Blood oozed down the branches piercing him. Torn scabs adorned his flesh where Eilic hand carved symbols in him. Ditan felt hopeless and helpless. With Eilic and Sariam’s departure, the last of the Sentinels abandoned him as well. The clearing became eerily quiet.

That could have gone better, he thought. His weight caused the bush to sag, not enough to reach the ground but not enough to release him either. Ditan’s bound hand and feet kept him from doing anything, and his unbound right arm could do nothing but flail.

-You are impatient. It gets the better of you.-

“Oh, so you guys are back now? Willing to talk to me, are ya?” Brown hues swirled near the ground, while blues and grays hovered near him, lazy in their intertwining. “It’s them. When they’re near I can feel it.”

-Yes. We fear them.-

Ditan tried to catch his breath, or at least moderate it. Between screaming and the extremely painful discomfort of breathing while impaled, he found it taxing. Hearing the voices feel more communicative helped ease his state of mind.

They fuzzed me, he said, thinking to the elements, slipping back into a more comfortable mode of communication and saving his breath for important things. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?

-Yes. They are near but not near enough.-

Good, so I just have to make them go away.

-They have.-

I know. It was a figure of speech. Sometimes they exasperated him. Their literal interpretation of his thoughts lacked nuance and understanding. Or they just preferred bluntness. Can you get me out of this?

-Yes.-

Well? He tried jostling but it cost him more pain and he grunted. Ditan refused to scream again, both because he knew no one remained near him to care, and it hurt more than helped. Tints of green edged along the ground beneath him, passing out of sight.

The bush shivered and dipped, lowering Ditan slowly. He could sense the thorns and smaller twigs excising themselves from his body as his position shifted and he wrenched free, crashing to the ground. The branches rustled as they returned to their neutral position battered and damaged by his impact but unbent.

Ditan laid on his side, hand between his bent knees, ankles bound to his wrist. He rocked until he could prop himself up with his ruined left arm. “Well, this is more pleasant, at least,” he said. “That is definitely something I don’t want to experience again.”

-He is cruel. He is to be feared.-

Ditan chuckled ruefully. “Tell me something I don’t already know, friends. I don’t want to be here when they get back.”

-You cannot escape.-

“I sure as Light can. Just help me burn through these ropes now. That’s easy enough.”

-You lack harmony. We cannot help.-

“Ya just helped me get out of that bush. Just break these so I can go.” He could see the different hues of brown delaminated near the ropes, but they remained inert. Lifeless. “Come on.”

-Your escape would bring further disharmony. We cannot.-

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he said. Ditan squinted and looked towards the suns, what little of their direct light filtered through the branches to the clearing. The elements sensed his intent.

-That is unwise. We advise you to seek harmony.-

“First things first, I’ve gotta escape. Harmony can come later.” He focused his senses on the feel of warmth on his cheek. “Harmony or not, the suns are as natural as anything. I’ll do this myself.” Ditan pulled. He immediately regretted it.

Red dots of color streamed from his cheek to the rope, incinerating it without effort and burning his wrist and ankles where it had bound him. His cheek grew numb with cold, as if the deepest winter covered him. Ash fell away from his wounded limbs. Ditan bought freedom with additional agonizing pain. He screamed again.

I get it. You told me so, he thought, sprawling.

-You require aid.- Ditan agreed with their assessment but found it ludicrous. He couldn’t call for aid. Freeing himself pushed him to the brink of passing out from pain. His hand and feet would not work as the paralyzing sensation of pins and needles crept their way up his legs and arm as they returned to life.

Are you going to aid me then? I only have so much time before they come back. If they come back for me. He felt discarded, and Eilic hadn’t given him much hope for a rescue from his predicament. Ditan knew he didn’t want the Sentinel to be his savior anyway.

-We have.-

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“Barely,” he said. “I guess I know I can’t trust you guys. Driver might have helped, but he’s gone too.” Ditan rubbed his calves and feet. With the immediacy of his adrenaline fading, the chill spring air reinforced how unprotected his involuntary nudity left him. “I need a plan. I’m useless to Tryn here.”

He tried standing to test his strength. His legs trembled as he pushed himself up with a stick. Both collapsed from under him and he fell to his knees, his nerves wracked with fiery pain. Don’t you guys want to help her? Help me stand.

-She is not for us. It is you we serve.-

There’s more than one of me that can listen to ya, so i know you serve more than just me. I need to fix these new wounds so I can find her.

-They are your wounds.-

I know they are! Please help me fix them, he thought to them, growing annoyed. Ditan searched the air above him, following the blues and grays weaving with white as they coalesced above his head. Different hues of green mixed with them as well, touching on the natural life in the forest nearby.

-You lack harmony.-

Tell me what I need then. Ya don’t do me any good being cryptic. It’s one thing to listen to ya, and another for you to work with me.

