Discordant Note | The Beginning After the End SI

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Toren Daen

Aurora wept for a long time. Her fire-glint tears singed my already decimated robes, mixing with the blood as the embers were washed away. I held her close, staring off into the distance as I acted as the anchor I was.

But as poignant as this moment was, it couldn’t last. Not here in this forest, where danger still reigned. I gently pushed the shade away, massaging her shoulders as I looked her in her broken eyes. My hands trembled as I looked at those soul-scars.

Burned, I thought angrily. Burned from trying to hold her son.

“I can’t stay here, Aurora,” I said quietly, dreadfully aware of my surroundings. “I know you need me, but it needs to wait until we’re safe.”

My bond’s tired, broken eyes washed over me, noting my exhaustion and wounds. She opened her mouth to say something, but paused when I opened my mind.

Aurora and I never shared memories. We shared everything else: thoughts, emotions, fears, desires, loves. But memories were always the sacred boundary that we never crossed. We’d both experienced far, far too much to risk those.

But after our banishment from the Hearth, I’d realized something crucial. We were all we had. My illusions of family and belonging in that other place fell like dust through my grasping fingers, and all I had left was my bond. The woman who would never see the skies again.

She alone joined me in my banishment. She alone took the steps she needed to, even as it pierced her very soul.

As I moved through the forest, I allowed my memories of the past week or so to flicker across our bond in snippets. I showed her the aftermath of the Breaking. She saw Lusul playing his violin for his lover, then how I’d discovered Nico and Cadell’s presence on this continent.

I didn’t show her my full fight with Seris. I wouldn’t show anyone else that. But from the slow trickle of my memories and emotions, I knew she could put together the pieces.

I was already moving, slipping through the trees as I wove my way toward Cylrit. The forest was unnaturally quiet in a way that sent shivers down my spine. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I waited for the snap of a branch or the whisper of a breath that might tell me Windsom was still watching, waiting to tear out my throat.

My bond took solace in my memories as I moved closer to my destination. I could feel it over our tethered souls. Every moment she spent thinking about my fight with Taci and conversations with Rinia and Sylvie was a moment she wasn’t overwhelmed with how alone and directionless she felt.

I gritted my teeth as I brushed against those pained undertones. I understood them far, far too well.

Keep your focus forward, Toren, I told myself. Always forward.

When my bond finally processed all the memories I’d sent her way, she remained silent. Her shade hovered at my side like a haunting ghost, her gaze distant as I flitted from tree to tree. She kept her emotions sheltered and shaded as she worked to process it all.

“You emerged victorious over an asura,” she said eventually, turning to look at me with her hollow eyes. I caught a glimmer of subdued pride there as she tried to create a mask of what should be. “I am proud of you, my son.”

My son. Those words flowed through my mind like cool spring water, soothing a terror I hadn’t known had been festering.

I’d borne a nameless fear. A worry and terror so deep and great that I hadn’t been able to grant it shape, so I’d kept it formless and indistinct in my subconscious. But as Aurora said those words—as she meant them—I stuttered to a stop for a moment, pressing my hand against a nearby tree for support.

She still calls me her son, I repeated to myself, uncaring that she could hear my thoughts. She still calls me her son.

I hadn’t realized until precisely this moment that I’d dreaded how our relationship would change in the wake of the Breaking of Burim. Chul had arrived in a storm of fire and vengeance, tearing apart the one place I had left to return to. He’d driven Inversion deep into Seris’ heart, wounding her nearly beyond reconciliation. And when we’d fought… When we’d fought, thousands had died.

“Toren,” Aurora said softly, drifting closer as she sensed my inner turmoil, “even if we aren’t… Even if we aren’t Asclepius anymore, you are still my son. That won’t ever change.”

I squeezed my eyes shut hard, inhaling and exhaling softly. I’d lost so many points of stability in just a single week—both of us had—that the single acknowledgment that we were still there for each other gave me strength that I’d been lacking for too long.

