Ethan had lost all concept of time as the world seemed to move around him. The trip down the mountain had been fine, even as the sun set and they traveled in darkness. Glenn had struggled with his broken leg, but everyone pitched in, including Familiars, and they made good time getting back to the village.
They’d parted ways with Cara, who seemed distracted on the journey, and had been noncommittal when Ethan had inquired what was next for her. Valanor had never stopped rushing the group along, however, and after a quick farewell, they were back on the road. It was in the woods where they’d encountered the simiavus that the wrongness he’d been feeling began to intensify.
At first it was just discomfort, but halfway through the night, Ethan found himself hunched over his oxsteed, struggling to stay in the stirrups. By the time the sun was slowly rising, his hands were shaking too much to hold the reins. Valanor called for a halt, and Ethan was placed in the wagon next to Glenn.
From then on everything became a blur. Ethan had a sense that they stopped in a village, and there was a lot of talk about the mounts, but he couldn’t follow the conversations. He was feverish and freezing, and his body felt like it was being squeezed from the inside, as if he were experiencing the late stages of starvation.
At some point that day Glenn and Maggie were left behind, and the wagon felt like it was moving faster. Valanor would only stop long enough to force Ethan to drink water, and cram food down his throat. By the second night, the real symptoms set in. The pain was excruciating, and Ethan could feel his body failing.
It was a struggle to move, but lifting his arms in front of him showed the grizzly truth: his flesh was tearing open, glowing cracks spreading outward from his Bond Runes. Some seemed to burn like fire, others were the familiar blue-white of rifts, and yet more were a shade of pinkish red he didn’t recognize. Ethan knew he was dying, the pain growing as his mind drifted.
He would occasionally hear Valanor, chanting from nearby. “Almost there, just hold on. Hold on, you frustrating bastard! Of course you Bonded the wrong monster. Of course you did! You came to this world just to drive me mad, didn’t you? Well I won’t let you die, no matter how hard you try to kill yourself at every turn.”
Sometimes Ethan saw something like a mournful panther watching over him, even resting its heavy head on his chest. Other times it was two little snakes, swimming through the air in a panic. Mostly though it was the silent one, staring down at him from under a round hat, his scaled face somehow managing to convey regret.
It was the start of the second sunrise–dawn, poetically enough–when the stars and stress were replaced with stone and wood buildings. They’d reached Corvale. Valnor’s deep voice was screaming for everyone to get out of the way, and even in Ethan’s desperate condition he could tell they were going dangerously fast.
They stopped suddenly, and a moment later he was being scooped up in one powerful arm, then dragged inside a dark building. Ethan’s eyes didn’t work right anymore, tiny tears of light having invaded them as well, but he saw people in dark robes scurrying out of the way as he was taken through the halls.
“Selina!” Valanor bellowed. “Runemistress! You’re needed!” Ethan struggled to place the name, but when he was passed into red hands, and looked up at a horned face, vague memories reasserted themselves. The throne room, the excited devil lady.
“Oh my,” she said. “He’s nearly spent, follow me.” This time he was carried, and then gently placed on the ground in a dark room. “Stay back, I need to begin immediately,” the deep, feminine voice was saying. Then the room was lit up suddenly, fascinating symbols glowing in different colors on the walls, even the ceiling.
Selina was racing around him, placing objects and powders on the ground. Ethan tried to listen to what she was saying, but sounds were drifting in and out. His left ear appeared to have stopped working entirely. Then the robed woman finally stopped, and there was a glow coming from her chest as she chanted words he couldn’t understand.
Instantly the pain got worse, as if every ache he’d experienced in the last two days was consolidated into a single, endless agony. Then it began to centralize, his chest erupting with fresh suffering. The words kept coming and going, and his body shook and spasmed, but gradually, ever so slowly, there was a change.
It began in his limbs, as if he’d been dipped into acid, then pulled out inch by inch. The relief moved further, creeping up his body, until the burning was in his chest alone, then finally it was replaced by something else. Warmth.
It was like the warm rays of the morning sun were drifting over him. His body was changing, somehow, he was certain, even with his mind numbed by exhaustion. He could feel the strength of Dawn flowing into him, pushing back the agony and rebuilding him down to his soul.
At last, he slept.
***
Time passed, though Ethan was scarcely aware of it. He was in a bed, in a small room painted with runes, though different from the one he’d left. A window would sometimes let in light when he managed to open his eyes, other times there was darkness, but those moments seemed to drift by in heartbeats.
