Toren Daen

I was awoken by a slight prodding at my shoulder. I groaned as I opened my eyes.

Dima was crouching by my bedroll. “Time to get up, Daen,” she said. “You’ve slept for over twelve hours. We’re having a meeting here soon.”

Twelve hours? Damn, I was exhausted yesterday. My thinking struggled to catch up as my still-tired mind loped along.

“Can’t you let a man sleep for a few minutes longer?” I asked, feeling my leg ache as I tried to move it.

“You’re needed at the discussion,” Dima said, standing up. “Considering your abilities are what will get us out of this hell.”

I lay facefirst in the bed for a few more moments, absently wondering what in all the hells Darrin had seen in that woman to be her lover. Anyone who woke you up too early was not a good person.

I sat up, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I’d need to tie it back into a short tail soon.

Calling on my mana, I searched through my dimension rune for a very specific item. Finding it, I pulled it out with a flourish.

The first item I’d ever found in the Relictombs that resembled my earthen life stared back at me. The crisp aluminum can with a misshapen Dunkin’ Donuts label stared back, a crude orange and purple resemblance to canned coffee from my previous life.

I popped the tab, savoring the satisfying hiss it made. I sniffed at the liquid inside, trying to see if it had gone bad in the month or so it had been since I’d picked up the coffee.

It smelled heavenly, the familiar caffeinated brew pulling at my mind. My mouth watered as I stared at the pale brown liquid.

I tilted it back, taking a sip. I closed my eyes in a bit of bliss as the liquid trailed down my throat.

Just like the can it came from, the coffee was off in a way. It tasted a bit too sharp, with the aftertaste not lingering as long as I’d expected. But the part that stung was that I knew there was more about this drink that was wrong, but the time I’d spent away from Earth had dulled my memory. I couldn’t point out what was off about the coffee.

I downed the rest of it anyway. It presumably had caffeine, and I’d been living in a semblance of my previous life for nearly a week already. A bit of bean juice wasn’t enough to throw me off.

When I finished the drink, I crushed the aluminum in my hands. I let the can sink back into my dimension ring before I slowly struggled to stand.

My leg didn’t like that, however. I had to use a few steady telekinetic pushes to make it to my feet, then use Oath as a cane once more. I looked around the sparse living area the Aensgar Exiles had used, spotting the majority of the group conversing around a table a few yards away.

I slowly made my way toward them, the click-clack of my sheath on the tile alerting the group. Hraedel had been the one speaking, and I could see him pause as I approached slowly. Jameson and the Exiles’ other shield–I’d never learned their name–hung behind their leader. The twins simmered on the side, sending glares my way. Jana stood several feet away from the twins, but she smiled slightly when my eyes passed over her. Alandra hung close to Jared, who leaned on his own shield. Darrin stood at the fore, seemingly taking charge alongside Hraedel.

Sevren leaned against a nearby support pillar, seeming disconnected from the whole thing. He gave me a nod.

“Since Dima seemed so happy to wake me up,” I said, still feeling a bit grumpy about that, “I’m betting you all need my opinion on something?”

Hraedel nodded slowly, sparing a glance toward Sevren and Jana. “It’s good to see you alive, Daen,” he said before continuing. “Jana says you told her to burn Alun’s body. You said… You said that was how the undead added to their numbers.” The man seemed to force the words out. “Lord Denoir refrained from telling us what he knew, saying you would be able to do it better.”

I paused, the final click of Oath’s sheath echoing like a stone dropped through an empty cavern. I gave the Denoir heir a sideways glance. “It took me a while to piece it together,” I said quietly. “I’ve heard of old folk tales where the dead would rise, adding the living to their number with every kill,” I said, using the lie I concocted to explain my knowledge of the undead. “So I didn’t discount something like that happening from the start. But your accusation confirmed that suspicion.”

Hraedel frowned. The rest of the group seemed to lean forward in nervous anticipation. “What do you mean about my accusation? We were attacked by a member of the Twinfrost–” The shield blinked. “I think I see.”

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling. “The Twinfrosts claimed to have lost a member a long time before you were eventually attacked. And considering what they lost in that encounter, I found it hard to disbelieve.”

“So every single person,” Alandra said, her voice tinged with horror, “Every single undead in this zone is somebody who died here?”

I winced. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Just the ones like… like Alun’s wife. The commanders. Sevren can tell you more.”

Sevren shot me a look for passing the torch to him, but he obliged after a moment. He told the group the story of how he’d stumbled across the body of a woman he saw get ripped apart, and the theory the two of us had crafted because of it.

As he answered a few questions, however, I felt one of my own rise. “Wait,” I said, drawing the attention of all present back to me. “Jana, did you burn Alun’s body?”

The woman cringed inward. I immediately felt guilty for what was essentially digging into an open wound, but I needed to know if we’d have to face another commander. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to fight them effectively.