Aurora wrapped me in an embrace as I took a few seconds to internalize it all. I hugged her back, my emotions swirling like an ink drop in a glass of clear water. My fingers clenched around her martial robes as I sagged into her warmth, finally able to be weak.

The phoenix ran her fingers through my wet, bloodstained hair, taking just as much solace in the action. Just as my emotions unraveled, so too did hers. She doubted herself. She doubted every aspect of her identity.

She was a fighter and a warrior. She was Asclepius. She was a mother. But every single one of those foundational realities had been slowly stripped away from her. This phoenix ghost was the pinnacle of martial prowess in her lifetime, always seeking perfection in the way of battle. Her fire had burnt strong as she sang to the tune of battle.

But that had been taken from her. It was stripped by Agrona as she was lashed to a wall. And there, she was forced into a different kind of battle every single day as her will was tested. Her will to protect her Clan.

And then she had been banished. The very people she’d endured countless centuries of caged torture to protect could no longer be called her family. They were unwilling to protect themselves and risk their fear, so she sacrificed the very building blocks of their connection to do so.

And when she’d resolved herself to all of this, her two sons had nearly slain each other in a battle-induced blood fury. Warrior, Asclepius, Mother. They all felt so fragile.

I buried my soaked head into Lady Dawn’s shoulders, feeling like a young child again as I sought her warmth. Scarred and seared as her soul was, I still could almost imagine the rainwater entrenched in my clothes evaporating from her care.

You never failed in being my mother, I thought tiredly, as much to myself as it was to her. You never did.

I still relied on Lady Dawn so much. In a world that seemed to make it harder and harder for me to find my place of belonging, this phoenix accepted me with open arms, even when I hurt her and was wounded in turn.

Finally, I pushed myself away, sniffling slightly. I worked my jaw, sensing where the absent threads of Aurora’s thoughts had drifted to.

“When we return to Seris, I’ll have a talk with her,” I said quietly, able to suppress the burning disdain I felt this time. “We’ll figure all of this out.”

Aurora no doubt sensed the burning hatred and anger I’d been keeping locked and caged away whenever I thought of her other son. Even as she absorbed my memories, she hadn’t addressed or drawn attention to each flare of that pyre of pain and agony. Because as what I’d seen and witnessed drifted across our bond, she’d watched the devastation and death Chul had brought to Burim.

She couldn’t dismiss the depth of my hurt and pain. I couldn’t wash away the misery and death toll of thousands of broken families.

“We’ll talk with Chul,” I said solemnly, feeling relieved by the hope in my bond’s eyes. “We can be okay.”

—

I found Cylrit amidst a few mana beast corpses, leaning on his massive sword. He looked utterly and completely exhausted, and more than a little annoyed. His prisoner’s linens were soaked entirely to the bone with water, and he shivered slightly whenever the wind whistled like a haunting flute through the leaves.

The image of him like this clashed so deeply with my regular perception that I couldn’t help but chuckle aloud. While I imagined I looked like a drenched bird with feathers matted to my wings, all I could see in the poor Retainer was a loyal German Shepherd left out for too long in the rain. His dark hair clung to his scalp, and his shirt was torn in half a dozen places. Thankfully, he didn’t look injured.

The Retainer turned slightly, a deep frown on his face. His intent radiated weakly, professing his annoyance at being left alone for so long. “You took your time to arrive, Spellsong,” he started, squinting through the darkness. “If you were here when you had promised…”

Then Cylrit took in my appearance. I was missing a boot from where Taci had cut off my foot, had a clear hole in my tunic where I’d been pierced through the stomach and spine, and had half a dozen more burn marks. There was as much blood caking my once-dark clothing as there was water.

The dark-haired, utterly loyal man immediately straightened, pulling his greatsword close as his eyes widened. “The asura,” he said sharply, “are they in pursuit?”

“No,” I said, feeling a twitch of annoyance at the mention of Taci. “They’re not a problem right now.”

I’d failed to rescue Mawar from her imprisonment, though, which made me clench my teeth in regret. I could only hope that Sylvie would still be open to the exchange of my healing Virion Eralith for Melzri’s Retainer.