Valanor was always there. He stood by the door, looking down at Ethan, his face blank. Once he was joined by Glenn, walking with a crutch. Another time it was a familiar woman, but she was in a hood, and disappeared as quickly as she came. Time was content to simply pass, as Ethan’s body slowly healed.
It was nighttime when he first felt truly awake, and he managed to turn his head to see the stars outside. Valanor was there of course, but strangely he was sitting against the far wall, a bottle in hand, and two more next to him. It wasn’t clear if the man even knew Ethan’s eyes were open, but he was definitely talking, his words only a little slurred.
“...just like him, you know? Always getting into trouble. Always making trouble for me. Wanting to save people. You’re more infuriating though, ‘cause you don’t know a damn thing.” Valanor paused for another long drink. “He thought he knew everything. Always pushing to go a little further, help a little more.”
Another sip. “You don’t fight like him though. He didn’t like the fighting–never mind how good he was at it. You love it. I see it in your eyes…even if you don’t. He died avoiding the fight. You’ll die chasing the wrong one.”
He lifted the bottle again. “That’s not true though. That’s what they all tell me, but that’s not true. I know what’s true. I killed him. He trusted me and I killed him. That’s why you didn’t trust me. You were right not to. You know I can’t protect you. A shield only faces one direction…out there they attack from all of them.”
Valanor coughed then, wiping at his face and eyes. Finally he stood up, wobbling as he stared at Ethan, unmoving on the bed. “I don’t understand you,” he muttered. “I don’t understand that mind of yours, or what you think this all is. But it’s no game. You better realize that soon, or no one will be able to keep you alive.” With that, he turned and left.
***
It was several more days before Ethan was well enough to do more than take a few steps around the room. Valanor hadn’t returned after the night of drinking, and Ethan wasn’t sure what to make of that. Selina took care of him though. She refused to tell him anything, running endless tests and warning him not to use a single rune or ability. This is doctor karma, isn’t it?
It had been several weeks by the time he felt nearly healthy again, and Selina announced that she was ready to go over the results of the testing. With his mind finally clear, Ethan was at last permitted to remove the bloody, soiled bandages that were wrapped around his body. He moved to the mirror they’d brought in, looking at the state of his uncovered body.
It was a disturbing sight, looking similar to case studies he’d seen of people struck by lightning, with his Bond Runes the point of impact. The glowing tears he’d seen had been the power of his Familiars ripping his body and soul apart, and they had left thin scars spider-webbing across most of his body. They spread outward from his chest, reaching toward his extremities.
He was grateful that they thinned as they got further away from the Bonds, as the wispy white lines were barely visible past his jawline. His feet were actually pristine, and he glared down at them for a moment. At least if hunting doesn’t work out, I still have feet pics to fall back on.
The joke was hollow, of course, as was the knowledge that he’d seen worse in medical school. His body was transformed, this world and his choices had marked him forever. And as bad as that was, he knew there was more. He ran a finger across one of the scars, feeling the wild energy rushing by, just below the surface. He didn’t know what Selina’s tests would reveal, but he was sure it wouldn’t be a clean bill of health.
Finally he dressed and left the room, heading for the little den where he was to meet the Rune Mistress. It was a pleasant room, warmly lit with a few armchairs, and bookshelves lining the walls. Selina came in shortly after, placing tea and sandwiches on the table between them, then sitting down as well.
Ethan was slowly growing used to the woman’s exotic appearance. It was difficult not to think of her as demonic, with the horns and red skin being so strongly associated with devils back home. Her behavior was anything but devilish, however, and the weeks in her care had gone a long way in helping him to see her differently.
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She was smiling widely as she pushed her deep purple braids back over her shoulder, wary of them getting in her tea. “You’re looking so much better!” she said cheerily.
“Thank you, I feel almost normal. Well…not normal, but better. Different and better.”
“That’s excellent. The tests I ran this morning said you’re no longer in danger, and should be able to summon your Familiars and use your runes safely again.”
“That’s a huge relief,” Ethan said. “How close to dying was I?”
Selina shook her head while putting down the exceptionally bitter tea. “Dying was still a few days off–though it would have been an excruciating few days. A few more hours though, and you’d never have used your bonds again–physical paralysis would have been likely as well. You’re lucky the shield knight moved as quickly as he did.”
