Toren Daen

I wasn’t given time to process my surprise. Darrin slid next to me on cushions of wind, gliding to a stop as if he were skating.

“We gotta get out, now!” he called, punching the skull of an elite before it could fully escape its concrete tomb.

I shook my mind free of questions for the moment, stabbing a zombie through the skull with Oath’s point. It came back free of blood, but there was a coating of some sort of rot over the red-layered metal I had to burn away with a flourish of fire mana.

“Follow us,” I said to Sevren. “We need to get far enough away that they won’t follow, and do so without making a sound. Keep close to me. My sound barrier only extends so far!”

Sevren nodded, but the elites had already burst from the ground. I was forced to lash out at one with a dozen quick, telekinetic punches. It crumpled, but not before another four tried to pile on me from every side. I lashed out with Oath, turning one of their weapons aside. A cutting arc of wind impacted my telekinetic shroud but broke without cutting deeply.

A conjured fireball intercepted the next scythe of wind, exploding midair. Meanwhile, I thrust my saber through a thin gap in the snarling undead’s chain armor, skewering its heart. I withdrew my blade with a flourish. When I swung the saber next, a wave of fire billowed out, consuming one of my attackers whole.

As Promise drew its ragged edge across the eyes of my assailants, I spared a glance at my companions. Darrin was using measured steps, throwing his fists out in a blur. Every time he did so, fists of wind appeared at odd angles, hitting the undead from unexpected areas. Almost every single swing of his fists downed one of the zombies, their inability to keep up with the strange directions of his attacks working to his advantage.

Sevren, however, was a blur. Every now and then, he appeared to take a step forward, before a strange buzzing sound burst outward, and he’d appear several yards away, skidding to a stop. He didn’t use his dagger how I would’ve expected. Instead of holding it in his hands and using it to parry any incoming attacks, he threw the weapon with pinpoint precision. Then he pulled on the thin wire tied to the loop at the back, causing the weapon to jerk in specific movements as it turned midair.

He ducked and whirled, swinging the wire around him and using the dagger like a wide, cutting scythe. He used it like some amped-up rope dart. Sometimes the elites tried to latch onto his wire, stopping him from using it. Whenever they did so, his hand blurred–similar to how his entire body had before–and the wire sheared right through whatever was trying to hold it with the sound of a whip cracking.

A handful of fireshot punched holes in an approaching zombie’s chain armor, searing holes in its heart. It dropped, allowing me an easy line of sight to another elite. That one tried to deflect Promise, but the blade darted out of its way and then buried itself in its hateful violet eye.

Our run to the nearby buildings slowed as we were assaulted by legions of spawning undead, each kill letting two more spawn. I was beginning to feel worried when we finally reached the edge of a taller brick building.

“Darrin!” I yelled. “I’m going to grab you with my spellform! Let it through!”

I couldn’t check to see if the striker had heard me. As Promise returned to its sheathe–the effort of controlling it along with Darrin too much–I pushed out with my emblem. The mana shuddered for a moment as my mind clashed with the Unblooded leader’s innate defenses, but he thankfully let them slip for a brief moment.

I thrust my hand up, willing the striker to follow. He lurched into the air with a whoop, arcing up toward the rooftops.

I turned to Sevren, whose wire had just finished wrapping around a corpse’s throat. He flicked his arm, making it blur. The wire went taught with a buzz, severing the head and making the dagger return to his hand with a thunk.

“I need you to drop your mana defenses for a moment!” I yelled, directing the message over to the Denoir heir with a pulse of sound mana. A large boulder of earth nearly squashed me, but a dozen quick, roaring strikes with telekinesis as it neared shattered it with the sound of cracking thunder. I caught one of the basketball-sized chunks of stone as it crashed down, weaving around the falling debris. My hands sunk into the rock with a crunch as I clenched my hand.

Then I threw the stone with a burst of telekinesis. It exploded into an uncountable number of deadly shards, peppering the undead in front of me like a dozen shotgun shells layered on top of one another.