I pulled out Aurora’s relic as I approached the Retainer, chancing a glance at the stars. Judging from the positions of the Basilisk’s Tail and the Lightning Spell constellations, I’d wager we were along the northern reaches of the Beast Glades, not too far from the Elshire Forest.

“They’re not a problem?” Cylrit echoed, blinking water from his eyes. “Did you lose them in pursuit?”

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I sighed in exasperation. “No. They were spared my blade, and I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t like losing my prey.”

Cylrit’s blood-red eyes traced over me as if he were seeing me for the first time. His jaw slowly went slack. “They were… spared your blade? Your… your prey?”

“The hypocritical bastards from Epheotus intervened before I could separate Taci’s head from his shoulders,” I said with a grunt, laying out Aurora’s relic. My bond quietly complied with my request, engaging her Vessel Form. It rose slowly beneath the cover of the canopy, stretching up to a majestic height.

I gnashed my teeth as I locked eyes with Aurora’s relic, a mutual sorrow passing through our bond.

Because her Vessel Form was tarnished. Every plate of once-magnificent brass was torn through like molten slag as it bled dawnlight. The ridges of her bronze wings—once so beautiful and majestic in their sunlit glint—drooped from lingering heat. The machine’s clicking whirr no longer sounded like the well-oiled shift of gears and perfect machinery working to an Unseen tune. Now, each beat and hum from within her bronze Vessel sounded like a watch clicking out of tune. Every pulse of my heartbeat elicited a stuttered stitch from the depths of the once-wonderful creation.

The relic wasn’t damaged any longer. Aurora and I both knew that. But the wounds on her soul cascaded outward in every form she could take.

I stood transfixed in mute sorrow as I stared at the devastated relic. I remembered how Aurora had thanked me for letting her soar again, and I wondered if that paltry balm had been taken from her, too.

A sturdy hand on my shoulder tore me from my reverie. I turned my head slowly, taking in Cylrit’s disheveled, wide eyes. “You fought an asura,” he said, his breath coming up short. “It is… impossible. But you do not lie. But neither can it be true.”

I snorted in mirth at the Retainer’s baffled expression. “It’s not the first time I’ve fought an asura in the past couple of weeks,” I said darkly, staring back at the relic as the plan for how we would return to Seris cemented in my head. My intent radiated in a subtle heat that I failed to restrain as I tried to contain the burgeoning hatred I kept locked away.

A bead of sweat trailed down Cylrit’s face as Aurora’s large Vessel turned away from me in quiet shame and sadness. “Chul Asclepius,” he said in a deathly whisper.

I ground my teeth, shoving away images of the young phoenix’s burning eyes as my bond with Aurora burned. “We’re going to need to be fast, Cylrit,” I said, trying to divert the topic. “Aurora’s Vessel Form can carry us as we recover our strength. Seris’ current camp is midway along Darv’s northern border just south of Carn, but there’s a high chance we’ll be intercepted or attacked on the way.”

Cylrit was quiet for a moment as his head shifted from me to Aurora and back. He no doubt sensed the tension between us as the topic of her other son simmered in the air like a live wire.

“Spellsong,” Cylrit said slowly, ignoring my attempt to change the subject, “during my parlay with King Leywin, I had almost swayed Lady Dawn’s son to our side when he intervened in the middle.” The Retainer nodded respectfully as Aurora’s Vessel form oriented on him, her massive, shadowed bulk silently imploring. “We were close to an agreement of peace where the warrior would speak with you and Master Seris. I told him of your bond, and how I had spoken with Lady Dawn. But we were betrayed.”

Fires popped around the ground inadvertently as my magic slipped past my control. But I couldn’t ignore the utter seriousness in Cylrit’s intent as his hand clasped my shoulder. “Did King Leywin double-cross you?” I asked, fearing the answer. If Arthur had truly fallen down the pit of Grey…

Cylrit shook his head insistently. “Seris needs to know, Toren. It is imperative. We were intercepted by a team of Wraiths.”

