Toren Daen

I floated in a sea of thought. I drifted under luminous water, pushed along by currents of emotion and consciousness. All around me were crumbs of everything I knew. I was an indistinct body of blaring white; featureless and empty. I watched as a book meandered along the current, pulled past my lazy form.

‘The Beginning After the End,’ it read in flowing golden script.

Orbs of light began to flicker along the same current I was in, streaming toward something. I knew I had a destination. And this flow: it was my friend and companion in this journey. My possessions drifted in the current with me, flashing between orbs of light: things that together made a collage of who I was. An old photo of my family together when I was young, a worn stuffed animal long since left behind, my first earned dollar. From afar, it probably looked like useless clutter. But every item meant something real to me, something core to myself.

Slowly, more items began to join the current. They were unfamiliar though, causing a new emotion to rise in the deep blue. A beautiful violin drifted close to an old vinyl record from one of my favorite bands. A painting of myself and my brother, far younger and in clothes fitting for a Renaissance fair, mingled with the phone I had held on to for years. I spied a piece of paper, too: some sort of official document stamped with a winged serpent swam about my college degree.

They shouldn’t be with me, I knew, but they somehow still filled in the gaps I didn’t even notice were there. My confusion shifted to anticipation, however, as my destination neared.

My body and all the things that made me me shifted up and up, towards the surface of the water. I breached the surface, streaking into the sky. Dawn was stretching its warm breath over the horizon, exhaling pinks and purples and oranges across the sky in a beautiful display. I soared towards the edge of the light, my pace speeding up exponentially. Items moved with me, dancing merrily in the sky about me.

I laughed in a strange sense of euphoria, the hope and joy from the rising sun washing over me like a mother’s embrace. The horizon inched closer, a possible impossibility. The sun peeked over the water, greeting me with its warmth. At the center, somehow visible even through the glare, was a single red feather.

It pulled me onward, beckoning me to my fate. I extended my arms, the heat finally suffusing me. I pulled the items into my body one by one. It was right: each filling a puzzle piece in my spirit. With every memento and every memory that merged with me, my body grew more defined. My skin changed from glowing white to a familiar pale skin tone. My face shifted, my features growing sharper. Hair grew from my head, short and well-groomed.

I gasped, finally whole.

—

I snapped awake, nearly stumbling off the chair I was draped across. I patted myself down, assuring myself I wasn’t a stark-white being that looked too much like Truth from Full Metal Alchemist for my comfort. Everything was in place.

Everything was in place.

I slowly lowered my hands.

I let out a shuddering breath, walking toward the casket once more. Norgan lay within, peaceful in his final rest. He was taken far too soon, and I could only wish he had found another chance as I had. He deserved better than what he got.

His body was clothed, but I knew a stab wound had pierced his sternum and severed the spinal cord, shattering his mana core and dooming him to a slow, painful death.

I could remember the moment it had happened, now: the thin blade piercing his body with barely any resistance. Norgan’s expression: more disbelief than pain. And my own helplessness as I was forced to watch our aggressor’s anger as she stripped me of all that I cared for.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, ignoring the ache it caused my arm. I stared at the corpse for a few more minutes, memorizing every detail. The structure of the face, the build of his body, his eyes closed in peaceful rest. I burned every speck into my mind, ensuring I would never forget it.

Toren had–we had–despaired before at his–our–brother’s situation. Norgan hadn’t died naturally; he had been ripped from us. Stolen by those who would take and take and take until there was nothing left.

Instead of despair now, though, I felt a steady anger, like the simmering coals at the bottom of a fire. It burned hot and dark; contained and focused. Toren had despaired before because he held no power.

I still held no power. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t gain that power.

I let out a long breath, forcefully stilling my face and masking my emotions. Then I left the mortuary room.

Doctor Trelza waited outside, still as stern and emotionless as ever. “Daen,” he greeted as his gaze tracked me up and down. “You were inside for three hours,” he added with iron. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume he was chastising me. “Have you made a decision?”

Trelza was a stern man, but that was because of the nature of his work. He watched enough people die to the power struggles of Alacrya to bleed a man of any empathy. And still, he carried on, operating this clinic for the betterment of the poorest district of Fiachra.

“I have,” I said calmly. “I would like my brother buried. With the rest of our family.”

Just about the only nice thing in Alacryan society was the government-sponsored burials for those who couldn’t afford them.

At least if you were of a Named Blood.