Ethan shuddered. “Well thank you for your part in saving me, and taking care of me after,” he said. She took another sip of the tea, and he recognized the sight of someone trying to buy time. “It’s okay, tell me the bad news,” he said.
Selina choked on her tea, then hastily put it down. “Right. I’m sorry, I don’t usually deliver news of this kind. There’s more positives than negatives, I think. Your Familiars are fine, and your growth should be unaffected. I think” He raised an eyebrow, and she sat forward in her chair. When she spoke again, it was more slowly, and carefully.
“I’ve never seen Soul Burns like this before. Not in person, not in books. The truth is I don’t know the full impact of how it may affect you.” She let out another breath. “I do know that your spirit is more vulnerable. The wounds that appear healed on your body, are still fresh in the Astral.”
“Soul Burns?” Ethan echoed, struggling to keep up.
“It’s what they’re called. They can happen in a number of unusual ways, but people don’t…people don’t usually get them and live, so we don’t know as much about them as I’d like. Maybe in one of the larger kingdoms, but…”
“It’s okay,” Ethan said robotically, remembering how it felt to give similar, if less novel bad news as a doctor. “So I’m at risk of Astral attacks,” he said, thinking of what Valanor had done back in the village. “What else? I can feel the scars, Selina, I know there’s more.”
“The rest can only be figured out through experimentation. Use your abilities–slowly at first, and see what happens,” she placed a hand on his shoulder in a friendly way.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” he assured her. “I assume it’s safe for me to go?” She nodded, but looked at the sandwiches and untouched tea pointedly. “After we eat of course. I need a chance to thank you properly.”
She smiled broadly. “Helping Bonded with Sour Rune rituals is an absolute joy for me. Yours may have been a bit more…involved, but I’m happy I could help. Besides, I love getting to know Hunters, they have the most remarkable stories!”
“I suppose they would,” Ethan acknowledged, her cheery attitude a bit out of place, but oddly comforting.
“Perhaps you’d consider…?” she said leadingly.
“Oh, you want to hear one? I don’t really have many, but I suppose the trip to the tower was interesting.”
“It certainly was, but I already pried that out of Valanor. I was actually hoping…” she looked around conspiratorially. “Would you tell me of Terra?”
“Ah, yeah of course. I supposed you’re one of the only people I’m allowed to tell about my homeland. What did you want to know?”
“Everything! I’m a scholar, and the idea of learning about our sister-world from an actual resident is a remarkable opportunity!”
“Right…everything. It’s a whole world, I don’t even know where to start,” Ethan replied, his mind running over the countless differences, and the challenge of explaining any one of them without hours of context.
“Start with you! Tell me of the great warriors,” she said, leaning forward eagerly.
“The great…? Oh, you mean my family. Okay, I guess that’s an easy enough place to start.” He considered for a moment, trying to construct a narrative she could follow without too much trouble. “Well, we came from a collection of nations, called Europe. Most of my immediate family are from a place called Britain, but there’s Bishops pretty much everywhere.”
Selina immediately took out a small stone, a run on top began to glow softly as he spoke. “I’m just recording this for myself, if that’s alright. Don’t worry! No one can use the recording but me. Oh and the king would execute me if I told anyone.”
“Right, careful with that,” Ethan said warily. “Anyway, my family has always been drawn into conflicts. It’s a tradition of sorts, going back generations. There’s an old joke we tell: ‘there’s always a war somewhere, and if you can’t find it, just look for a Bishop’.”
“Wars? Truly? Always?” she asked, sounding both curious and somewhat horrified.
“Pretty much? My world is very densely populated, I’m not quite sure how this one compares. But yes, there’s always fighting over something, always disagreements.”
“That part is just as true here, but true war is extremely rare. Power is too consolidated among individuals,” she said.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
Selina leaned back, considering. “Well, you’re aware of the unwritten rule around Bonded and Unbound effectively leaving each other to deal with their own?” Ethan nodded, remembering the lesson from Valanor’s insistence on not hunting the bandits.
“Well, that doesn’t really hold up if you invade someone’s home. If you go to war and bring Unbound, Hunters will eventually be unleashed. Just as bad: if you go to war with your Bonded, your own nation becomes easy pickings for anyone with their own.”
Ethan considered that. “I suppose I can see how that works in theory, but some nations must simply have more Bonded. What’s to stop them from taking what they want?”
“A few things, really,” Selina replied, seeming to enjoy a chance to teach. “First of all, the nations have arrived at something of a balance. It’s not that there were never wars, things have just settled down because of them. So if one nation did invade another, a comparable nation could attack while the forces of the invading nation were split. It’s rarely worth it.”
