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Toren Daen
I didn’t know how to respond to that question at first.
“What do you an by ‘what it’s done?’ ” I pressed, imdiately uncertain. I slowly stood, feeling the silence in the air.
I took a step forward toward Seris, wanting to ask her more, but the guarded look on her face–the very sa mask she showed as a Scythe–made halt in my steps. Her intent was an expanse of endless fog. Intentionally unreadable.
“Do not approach, Toren,” Seris said, the words sharp and commanding. “Not yet.”
I stood awkwardly at the center of the room, my hand lowering to my side as I peered behind . Cylrit stared back at from the door, guarding it like a stone sentinel.
Out of the edge of my perception, I could sense as Cylrit’s stance shifted ever-so-slightly. He was ready to move. Ready to act at a mont’s notice. But he wasn’t prepared to fight. In fact, I got the sense that he was worried. Solemn.
On my shoulder, Aurora’s construct fluttered its wings in agitation. “They think you are a danger... No. That you are in danger.”
Seris didn’t respond imdiately, instead maintaining a distance from that seed to stretch further and further. I imagined this must be what an infected animal felt like. What a dog with rabies must distantly be aware of as all avoided them.
It clicked–and my eyes widened in horror. My expression changed from one of silent hurt to dread realization as the puzzle pieces aligned.
Seris had asked if I knew what my rune had done. She kept a distance now, fearing for not just her safety, but my own as well. My jaw tensed as sweat began to bead along my back, tracing lines toward the rune emblazoned on my lower spine.
I could feel the water as it glided over the intricate spellform. It seed to stay there, trapped as if by gravity.
“Runes,” I said slowly, tracing the paths of our conversation from before. Of how Seris’ mood had darkened at the ntion of how the Sovereigns so casually ddled with the minds of their slaves. “they’re a backdoor to the mind sohow. They’re a weakness.”
Seris didn’t respond. Only stared at with a cool gaze that hid the turbulence of her emotions.
My eyes slowly widened as the implications began to settle into place. Was I in danger of Agrona just… puppeteering my body? Like he did his own daughter? But no, if what Seris implied was true, then–
Not just . Everyone. Every. Single. Alacryan. Every mage with a rune was compromised sohow.
I took a step backward as my head swirled, my heartbeat rising as I struggled to keep myself under control. I recalled back to my knowledge of that otherworld novel. Of how confident Agrona had seed in squashing Seris’ rebellion, even despite his various losses.
I need to stay calm, I thought. I’d been in too many high-stress situations to lose my head over one thing I didn’t know. I need to take a deep breath. I need to be calm.
But surprisingly, it was Aurora who spoke next, the songbird on my shoulder fluttering away and settling on the tea table nearby.
“You are safe from this, my son,” she said solemnly, staring up at . “The dangers within your spellform have been scoured away. Broken under will and force.”
Aurora appeared before as the Unseen World overtook my vision. Even though the songbird sat on the table, my bond’s asuran shade stood by my side, a solid arm resting on my shoulder.
Seris’ eyes flashed, and her pink lips parted as she focused intently on the clockwork bird. “Broken, you say?” she started. “You say these restrictions have been broken? How, Lady Dawn? I must know.”
The normally calm and collected Scythe seed to brim with barely contained fervor as her eyes drifted from the songbird to a place just at my side. The place where Aurora’s shade stood.
Seris could not see my bond’s ghost, I knew. But all the sa, she seed to understand exactly where she stood.
“It was soon after I brought Toren to this world,” Aurora said, both her steampunk bronze puppet and shade speaking in a lodic monotone. “He knew he would not survive the trials placed before him. Not without the versatility of organic casting. So together, we broke the shackles that bound his power. By force and flow of mana.”
I blinked, then whirled on Aurora. “You an that you knew about this?” I pressed, focusing on the implications. “You knew my rune acted as a backdoor for… whatever it is that Agrona wants?” I snapped in agitation, throwing my hands in the air.
I thought back to my first few hours in this world. How I’d recognized I wouldn’t survive without body-strengthening magic to keep alive in the Clarwood Forest. When I’d attempted to strengthen my flesh and bones with mana, my very spellform had fought back, trying to suppress my will and force away from the path.
Aurora had helped then. The first ti she’d ever helped . Her will had bolstered mine, allowing our mana to punch past the restrictions. Sothing had indeed cracked in my spellform after that, but I hadn’t noticed anything different. But I was also inexperienced and weak when it ca to knowing my power.
