Toren Daen

My anger followed me like a pursuing hound. I tore my way through the Relictombs, my blades reaping vengeance on any aether beast in my way.

I felt half a beast myself. I held Oath in my hand, flourishing it against the large crocodilian that tried to gore me with its claws. Instead, my saber drew a thin line of blood through its thick, leathery hide.

The monster whirled, undeterred by my attack. It stood on two legs, towering over me with a jaw that could eat my torso in a single bite. It snapped at me with that massive maw, but I pulled myself backward. Instead of a pound of flesh, the creature’s jaws closed around a grenade of sound and flame.

It burst within its mouth, making the beast rear backward with a roar. Promise streaked in from the side, the telekinetically controlled dagger ripping a jagged tear over the monster’s eyes.

It thrashed its arms about wildly, spurts of blood leaking from horrific cuts across its face. Promise didn’t cut cleanly anymore, not after what Mardeth did to it. The dagger ripped and tore where it cut, digging out chunks of flesh from whatever it touched.

Another crocodilian beast charged me, running on all fours like an ape. It kicked up swampy water in its wake, the marshlands around us murkily camouflaging everything in its path. The aether beast’s thick, meaty tail flicked behind it. I threw a condensed fireshot at the creature, the fiery pockmarks making it tumble. Promise whirred toward the beast, drawing a jagged gash across its scaled gullet.

I then turned back to my original prey. With a snarl, I yanked on its leg with my emblem. The creature, flailing about due to its lack of eyes, tumbled face-first into the soft, marshy ground beneath my feet. I glided by, driving Oath into its throat and withdrawing with a deft flourish.

It choked to death on its own blood.

I kicked the beast’s corpse towards a long, serpentine form that was moving through the nearby water. Empowered by my telekinetic shroud, the seven-foot-tall scaled monstrosity soared toward the small ripples in the water.

The snake-like aether beast, unprepared for several hundred pounds of corpse crashing into it, writhed about, splashing water and hissing.

I heard that hiss. I saw its fangs. And I thought of Mardeth.

I reached both of my hands out, sending waves of mana into my telekinetic spellform. I sent my mind outward, commanding the energy in the air to latch on and hold.

A flare of white attempted to close in on the massive serpentine beast. An outline of purple rose to meet it, fighting off my attempts at direct control.

It was extremely difficult to outright control creatures with mana or aether in their bodies. Their own innate defenses fought back, making it far more efficient to use pushes and pulls, which didn’t draw that reaction.

But as the serpentine form coiled, its innate aether defenses fighting against my attempts, I felt my anger only grow. Snakes lurked in every corner of this world, whether they be people or basilisks.

I crashed my hands together, sweat beading on my forehead. With a yowl, my telekinetic emblem finally ripped away the monster’s aetheric shroud, collapsing inward like an imploding star. I had control of the thirty-foot-long aether beast at last.

I snarled, raising my hands with a little strain. The aether inside the beast was trying to fight back; reclaim its control and banish my spell. But I wouldn’t let it.

The beast floated through the air, then smashed through a stocky tree. I whipped the creature around, my rage guiding me as much as my reason. The creature’s scaled hide cracked against another lurking bipedal crocodile, splintered through a tree, and then crashed against the water once more.

I felt the pushback from within weaken with every blow, the serpent’s bones breaking with every strike.

I could end it immediately. Considering I had control of the beast, I only needed to clench my fist, and a ton of force would concentrate around the monster’s head, pulping it at my command. But I wanted to hurt it.

I used the monster’s body as a noose, wrapping it around a hulking, bearlike aether beast’s throat. The bearlike beast snarled, clawing deep, bloody gouges into the thick meaty hide of the snake. On its own, those attacks would have sent the serpentine beast swimming away, its entrails trailing behind it. But I tightened my grip, forcing it to stretch like a garotte.

The bearlike beast’s eyes widened as the air was pressed from its lungs. Its struggles weakened, the sharp, glinting claws far from enough to free itself. It was covered in the serpent’s blood, a gruesome fate for any monster.

