Chapter Thirty-Three
The Red Phoenix
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It had taken several days for Inerys to recognize the onset of her advancement for what it was. While both her mental and physical cores had been near to bursting for close to a week, the progress had been as gradual as it was subtle. Explaining away her symptoms had been all too easy, for they were not all that different from her normal state of being. A burst of energy here and an errant flutter in her chest there were hardly cause for concern, if she noticed them at all. Her heartbeat had been a bit erratic, but such had not been entirely uncommon after her defense training. Their sessions often left her aglow for hours after the fact.
However, as the days wore on, the oddities built in intensity. Subtle fluctuations in her stamina evolved into bouts of sudden fatigue. Sometimes, they would last little more than a few minutes and give way to nervous energy. Others, she was left sluggish and utterly useless for hours, to the point where even cycling, which had become as natural as breathing, became a chore. Forcing herself to alternate between the three techniques she had learned had been a tedious affair.
Her meditations, and subsequent cycling of her mental essences, had been far easier. Which was likely due to the constant exercising of her will. Wrestling her body and core into submission had been no easy task and while her mood had been relatively stable overall, she’d snapped at one of the others a time or two. Thankfully, no one had held the outbursts against her.
They were, after all, a natural part of the process.
If Ayduin was to be believed, Cydan had been the most emotional of them all before he’d ascended out of his foundation stage. A fact he had openly admitted to, actually. The process of ascension, regardless of stage, was inherently difficult and everyone reacted to the stress of it in their own way. So long as no violence arose, it seemed all was forgiven in the end.
Once her impending advancement was confirmed by Sorisanna, she had been ordered to do little beyond eat, sleep and cycle. The saturation of her meals had increased two fold, leaving her brimming with more vital essence than she knew what to do with. It sang through her channels, pushing her core to its limit. In the beginning, she'd been certain a single thought would push it over the edge, send her spiraling into her next ascension.
For all she wanted to, she couldn’t let it.
Her body had to be made whole, first.
Instead of bending to the urgency of the core, Inerys had been instructed to distribute the influx of essence through her gastric, circulatory and musculoskeletal meridians. While functional, they were far more delicate than most at her current stage. Per Sorisanna, changes were made to the respective cycling technique of each in order to facilitate healing and strength in equal measure. Sessions were longer, more varied and always accompanied by an infusion of tea or blood. Her body was at its most malleable upon the cusp of ascension and the sage planned on leveraging every advantage she could.
In conjunction with the authority Inerys wielded over her own body, focusing upon the internal structures connected to the core had forced it to reprioritize its function. Rather than pushing its own growth, it sought to mend the flaws along her damaged channels and tissues. Her meridians were reinforced, growing thick and dense as they fed on the abundance of saturated essence and ambient aura. Lingering weaknesses and fatigue had ebbed and slowly, the fractured, softly-glowing light along her skin began to fade into thin, web-like scars.
Then, and only then, did she allow her physical core to resume its preparations for its next advancement. Terrified as she was, Inerys was as ready as she’d ever be. She knelt upon the grass of the lake shore, the soft undergrowth cool along the bare skin of her legs. In anticipation of whatever change awaited her, she’d donned little beyond a knee-length nightdress. She’d seen little point in ruining one of the few sets of clothes she possessed in the pursuit of modesty. There was every chance she would have to peel them off anyway and she was certain no amount of washing would ever erase the scent of that awful black bile.
Better to sacrifice one garment, than half a dozen.
She had half a mind to trigger the change while submerged in the shallows, if only to ease the rising heat throughout her body. Sweat beaded her skin and long rivulets had already begun to slither down her back. The tempest within her was beginning to escape her control and if it won, all of this might be for naught. She grit her teeth, all but trembling where she sat as her essence thrashed.
Her passenger stirred, not in defense or hunger, but out of what she sensed might be concern.
If you’re not going to help, go back to sleep, she hissed.
For once, it paused to consider.
The hair along the back of her neck began to prickle. The entity had always been mindless, driven by what she had assumed was mere instinct, but this– this was new. It had acknowledged her.
As she had it, she realized.
Rather than receive any sort of verbal or emotional response, she felt the pressure in her body ease. It was slight, but there nonetheless. She tried to focus on whatever it was that now bolstered her will, but her thoughts had turned sluggish.
Her blood rushed in her ears, her perception gradually beginning to warp. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours. One moment, she and Sorisanna were seated alone together, the next, Rhydian and Ayduin were there as well. He crouched beside her, a hand on her shoulder. His brows were furrowed, though there was an excited, hopeful light to his grey eyes that highlighted the hints of silver in them.
“How are you feeling?” He asked.
“Like I'm holding back a storm,” she groaned.
“You're not all that far from the mark,” he said, lips quirked along one edge, “are you ready?”
