Toren Daen

I watched from the edges of the fire, smiling as young children played at being mages. One of the boys, who seemed to be swallowed by the thick coat he wore, swung a stick at his friend as if it were a sword. His friend parried it with an exaggerated swipe, thwacking his opponent on the shoulder in a wild riposte.

The boy cried out, then threw away his stick. He rushed his friend, tackling him into the snow where they rolled. Their parents had to intervene to pull them apart, but the entire thing made me snicker slightly.

Do asuran children ever squabble like that? I asked my bond as I sipped at the familiar stew. The night air was chilly, and tomorrow would be the new year. Greahd’s gathering had a lot more people tonight, and there were a dozen more fires and unfamiliar people. The New Year’s Festival of East Fiachra wouldn’t be as grand or showy as those currently taking place in West and North Fiachra, but I had a feeling there were ties and connections here found nowhere else.

My asuran companion watched the squabbling children apologize to each other with a fondness in her eyes. “They certainly did,” she said, with something like nostalgia drifting through her voice. “It was not so easy to separate their squabbles, but our young learn early to restrain their strength.”

One of the boys was the child who had lost his fingers from frostbite. His mother gave me a hesitant nod, before shuffling him off.

The people didn’t look at me with such utter distrust as before. I was seeing the effects of my actions here, slowly but surely. The children played around the small square, laughing and playing as children should. A few had thicker coats, courtesy of the Rats’ donations.

Past blithe addicts didn’t have such empty eyes. But there was a tension in the air, like that of a live wire that needed to be released. It confused me. Why was there such anxiety as things improved?

But I had more to think about right now. I held my violin in my hands, the aged wood a comforting weight against my collar. I closed my eyes, testing a few chords and trying to reach the mindset I had the last time I played for these people. What I had done that time was special.

I had done it in a trance. The way I infused my emotions and thoughts into the waves of sound, projecting my hopes into the mana.

Only after the fact did I question what I had done. Eventually, I realized I had pressed my intent into the air but in a far different manner than killing intent.

Killing intent was blunt. It was brute force, blazing confidence, and utter surety in your power forced onto everybody nearby. But what if you didn’t try to press others into the ground with your intent? What if you tried to convey more complex emotions than just bloodlust?

I drew my bow over my strings, a higher, hopeful note vibrating out. I latched onto that sound, allowing myself to feel what it brought to the surface. Then I tried to contain it, pressing it into the ambient mana like I did when I wanted to impose my will on others. That part was easy. It was similar to how Lady Dawn demonstrated how to wall off my thoughts and emotions, except instead of keeping them in, I tried to push them out.

The emotion flowed out for a moment. I felt the ambient mana shift, my intent made manifest. I felt a wave of jubilation, which also flowed into the mana.

I wasn’t prepared to portray that emotion, causing my concentration to stutter as the note finished. For the briefest of instants, I succeeded in my attempt to send raw, unfiltered feeling into the air through more than just music. But a second later, it faltered.

I looked at my bow, humming. I knew I was onto something. This was an art that was beyond simple fighting and killing with sword, shield, and spellfire.

I laid my bow back onto the strings, trying again. I drew out a few faster notes this time, the sound making me remember my high-octane runs through the Clarwood Forest. My mind fell into that near-feral state of mind I had pulled over myself in those days; how I had been barely surviving, each moment a step away from death. I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end as I fully immersed myself in those past experiences.

And then I pushed them outward, releasing them like a held breath. For a long moment, the sound mana in the air thrummed with captured meaning. But once again, it faltered, the intent winking out under the weight of my concentration.

I felt like I was missing something. It was like a word on the tip of my tongue, deftly avoiding any attempt at remembrance. Or maybe a vague sense of deja vu, the inexplicable feeling that you had felt this before; knew the situation. But you could not remember how or why.

I opened my eyes at last, suppressing a bit of consternation. I was surprised to see Greahd there, watching me with wide eyes. Her mousy brown hair had a bit of sweat matting it from all the work she had done to set up this New Year’s Festival despite the cold.

“What was that?” she asked breathily, her eyes trained on my violin. “I feel it now. Goosebumps trail my skin, and not from the cold. I feel as if I’ve been running for miles but in an instant.”

I slowly lowered the instrument, smiling softly. “It's something I’ve been working on,” I said. “A future for my music. Maybe for all music?” I asked myself wonderingly.

“Oh, what a future that would be,” Greahd said, our shared passion for the art allowing her to see the possibilities. “If you get a chance, though, do you want to help me with some more of our preparations? We have some heavy beams that need moving, and a mage would be much appreciated.”