I hovered the mangled body of the serpent in front of me. It was still breathing weakly, strangled hisses and wines echoing from its mouth. Its scales were torn and battered from where I’d used it as a club against the monsters approaching me.

I looked into its eyes, remembering the pity I felt for the skaunter so long ago after shattering its leg. I could feel none in my soul right now.

“Do not become them, Contractor,” Lady Dawn whispered across my thoughts.

I turned to the side. My bond was sitting on a low branch of a burly tree, watching the scene with an almost sad expression.

“You hate them, too,” I said with a snarl, feeling defiant. “They’d happily do the same to me. To all I care for in this world. Why should I be merciful toward those Vritra-blooded monsters?”

My bond seemed to center herself, taking a breath. “I hate what they represent, Toren. A heartless union between asura and man. One of apathetic science and heartless desire for power. Instead of love and life. Instead of something wonderful and new. That is why I hate the Doctrination.”

I felt my appetite for carnage wane slightly. The beast I held in my telekinetic clutches no longer struggled against my control. Its aether no longer pushed to free it.

I drove Oath through its skull in one quick motion, putting the serpentine monster out of its misery. Then I threw the corpse into the water with a heavy splash.

“But why?!” I said, turning on my bond. “Why shouldn’t I just say goodbye to my principles? This world seems happy to keep telling me I’ll fail if I don’t. The only people who succeed in Alacrya are those who sell their souls.”

It was ironic, wasn’t it? I’d already sold my soul to the asura in front of me. What right did she have to chastise me when she acted just the same?

My bond seemed unaffected by my anger, which only pushed the flames higher. But I let her think of a response. “My brother,” she began, “Was disgusted by the Indrath Clan’s butchery of the djinn. Late at night, he would ail over the question of what he should do. Expose their crimes? That would never work. Look what happened to Agrona. Lead a revolt against the dragons? For all Mordain’s strength, Kezess’s mastery of aether put him beyond all of our fighting forces. Simply let the massacre slide?” The phoenix shook her head. “So my brother found a different path. He left, just as Agrona did. And he sought out the remnants of the djinn, providing them sanctuary and protection for centuries. If not for that act of idealism; of principle? I would have never met my husband. My Andravhor.”

My shoulders slumped, much of my anger draining out of me. Every day, I felt more and more of myself from my previous world become diluted and distant. The peace and future I experienced on Earth was becoming harder and harder to remember. How long until nothing of me remained, and Alacrya took its place?

“I’m tired, Dawn,” I said morosely, looking toward the sky. “It would be so easy to just--” I waved my hand in the air dismissively. “Let it all go. Fight with everything I have.”

I had only been in this world for around four months. How much longer would I remain? I’d already killed men. Drawn blood in a way that would’ve been inconceivable in my previous life.

My bond didn’t say anything in response. I felt a reassuring stream of emotion and understanding over our bond. It was a balm on my aching psyche, the warmth making me almost melt.

I spent that next night with much less anger and a lot more sorrow.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

—

I stepped through the shimmering portal, bracing myself for the next zone. Would it be of extreme, muggy heat like the marshland from before? Or splintering cold, like the stretches of Antarctica?

I felt my eye twitch as I stepped into the familiar scene of the American town zone. The road stretched onto infinity. The two familiar portals stood side by side at the end of rows of suburban homes.

And yet this time, the houses weren’t broken memories. The first time I’d been in this zone, they’d started off as almost cartoonish renditions of modern architecture, the proportions and colors wrong and disorderly. The uncanny valley had swallowed this zone whole. But the next time I was here, the place had smoothed over somewhat, like a builder was learning the ins and outs of his craft at an accelerated pace.

And now, each house wouldn’t be out of place on the outskirts of a city. The small lawns in front were neatly trimmed, a faint smell of freshly-cut grass wafting on nonexistent wind. I felt the constant watch of something, just as before. I was being scrutinized. Peeled back. Inspected.