But if Lady Dawn had known all along, then that ant she knew about the restrictions placed on everyone.
The phoenix shade’s features softened slightly as she read the horror in my thoughts. Even as I stared her down, she only gazed at with a quiet sadness. “I did not know, my bond,” she said solemnly, “but I suspected. Too long was I captive under that mad tyrant’s clutches, Toren. And he never, ever gives gifts freely. With every bite of food, there is a hook embedded within. A deadly spike ready to tie you to his whims and desires.”
My shoulders slumped as I closed my eyes, turning away from Aurora as I massaged the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I shouldn’t have lashed out at her, but it was difficult to think about this. I didn’t even know exactly what the runes normally allowed Agrona to do, but…
“Indeed, Lady Dawn,” Seris said quietly. “The High Sovereign can only give tainted gifts. Never would he allow lessers to grasp their own fate. Never would he give them the chance to seize their destiny.”
I looked at Seris, feeling sothing in my heart shift as I stared at her. “Seris, are you… does he have you?” I asked fearfully. That horrible, horrible sensation of Agrona’s mana tendril tearing apart my thoughts surfaced once again. “Can he hurt you? Whenever he wants, just because of your runes?”
Seris chuckled, the sound dark and without humor. She strode closer, finally breaking that uncrossable gap between us. Her slim hand rested on my chest as I looked down at her fearfully. “He will always be able to hurt , Toren. I’ll never be free of the claws he’s sunk into everything I know.”
My body tensed as I clasped Seris’ slim shoulders, my eyes darting across her body as if I could see the tendrils Agrona might sink into her soul. My mind worked at triple speed as I worked over everything I knew. “I can find a way to free you from that,” I said quickly, saying the words as they ca. “I’m certain. My rune fought back against . It was only a crest at the ti, but I was still able to break past it with Aurora’s help. Maybe if–”
My words choked off as Seris wrapped her arms around , hugging . I ground my teeth as she clasped tightly–but not too tightly.
Slowly, I wrapped my arms around the Scythe’s petite form as she nestled her forehead into my chest, her horns spearing just past my head. I fought not to squeeze my arms, foolishly worried that Agrona would snap his fingers and do whatever it was he could right here and now. “Seris, if he’s infected you, hurt you–”
“Hush, Toren,” she commanded, hugging tighter for an instant. “Allow this.”
I swallowed, my fear and worry like a roiling storm inside my gut. I restrained myself from falling into the clinical mindset I took whenever I healed soone, to ask questions and diagnose problems and pains.
At my side, Aurora watched with a fond–if slightly sad–look, and Cylrit’s expression softened. I didn’t know that was even possible.
Finally, Seris separated from , pushing herself away. She held her arms around my waist, and my fingers still protectively clasped her shoulders as she stared up at with a soft cast to her sharp features. “When a mage is elevated to the position of Scythe or Retainer, Toren,” she said slowly, brushing a lock of hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear, “those common restrictions are lifted by the High Sovereign himself. They are limiters, you see. Bars to greater power and understanding of your runes. Except there are other chains placed afterward. Different ones.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Seris’ brow furrowed in slight annoyance. Sensing her intent, I closed it, restraining my flurry of questions. She turned her head slightly toward where Aurora’s shade stood–no doubt able to deduce her location from my earlier attention–and adopted a strange expression.
“Did you not teach your son patience, Lady Dawn?” she asked with a hint of characteristic teasing. “He cannot stand to wait for the answers he seeks.”
Aurora tilted her head, amusent radiating over our bond in a steady hum. “I tried my best, Scythe,” she said with both songbird and shade, “but he is not one to retain reason when the lives of those he cares for are at stake. You know this.”
My bond’s slight prodding–sothing familiar and grounding–allowed to center my thoughts more as Seris finally turned back to . Her touch was warm as we held each other, a slight smile spreading across her face. One that almost looked devious.
“I broke those restrictions as well long ago too, Toren,” she said, her eyes narrowing into self-satisfied half-crescents. “I am free from direct magics. My mind is my own.”
My shoulders slumped as relief flooded through my system like a hot balm. I rested my forehead against Seris’, cognizant of her sprouting impala-esque horns as they rested coolly against my forehead. “You’re safe, then,” I said with an exhale. “You won’t just have your mind torn from you at any mont.”