“I see,” Ethan said. “What are the other factors?”
“Monster types, and Chosen. Our neighbors are primarily desert, and snow, neither one is well suited to fighting the other. Beyond that, it’s the duty of the Chosen to prevent exactly the kind of conflict you’re describing. They’ve been doing it for millenia.”
“That’s a lot to take in,” Ethan said, not knowing enough about the different nations–or the Chosen, never mind that he supposedly was one.
“I’ll give you some books!” Selina said happily. “So what’s war like in your world?”
Ethan’s head spun slightly at the abrupt change in topic. “It’s brutal,” he said by reflex. “We don’t have magic, but we have more than enough ways to kill each other. My brother–” he caught himself. He hadn’t meant to go down that path, but he was still recovering, and his normal walls weren’t up yet.
“Your brother?” Selina asked, innocent and curious.
Strangely, Ethan found that he wanted to tell someone. “I have–had–three brothers. All of them were warriors in my world. We lost our dad when we were young, so my oldest brother Dean tried to fill that role. He was good at it, in some ways.”
Selina’s face had dropped as she realized what she’d been asking about. “You don’t have to–”
“It’s fine,” Ethan said. “It all happened a long time ago, but it’s been on my mind a lot lately. Dean died at war, back when I was still in school. I didn’t take it well, and it only pushed me further down a path I was walking for the wrong reasons–though I’m only realizing that now.” He stopped then, as he was heading toward a part of his history that could get him killed on this world.
“Anyway, we can talk about this later. There’s a lot I can say about my home that doesn’t involve personal tragedy,” Ethan finished with a sad smile.
“Of course!” Selina replied, standing up suddenly, her food forgotten. “I have my own duties anyway, and I’m sure you have business to attend to. Knight Glenn has been waiting outside for the past few days, I’m sure the two of you need to speak.”
She gave a small bow then quickly left. “Geeze, was I that depressing?” Ethan asked the empty room.
“Her kind treats death very differently from humans,” a familiar voice said. Ethan turned, surprised to see his demonic familiar floating nearby, somewhat transparent.
“I thought I had to summon you,” Ethan said in confusion, then reached out a hand which passed right through the little creature. “You’re…not really here.”
“A full summoning isn’t required for us to communicate. One of many lessons you need to learn. You needn’t even be channeling your Mystic Bond for us to speak to one another.”
“That’s pretty handy. It’s good to see you,” Ethan said, and the Familiar hung its head, the round hat hiding most of its upper body.
“I am truly sorry, master. I did not realize the danger I was putting you in. I should have, but after all that time, my mind–”
“Stop, really. My faults are many. Many, but blaming others for my insane decisions isn’t one of them. Besides,” he said, forcing a grin, “what’s done is done. No value in moaning about what’s done, or what could have been. Life is a comedy, remember?”
The little demon tilted his head at that. “Wise words, master.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pretend I didn’t notice your shock. Oh and please no ‘master’ stuff, that’s really not a title I’m comfortable with. We’re partners, all four of us. Team…Ethan. God that’s terrible, I’ll work on that.”
“Very well, Ethan Bishop. And you may call me Tomo. The ‘Oni’ was always the less flattering half of the name.”
“Agreed,” Ethan said with a more genuine grin. “Now, it’s time to finally see what all this was for.” With a tap on his wrist, a flood of system messages popped up. He scrolled past the many, many messages about continued soul damage, stopping when he reached a new entry.
----------------------------------------
Congratulations! You have successfully formed your Soul Rune!
Journey to Dawn rank, complete!
You have reached Dawn rank!
* Your Soul Rune has Manifested the Ruin Affinity!
* New ability: [Knife in the Dark]
* You have unlocked your Class Archetype!
* Your unlocked Class Archetype is—
----------------------------------------
Ethan looked up in disbelief, then re-read the message several times before he finally dismissed the window, leaning back. Tomo hovered next to him, not speaking. They were both silent for a long time, as Ethan processed what he’d just learned. Finally he turned to the Familiar.
“You knew,” he said quietly, and the demon nodded. “Was Valanor right? Is this really…what my soul says that I am?” The demon nodded again, waiting. “I’ve spent my life trying to be a healer, and my soul thinks I’m a killer.”
“Not a killer,” Tomo said quietly. “An Assassin.”