“I think so,” she said, her voice far more faint than she might have liked.
He looked to Sorisanna, who finally nodded after inspecting her channels for what must have been the hundredth time.
“We’ve done all we can. The rest is up to you,” she said.
Inerys tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat.
“You’ll be here, though, won’t you?”
“Of course,” she promised.
Rhydian nodded his agreement, “No matter how things turn out, we’ll be here, at your side.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as she looked between them.
Ayduin, of all people, went so far as to give her a wink and what might have been a smile.
Steeling herself, Inerys adjusted her seat. She could do this. She would do this. For Soren, for Nan, for herself. Setting her jaw, she forced her spine straight despite the ache, tucked her chin and willed her wrists to relax upon her knees.
Unlike her previous ascensions, this one could not be left to instinct alone. Her mental core would advance first, then her physical. The first guided the second, or so Sorisanna had told her. There was less risk of something going awry under the scrutiny of a freshly sharpened mind.
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“Draw your essence into your cores the way we practiced,” the sage said, “this time, let them constrict.”
Inerys took a deep, slow breath as she isolated her mental core. It awaited her command with a cool, steady patience she hadn’t expected. The surealness of it had her wondering if she were in a dream, for the rest of her felt anything but calm. Fearing there was some trick yet to come, she hesitantly drew the psionic essence of her mind into its core. It obeyed without complaint and the structure expanded to accommodate the swell. The silvery sphere began to pulse in time with her heart, awaiting her command as it filled almost beyond capacity.
She released it and when she did, the core bore down upon itself. Pain lanced through her skull and she grit her teeth against the ache. Though, the sensation vanished as quickly as it had arisen as something snapped into place. Her focus sharpened, thoughts cleared and something akin to instinct or intuition set to cycling the freshly condensed essence. In her mind’s eye, the core had shrunk in size, but grown in density. The meridian surrounding it had sprouted additional channels as well, forming tight, complex loops throughout her mind.
Distantly, she knew her lips had twitched into a smile. Warmth oozed from her nostrils and ears, but she didn’t care. The discharge of her impurities was unpleasant, yes, but ultimately trivial when her physical core had yet to be tamed.
She seized control of the core with a newfound tenacity. It trembled under her influence and as she repeated the visualization technique, golden, watery light was drawn down into a singular point, condensing, then compressing. The air was abruptly driven from her lungs in much the same manner as when her shackles were set. Suddenly, she found herself an animal too small for its cage. Everything ached, everything burned and everything grew tight.
And her skin split.
~*~
Rhydian watched in mute horror as the first rupture opened along her spine.
Inerys had pitched forward onto all fours mere seconds into her ascension, her back arching at an alarming angle as her ribs and shoulders began to expand. Her night dress pulled tight and tore across her chest, then her hips. Black ichor began to ooze from her rending flesh, the fissures ranging in the dozens, then the hundreds until her skin began to slough away from whatever lay beneath.
At first, he feared it was blood that shown in the moonlight along her writhing body, but when the smell hit him, he knew better. It was a small comfort, however. The oily waste bubbled out from the larger splits along her torso, coating both her and the grass beneath her in what might have been mistaken for tar or hot candle wax. Clotted chunks fell away into the growing puddle, each wet slap of moldering skin more sickening than the last.
Her body lengthened through the limbs and torso, appearing more in line with Ayduin’s size, even half sprawled as she was. No spare inch had been spared the inky filth and as her ears grew long and narrow, they dripped the horrid substance back into her limp hair. They had traveled higher along her skull, appearing much the way her forebear’s had.
A part of him had always suspected she might fully change upon this advancement, but he had always hoped he’d be proven wrong. Of course, he hadn’t been. Through the bleeding impurities, he could see it. She was long and lean, having retained the muscle she’d built throughout their time in the spirit wilds rather than succumbing to the same emaciation of her attacker. Though, everything else had become hauntingly familiar. The long talons slowly flexing and receding into her fingertips were the same, as were the subtle alterations that had turned her legs digitigrade.
Heat radiated from her in waves and as her body began to settle, he sensed her vital essence plummet. Which was hardly surprising, given what had been required to fuel the full scope of her change, but–
Fear swept in to replace his horror.
Her core was nearly dry and there wasn’t enough essence left to cycle in order to compensate.
Without it, she would die.
He snapped out of his stupor.
“Ayduin, the blood,” he demanded, “Quickly.”
Her rosy eyes were wide, her face pale in her shock, but she obeyed and passed Sorisanna the waterskin they’d prepared for her post-ascension recovery. He knew in his gut that it wouldn’t be enough and the sage appeared to reach the same conclusion when Inerys snatched it from her outstretched hand and nearly caught her arm in the process. The desperate, feral growl that tore from her throat had him shoving Sorisanna back and away as he placed himself between them.