“No, I will not,” Seris said with liquid grace, her breath slow and even despite the slowly-increasing pace of her heartbeat. “But not all is well. I have toiled long and hard to try and deduce the secrets of the runic restrictions placed on nearly all Alacryan mages, so that I may eventually tear them apart.”
At those words, I shared a look with Aurora, a steady stream of information streaming over our bond as we formulated a quiet plan.
Seris’ face shifted as she looked up at , her pink lips ever-so-slightly parted. “It is not courteous to bar from your conversations, Toren,” she said with true authority. “What is it that you are discussing so deeply with your bond?”
I let out a deep breath. “We can show you,” I said after a second. “I don’t know how helpful it will be, but Aurora and I can give you what information we have and explain the process of what we did to break past the restrictions.”
Seris separated from at last, leaving strangely cold as she straightened out her dress and rearranged her perfect silver hair. “That would be well,” she said, shifting back to her Scythian mask. “I will need all you can show soon. But in the anti, I have an upcoming eting to attend.”
Cylrit chose that mont to step forward, putting himself across from us as the mood shifted. “There have been talks for the past several days strategizing for the upcoming assault on Vildorial,” he said primly, his eyes cool. If he was affected by the mont Seris and I had shared, he did not show it. “I will be part of the vanguard, but it will be important to include you in the finalizing steps, Spellsong.”
Seris nodded as she strode around toward her desk. She shifted a few papers around in an orderly manner as she spoke. “Indeed. The dwarves have been more involved with Elder Shintstone’s help, but this will be the first battle where Sehz-Clarian troops are effectively deployed to fight. Viessa has forced my hand with her entrance into this war, and I must push my plans forward ahead of ti.”
She stacked a few papers into a neat pile, before turning to with a covert swish of her dress. “You will need to read these over before the eting,” she said primly, offering the stack.
I hesitated for a mont, before ironing out my will. I engaged my rune, feeling a strange concoction of relief as I called on my power.
The papers floated over to , outlined in white. I took them, doing a brief scan of the contents.
Within was a wealth of information about the previous etings. Which captain would contribute which troops, how many dwarves would be present, the avenues of attack, and more.
“I’ll give this a comprehensive read,” I said absently, my eyes tracing over the flowing script. “Is there anything else you need from right now, Seris?”
Seris shook her head. “No, Toren, not at this mont. Though there is news of the war I will need to tell you soon. News that I will need Lady Dawn’s input on.”
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I paused, staring up at Seris at the focus in her words. “What is it?” I asked, feeling suddenly worried. “Sothing changing in the warfront?”
I wracked my mind to try and categorize everything I knew about the war. What else could have gone differently?
Seris exhaled slowly through her nose. “Indeed, Toren. But it might–no, will disturb you. I wish to learn all I can before I reveal what I know. The information I have is infuriatingly sparse. It should be higher, but–”
“Viessa,” I growled, already certain of my answer. “She’s doing sothing. Or has done sothing.”
Viessa and Seris weren’t on the best of terms. They were akin to ascenders competing for accolades on their ascents. And if Viessa had done sothing outside of Seris’ expectations…
The silver-haired Scythe didn’t reply to my statent, which was an answer in and of itself.
“Okay,” I said, trusting the woman across from . If she needed more information, I’d let her take her ti–though I worried about what would cause her to hesitate. “I’ll be going, then.”
I nodded slowly, already working to categorize everything I’d learned inside my head. I turned on my heel after a respectful nod, beginning to lope toward the door. Within my head, I contemplated all that Seris had revealed to .
My knowledge of The Beginning After the End was imperfect. I’d always known that, and especially after I began pushing for changes. Considering the assault on the Elshire Forest was now being led by Bilal and Bivran, I knew I’d affected sothing.
Whether that be because Tessia was no longer so easy for Agrona to grasp or so other unforeseen influence, my actions were already affecting this world.
As I reached the door, Aurora’s shade striding beside in lockstep, I perked up, finally rembering sothing. “Oh, yeah,” I said absently, calling on my mana. I turned around as I withdrew sothing from my dinsion ring, before floating it over to the waiting Scythe.
I smirked triumphantly as Seris observed the completed telekinesis puzzle, savoring the way her eyebrows scraped her hairline. “I figured you should probably know I completed that already. It was even a little bit challenging, but not enough.”
Seris’ brow furrowed in annoyance as I dropped the puzzle in her hands. She opened her mouth, clearly just about ready to retort with sothing to even the theoretical playing field—she hated losing in these things, after all—but I swept out of the room before she could, shutting the door with a pulse of telekinesis.