I blinked, taken aback by the effectiveness of that attack. That gives me a really good idea, I thought.

“No, I won’t do that,” Sevren said in response. I was about to protest, but the Denoir heir simply threw his dagger toward the building Darrin was perched on.

It flew true, lodging into the wall. The thin, metallic-looking wire went taught as Sevren pulled. I saw his body turn a strange, lightish hue, then he yanked his arm downward.

Instead of dislodging the dagger as I would’ve expected, Sevren shot up toward the sky, trailing his line. He moved abnormally fast, reaching fifty feet in record time.

The light tinge around his body faded, and the Denoir ascender’s momentum bled off with unnatural speed. The hue was replaced with a darker one. The striker halted almost immediately in his ascent, dropping to the rooftops like a stone.

Okay, then, I thought, a little peeved. We can play it your way.

I used a powerful burst of telekinesis and fire below my feet, the explosion launching me straight up. I sent out a gout of fire as I rose, burning away a few projectiles that made it too close.

I lashed out at the rooftop with a telekinetic pull, making me lurch to the side. I landed with a skid, breathing roughly. I immediately restarted my sound barrier, letting it cover us all.

“We need to run!” I said, pointing toward the skyscraper the Unblooded were camping in. “If we get there, we’ll be in the clear!”

“Think you can watch our backs?” Darrin said to Sevren, keeping his eyes forward.

“You won’t be ambushed from behind,” Sevren affirmed. His dagger was clutched in a white-knuckled grip, his wire held tautly between his hands.

He’d better damn well hope so.

—

I crashed through a tenth-floor window, glass shattering into tiny slivers around me. I rolled, then came to my feet in one smooth, instinctual motion. I was followed shortly by the lurching form of Darrin, outlined in white with his hair matted to his forehead. He had a few cuts along his arms, the result of our pitched battle. Once I set him down on the ground, he slumped against a nearby wall.

Sevren was the last to arrive. He shot straight in like an arrow, a faint whitish tinge to his body. Then the hue shifted and he cracked against the floor, his momentum evaporating. He looked unharmed.

I wiped a layer of sweat from my brow. “That was horrid,” I said. “You’ve been doing this… how often?” I asked Darrin.

“They usually never get that strong,” Darrin said, heaving for breath. “Most ascenders died or were overwhelmed before I could get to them.” He looked at Sevren. “Nice to meet you, by the way,” Darrin said with a laugh.

“You’ve met him before,” I said dismissively, already trudging to the elevator. I pressed the up button, watching the little display at the top of the door slowly change. “He was at the Shimmerken’s Hoard after my prelim.”

Darrin squinted at Sevren. “Now that you mention it…”

Sevren huffed, brushing off his clothes and sheathing his dagger. “That bar is one of the only places in the entire second layer that they’ll charge you a fair price for a drink.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Darrin leaned against the metal frame of the elevator. “You can say that again,” he said, his breathing steadying out a bit. “My team goes there after most of our ascents. They don’t charge us for our… alignment.”

I frowned, peering back at Sevren. It was strange that I’d see another familiar face here, but it wasn’t like a mage could be tracked through the Relictombs. This was just another person I’d condemned to this hellish zone. “Why do you care about the price of beer?” I asked, raising a brow. “You could afford the most expensive wines in the Relictombs several times over.”

Sevren crossed his arms. “I have enough of people trying to rip me off. It's rare to ever find a place that is fair.”

I snorted with a bit of disdain, thinking of Mardeth and his horrid crusade against the people of East Fiachra. I had considered trying to call in the aid of the Denoirs to pressure the vicar to release his hold on the people.

The stipulation Sevren had given for the backing of his family, however, was allowing him to go on an ascent with me. I’d considered that before I’d seen the drastic effects of my presence, only thinking there would be a few cans of coffee popping up here and there or a random poster of an Earthen band. Now, however, I couldn’t go along with that in good conscience.

Besides, I thought sourly, Offering to go on an ascent is kind of a moot point when he’s already here.

