Chapter Text
Toren Daen
I trudged slowly up the stone staircase, a slight ache radiating from my core. I’d expended a decent bit of mana fighting Aya Grephin, and each painful step told me exactly what my body thought of what I’d put it through.
But each step I took was absent, devoid of conscious intent as my body acted on its own. Even as I left the scene of battle behind, my mind was elsewhere, thoughts awhirl on the possible ramifications of my actions.
Of saving Olfred Warend from execution.
“This is the second true divergence you have enacted upon this world, is it not?” Aurora questioned lightly, buoying my thoughts along. The Unseen World blanketed my senses as the phoenix shade strode by my side. Except where Aya’s mist had been suffocating and claustrophobic, each swirl and eddy seeming to box me into an inescapable pit, the mists of the Unseen World were a cool blanket across my mind.
Aside from barring Circe Milview from the war, it is my first direct change, I internally acknowledged. But I hadn’t expected something like this. It’s entirely outside of my realm of prediction.
I’d vowed to change this world’s future for the better, and I certainly had plans in place to do so soon. But I hadn’t deeply considered how else I would change this world, either.
Would Olfred’s survival make the future brighter? Darker?
I didn’t know.
But this makes your predictions truly uncertain, Aurora said, her shade shifting to look at me with sun-crested eyes. Does this not… make your plans difficult? Make our course uncertain?
I hadn’t told Aurora the exact specifics of my future plans, only vague outlines as I cemented them further in my head.
I walked around a bend as I ascended further. There was a darkness to this cavern that no light could truly banish. Probably because of all the corpses Aya left behind of Alacryan soldiers, I thought bitterly.
I’m no puppet master like Agrona, I told my bond as I focused on the path ahead. I never deluded myself into thinking I was some sort of master architect who could set events up exactly as I needed. But…
It was simply a fact of life that my knowledge of the future would very quickly become null and void once too many ‘changes’ piled up. My direct expectations for events could only take me so far.
I had my own plans, of course: plans to hopefully shift this war to something that benefitted everyone but Agrona. I found my mind drifting towards the Beast Glades. I’d have to find an excuse to visit there sometime soon.
But I only need to alter a few choice things, I thought, resolve surging through my body. And my knowledge of people’s motivations, desires, and wishes is what will truly aid me once the future becomes too derailed from what I used to know.
Like Seris’ desire for rebellion.
I wondered why I was so ready to act on the Scythe’s orders to save Olfred. By doing so, I’d certainly caused ripples in time that I would never be able to account for. I could probably have allowed Aya to execute her ‘traitorous’ former comrade, then claim I was too late to rescue the dwarf.
But it was unlike me to let one in need simply perish. Furthermore, I wasn’t some god who could dictate what events I wanted and didn’t want to play out. That path led to madness, each moment spent meticulously questioning the butterfly effects of my actions. I would never sleep soundly, constantly second-guessing even the inflection in my voice.
But beyond that… Beyond that, I trusted Seris.
That realization actually made me halt in my step for a moment. I realized I trusted her to make decisions that would improve this world, regardless of what I immediately thought. Maybe I couldn’t predict what good–or bad–Olfred’s survival would bring Dicathen and Alacrya. But I had faith in Seris’ vision.
My hackles had been raised when I’d learned Renea Shorn’s true identity. The implications of all her maneuvering and the danger it represented was not lost on me. But recently…
“You are more than fond of the Scythe, my bond,” Aurora said gently, a cross between teasing and questioning in her voice. “I find myself surprised by your choice of mate. After the entire debacle with your basilisk blood, I would have thought you more wary than this.”
I still wasn’t truly certain of Seris’ short-term plans regarding me. Part of me still felt unnerved by her political ploys, but much of that had vanished in the wake of her assignment of me to be an ambassador to Darv.
My earlier vision of Renea Shorn–the person who cared deeply even for the smallest life–had been reinforced by every action I’d pieced apart so far. It wasn’t just my otherworld knowledge pushing me forward.
I coughed into my fist, averting my eyes from the quiet knowing in my bond’s gaze. She had a distinct way of making me feel embarrassed about this when I really shouldn't be. Something about how I struggled to hide my thoughts and emotions from her, I guessed. “If a djinn and a phoenix can find a way, I don’t see the impossibility of a phoenix and basilisk.”
Aurora smiled slowly, a motherly cast of amusem*nt making me internally cringe in embarrassment. She opened her mouth to speak, before she turned to the side, her amusem*nt washing away into something more stern.
The Unseen World vanished as I caught the rumbling beats of someone’s lifeforce up ahead, seeming to coalesce from the earth.