I could hear the Scythe’s exasperated sigh from behind the door with my enhanced hearing. That only made internally gloat even more.
“That was immature, Toren,” Aurora said, her robed form resting against a nearby pillar. Her clockwork relic fluttered around my head. “Trying so obviously to get the last word in.”
I snorted. She’s the one who tries to one-up with her puzzles, I said, feeling very proud of myself for my childish antics. I get to savor a win now and again.
Aurora rolled her eyes, before the Unseen World simred away.
My smile slowly slipped as I stared down at the papers in my hands, thoughts of the upcoming war and all that had changed filtering through.
Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, however, a familiar person stepped from the room behind . I raised a brow as I noted Cylrit’s impassive, armored form looming there.
I stared at him. He stared at .
Cylrit shifted uncertainly, struggling to maintain eye contact. “Thank you, Toren,” he finally said, his tone stiff as a board, “for allowing her to feel.”
Then he swept past , marching as if there were a dozen fire ants nipping at his heels. His boots clanked audibly as he practically fled the hallway, radiating quiet embarrassnt over his receding intent.
I blinked, subtly flabbergasted that Cylrit had hit with the exact petty trick I’d played on Seris a mont earlier. Aurora chortled over our bond.
“It seems Seris is not the only one that struggles to express their emotions,” she said. “How amusing.”
I looked down at the stack of papers in my hands, smiling softly despite all the chaos that pervaded my life. I needed to read these papers first, then I had a eting to attend.
—
The eting itself was a strange mirror of the first I’d attended with Seris’ captains as we sought a route to capture Burim. Now, however, there was a clear divide between Alacryan and dwarf at the eting table.
A central stone table ran the length of the cavernous eting room, which was carved into the deepest parts of the Divot. The table itself was interlaced with barely-glowing ore that made it seem like we were camped around a vein of fire salts. All I’d been able to hear for the past couple of hours was the clanking of tal gauntlets and talk of troop distribution and cavern skirmish tactics.
On one side, dwarves of all walks of life lobbied for effective routes into Vildorial, proposing and ironing out the final strategy of assault. At their head was Jotilda Shintstone, her long gray hair tied into a thick braid as her solid jaw barked suggestions and orders alike to her fellow dwarves.
Across from the dwarves at the long table were Seris’ captains, all accomplished mbers of the southernmost Dominion. Dromorth, with his thick arms and small glasses, gave inputs rarely. His ebony skin was covered in sweat from the overly warm room, and he was constantly wiping away his forehead with a towel. Captain Alyx–who apparently was one of the newer recruits to Seris’ retinue–had shaved his stringy beard and didn’t participate nearly as much in conversation.
In contrast to the two sides, Seris, Cylrit, and I stood at the head of the table. Seris herself lounged in a highbacked chair on a slightly raised podium, giving her a perfect angle to look down on all of the attendees.
It was a less-than-subtle proclamation about who truly held the power here.
Cylrit was a stalwart sentinel as ever, standing proud and regal at Seris’ right hand. Not a lock of hair was out of place on his head, and he observed the proceedings with a deliberately calm expression. Neither he nor his master interrupted the proceedings very often, though Seris made certain to occasionally remind her subjects of her presence.
And I stood at Seris’ left, listening intently to the conversations as they flowed around . With my enhanced sense of hearing and perception, I was able to absorb practically everything uttered around , processing it at heightened speed due to the mana circulating through my brain.
Truthfully, my input hadn’t been needed too much. The dwarven rebels and Alacryans had managed a surprisingly stable partnership as they hashed out plans to take Vildorial, though the more politically adept of the dwarves understandably viewed us with more caution.
Most of the input I’d presented had been as a way to diate slight disagreents between Alacryan and dwarven parties. With greater Alacryan presence in the city, the characteristic arrogance of many regarding their blood had begun to resurface, but a slight maneuver here and there allowed to tamp it down with precision.
“You have improved greatly in your political skills,” Aurora mused from the side, watching the proceedings with a calculating sunlit eye. “No longer must I elucidate the intricacies of every action to you.”
I’ve had a long ti to think of my political mistakes, I thought to my bond. It’s about ti I got my head in the ga.