The eyes of all were trained on the bronze-skinned shield for a few moments. “I– I lost it. I had to protect the twins. I couldn’t take his body with me when I needed to hold my shield.” The admission seemed to crack something within the woman as she looked at the floor.

“And now it's going to try and kill all of us, too,” a shaky voice said from the side. I turned, noting the pinched expression of Numar Frost. “Alun’s going to rise from the dead and kill us all! All because you couldn’t hold onto a single corpse!”

A surprising number of people looked away or inspected the floor. Jana seemed to wither, shame radiating from her like heat off a stove.

I narrowed my eyes. Numar was wrong to blame Jana for that.

I stepped forward, my cane clicking on the ground. I slowly approached Numar and Bered, my back hunched from my injuries. Yet the boys still shied away at my approach, the intent leaking off me palpable.

“It’s true that we’ll probably have to face another commander undead,” I allowed. “But what isn’t fair is the blame you place on the woman who keeps sacrificing for your ungrateful hides.”

Bered puffed out his chest slightly. “And what would you know of us? You have no right to judge!”

I sneered. “I had a brother once,” I said. With my limp, my imposing height was closer to that of the twins in front of me. Yet I still felt taller. “He died after protecting an innocent woman from people like you,” I said with a snarl. I pointed a finger at Jana, who looked like an empty shell. “That woman continues to sacrifice for you. First her hand. And now she let her friend’s body be possessed by the unholy magics of this zone. Her friend who treated her with more respect than I’ve ever seen you display. And still, you mock her.”

With every word, the twins cowered more. The other mages around looked at me with unnerved expressions, a few of them seeming ashamed of their subconscious blame for Jana. “I don’t care about your stupid need to look big and strong. You can posture all you want, but Jana prioritized your petty, ignorant lives over the body of a dear friend. Never disrespect sacrifice.” My shoulders sagged. “Never,” I said with a whisper.

I turned on my heels. I had just slept for twelve hours, but I felt as if I could sleep for twelve more. I began to walk away, the crowd of mages parting for me as I stalked past. “My magic is as potent as ever,” I said, keeping my eyes forward. “You can expect me to perform just as well helping you escape. You’ll have your sound mage.”

The basilisk in me seethed.

—

It was several hours later that the meeting dispersed. I’d kept a distance, brooding on one of the nearby couches. They’d gone through different plans, finally ironing out one that would give them the best chance of escape.

The largest problem, as the group quickly realized, was not actually evading the zombies as we would move closer to the portal. No, the problem came from the massive lake that surrounded the island the portal was on. Darrin suspected–and rightly in my opinion–that there would be something lurking beneath the waves, and the company still needed a reliable way across.

Thus our shields–and the caster the Aensgar Exiles employed–would be vital. They could create a pseudo raft for us to float on, allowing us to gradually paddle our way across.

As the mages dispersed to tend to their late afternoon routines, Sevren plopped down on the couch beside me. I turned a skeptical eye toward him.

“How good of a chance do you think we’ll have to escape this zone?” he asked absently.

I felt very mixed feelings about the Denoir heir. On one hand, he’d saved my life multiple times, putting himself in harm’s way when he clearly didn’t need to. Furthermore, we had an almost unspoken synergy when we fought and worked together. It reminded me painfully of the instinctual teamwork Norgan and I employed.

On the other hand, he’d also stalked me through the Relictombs, having correctly deduced I would have an adverse effect on the zones I traveled through. He’d seen more of Earth than any other person on this world, save for the other Reincarnates.

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“The Relictombs are a trial,” I said slowly. I remembered the maddened djinn’s words. We make a test for you, Twinsoul. To grant you insight. “They present a challenge to overcome. A puzzle to solve. We just need to prove ourselves in the trial.”

“And do you think you can?” Sevren asked quietly.

I swallowed, watching as the many mages around us began dinner preparations. Jared conjured a flat metal sheet, using it over a fire Alandra had created to cook something I couldn’t see. Jameson worked with Dima and Darrin to coordinate the movement of people and the timing of food preparations.

I’d had a long time to consider what the djinn meant when he said ‘We make a test for you.’ And after the harrowing ordeals of this concrete jungle–especially what I saw in the intent around the commander undead–I had a feeling I was narrowing in on the trial of this zone.

“I’ll have to, won’t I?” I said, not meeting Sevren Denoir’s eyes. He had a far deeper grasp on the workings of these tombs than Caera ever implied. “But I don’t think you’ll get the answers you seek.”

“The answers we seek aren’t always the answers we need,” the Denoir heir deflected. “I have a feeling about you, Toren Daen. And I’ve learned to trust my gut.”

I snorted. “Careful with that ‘feeling,’ Lord Denoir,” I said. “I have a tendency to break Promises.” I grasped my dagger with my telekinesis, hovering it for dramatic effect. “As you can see.”