The doctor began to walk back toward the upper levels of the Healer’s Guild. I fell in behind him, ruminating in my new state.

I was Toren, and yet I was simultaneously not. We were bound by a single intersection: that of our brother, Norgan. I couldn’t quite tell how yet, or why at all. But now, I had all of Toren’s memories and emotions merged with my own. I was still the computer science student of my previous life, but I was also the son of a disgraced noble bloodline in a magical world.

I wasn’t sure who I was now, but I would have time for the nascent identity crisis later. The only name I could use was Toren Daen, so that was who I would be.

Trelza reached the door to the Healer’s Guild lobby but stopped before opening it. He turned to me, a lighting artifact reflecting off his shaved head.

“Daen,” he said with a hint of something more in his voice. “I have seen many men leave this building with grief in their veins and fire in their hearts.” He paused a long while, looking at me with his unnerving stern gaze. ”Do not seek vengeance. It is a pointless endeavor.” His eyes bored into my own. “Do not spit on your brother’s grave by dying just the same.”

I knew now how our brother had died. And I knew the ones responsible: Blood Joan.

I stared back at Trelza, anger still simmering in my gut. “I won’t seek vengeance,” I lied, clenching my fists at my sides. “I have no way to even act on any ‘fire’ I might have in my heart,” I said mockingly. Trelza didn’t look convinced. Seconds ticked by as he stared me down.

“I swear this on the Sovereigns,” I added for good measure, knowing the weight those words would carry for any other Alacryan.

Our standoff continued a second longer before the man turned once more, opening the door. “That is the greatest vow you can make,” he said. “Do not break it.”

The Sovereigns of Alacrya weren’t my gods. Blood Joan had murdered my brother, and I would see them destroyed.

—

It was late afternoon when I returned to my apartment, following now-familiar routes and shortcuts back to the building. Once I entered my room, I immediately bee-lined for a certain spot on the floor. Prying up a floorboard, I retrieved a dusty wooden box, inlaid with runes and complicated filigree. With a pulse of my mana, it unlocked; attuned to my mana signature as the key.

Within was a significant sum of coins, at least by Toren’s standards. A signet ring also laid there, the last symbol of Named Blood Daen yet remaining. The image was that of a small knife sprouting flowing runes like a rush of water. The Daens hadn’t been the most powerful family in Fiachra, but they had sponsored and sired powerful ascenders for many years. They were close to Highblood status at their prime, but had made a terrible gamble in the previous war between the Dominions of Vechor and Sehz-Clar. Most of their forces were decimated in a critical loss near the city of Dzianis in Vechor.

One Blood had taken advantage of that misstep, nearly eradicating the entirety of Named Blood Daen in a few nights.

That was over thirty years ago. All that remained were Toren’s parents and an old steward. His–my?--parents were far from the line of succession, leaving them relatively unknown.

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And after they passed, then there were two.

I withdrew the pouch of coins, counting out the sum for next month’s rent. Once I had measured it out with a few spare coins for things like food and emergencies, I stashed the difference into the pouch on my waist. It clinked heavily now, near full to bursting. Dozens of gold crests sat heavily against my thigh.

Toren had saved this money over years of labor. Now I would spend most of it in a few days.

“Lady Dawn?” I asked the air with conviction.

Nothing happened. No shift in vision, no darkness and eddies of mist.

“I want to make a deal,” I said aloud, staring off into space. I waited for several heartbeats. “Do you want Agrona dead? His plans disrupted?”

Nothing happened. I suspected Lady Dawn hadn’t taken my last attempt at consolation well, stating that Agrona was fallible. I hadn’t backed it up, after all. And I didn’t know the phoenix well enough to understand exactly what the High Sovereign had done to her.

But it couldn’t have been good.

I took a deep breath, preparing to use my trump card for this negotiation. “I can stop the reincarnation of the Legacy. I know how he’s going to do it. I know the Vessel.”

My vision flashed to yawning darkness near immediately, a now-familiar muting and dampening of all senses but sight washing over me. I sat tensely in a chair by my desk, matching the blazing gaze of Lady Dawn.

Her dusky purple face formed a deep scowl, glaring at me as if her eyes could set me alight. She probably could, even as a shade.

“What do you know?” she hissed, the greatest bout of emotion I had yet seen crossing her features.

“I know how Agrona plans to reincarnate the Legacy,” I replied, thinking of the raging war on Dicathen. Luckily, the war had only started a month or two ago. I had time to grow and make a difference. “I know who he will use to anchor her; bring her into this world.”