I nodded, gently setting my violin into its metal case as if it were a child. I closed the case, then stashed it in my dimension ring. “Lead the way, Greahd,” I said, stretching out a few kinks in my back.

The woman smiled gently, leading the way. She chatted with a few people along the way who approached her, giving them warm looks and advice.

“There are few in the world as genuine as this woman,” Lady Dawn said somberly. The Unseen World still dampened my vision and senses, but I’d learned to filter past many of those distractions. “It is a wonder she remains so kind.”

I think… I think her kindness is a rarity in any world, I thought back, nodding to a larger worker as he consulted Greahd on preparations. He nervously returned the nod, but he didn’t avert his gaze as so many had before. Progress.

“I have found that such people burn themselves out,” the phoenix said somberly. It seemed these gatherings made her as introspective as I. “They give and give and give until there is nothing left. Like the lifeforce in your chest can only give so much.”

“Things are better now,” Greahd said suddenly, interrupting the slight nosedive my thoughts had taken. “I don’t think the actions of the Rats are wise or sustainable long term,” she said, turning to me slightly. “But after what you did with the Joans, things have been better.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“It's not all that simple,” I said slowly, thinking of the Doctrination. “But the people seem happier than when I first was here. But it's so… nervous,” I said, trying to find a word for the strange energy in the air.

Greahd sighed, a puff of air misting in the cold. “This is the first time in many, many years that things have started to change for these people,” the woman said. She gestured at the young boys running around the fires again, causing people to stumble and utter muffled curses. I would’ve never guessed they had a fight a few minutes ago. “Benny and Haelen haven’t been able to play like this in ages,” she said sadly. “But now they can run about without fear that they’ll be grabbed by blithe addicts or cutthroats. The Rats’ presence had added a layer of security to this place that never existed before.” She paused. “And their parents watch. They wonder if this will last. They dare to hope, but hope is dangerous.”

I considered that. “I think things can stay better,” I said honestly. “Though there needs to be something more permanent than the Rats.” As amazing as Naereni, Wade, Hofal, and Karsien were, they couldn’t patrol this entire district. They’d become folk heroes around here, but they’d be stretched thin.

Greahd nodded. “Are you an ascender now?” She asked quietly. “I remember how you used to talk of it when you got breaks at work.”

I exhaled. “Yeah. It's not exactly what I was expecting. I’m alone, instead of part of the Brothers Daen,” I said a bit somberly, “But I’ll accomplish our dream nonetheless.”

Greahd patted my back assuringly. “So many leave this place behind when they get their runes. They make it big, and think that this place is beneath them,” she said. “All that magic draws them away from the important things in life.” The last sentence was said with a hint of bitterness I hadn’t heard from her before. “Tomorrow is the bestowal. All the parents hope their children will get a rune. They’d be shipped off to a low-level academy, maybe. Sent away from here.”

The talk of the Bestowal Ceremony brought my thoughts back to my current issues. “Be careful about the vicars moving into the temple,” I said quietly. “They had some sort of connection to the Joans, but I don’t know what yet.”

Greahd’s eyes took on a faraway look. “You don’t need to worry, Toren. I’ve lived through more difficult things than a few vicars prodding about.”

“Still,” I reiterated, taking her shoulder. “Be careful, Greahd.”

Her eyes softened as they looked at my face. I wondered what she thought she saw there. “Okay, Toren. As long as you promise to be safe in those Relictombs.”

I smiled slightly, feeling my nerves disperse slightly. “I’ll come back whenever I can. If I get enough accolades, I’ll even get you a better wagon,” I joked.

The woman shook her head. “Buy us some more coats instead,” she said seriously. “The younger are warm, but too many freeze on these winter streets.”

I gulped, then nodded. Eventually, we reached a small raised platform. Men were putting logs in place, trying to create a solid structure. I didn’t know the purpose of the platform, but I happily pitched in, hauling wood and settling it into place. The workers were a lot more accepting of my work than I expected, but I suspected exhausting work ground away reservations about my mage status. Another strong set of arms overrode any fear they may have initially had.

I worked for a while, finally getting a last log in place. I looked at the platform with a smirk, feeling satisfied at how quickly the task had gone. Greahd had wandered back to one of the cookfires, gently helping a younger woman properly mix the ingredients for her signature stew.

I looked down as I felt a tug on my pants. I blinked as the young boy with missing fingers looked up at me with sparkling eyes.