Olfred Warend leaned on a conjured staff of earth for support, looking at me warily from the top of the stairs. The dwarf’s bronze skin bore a few cuts from his earlier duel with Aya, and his ash-black hair–kept in a ponytail–looked disheveled and worn. His neatly trimmed beard shifted as he looked down at me, the light casting his shadow long and dark.
I stopped, looking up at the dwarven Lance. His intent radiated a deep caution that seemed to seep into my own bones, drawing a mirrored feeling from my own gut.
“Is Aya alive?” the dwarf asked gruffly.
“She’s got more than a few broken ribs,” I replied, narrowing my eyes, “But she’ll live to fight another day.”
The dwarf shifted from one foot to the other, blinking his eyes to focus them. He seemed to be still fighting off the damage Aya had done via oxygen deprivation. “You didn’t kill her, Alacryan?”
He didn’t seem upset by the news of her survival. A strange sense of both relief and fear radiated from his mana signature instead.
I marched up the stairs, facing the dwarf as he blocked my path. “My orders were to save your life, nothing more.” I paused. “And my name is Toren Daen, not Alacryan.”
Still watching me with disguised caution, Olfred finally stepped aside, allowing me past. I plodded up past him, internally making plans to meet back up with Seris.
She’s probably done with Uto by now, I thought, moving toward the low light above. Which means we–
A putrid stench hit my nose, causing me to gag with the suddenness of it. I coughed slightly, the scent of blood, excrement, and body odor hitting me like a wave.
But what was worse was the heartfires above. I could sense the ragged state of a few dozen people not far away, the subtleties of their heartbeats telling me their wounds and abuse.
“Never saw what your kind used for a cover-up here, Alacryan?” Olfred mused behind me, quiet contempt lacing his tone. “I killed the bastard who was sellin’ these slaves, but it wasn’t fast enough.”
I remembered belatedly what I was sensing. Under the guise of ‘Cladence,’ Olfred had followed Sebastian–the disgraced former court mage of the Glayders–to his little slave market, before entombing the man in a cast of burning magma.
I turned my head over my shoulder, glaring daggers at the dwarven Lance. His insinuation that I was somehow connected to the slavers churned something dark in my gut. “Don’t forget that you were the one who hollowed out that bunker down below,” I snapped. “You made this entire operation possible.”
The Lance stepped back as if I’d slapped him, surprise and shock on his face before anger slowly took its place. “I only did so to bring about Rahdeas’ vision. We aren’t the same.”
I marched toward the holding cells, focusing on the heartfires I could sense were in the most dire straights. “Not all Alacryans are the same, Balrog,” I said. “Retainer Uto was happy to lead this group with a callous hand, but I’m sure you’ve never chafed against the state of affairs the Greysunders left in their wake, did you?” I bit back.
Olfred went silent at my rebuke, his intent simmering behind me.
But I was lashing out for a different reason. The idea that I was complicit in these acts of war… It rankled something deep inside of me. That no matter what I did during this war, my conscience would be stained crimson by my very participation, regardless of my actions.
But as I made my way toward one of the cells, tracing the sound of the most damaged heartbeats, another threaded to my ears.
It was small. So faint I almost couldn’t hear it, a bare thump-thump-thump that seemed to struggle with every pulse.
The blood drained from my face as the tiny heartbeat seemed to echo like the ringing of a gong in my mind. Without sparing Olfred another glance, I engaged my telekinetic emblem, surging toward the entrance of the bunker.
I saw two people there. One woman had her hand nailed to the ground by a dagger, her eyes rolled back into her head from unconsciousness. The other was a man with a shattered arm, whimpering on the cold stone.
And between them was the stone coffin containing Sebastian. But I ignored them, my eyes wide and wild as I reached a specific cell.
I tried the handle. It was locked.
I snarled, then built a telekinetic push along my hand. I let it burst, blowing the gate away with an explosion of force. It smashed against the far wall in a crumple of metal.
I threw myself inside, following my ears.
And I saw it. A newborn babe, still wrinkly and red, was silent as they lay atop a stone bed. The baby was uncovered, slowly losing body heat to the winter chill outside. Their little chest barely rose.
The Unseen World appeared around me as I threw myself at the small body, calling my heartfire to my hands as I removed my leather gloves. I cradled the small form in my arms, coating us both in a layer of fire mana to ward off the cold.
With my assimilated asuran physique and natural fire affinity, the seasonal cold had become less than a nuisance. I’d almost forgotten how the weather was barely above freezing, and these slaves…
None were afforded heat. No blankets. No torches. Nothing. Only their own blood and sh*t to remind them of their mortality.
And as I desperately struggled to heal this child, I found my hatred rising. Aurora’s face was marred by deep worry as she watched me struggle to keep this newborn alive.
Olfred entered a moment later, surprise rippling through the dwarf as I turned to face him, babe in my arms and nuzzled close to my heart.