The last time I had been here, I simply left. I didn’t see the point of investigating for too long. But now? Now I felt protective of my emotions in a new way. Whatever this presence was, it was taking knowledge of my previous world from my mind. Using it to craft this little zone.

I looked around, feeling the presence, but unable to pinpoint it. The hairs on my arms stood on end, an instinctive reaction to being watched.

“Show yourself!” I cried, turning about and flaring my intent. I pressed into the expanse, trying to lash out in vain. “Stop just watching me! Stop taking from my mind! Stop being a coward!”

Only the silence of the zone met my taunts. I felt no change in the observation. No change in the emotions of whoever–whatever–was looking down at me.

I walked down the asphalt street, looking every which way. I drew Oath, snapping it to the side. The single-edged blade cut a light divot into the street as I walked, not even sparks signaling the slightest resistance.

I grew tired of the silence. Tired of the non-answers. Tired of being powerless.

I drew on my Will. It reacted as expected, meshing with my mind. I felt my knowledge expand, a chunk of understanding so intuitive I couldn’t understand why I didn’t see it earlier. But my senses also expanded, my own heartfire flaring in my chest.

I looked around, my eyes narrowed.

It didn’t take me long to see a discrepancy. I couldn’t see aether like Arthur could with Realmheart, at least not all forces of it. Lifeforce was an expression of aether, the fire that tied the soul to the vessel blaring in my eyes.

And I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t looking so intently. A single, barely quivering ember of heartfire pressed against the ascension portal. I could see nobody around it; just the burning indication of life.

I stalked forward, drawing Oath behind me like a scythe.

I stared down at the fire. It was so weak; the last embers of a roaring bonfire. I could almost feel what it used to be. I pointed my sword at the fire floating in the air. “Reveal yourself,” I said lowly.

Nothing happened. No reaction from the fire.

I pushed my saber forward slightly, not knowing what to expect.

The moment my blade touched solid flesh, a body suddenly appeared in front of me as if resolving out of nothingness. My saber had drawn a light cut over its chest.

No, I realized, taking a step back as I observed the person in front of me. A he.

An old, old man sat in the fetal position by the ascension portal, grasping his knees and muttering quietly. His hair was thinning and white, a strange pearlescent sheen to his skin. The wrinkles I saw must have had wrinkles themselves, age radiating from the being like an ancient oak.

And scrawled across his sagging skin were deep violet spellforms. They covered every inch of the body I could see.

“A djinn,” I said with a shocked whisper. The purplish skin and rune-covered body could only be one thing.

Lady Dawn appeared by my side in a flash, her eyes wide and burning. My bond knelt in front of the man, who shook slightly. He didn’t seem to even realize I’d cut him slightly, muttering with distant, unseeing eyes.

“A djinn still lives in these tombs,” my bond said with restrained emotion.

I looked at the djinn as he huddled. The spark of life over his heart was almost extinguished.

He’s dying, I realized. He’s been dying for a long time.

He continued to mutter, unaware of either my bond or I. I knelt lower, sheathing my blade. I felt like a single brush of a feather would make this man collapse into dust.

I was just able to make out a repeated mantra, muttered under his breath.

“They can’t see me. Can’t find me. They can’t see me. Can’t find me. They can’t see me. Can’t find me.”

I swallowed. “He’s gone mad,” I said stiffly. A mantra that must have been repeated for an eternity.

“Did you know of this, Contractor?” my bond said, turning to me sharply. “Are there others like him here? Trapped in these dungeons? You know more about this place than any other. Tell me!”

I shuddered, tearing my eyes away from the mad djinn with an effort of will. “I-I didn’t think any lived. There were only relics that mimicked the djinn. Remnants, they called themselves.”

“Remnant,” the djinn said suddenly, his eyes still glazed. “Remnants of everything. Everything crumbled. Entropy comes. Takes all.” His eyes snapped to Lady Dawn. “You’re a remnant. Lost soul. Twin-life taker.”

I tensed. Nobody had ever seen Lady Dawn besides myself. She was invisible to everybody but me. Yet this djinn could see her?