Lady Dawn’s suppressed anger slowly dissipated into disbelief, her red-feathered hair flaring in agitation. “You do know of his plans… But it doesn’t make sense,” she muttered to herself in disbelief. “You can’t be his pawn, not from where I took you. But how else? How could he have tainted you?”

Lady Dawn’s words were unnerving, but I needed to push on. The next part of my plan would require delicacy. What I was doing was bold and dangerous beyond anything I had ever attempted and in a way I could hardly yet comprehend. I was going to bargain with the closest thing I had ever known to a deity, banking entirely on knowledge of the future gained from another world.

I leaned forward, clasping my hands together. “I can stop it,” I offered. “If I’m in the right place. At the right time.”

Lady Dawn refocused on me, understanding my hidden message. “With enough power,” she finished. She scrutinized me up and down with her eyes of flame, seemingly considering something. “Why should I trust you, lesser? Why should I allow you any power?” The phoenix tilted her head. “In fact, you’re closer to a pawn of the Vritra than I would have expected, no matter the impossibilities”

I scoffed. “I don’t know what your plan was, reincarnating me here.” I continued on, emboldened by my leg up and the anger in my bones. “But I have a sense that what you got wasn’t what you expected.”

Lady Dawn’s hair flared. “That doesn’t answer my question, lesser. What right do you have to the power of asura?” A near-palpable wave of intent rushed from the phoenix and pressed me into the seat, causing my utter confidence to disappear. My heart caught in my throat as sweat beaded on my skin. Had I misjudged the phoenix? Would she kill me here? “You don’t know what you toy with. You don’t know your place,” she said with a note of anger. “What could make Agrona fall?”

Lady Dawn’s intent made me squirm in my chair, a palpable energy pushing me down. I needed to act. Had to do something, or I’d die of a heart attack before I could say a word. My emotions began to fizzle as my ability to think quavered under the force. What was I going to say?

I coughed and gasped, my eyes bugging out of my head. “Ch-Chul,” I sputtered the name of Lady Dawn’s son, hacking the words out desperately. The King’s Force promptly vanished. I fell forward onto the floorboards, heaving deep gulps of air from my hands and knees. I realized with dawning horror that after a certain point, I hadn’t even truly felt fear when her King’s Force slammed into me. I was so deep under her intent that most of my emotions had blanked.

Lady Dawn strode forward, standing before me. From my place on the ground, I could only see her ankles in front of me, covered by her orange sundress. I kept my eyes on the floorboards, thoroughly subdued by the weight of her power.

“Speak,” she commanded. “Explain yourself.”

“You’ve trusted a mortal with power before,” I said with defeat. I had entered this conversation confidently, hopped up on anger from my brother’s death and belief in a novel from another world. Yet Lady Dawn’s King’s Force disabused me of that false bravado. I knew what I felt was barely a fraction of a fraction of what she held. Asura could cause the common man to have a heart attack by merely pressing on the mana around them, and considering I was still alive, the phoenix had been going easy on me. “A Djinn. Enough for Chul.”

Chul was Lady Dawn’s son, a half-phoenix, half-djinn. And he was at the Hearth right now, sheltered with Mordain Asclepius.

Lady Dawn stayed silent for a long while, standing over me like the god she was.

A minute ticked by uncomfortably. I was still staring at the ground beneath her feet. “Why don’t you pry the knowledge from my mind?” I asked, confident she could do just that. Or at least torture me for the information.

After a moment, the phoenix knelt down, her orange sundress brushing the floor. None of the dust was kicked up, but it caused a wave of color as the sun from the window reflected off of it. I felt a hand under my chin, tilting my head up.

Lady Dawn was still above me, but far closer now. She searched for something in my eyes, an expression of pinched sorrow on her face. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She released my chin but stayed kneeling. “I will not rape your mind,” she said with quiet bitterness. She opened her eyes once more, and the blaze had reduced to that of simmering coals. “I will not invade you as Agrona does. Touch and twist what makes you whole. None deserve that, no matter their race.”

A steady silence stretched between us before Lady Dawn stood, turning away from me. The sunlight reflected odd hues off her form, sending shimmering tones of an early morning sky across her body. “I only once trusted a mortal,” she said wistfully, still turned away from me. “But that was a long time ago.”