It had been decided that Cylrit and Olfred would lead the vanguards toward the dwarven capital. We still didn’t have enough Alacryans to hold the city against a hostile force, but the dwarven rebellion had been picking up more and more heat as ti went on. Whispers that an Alacryan had freed Lance Olfred from his tethers to the asura while the Council had detained Councilor Rahdeas had spread like wildfire across Darv for the past couple months.
It truly shifted my perspective of the war. In original canon, Seris had been content to lounge about in the caverns of Darv, effectively twiddling her thumbs and allowing Agrona’s master plan to unfold. But as I watched Seris covertly shift her pieces across the great board of war, I recognized how lucky Dicathen had been that she’d restrained herself during original canon.
Jotilda Shintstone was currently hashing out the distribution of dwarven earth mages that she would use to assist an Alacryan strike force along the central avenue of the city.
“And I’m telling you, ya big oaf,” she said sharply, “that ya need at least three seismic sensors if you want to do this right with no complications. There are countless tunnels all around Darv, and ya need good dwarven hands on the ground sensing for others. An assault on the caverns will only serve to get rocks shoved up our arses if our enemies manage to tunnel in from behind.”
Captain Dromorth sighed—sothing I’d learned he had a tendency to do—before he took off his small spectacles. He rubbed at them with a cloth, clearing away the condensation from the humidity, before he slowly put them back on. “That is not what I am suggesting, Shintstone,” he said with restrained poise. “We plan to push the city from two fronts: a feint toward the teleportation gates, and a separate, undercover strike at the Council of Lords to unseat the leadership. But the second strike needs to be done with precision and as few people as possible. Three seismic sensors just ans three more points of failure.”
Jotilda huffed, crossing her arms and furrowing her blocky brows. She and Dromorth had sothing of a respect for each other. Jotilda, a begrudging kind while Dromorth sounded like a tired uncle every ti he spoke with the dwarven elder.
Aurora didn’t need to prod as I saw an opportunity. I leaned forward, subtly pressing into the air with my intent. I’d gotten even better at that recently, the complexity of emotion and experience I could convey astronomically higher with my white core abilities.
The attention of the table shifted to as I leaned forward. I made sure to et the eyes of both sides of the table, doing my best to convey my respect and intent. I set my hands on the table like sturdy posts as I naturally captured the attention of all present.
“Captain Dromorth raises a valid point,” I said slowly, nodding in respect to the dark-skinned man. “The second front is a stealth mission. There are contingencies in place in case that fails, of course, but the best case scenario is that it doesn’t.”
I turned to Jotilda next. “But Elder Shintstone is also right. You can’t afford to let yourself be surrounded or caught unawares, but there’s a fix to both of these,” I said, raising a hand. I pointed a finger at a figure shadowed at the far end of the hall.
As the attention of the room shifted to him, Olfred Warend stepped forward with a deliberately blank expression. We locked eyes, his intent roiling and uncertain beneath the fog of his mana.
“Olfred Warend is a white core mage,” I said. “Most people can’t even sense his mana signature due to the sheer difference in core level. He’ll also be able to find anyone well before they find him,” I continued, tapping my knuckles on the heavy stone table as I rattled off my points. “A logical appointnt, no?”
I knew Olfred had been itching to do sothing for the past few weeks. The poor dwarf had enough inner demons and turbulent questions for a lifeti, and waiting in Burim at Rahdeas’ bedside had only made those hellish questions fester like a wound.
Olfred’s brows creased as he opened his mouth, then he turned to a man just beside him. Rahdeas.
I felt sothing in shift in worry for a reason I couldn’t comprehend as Rahdeas’ hollow eyes stared through and past again. Like he was focusing on sothing he thought was there, but knew didn’t exist.
The dwarven elder had been invited to the council as a asure of respect, but he’d never raised a word of input. Everyone believed his mind to be broken and addled. For the dwarves, it served as a constant reminder of the Triunion’s failure. For Seris, he was a convenient tool to keep the dwarves in line.
But as the dwarf reached a single, aty hand into his pocket, I felt a subtle wrongness pervading my system. Rahdeas stepped forward, the council all watching him with a mix of pity, disgust, sympathy, and respect.
“Aye, I see the point you make, Toren Daen,” Rahdeas said. “I might even agree with it. But first… first, I want you to see sothing.”
My eyes flicked to the dwarven elder’s hand, goosebumps rising along the back of my neck for so reason I couldn’t discern. My instincts said that whatever he was hiding was dangerous, but I didn’t know why.