“You hear me?” my bond said, reaching a hesitant hand to the crumpled djinn. Yet he had gone back to his muttering, ignoring her shaky gesture.

But my attention was slowly drawn back to the atmosphere. The pervasive feeling of being watched didn’t come from the shivering, mad djinn at my feet. It came from everywhere.

“Are there more djinn yet living in these tombs?” I tried, kneeling down in front of the djinn. He didn’t respond, content to continue muttering to himself.

I frowned, feeling pity for the man. He had no doubt once been among the pinnacle of mages in this world, but his mind had been shattered. By the Indrath Clan? By spending millennia isolated in these tombs? Or by some sort of experiment?

I didn’t know.

“What is your name?” I asked more firmly, laying a hand on the djinn’s shoulder.

That got a reaction I did not expect. The djinn reacted to my touch as if it were fire, scuttling back along the concrete while half-hissing. Tears grew at the edge of his unfocused eyes.

“They took it. Took everything. My face. My home. My name. Just like she took everything from you to bring you here. But we made a better way. A way to test.” His eyes sharpened for the briefest of instants, a hint of the man he must have been shining through. “We make a test for you, Twinsoul. To grant you insight. I didn’t want to go, but they all did. I couldn’t. Didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lady Dawn recoil, pulling her hand back as if stung. My mind burned with questions, trying and failing to assemble the pieces. Was this just the mad ramblings of a decrepit djinn? Or was there a grain of truth to them?

But I felt the presence around me change at his last words. It seemed to withdraw for the briefest of moments, the constant weight–like the pressure from being underwater, the liquid compressing your chest–pulling back for a moment.

“Who are ‘we?’ And what do you mean Twinsoul?” I asked. It was at his mention of a test that the pressure shifted. If I could only find out what he was referring to…

But the djinn just curled up into a ball, stray tears streaking down his face. His mantra changed as he drew inwards. “Took my face. Took my home. Took my name. Took my face. Took my home. Took my name. Took my face. Took my home. Took my name.”

Lady Dawn gathered herself and knelt by the man’s body, running phantom fingers over his face. She peered into his eyes, but they gave no recognition.

I tried several more times to get information from him. I asked questions, gently prodded at his body, and even tried to push mana around in an attempt to garner some sort of reaction.

I let the first phase of my Phoenix Will fade as I eventually gave up, picking up the muttering man. He was almost weightless in my arms, the age and thinness of his gaunt limbs making him less than seventy pounds. I wondered how a person could live like this.

My mind cycled through question after question as I numbly walked toward the houses. My feet seemed to move by themselves as I walked through one of the lawns, using my telekinesis emblem to pull open a door. My bond trailed behind me from several yards, a morose air to her.

The djinn called me Twinsoul. He said everything had been taken from me. And he also said that someone was preparing a test for me.

For insight.

I had chosen the house closest to the exit portal. I had somewhat expected it, but the inside of the building had shifted just as much as the outside. Instead of the original blank, white room, I was met with something out of a commercial. Pristine furniture graced the living room, with a flatscreen TV facing away from the window. A ways past the couch, I could see the beginning of a fully furnished dining room, complete with a marble counter, oven, and microwave.

I let all of this wash past me with a growing sense of detachment. I wasn’t moving my body. I was piloting it from afar, distant from sensation and emotion. I wasn’t in these tombs. I wasn’t in a different world. I was on Earth, having a strange dream.

I gently set the old djinn’s body onto the couch, then went searching throughout the house. I managed to find a blanket from a bedroom that looked straight out of an Ikea warehouse, then gently draped it over the weeping ancient mage.

I felt a headache pounding against my skull as questions hammered against the bone, trying to escape with every thump. I looked down at the old djinn for a long moment, feeling anxiety and dread pooling in my stomach. Of all the questions that churned in my brain, one rose above all others.

I couldn’t pretend to ignore it any longer. I’d gotten too many hints. Suspected for too long. And now that I had gazed into the abyss, the abyss gazed back.

“Lady Dawn,” I said, still staring at the quietly crying djinn. “How am I in this world?”