The Denoir heir narrowed his eyes at the Damascus-patterned red metal. “That’s a basilisk-blood alloy,” he said quietly. “They’re notoriously difficult to even damage. Are those… finger marks? What did that to your weapon, Daen?”

I felt my mood sour further as I thought once more of Mardeth and his stranglehold over East Fiachra. He’d thrashed me at my best, using me as a plaything. Then he’d discarded me like trash, ordering me to get stronger. To become the ‘Kezess to his Agrona.’

And all the progress–all the hope the Rats and I had brought to the downtrodden–had vanished like smoke.

I thought of the oath I’d sworn, drawing my own blood with Promise. I would kill Mardeth.

“I have my own enemies,” I said vaguely. “Ones I need to be strong enough to kill.”

The Denoir heir looked at the metal with an almost disbelieving expression for a while before I sheathed the dagger.

Deciding I needed to change the track of my mind, I searched inside my dimension ring for something else. Finding it, I withdrew my violin case, feeling the old metal settle onto my lap. Once I clicked open the case, Sevren’s brow rose.

“I didn’t take you for a musician,” he said appraisingly. “You seem too stern for it.”

“I didn’t take you for a highblood heir,” I shot back, not without humor. “You seem to hate frolicking with people too much.”

Sevren sniffed. “Point made.”

I settled the clarwood instrument against my jaw, closing my eyes as I rested the bow across the strings. In the many days I’d been in this zone, I’d had a long time to contemplate what my music was missing.

I began to play a slower, classical tune from my old life. Fur Elise drew itself from the depths of my subconscious, Beethoven’s old classical piece translating beautifully to the aether-beast hairs of my violin.

I let myself drift deeper into my own mind. I thought of all the skills that worked together to form my unique intent-driven music. There was the ability to enforce my will on the ambient mana: commonly known as killing intent and King’s Force to the educated. My regular conversations with Lady Dawn over our bond gave me practice in sequestering and focusing my emotions over a narrow passage.

In the relative weeks I’d spent ascending through the Relictombs, I practiced constantly with this method of conveying emotion. I’d gotten proficient, but it was lacking something that had allowed me to create the wondrous connection to the people of East Fiachra that night I played Auld Lang Syne.

But after witnessing the commander creature and the way it wielded intent through the ambient mana, I had a feeling I’d found another bit of the whole. The almost nebulous cloud that drifted around the undead constantly was a sign of muddled intent, but when the commander activated its abilities, that wafting cloud had condensed. Purpose was bestowed upon the directionless, and drive was achieved.

And so I played, drawing on the vague insight I’d achieved by accident. My arm moved in slow, measured draws over the strings, echoing fast-paced chords as Fur Elise went on. I allowed my emotion to flow: not quite controlled in the way I did when communicating with Lady Dawn, yet not so free that it would muddle the waters.

I exhaled as I drew out the last note. My eyes had been closed for the entirety of my piece, allowing me the focus necessary to draw from my emotion within.

When I opened them, I was greeted with wide, awestruck faces from every angle. The food preparation had simply halted in its tracks. Jared’s food was close to boiling over, Alandra’s flame licking the side of his pan. The twins, who had been in the middle of carrying something, watched me with uncomprehending eyes. Darrin hovered near the edge of the food prep area, his usual jaunty smile finally back in place.

“Damn,” Jared said, breaking the silence and brushing his beard as he lifted his little plate higher. “And I thought that bard at the Shimmerken’s Hoard was good. Shows what I know!”

Hraedel worked his jaw. “What was that? Some sort of spellform that made your music so…” He seemed lost for words.

“Compelling?” Alandra offered, her eyes glazed over.

Hraedel nodded mutely.

I cleared my throat, trying to hide the flush in my cheeks and setting my violin back into its case. “No, actually. It's technically magic, I suppose, but I use intent to convey what I feel. I’m not forcing emotion onto you like some mana arts do.”

Sevren’s eyes narrowed from the side, but I ignored it.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Bered said, pushing through his shock. “You touched our emotions. That was unnatural! It must be a spellform of some kind.”

I frowned, trying to think of an analogy. “It’s not, actually. When one of you sees a child crying, you feel sympathy, yeah?” I said. “A part of you remembers being a child yourselves. You know somewhere, deep down, what it's like to weep like that. This technique works similarly. You see what I feel and sympathize with it, except to a greater degree due to the purity of what I convey. And it's not a spellform. Any mage can use killing intent, after all.”

The twins exchanged uncertain glances, looking unconvinced. The lull stayed for a while, the mages out and about seeming uncertain of how they could go back to their work after my display. Eventually, however, the hustle and bustle of cooking continued.

I looked down at my violin, feeling a complex web of emotions. I’d succeeded in replicating what I’d shown at the New Year’s Festival in its entirety, yet I was left grasping for more. I thought I could improve this even further.