Rahdeas withdrew a simple envelope from his vest, before setting it on the table. ”Tell what you think, Spellsong,” he said distantly. “And I’ll approve Olfred’s appointnt.”
By this point, Seris had taken direct notice of our conversation. Her brows were furrowing in consternation as she stared down at the dwarf, and the subtle glance she gave told that she was willing to intervene if necessary.
No doubt she had that very sa sense as I. That sothing was wrong.
Rahdeas pushed the envelope, and it slid over the table with unnatural grace. Like a dancer moving across ice, it seed to carry its own sort of weight as it skated down the length of the twenty-foot table.
I stared down at the letter as it finally arrived in front of , and the pristine edges of the gray paper seed to drip with venom. The envelope was sealed with wax, but there was no stamp or signet ring marked at the center.
The entire room was silent as the letter sat like a solid stone before .
“Open the letter,” Rahdeas’ voice said, like a tempting devil on my shoulder. “The contents pertain to you and what you’ve done in this world since you arrived.”
I looked up at the dwarven elder, suddenly feeling a numbness spreading from the depths of my mana core. I stared hard into his eyes, trying to piece apart any sort of aning, to tear away any sort of mask he was wearing that shrouded his words.
After all, Rahdeas had known that Arthur was a reincarnate. He’d known Nico was a reincarnate. A treacherous thought word through my skull.
“Pertain to what you’ve done in this world since you arrived.”
Every other person at this table no doubt thought they knew what Rahdeas ant with his words. No doubt he was simply referencing how I’d co to Dicathen and started influencing the war. Things like saving Olfred Warend, snapping his tether to the Lance artifact, my duel with Arthur Leywin, and more.
But I saw sothing else in the subtle smile of the dwarf’s lips. A quiet knowing–the sa kind of smirk that addled madn had when they thought they knew sothing everyone else didn’t.
Seris leaned forward, no doubt catching what could be a hidden ssage as well. She opened her mouth, about to speak. But I cut her off, reaching out my arm. Trusting my judgnt, the Scythe instead turned her attention to the letter as well.
The letter felt heavier than it should’ve as I inspected the seal. Aurora’s guard was up as she hovered protectively near my back, her sunlit eyes burning holes into the paper. “You said that it would pertain to what I’ve done in this world,” I said seriously, my mana coiling beneath my skin. “Do you know the weight of those words, Rahdeas?”
Olfred stepped protectively in front of his foster father as he sensed my unease, but Rahdeas simply chuckled. “Weight. A funny term, Spellsong. Read the letter. It has everything you need.”
I flicked open the seal, breaking it with ease, before I pulled the contents from the letter.
And my face imdiately drained of color as I saw what was inside. Half a dozen pictures of different scenes of carnage and brutality presented themselves in a macabre display. Bodies upon bodies upon bodies were layered like bricks in a foundation of flesh. Piles of corpses were stacked like grueso monunts to the mocking sky.
Each image showed a different massacre. There must have been thousands of them. Thousands of people torn apart, then thrust into broken pyramids of death and decay. Red subsud everything in the photos, and I could almost sll the stench of death through the ink. Waterfalls of blood stread down in slow rivulets as each body relinquished their hold on the mortal plane. The recording artifact itself seed to struggle to capture it all.
I swapped between each picture with a frenzied pace, my fingers wanting to shake. All the outside world fell away to the confused and worried murmuring of the council. Seris’ prods to get to speak didn’t register. My own bond’s increasing horror and disgust washed past my head.
On each of the photos were simple scribbles. North of Mirror Lake. 5,753 dead. Another photo. West of Greengate. 6,413 dead. Another photo. East of Kalberk Forest. 3,874 dead.
I cycled through the half-dozen photos in a near-trembling horror as the implications reached . People had been massacred. Citizens. n, won, children. Torn apart as if they were cattle, and–
The final paper wasn’t a photo, but a note. And as my eyes caught on each of the letters, my leash on my intent finally broke. Power finally billowed out from , causing the air to ripple and warp. Distantly, I was aware that people were grasping at their throats and crying out in horror as they struggled to breathe.
But I didn’t care. And in turn with my outflow of emotions, Aurora felt a swell of astonishnt, surprise, and uncertainty.
There was a single line, written in bold and graceful font. It rebounded through my skull like a gong, the words echoing in my mind.
Behold the outco of ddling with ti.
And beneath it was a diagram: a phoenix feather that seed to glow despite the dark ink as it burned through my skull, and an M.
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