He wished he had the totem again. Whatever it represented, he remembered the glorious feeling of music that pulsed through him when he held it. He hadn’t seen it since…

“Modius had it before the trial. Probably destroyed for all I know. Would that bring me harmony?”

-Perhaps.-

“Ah, yer useless.” He looked in the direction he’d seen the Sentinels drag Trynneia. She hadn’t made any noise, nor fought them. Why had she gone willingly? Don’t tell yerself that. Ya know she didn’t have a choice. I’m glad she didn’t have to see what he did to me.

Ditan staggered to his feet again, holding onto a stick to prop himself up. I need healing. Please. He repeated his request again, knowing they wouldn’t answer or help. Can we talk easier if these symbols are healed?

He shut his eyes, trying to tune into the flow around him. Blocking out the world made it easier to perceive the colors of the elements surrounding him. Ditan reached out and grasped at them, trying to snare their gossamer threads. Instead, they trickled through his fingers like water.

I’ve asked before and you helped. Why is it so different now? He didn’t wait for their answer. He knew they’d just say something about harmony. How do I achieve harmony?

-We do not teach.-

That’s an understatement. Work with me here. He nearly lost his balance and held onto the stick for support. Okay, I get it. You don’t want to just do things for me. I’ve upset some sort of cosmic balance.

“How do I set it right?” he wondered aloud. Ditan tilted his head from side to side, listening intently to the sounds of the clearing, of leaves rustling and wood creaking, insects buzzing and birds chirping. Through it he could almost hear a thrum. He lifted his head and began to hum, trying to match it. Instead, the thrum matched him with a faint tune.

There you are, he thought. The tune enthralled him, a distant melody that reminded him of a lullaby his father had hummed to him as an infant. The symphony he’d experienced when holding the totem did not return. Instead, he heard a pale imitation of it, bereft of nuance or emotion.

Ditan opened his eyes. Colors bled around him, melting like paint and solidifying in time with the music. Fascinating, he thought. The totem amplified all this. All I hear is brokenness. He lost track of the thrum as it danced away from him. Every attempt to match it after the initial contact failed as he chased its beauty, always a step away from him.

“I can’t do this,” he lamented, failing to succeed. “It keeps slipping away from me.”

-Discordant.-

That’s as good a name for it as any, he agreed. It bounces too much, and clashes. Ditan wiped a few tears of frustration. The beauty of the music skipped out of time with him, creating a resonance he could not match or keep up with. He glimpsed what it could be, but could not ensnare it. “I don’t have what it takes. I’m in too much pain right now,” he admitted.

-We told you so.-

“I don’t need to hear it,” he said, frustrated. “Thanks for rubbing it in.”

-No rubbing involved. Only music.-

“Yeah, yeah. Ya said that. Harmonies. What do I have to do to make them work?” Ditan felt his head grow thick and dull. Fuzzy.

-They come.-

No, not now. He panicked and looked around. His legs still hurt too much and his ability to stand remained tenuous at best. Ditan gripped the stick as if his life depended on it. For all he knew, it did.

“Having a rough time, gobbo?” Eilic asked as he entered the clearing. A bruise on his cheek marred his cheery smile. At least someone took him down a tad. If only I could have been there to see it, Ditan thought.

“Nothing a little vim and vigor couldn’t manage,” Ditan replied. “I couldn’t wait for you to return, actually.”

Eilic rolled his eyes. “Nothing dims your spirits, eh fool?”

“Blowing out candles comes to mind.”

“That would certainly do it,” Eilic agreed. He ripped the stick away from Ditan and smashed it upon his knee, then threw the remnants away. “I want nothing more than to beat you into the ground.”

“That comes as a surprise,” Ditan interrupted. “I thought you were bringing me dinner.”

“I’d just as soon finish carving you into dinner, but the Warden requested your return.”

“Better hop to it then,” the goblin said. “Don’t want to disappoint him. I’m sure he wants me whole.”

“I won’t be doing the hopping, gob,” Eilic said, drawing his dagger. “You will.” He slashed Ditan across the back. “You saved me the effort of cutting you loose. I still wanted to cut. Walk.”

Every instinct told him to retort, but Ditan bit back his words. The throbbing, oozing, bloody gashes all over his body tempered his impulses. Instead, he allowed the Sentinel to tie his hand to a lead and bind his feet so he could not run.

I’m not a big fan of this, but I need to help Tryn.

-Help yourself.-

Help yourself. Serve yourself. He couldn’t help but mark the similarity to one of the Tenets. Even through their communication issues as their voices faded again, they managed to convey a sense of purpose he didn’t otherwise feel. Submitting to Eilic’s control, the two men walked into the trees. Having touched the music, Ditan went willingly in hopes he would have time to try again.