“The commander undead,” Sevren said quietly. “It did something similar to this. Somehow.”

I didn’t answer him, stowing my instrument back into my dimension ring. That ring held all my essentials, plus a few extras. Namely, the gun replica I’d picked up on my last ascent and the glowing phoenix feather the djinn had left behind.

I still was unsure of what I wanted to do with that feather. When I got the chance, I asked myself where the djinn could have possibly gotten it. Did they have some sort of connection to the Hearth? Or was it another conjuration of the Relictombs?

Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure I’d ever know. The maddened djinn who had left it behind probably wouldn’t answer my questions. The existence of that old, decrepit ancient mage in that town zone raised enough questions as is.

Darrin sat next to me with a thump, a satisfied smile on his face. “I think that was just what everyone needed to get their spirits up, Toren,” he said. “Thanks for that.”

I huffed but silently accepted the thanks. My attention, however, was drawn to Jared and Alandra as they cooked together. They’d always worked well together as a team, regardless of their spats, but they seemed close tonight. The burly shield scratched at his eyepatch, unbalancing the little skillet he’d made. Alandra quickly leaned over the man’s lap, adjusting the skillet before it could tip. Her auburn hair draped over her face. She snapped something at Jared, who said something back.

Darrin followed my gaze, his smile becoming wider. “You look very confused, Toren,” he said.

“Well, yeah,” I replied. “Those two?” I said, disbelieving. “I’d sooner expect the Doctrination to proclaim the dragons the true gods of this world than those two to hook up. Alandra’s always tearing his hair out, and Jared’s an unrepentant napper.”

Darrin’s smirk softened. “Why do you think they squabble in the first place?” he said, a glimmer in his eye. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin.”

I sighed, my mind drifting slightly as I watched Jared and Alandra do something between flirting and fighting.

Jana stepped up, her lone hand holding a plate steaming with rice and vegetables. She was a large woman, easily as tall as I was, and filled out her frame better. She smiled when she caught my eye, holding the plate up.

“I saw you weren’t cooking,” she said a bit quickly. “So I thought I’d make you some food. You’re our sound mage, after all. We need you to keep your strength up.”

I blinked. “Thank you,” I said, accepting the plate gratefully. “I, uh, kinda forgot that I should’ve been cooking something for myself.”

The bronze-skinned woman's smile widened slightly. “No worries, then?”

I tilted my head. “Why would there be?”

The shield shook her head, backing away. “It's nothing. I hope you enjoy the food,” she said, before walking back toward the cookpots.

I speared a floret of some sort of vegetable that looked close to broccoli, bringing it to my mouth.

Upon seeing Darrin’s shit-eating grin and Sevren’s raised brow, however, I lowered the fork.

“What?”

Darrin simply smiled wider, his green eyes twinkling. Sevren slumped back into his seat.

“What is it?” I asked again, genuinely confused.

“You seem so confused by Jared and Alandra,” Darrin said slowly, savoring each word, “Meanwhile, there’s an Amazon warrior already cooking your meals!”

I dropped my fork in surprise. “No, she’s just being kind!” I said, grasping the implication immediately. “I helped her with her bandages earlier! And with the Frost twin, too. She’s only repaying the favor.”

Darrin crossed his arms, raising a brow.

It took a second for my words to catch up with my brain. That sounded like a sound argument in my head. Not so much when spoken aloud.

I huffed. “Yeah, maybe that doesn’t help my point. But only if you look at it through your perspective.”

“Come on, Toren,” the leader of the Unblooded Party said. “What’s holding you back from courting that lovely woman?” He spared a glance behind himself, where Jana was working. “If I were you, I wouldn’t mind having those thighs wrapped around my–”

The weight of all my burdens compelled me to lash out, striking at this sore spot that Darrin had inadvertently found. “What’s stopping you from getting with Dima again?” I said a bit snappily, cutting the striker off mid-sentence.

Darrin looked at me, a bit of shock in his face.

I looked away from my friend, immediately regretting my outburst. I took a deep, measuring breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “That was uncalled for.”

“It was,” Darrin acknowledged.

“Romance is… a difficult topic for me,” I said, feeling too ashamed to look at the leader of the Unblooded Party. To lash out in such a way was the height of immaturity. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

To truly fall in love with someone, you needed a level of understanding and vulnerability that this continent would never allow me. I was from another world, waging a silent war against the godlike leaders of this society. Who could sympathize with that? Who could I confide this in that would not drop me into Agrona’s hands?

I would never be as close to a woman as I could be. And no relationship could stand on a foundation of lies and mistruths.

I let that irritation simmer in my gut silently. It was another thing that I might have had on Earth, but couldn’t in Alacrya.

Darrin gave me a somber pat on the back before standing up. He left me to brood on what I’d lost once again.