Darrin raised his hand. “I think I’m missing some context here,” he said, then pointed at Sevren. “Who are you, exactly? Toren seems to know.”

“Sevren of Highblood Denoir,” the white-haired mage said smoothly, seeming to give the admittance no weight.

I chortled as Darrin’s eyes widened. He had made a good living for himself as an ascender, but meeting the heir to Highblood Denoir was like a successful businessman meeting the top brass of a multi-billion dollar company. To his credit, he fixed his features quickly.

“The name’s Darrin Ordin,” the wind striker said, nodding to Sevren. “I hope we can get along.”

The elevator door opened, letting all of us into the box. I was the first to go, Darrin a reluctant second, and Sevren a hesitant third.

“So, what have you found out about this zone?” Sevren asked as I clicked the button for floor twenty.

Darrin’s jovial air faltered. “Those undead down there hunt by sound,” he said solemnly, “And their difficulty ramps up the longer you fight them. That’s why my team is hunkered at the top of this skyscraper.”

“Skyscraper?” Sevren asked. He shifted uneasily as the elevator began to ascend, looking at the numbers changing uncertainly.

“Toren came up with the name,” Darrin said. “We were running out of food up there–we’ve been trapped in this zone for a few weeks–but our new ascender figured out that there are stores down on the ground that have food supplies. That was why we were able to reach you so fast: we had just finished stocking up.”

Sevren gave me a look that seemed to cut into my mind. “You figured that out?” he said, raising a brow. “How long have you been in this zone?”

I narrowed my eyes, sensing an undertone to Sevren’s words that made me distinctly uncomfortable. His green eyes darted to the panel of numbers denoting the floors, then back to me. “Less than a day,” I said honestly. “Though I hope we’ll be out soon. The undead hunt by sound and I can eliminate any noise we make,” I added, trying to shift the topic.

Sevren tapped his foot against the floor of the elevator. His teal fur-lined cloak couldn’t hide the tension in his shoulders. “Here’s hoping.”

The elevator opened into the hallway. Darrin went first, moving toward the penthouse with a spring in his step. He opened the door, sweeping into the living room. I followed after at a more sedate pace, noting that Jared was awake now. He was polishing his shield with a rag. Nearby, Alandra was asleep on the couch.

“I’ve brought gifts, everyone!” he said happily, flipping up his dimension ring and swiping it out of the air. “Food and drink!”

That caused Jared to perk up, a grin spreading across his face. “About time, you ugly lug,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ve been starving here!”

He noticed me belatedly. “Hello, kid! Alandra told me you popped in earlier. Shame I was resting my eyelids then, or I mighta said hello!”

I smiled slightly. Of all the Unblooded Party, Jared’s mood seemed the least affected by their grim circumstances. He clapped me on the back good-naturedly.

Dima meandered over at a slow pace, looking at Darrin critically. “I take it you succeeded in getting that food?” she asked, sparing me a glance.

Darrin’s shoulders tensed nearly imperceptibly. “That we did. Just like you said, we can focus on getting a long-term escape plan in place.”

There was something deeper here that I didn’t understand. Feeling uncomfortable, I shuffled to the side, making a detour to the kitchen. I unloaded the excess bags of rice, letting them pile up high in a corner.

Sevren was being introduced to the rest of the Unblooded Party as I sifted through the cupboards. I eventually found what I was looking for: a large metal pot.

I hefted it down, looking toward the sink. I was undisturbed as I gradually filled up the pot to the correct spot and then let it sit on top of one of the burners.

I turned on the burner, drifting into thought as my hands completed familiar motions.

This was routine in my previous life. Every week, I did meal prep before heading off to the gym. That was why I knew details about the caloric difference between rice and wheat.

That brought my mind back to why I was in this world in the first place. My hands clenched unconsciously as I measured out the rice. I had to forcefully relax them.

Would I ever stop being reminded of my previous life? I wondered, feeling a unique sort of agony. It was the slow, succulent poison of nostalgia, embittered by the knowledge that I would never see anything of my previous life again.

I exhaled a shuddering breath, waiting patiently for the water to boil.