My blood froze in my veins as the Retainer’s words washed over me like a cloying graveyard mist. All the warmth I’d managed to cobble together earlier was slowly torn from me like air being drawn from my lungs.

Wraiths. Agrona’s half-basilisk killing squads, named after an ancient asuran race. Each individual Wraith could match a Scythe in power, and together, they could kill gods. They were the pinnacle of Agrona’s genetic manipulation and experimentation. Alacrya’s specialized system of casters, strikers, sentries, shields all led to these squads of godslayers.

And if they’d been trailing Chul…

That meant Agrona was aware of him, too.

“Did any survive?” I asked, my voice a cool whisper. An image of what must have occurred in that fateful meeting slowly filled the blank spots of my mind. I could see the ever-passionate and idiotic Chul, feeling betrayed by Cylrit and his promises, rushing off to Burim to reap his vengeance.

Cylrit slowly shook his head. “Godspell has grown powerful. He slew two of them himself with subtle assistance on my part. But there were only four present, not five.”

Which means that another is still out there, I thought, gnashing my teeth. A loose end.

It was too much to make sense of. Already, Windsom's dismissal of me as a potential route to the Hearth made alarm bells fire like gunshots in my mind. When I’d first arrived at the Hearth, Mordain had claimed he’d scared the loathsome dragon away from tracking me. But had he truly succeeded in his objective?

But now, the potential of Agrona’s half-blood armies added another shadow onto an already darkening fire.

No, I reasserted with gritted teeth. No. We have hope. It is not all dark.

“Chul is alive and contained,” I said, saying the last word like a curse. “But it’s clear that things are going to escalate. We need to get back to Seris to plan.”

I shrugged off Cylrit’s hand on my shoulder, withdrawing a communication artifact from my dimension ring. I exhaled a sigh, calming myself. One step forward after another. That was all I could do these days. The most important step I could take was the next one.

Then I sent a single message to my distant Scythe.

Part one complete. Failed to rescue Mawar. Cylrit is well. We’re coming back.

—

We were silent as we flew above the clouds. Cylrit was resting. This was no doubt the first time he’d had a good rest in ages considering how deeply he’d fallen into slumber atop Aurora’s back.

Aurora’s brass wings flapped, the sound like a stuttering thresher as she coasted along. We weren’t far off from dawn, considering we’d flown through the night these past few hours. I’d used the stars as my guide, but they were distant and quiet now. The peaks of the Grand Mountains—which we’d crossed not long ago—thrust like speartips through the clouds.

The wind whipped at my hair as I focused on using mana rotation, recovering my strength slowly but surely. The mana that usually flowed from Aurora’s feather was diverted to her relic, meaning it was taking far more time than usual to gather mana from the atmosphere. My core twinged with every movement.

Aurora flapped her wings again, keeping us aloft as we neared the northern battlefront of the war. Our bond was slightly muted, and I knew why.

Cylrit had just informed her that Agrona was aware of Chul. His half-asuran hit squad had already tried to kill him, and no doubt would again if given the chance. It was public knowledge that Scythe Seris had repelled the asura who had tried to kill her and break her position in Darv.

I hadn’t looked too deeply into it, but the rumors had spread amidst Burim and the Alacryans with fervor. With the assistance of Seris, I had felled a god and saw to their safety. Rumors abounded about what had happened to the attacker in the aftermath. Some said that I had killed him. Others said he had fled in fear of the Alacryans’ will. Still others whispered that he had been captured and shipped back to the High Sovereign for experimentation.

But I knew Chul was alive, and I knew Seris kept him imprisoned somewhere. After Lusul had played his song for his child and lover, he’d told me of the aftermath of the fight, where he’d worked to smuggle away Chul’s bleeding body and see him contained.

“He can’t stay there,” Aurora said, her voice melodic despite it all. “Agrona can’t have him.”

I opened my eyes, allowing my gaze to coast across the ever-expansive clouds like a ship over turbulent waters. Every crest and puff of water vapor was a wave for some mighty vessel to coast over in a display of human triumph.

“I know,” I said quietly.