“Break their chains, Balrog,” I said, feeling my anger churn. Aurora’s surged in equal measure, her hands brushing the newborn girl’s hair.
“Her mother,” the Lance whispered, his gruff voice somber as he stared past me.
I knew the cold corpse of a slave woman stared out with empty eyes behind me, devoid of hope. This babe’s mother, dead in childbirth.
“Council reinforcements will be here soon,” I ground out, my mana signature fluctuating and rippling as I struggled to hold back my fury. “We can’t stay here any longer, Olfred. So we’re going to evacuate these people.”
My heartbeat sounded in my ears, driving my steps as I marched out of the cell. I’d wanted to heal as many men and women as I could, but I knew it was a vain hope.
I went cell by cell, a sharp snap of my boot cratering each gate inward. Most of the slaves–of all ages, races, and genders–looked out with fear as they shied away from my barely restrained aura.
“The child, Toren!” Aurora said quickly, shuffling to my side. “Your intent is too thick for her!”
I looked down at the baby girl in my arms, belatedly realizing she was gasping for breath. A wave of guilt snuffed out my anger like water over a fire, leaving only emptiness in its place.
As I gradually opened each cell, nearly two score people in dirty rags were revealed to the air. Elves, dwarves, and humans alike bore the scars of whips and showed ribs from malnourishment.
Most shied away from me in fear as I stalked back toward the entrance. And while the terror in their eyes made my own anger at these slavers kindle higher, it was those with empty eyes–devoid of passion or will–that truly scared me.
I found myself selfishly grateful that none of these slaves were mages. So I wouldn’t have to feel that void in their intent.
I stopped in front of the entrance, then turned to look at the gathered slaves. Some hadn’t left their cells even after being freed, but most had.
“Are there any among you,” I said, altering my voice so that it sounded more welcoming, “Who can care for a child? At least for a short while?”
Nobody spoke. All my question earned was shuffling steps and uncertain glances.
I recognized then how I must appear. Covered in battle armor and caked in my own blood, I must’ve appeared like I’d stepped straight from a scene of war. And considering these men and women had likely been subjected to my aura far below the earth, I was astounded they could even stand right now.
I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, allowing myself to become more centered. “Forces from the Triunion Council will be here soon,” I said more quietly. “You’ll be cared for. Fed. Clothed. But in the short time until then, I need someone to take this child. Please.”
It took a moment, but eventually, an older man finally stepped forward on legs that looked like they could’ve been made of matchsticks. He didn’t speak, only held out his arms in a gesture of resolve.
I moved forward slowly, feeling the young girl’s heartbeat against my own as I cradled her close. Then I carefully; gingerly set the girl into the former slave’s waiting arms.
Olfred watched somberly behind me, gripping the haft of a stone mace he’d conjured to smash the gates of the holding cells inward.
I turned on my heel, stalking back toward Sebastian’s two accomplices. With each step, my heart seemed to thunder louder, each thump resonant and deep.
I stared down at the woman whose hand had been staked to the floor. Distantly, I remembered that Arthur had done that, leaving her behind before facing down with Uto.
The woman remained unconscious, but the man… The bearded fool clutched his broken arm, staring up at me in pain and terror. He was utterly locked in place by the fervor of my killing intent.
I looked back at the statue Olfred had left of Sebastian. I could kill these two. They were certainly destined for the gallows no matter what I did for engaging in interracial slavery, but…
I felt the trembling lifeforces of the two score of freed slaves behind me.
“No,” I sneered, looking down at the shell-shocked assistant, “You aren’t mine to kill.”
I walked past him, Olfred trailing mutely behind me as we finally stepped out under the open sky. The slaves didn’t follow; not yet. They had business to do with their captors.
I walked into the forest, my intent finally cooling somewhat as I left that hellhole behind. The only other experience that surpassed the raw brutality of this was the utter monstrosity of Mardeth’s experiments beneath East Fiachra.
It seemed, regardless of race or continent, there would always be monsters.
“Where are we goin’, Daen?” Olfred asked behind me. “You were right about Dicathian reinforcements coming soon. Unless you can fly, I don’t see how we’re escaping this without more bloodshed.”
His tone wasn’t hostile like it had been before. It appeared that in our mutual act of freeing those slaves, Lance Balrog and I had reached common ground.
“Alacrya isn’t as limited as Dicathen in our modes of transport,” I said seriously, not giving any more explanation. I was too tired to do so.
I reached the dilapidated shack soon enough. When I opened the door, Scythe Seris was waiting for me mutely within.
The silver-haired woman turned slightly, looking me up and down with onyx eyes. I might have enjoyed the way she inspected me at any other time, but all I felt now was a deep exhaustion.
“You took longer than anticipated, Lord Daen,” Seris said smoothly. “Were there any complications in your mission?”