“Are you a mage?” he asked, not a trace of fear in his voice. “You lifted all those heavy logs, but your arms are so skinny!”

I smiled slightly, kneeling down to talk. “That I am,” I said gently. “Though I think most mages wouldn’t like being called skinny.”

His friend raced over a second later, huffing and panting from trying to catch up. “Benny, you should’ve waited for me! You said we’d get the mage together!”

The young boy, apparently named Benny, stuck his nose up. “Well, I got here first! ‘Snot my fault you’re slow.”

“I’m not slow,” the other boy said indignantly. “You are! Remember a few days ago when your mom caught you?”

Lady Dawn watched the interaction with a fond smile. It seemed she had a soft spot for children. I, however, was feeling a bit out of my depth as the boys began to squabble in front of me.

“--you’re just as smelly as a–”

“--you eat skaunters for breakfast–”

Help, please, I thought a bit desperately to my bond. I was not used to dealing with children.

“Children are quick to forget and easy to distract,” my asuran companion said with a soft smile. She seemed to only be half listening to me, instead focused on the young boys in front of us. “Give them a show, Contractor.”

“Hey, hey!” I butted into their spat, making them both turn to me with pouting faces. “If you two can’t get along, you won’t be able to see any magic,” I said, twirling my fingers as I knelt in front of them.

That made both the boys shut their mouths for a moment, their sparkling eyes boring into me with characteristic innocence. “You’ll show us magic?” he whispered as if it was a taboo. “Nobody ever shows us magic!”

I held my palm up in front of me. “Watch closely,” I said conspiratorially.

A small, flickering candlelight popped into existence over my palm, making both the boys gasp and back away. I smirked, then allowed a bit more mana to strengthen the fire. The children watched, mesmerized, as one candlelight became two, then four, then eight.

I raised both of my palms, enforcing my will over my mana. The spells condensed, a filter of pure mana changing the spells as they hovered midair. They became small fireshot spells, hovering in a gravity-defying way.

I plucked one of the tiny balls of solid fire out of the air. It looked like a marble, except the insides roiled and flared with orange light.

“Hold out your hand,” I said, gesturing with the fire orb. “Don’t worry, it won’t burn you.”

The boys looked hesitant for a moment before Benny held out his hand. It lacked several fingers, which almost made me pause. I lowered the fire bead into his hands.

He gasped at the warmth, but I had absolute control over my own spells. That bead of fire would not burn unless I wanted it to. Benny looked at the small orb of solid flame with eyes that reflected the heat. He was utterly mesmerized by the tiny impossibility.

Before the other boy could kick up a fuss at not getting to hold a spell, I conjured another spell bead. This one was of solid sound, similar yet different from my sound grenade spells. The insides shimmered like oil, a warping effect twisting any light passing through. It vibrated lightly when I set it in the other boy’s hands.

“It’s gotta be a regalia,” Benny whispered conspiratorially. “Right, sir Mage?”

The other boy elbowed Benny, causing him to clutch the little fire bead closer. “Nobody has regalias, Benny! Don’t be stupid!”

I looked up from the mesmerized children as their mothers hastily approached, no small amount of worry on their faces. When they realized I had noticed them they stalled, but not for long.

“I’m sorry for our children bothering you, Lord Mage,” Benny’s mother said. She seemed to feel more confident speaking to me as the other woman tried to coax the children away as if I were some volatile chemical. “They don’t know how to treat their betters. I’ll make sure my son learns tonight,” she said hastily.

I stood up slowly, winking at the boys as I latched onto the other fire beads floating in the air with my telekinesis emblem. They glowed white, slowly traveling to my empty palm, where I reabsorbed the mana into my core. The boys watched with barely restrained wonder. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” I said honestly. “I enjoyed giving them a little show.” Both boys let out exclamations of surprise and disappointment as the spell beads in their hands dissipated. “It’s good to see them out and about,” I said, brushing off my trousers from where I knelt in the dirt.

The second mother looked a bit confused as she ushered her child away, but Benny’s mother seemed to resonate with my words. She gave me an uncertain smile. “That is true, Lord Mage. I’ll see that little Benny enjoys himself more in the future.”

I smiled at her, but something on the edge of the large New Year’s gathering caught my eye. I frowned, politely excusing myself and looking toward the disturbance.

Yes, there was a disturbance. A mage was hiding their aura not far from the gathering, watching with contemptuous eyes. His robes were dark and trimmed with a familiar red, contrasting with the utter paleness of his skin.

A vicar watched from afar, scrutinizing the common folk like they were unruly cattle.