Large, feline eyes found his. Her pupils had narrowed to mere slits of black amid a shattering of stained glass that warred between shades of red and blue. The mind behind them was distant, hazy and for a moment, he feared he faced the same monster he’d once put down.
“Easy, Inerys,” he said, willing a warmth he did not feel into his voice, “It’s me. You’ve made it. You’re safe.”
There wasn’t so much as a flicker of recognition.
“Rhydian,” Ayduin hissed.
“Go back to camp and bring as much blood back as you can,” he said, refusing to break his stare.
Inerys was quickly draining the waterskin, having punctured the leather with her fangs in her desperation.
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m just going to sit by and let her–”
“Now, Ayduin. That’s an order,” he said, “Take Sorisanna with you.”
The sage stiffened.
“What? No! I can–”
“With that affinity of yours, you’re nothing short of a walking feast in her eyes. Get back to camp and stay there until I say otherwise. Cydan is to help Ayduin bring back what we need, not you. Do I make myself clear?”
When she made to protest further, Tanuzet interposed herself with a low growl, tail flicking. He could sense her own apprehension through their bond, but in this, their desire to see the others safe was aligned. Dealing with Inerys would be far easier without the others to worry about.
You better know what you are doing, she said, her voice low in his mind.
He could do little beyond offer her a small nudge of assurance.
He considered flaring his rysk in order to get his point across to the others, but quickly thought better of it. If Inerys saw it as a threat, everything would escalate. Instead, he directed his awareness. He shoved the spiritual sense against theirs.
“The sooner you bring back the blood, the sooner we can get this over with. I’ll handle her in the meantime.”
“All right,” Sorisanna said, relenting, “But be careful.”
“I’ll restrain her, if I have to,” he said.
“Fine,” Ayduin said tightly.
Inerys’ attention briefly flitted toward the retreating women, the waterskin reduced to little more than a strap of leather in her hold. Rather than try to pursue them, she trembled, and the more he studied her, the more he realized she was doing everything in her power to keep from collapsing entirely. However, she was losing the fight. Her eyelids began to flutter and her limbs went slack just as her eyes rolled back into her head. She pitched sideways, but Rhydian broke her fall.
Sky’s mercy . . .
He searched her soul and found the essence had already been burned away. She wasn’t going to last until the others returned. Not without blood or essence. He cast his eyes around them, searching in vain for those miracle herbs of theirs. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What they’d brought should have been more than enough to see her stable. They had expected changes, but nothing like this.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he positioned himself behind her and dragged her into his lap. She was utterly limp, which was as much a blessing as it was a curse. He brought his right arm around her neck in a loose hold, one he would likely have to leverage if this stupid plan of his went poorly.
Two bitten, one changed.
They weren’t great odds.
Still, they were better than the alternatives.
After all they had done and all they had been through, he wasn’t about to let their efforts be for naught. His duty to the Warden aside, he owed it to Inerys to do everything in his power to keep her alive long enough for the others to return with that precious, cursed blood. He only hoped the woman he sought to save was still in there, somewhere. He sensed her fading, her life slipping away like sand through his fingers. If he didn’t do this, her death was all but assured.
He’d sacrificed his blood on multiple occasions already, so what was a little more?
“Please don’t make me regret this,” he muttered, pulling the sleeve of his left arm up around his elbow.
Drawing his blade with her in his arms was awkward, but he made do. The slice was quick and clean and as the blood welled, he quickly resumed his hold with his right arm. He closed his eyes, expecting her to lunge the moment she scented it, but nothing happened. She did not so much as twitch.
No, no . . .
He gave her a light shake.
“Inerys? Inerys you need to wake up,” he said, holding his wrist closer.
He wasn’t even sure she was still breathing.
“Inerys, please.”
He held his wrist above her parted lips, hoping a taste might be enough to rouse her long enough to take what she needed. Ayduin was going to be livid, but he could handle the fallout later. His change wasn’t even a guarantee. Him readily accepting the chance was reckless, he couldn’t argue that, but it was a necessary risk. Letting her die, when he could save her, wasn’t an option.
A few drops made it into her mouth.
He waited.
His awareness told him her cores were still active. One was notably fainter than the other two, but that was hardly a surprise. What he did not expect, however, was the thread of vital essence traveling along her transversal meridian between her physical and spiritual cores. At first, he thought it stemmed from the former, but no. The direction was flowing to the physical, not from it.
Somehow, that sliver of power had made it past the shackles. It was thin, weak, no thicker than spider silk, but present all the same. He hadn’t the slightest idea how it was possible. In those moments, though, he didn’t care.
The moment it reached her dying core, she stirred.
Rhydian braced.
And her fangs sank into his flesh.