Her eyes flicked to Olfred behind me, who stood stock-still as her aura hit him. He narrowed his eyes, his meaty hands clenching with an emotion I couldn’t discern.
I ground my teeth. “I engaged in combat with Lance Phantasm as she threatened to execute Lance Balrog,” I replied curtly. “After a prolonged battle, she was forced to retreat. However…” I trailed off, images of the slaves’ empty eyes flashing in my mind. And the newborn babe, nearly going still from the cold.
“However?” Seris prodded, raising an eyebrow.
“I allowed myself to get sidetracked. There were prisoners held above who needed medical attention, and I could not leave them to their fate.”
The corner of Seris’ lip perked up nearly imperceptibly, before it smoothed back out. “Very well, then. It is fortunate that you succeeded in your task, Lord Daen, as I was unfortunately too late to save Uto from his fate in battle. Lance Godspell emerged victorious in their skirmish before I could intervene.”
I looked into the Scythe’s eyes, and I felt a bit of my good mood return as my lips threatened to curve into a smile. She showed no indication of what she’d truly done to Uto, but I quietly relished in the knowledge that she’d snapped his horns and left him a shattered husk.
It was what the monster deserved.
Seris tilted her head, a brow raised as she caught me staring. I shoved my hands in my pockets as this good news served to balance my tumult of emotions a bit.
“Is there something else you wish to say?” Seris pushed, reading the emotions on my face as she always did. “From the look on your face, it would appear that you are satisfied by the fall of our comrade.”
Ever the pretense, I thought with amusem*nt. Seris and I both knew she was beyond Arthur Leywin. Even if Arthur had somehow defeated Uto, she could’ve easily ended his life after–but she made no mention of that. “I’ll be honest, Seris,” I said. “I think Uto has whatever is coming to him.”
Seris’ eyebrows rose slightly, her eyes flashing. “You are a crueler man than I thought, Lord Daen. But if all is accomplished, let us depart.” She turned around, mana flowing as she flourished her tempus warp, preparing to engage the portable portal.
“Wait,” Olfred said behind me. “I don’t answer to your orders, Scythe. Rahdeas is my only master. Where are you trying to take me?”
Seris turned slowly, her grace suffusing her movements like the cutting arc of her namesake through wheat. “And on what grounds, Lance, do you have to refuse?”
“I am not under your command,” Olfred retorted, standing in the doorway. “Rahdeas–”
“Is certainly going to be treated as a prisoner,” Seris interrupted smoothly. “His status as a spy has been uncovered, and he will be in no position to give you any sort of orders.”
Olfred ground his teeth, glaring hatefully at Seris. Sensing his animosity, I stepped forward slightly, imposing myself between them on instinct as I faced the Lance.
“The way I see it, you have two options,” Seris continued, unphased by Olfred’s hostility. “You can wait here. The forces of Dicathen will arrive shortly, and though you might be able to survive on your own for a while, it will only be a matter of time before you are tracked down. This far from any base of support or sustenance you’ll be hunted like prey.”
“Or,” Seris said slyly, a hand caressing her chin, “You can come with us. You will have a base of support, shelter from the Triunion, which will no doubt decry you as traitor, and above all…” Her dark eyes flashed. “Perhaps an eventual chance to rescue the man you call father.”
Olfred hesitated. He clearly recognized the trap he found himself in, but there was an ounce of stubborn pride that stopped him from taking that final step.
But the dwarven Lance, ultimately, had no choice. He stepped forward, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“Do what you need, witch,” he snapped.
Seris’ mouth turned down into a slight frown at his curse, but that was the only outward sign of her displeasure. She imbued her mana into the tempus warp in her hand, a portal shimmering into existence before her.
She strode toward the portal, but paused for a bare moment. “Lance,” she said severely, “I have been lenient with you considering Rahdeas’ alliance with my forces, but that only extends so far. Do not insult me again. The next time you utter such words, my retribution will be swift. Do you understand?”
She punctuated her statement with the barest flash of her aura. That hurricane of power–which usually was restrained as if stopped in time–whipped outward. Lance Olfred gritted his teeth, stumbling backward at the sudden force. I stood my ground, resisting the pulse of power through sheer practice and expertise in intent.
When it was done, Olfred’s face was matted with sweat. His hair clung to his face as he stared warily at the Scythe’s back, a deep, deep uncertainty threading from his mana core.
Scythe Seris stepped through her portal. I trailed after her, entering the gaping portal that led back to our base in Darv.
And a beat later, Olfred Warend entered the tempus warp, before the portal closed behind us.
Only when I emerged on the other side did I realize that Seris had never explicitly stated that she’d left Uto alive–and my words implied knowledge of what would happen to him after.
