelim, I’d return to Fiachra for the Bestowment Ceremony, which happened every new year. This year would be my last chance to get another rune before my adolescence barred me from legally getting another.

Greahd finished handing out stew for a short moment, shifting the duty to a younger girl. The mousy-haired woman slowly hobbled over to me, looking at me with conflicted eyes. I felt my shoulders tense, remembering my last conversation with Trelza.

“Hello, Toren,” she said quietly, looking down at me as I sat on the log.

“Hello,” I said awkwardly. Here was another person I had broken a promise to.

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She watched me for a moment, before taking several steps forward. I tensed for what was to come. Maybe a slap. Maybe a pointed finger in my face, admonishing me for my recklessness.

I was entirely taken aback when she wrapped me in an embrace, holding my head to her chest. A shudder went through me at the contact, the unexpected action causing my thoughts to stutter. I felt like I had been pierced deeper than any blade.

When was the last time I had been held?

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it,” Greahd said as my breathing picked up. “Trelza told me what you said to him about the forest. And about your plans for it. I shouldn’t have let you leave that day. I’m so sorry.”

My breath caught as I hesitantly returned the hug. I wanted to say it didn’t matter, that I was past it. I had friends, a purpose, and a plan.

But that would be a lie. Toren had never felt so alone that day in the East Fiachra Healer’s Guild. He needed somebody to hold him; to let him know that the world was not yet over. He had lost his sole rock in a world of crashing waves. And instead of an understanding shoulder to lean on, Trelza presented him with the letter. He treated Toren as he did his patients, not like the apprentice he had trained for years.

And so Toren took the only action he felt he could.

That capability for despair was still there in me somewhere, buried deep within. It wasn’t something that just went away. I felt my eyes burn with warm tears, but I closed my eyes, pushing them away.

I didn’t want to feel sad anymore. I couldn’t afford to. This world would face a proxy war between deities soon. What use was weeping about it?

I am not alone anymore, I thought, remembering Lady Dawn’s words in the Vritra Doctrination’s temple. I am not alone.

Maybe I would believe it one day, too.

Slowly, I released my grip on the mousy older woman. She looked down at my face, the lines of her brow seeming to deepen in the low light. “If you ever feel that way again, please… Please tell me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

I forced a watery smile. ”Things are changing, Greahd. I’ve got a purpose now. You don’t need to worry.”

The woman searched for something in my eyes before she shuffled away. She was so kind; going out of her way to create this avenue for community in a place that had given up hope. Part of me wondered how such a good woman could be in such a broken place.

“It is my job to worry,” the older woman countered, a slight upturn to the edges of her lips. “Your life is precious, Toren. Norgan would want you to live.”

I knew her words were true. My reassurances hadn’t seemed to have worked, the woman nervously grasping for a way to lift my spirits.

“He would,” I replied, thinking of the grave in East Fiachra. His body wouldn’t have been buried if we were in any other Dominion. Sehz-Clar alone practiced burial for those who died in battle. The only alternatives were cremation and leaving the corpse where it passed.

Is that what would have happened to my body? I absently wondered, gazing into the distance. It would’ve simply been eaten by mana beasts. And the other Dominions would find that an honorable end, rather than have a grave marker to grieve at.

“I know something that might cheer you up,” the woman said, moving away for a moment. I waited curiously until the receptionist came back a minute later with a familiar case.

Her lute.

I looked at it, remembering the last time the woman had offered me her lute to play. Greahd offered me the instrument as a mother might proffer her child to be held by another.

“No,” I heard myself say distantly. Greahd looked a bit startled, pulling the instrument back slowly. Hofal turned confused eyes to me.

I stood up, reaching into my dimension ring with my mana. My pristine metal case appeared in my waiting hands, shimmering against the stars. Greahd let me walk past her as I approached the fire, where people were laughing and dancing to a tune I couldn’t recognize. Despite their tattered clothing and dirty faces, their smiles seemed to reflect the nonexistent sun.

As I approached, however, the chatter and merriment began to simmer away. The men parted as I drew close, my metal case heavy in my hands. Women clutched their children close, shifting closer to their husbands. All eyes turned to fear and distrust, some shuffling to leave. The only sound became the crackling of the tall flame.

I turned as I reached the tall fire, the heat kissing my back with a tender touch. I set my case down on the ground, unlatching it slowly. When it opened, my violin was revealed to the air.

I picked it up, the textured clarwood settling neatly at my collar. I let my chin stay free, turning to look at the gathered people. Many averted their gaze or peered at the nearby streets, but they didn’t want to risk running from me openly.

I let the last bit of my doubt flow through me. What if I failed this? What if they rejected me, or ran in fear? I didn’t know how I would take such a rejection. But the strings of my instrument glistened in the firelight, my bow steady on the aether beast thread. For all my fears, I knew my abilities better.

I set the bow against the violin, savoring the contact. Slowly, I began to play. Soothing music flowed with the crackle of the firelight.

It was a familiar song. Anybody from Earth who heard it would know the melody, but here, it was novel. The notes flowed with practiced efficiency, echoing out into the stillness.

I closed my eyes, feeling the music. The slow rhythm contained all I felt at the moment, and I absently felt my mana respond. I opened my mouth, singing lowly to the watching stars.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days of auld lang syne?

I felt my emotions flow as the rhythm took me in its current. It was slow and warm and gentle. It didn’t care if I was from another world. The music simply was, following my direction and pulling me where it desired all at once. The music knew my desire to be understood. It sympathized in its unique language of sound.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne.

We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,

For days of auld lang syne.

My emotions pressed into the air, my intent morphing on the chill winter breeze. As I yearned to show my true self to the world, my mana flared in tandem.

We have traveled ‘round the slopes,

And picked the daisies fine.

We’ve wandered many weary foot,

Since days of auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne.

We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,

For days of auld lang syne.

My playing slowed as I opened my eyes and the stanza of the song finished. The fire crackled behind me reassuringly, outlining me in its warmth. When I peered at the crowd now, their eyes didn’t shy away. They met mine with unfettered wonder, their curiosity warring with their fear. I had done something with my music and magic just now that I didn’t understand; that I didn’t have time to contemplate.

The ambient mana had thrummed with intention, vibrating like the strings of my violin. For the briefest of moments, there had been no separation between mind and mana.

I couldn’t let this moment escape. It was a fleeting breath of understanding between me and these people. I knew their thoughts and fears, deep as the ocean. And they knew mine.

I laid my bow on the strings once more, drawing it across in measured notes.

And when I sang again, another voice joined the chorus. Greahd, I recognized through the haze of music. Hofal joined in next, his scratchy voice terribly off-key. But they started a wave as the mood grew infectious.

I locked eyes with the mother of the boy I had saved as she sang hoarsely, her vocal cords stripped from a lifetime of pain. But to me, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard. More and more joined in slowly, calls for auld acquaintance rising into the night sky.

I spoke with a language universal across every world: music.