I struggled to my feet, the aftereffects of her King’s Force still lingering over my body. It felt like I had been run over by a truck several times over, and I was pretty sure my ribs had been damaged again.

She turned to me once more, cocking her head. “You are confident that you can disrupt Agrona’s plans?” she asked, an undisguised note of hope inlaid into her authoritative tone.

My thoughts drifted to the war in Dicathen. Agrona’s plans hinged on capturing Tessia Eralith to become the Legacy’s Vessel. To do that, he would leverage the poison inside of the girl that the corrupted Elderwood Guardian inflicted, using the antidote to blackmail her father, Alduin Eralith, into surrendering Dicathen’s flying castle. The flying castle had portals keyed to every city in Dicathen, allowing a swift assault on every stronghold all at once. Key locations would fall like dominoes in a masterclass victory, ensuring the defeat of an entire continent. With the war lost, the elven princess would be easy pickings.

Dicathen was doomed to lose the war: the difference in numbers, power, preparation, and technical logistics was far too vast between the continents. Alacryan mages honed themselves against the Relictombs, expecting to battle the Sovereign’s enemies. Their entire culture revolved around battle. Furthermore, every one in one hundred children could become a mage in Dicathen, developing a mana core and training in magic.

But in Alacrya, that average was one in five.

I could delay the inevitable: maybe get the antidote myself and cure Tessia of her ailment. Perhaps I could warn the other Council Members of Alduin’s betrayal, even if it was understandable.

But Agrona hadn’t even been trying when he won the war, I knew. Most of the ascenders, some of the best-trained mages in Alacrya, were not deployed in any attack. The Wraiths hadn’t even been sent in, and each was more powerful than the Scythes that outclassed every Lance but Arthur. If I delayed the war too far, the slaughter and death could ramp up tenfold as the head of the Vritra Clan deployed his real forces.

But there was a surefire way to deny Agrona his prize.

I could kill one of the anchors.

“Yeah,” I said, collapsing back into the chair. I had no idea what would happen anymore, and my mind felt sluggish and weak. I deserved that, I suppose. Trying to bargain with a physical god would do that to a man. “I know who the anchors are; the reincarnates who will be used to bring the Legacy to this world,” I said. “But I need the power to kill one.”

I wouldn’t–couldn’t–kill Arthur. I could deny Agrona his Legacy, but Arthur would be all that stood between two raging clans of asura. His eventual mastery of aether was critical to allowing the mortals of this world to survive. I couldn’t kill him. And no matter the power Lady Dawn granted me, it was unlikely I would ever get the strength to actually hurt the man once he gained his aether core.

But Nico? Nico would commit atrocities; murder thousands of Dicathians in cold blood in a vain attempt to revive his dead fiance. And then he would deliver Cecilia into the outstretched hands of Agrona, putting her in the exact position she had committed suicide to avoid.

Lady Dawn scrutinized me with her eyes of ember for a long while, watching my thoughts play out across my face. “We shall form a contract,” she said slowly. “Between you and I.”

I looked up at the phoenix, my eyes going wide. Was she truly…?

“I agree to grant you power; Will enough to see your task more than complete. In return,” she paused, tilting her head once more. “You will do everything in your power to stop the reincarnation of the Legacy. Failing to do so will shatter your core and scatter your power to the wind,” she finished.

She held a hand out for me, beckoning me to shake. I looked at the hand, realizing what it would compel me to do.

The most surefire way to stop the reincarnation of the Legacy was to cut off her anchors. But was I willing to condemn a man for actions he had not yet committed? Was Nico deserving of death because of what he would do in the future, one I wasn’t certain was even concrete?

I realized then that it didn’t matter. I couldn’t afford to contemplate the repercussions of this decision right now, not when so much lay in the balance. Even if I denied this deal, this offering of gratuitous power, what would come after?

Alacrya was a land governed by strength. If I did not grow in power, I would be a pawn at the whim of those greater than me. I would never have my own agency ever again.

At least the prison this contract offered me was clear in its bars. But to live on this continent without the strength to defend myself? My chains would be everywhere I looked and everywhere I didn’t look, too.

So I chose the cage I knew.

“I agree to your terms,” I said wearily, shaking the phoenix’s hand. Immediately, my arm began to burn where our palms met. The burning traced up my arm to my core, lancing it with sudden force. I gasped, stumbling backward as the edges of my vision darkened for the second time in the day.

“I shall hold you to your word,” I heard Lady Dawn say, echoing as if underwater. “I will hold to mine.”