I was interrupted by Sevren, who opened up the fridge with interest. He raised a brow at what he found inside.

“V- va- nilla,” he said slowly, sounding out the words of the label, “Coca-Cola?”

He was holding one of the cans, giving it an inscrutable look. Considering it was written in cursive in a font and lettering entirely different from the norm, it was surprising he was able to read it at all.

I absentmindedly latched onto the can in Sevren’s hands with my telekinetic emblem, floating it over to me. I pulled at the tab, popping it open with a familiar hiss, before letting the aluminum can hover back over.

Sevren received the can with an unsure look on his stubbled face. I didn’t look at him, too immersed in waiting for the water to boil.

“That’s good cola,” I said absently. “Give it a sip. You’ll probably like it.”

Sevren quirked a brow, but obliged. He gave the cold drink a sip, reeling back slightly in surprise. “What is this? It’s so… bubbly.”

I chuckled. “Carbonation will do that to you. That might be an acquired taste.”

Sevren looked down at the art on the can. “It’s sweeter than anything I’ve tasted,” he said with a bit of wonder.

I hovered another can out of the fridge, letting it settle in my hands. The tab popped on its own, releasing a hiss as pressure escaped. I gave the caramel-colored drink a long, greedy pull. I savored the bubbles as they popped against my tongue, burning slightly as they went down my throat. The sugary scent tickled my nose.

I sighed, feeling slightly blissful as I gave the can another gulp. “It is sweet, isn’t it?” I said somberly.

Sevren gave the drink another few sips, a strange look on his face.

“I asked the others what they thought created such a unique zone,” he said after a minute. “They’ve got a lot of ideas. Darrin and Dima think there’s a relic here somewhere. Jared thinks the place finally broke. Alandra… was asleep,” he added sheepishly. “What do you think?”

The water finally started to boil. I carefully smoothed over my features as I poured the rice into the pot, stirring the grains in before lowering the heat to a simmer. Was this question truly just that: an innocent query? Or did the Denoir heir suspect something deeper?

I turned to face him fully. “I don’t know,” I lied. “I’d be inclined to side with Darrin and Dima on this one, though. Relics are usually found in zones with ruins around them, after all. This place isn’t exactly a ruin, but it is civilization.”

Sevren tapped a finger against his can, giving me a sharp look. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. “Though there are other reasons the Relictombs change. Lesser known ways.”

I averted my eyes, feeling a wave of guilt. I pretended to stir the rice, waiting for the water to evaporate. “And what might those be?”

“I suspect somebody brought a relic into this zone,” he said lowly. “Or something that affects aether.”

I turned to look at the Denoir heir. “If it is as you say, then our chances of escape may be even slimmer,” I said, thinking of Arthur’s jaunt in the mirror room. So many ascenders had been trapped in those mirrors simply for carrying an item that reacted to aether. “Though that doesn’t explain why we would join them if we do not also carry similar aether-affecting items.”

Sevren’s eyes sharpened into points. “It's rare I meet somebody who knows what aether is,” he said slowly. “And even moreso that they’ve pieced together what happens when an ascender carries an aether-affecting item into the Tombs.”

I felt my hackles rise at the implicit questions in Sevren’s tone. I should’ve shaken that vanilla cola before letting him open it. “I read everything I could before entering the Relictombs,” I said, hoping my discomfort didn’t bleed into my tone. “I especially looked into how zones could be altered, presenting greater or lesser challenges to ascenders who traversed them.”

I immediately sensed I had somehow misstepped in my words, though I wasn’t sure how. Sevren smiled slightly, his eyes narrowing. He sipped on his cola once more, taking a more liberal amount than before. “You did, did you?” he said. “It seems we’ll get along, Toren Daen. I’ve been researching the Relictombs for a long time myself, hoping to find out their secrets.” He nodded to me. “Thanks for the drink. I think I like it.”

As the Denoir heir walked away, I found myself desperately wishing for Lady Dawn’s advice. She would have been able to guide me through that conversation, letting me keep my cards close to my chest.