I could never want that. Even the people I’d despised the most in this life: the Joans, Wolfrum Redwater, even Mardeth… I would never wish them to find their way to Taegrin Caelum’s dungeons. It was a fate that nobody deserved.

Aurora was silent for a beat longer. “And you cannot return to Alacrya.”

I didn’t respond for a while. The sun rose far in the east, casting her rays over the clouds like beams of hope.

“I know that, too.”

I had grown too powerful and too quickly. With Agrona’s focus so wholly on me, I couldn’t risk capture or experimentation. Even the protection of Scythe Seris only went so far. When I was regularly holding my own against asura—even weaker ones like Taci and Chul—I became something above even a Scythe’s paygrade.

When this war ended and Seris returned to her dominion, I couldn’t follow. Not until I was so powerful that my very presence acted as a deterrent to the threat of Wraiths and Sovereigns alike.

I shifted slightly, turning back to observe the sun as it rose over the horizon with a tired look. “I’m close to Integration,” I said musingly. “I can feel it in my core and in my body. And once I reach that next plateau, I suppose that Seris will try and prop me up as a symbol for her rebellion.”

By using mana rotation and the nigh-endless flow of Aurora’s mana through her feather, my core was accelerating towards that peak like a long-distance runner breaking a record. I’d only been in this world for a year and a half, and already I was close to the pinnacle.

It felt possible. If I could reach that peak of magic—where my entire body became my core and my magical potential became truly boundless—I imagined that I could truly be a threat to my enemies.

But until then, I couldn’t afford to put myself within Agrona’s clutches. And neither could Chul.

Was this what Arthur felt? I wondered, admiring the familiar glittering orange-purple light of dawn as it refracted through the clouds. When he had first formed his aether core and couldn’t afford to return to his loved ones for fear of his weakness, did he feel this tired understanding in his core?

But if I couldn’t return to Alacrya, where could I go? I was banished from the Hearth, and Epheotus would gladly mount my head on a pedestal and pass it around as a sign of victory.

I closed my eyes, bathing in the warmth of the dawn. I sighed at the comfortable embrace of that far-distant star. Always, it seems there is no true place for us, I thought to Aurora. But that just means we’ll have to make one, doesn’t it?

My bond didn’t respond except for a single, weary sigh of both relief and exhaustion. “You have grown strong, my young chick,” she said into the wind as she coasted on currents towards the west. “I wish… I wish for your confidence.”

“Seris told me that I’m a foolish, idiotic idealist,” I mused. “She was right. But I am what I am because of–”

My words cut off as something brushed against my senses. My hands clenched as the ambient mana fed me information. A split second later, Aurora sensed it too.

Many, many miles below, war was being waged. I couldn’t sense anything distinct, but the sheer scale of the many mages hurling their spells and fighting on a dozen small fronts was detectable even this high in the stratosphere.

We’d reached the northern front near Blackbend City, only a couple hundred miles from Seris’ camp around Carn. And as I sensed another dozen mana signatures quickly ascending through the sky toward our position, Aurora and I both realized we had a problem.

I looked inward, checking on my strained core. I was at about fifteen percent capacity, and in no shape for straight combat.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, sparing a look at Cylrit. He was even weaker than I was right now, and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself effectively.

A dozen thoughts passed between Aurora and me as the Dicathian mages and their beast bonds rose to meet us, but it didn’t take us long to settle on one.

The metallic phoenix dipped low, allowing the thick clouds to obscure us. Cylrit jerked awake from the sudden mist as it soaked him again. He blinked, looking blearily at me through eyes that desperately needed sleep and rest.

“Spellsong,” he muttered, “are we at our destination yet?”

I rolled my shoulders as I slowly stood, balancing perfectly on Aurora’s back despite the rise and fall of her body. “No,” I said seriously, flexing my heart. With a painful beat, Sonar Pulse radiated out in invisible weaves of sound magic, feeding me a three-dimensional image of what was coming. “We’re being ambushed by blade wing riders. Aurora is going to keep you in the clouds and perform evasive maneuvers while I draw their attention.”

The one thing that the Dicathians had over we Alacryans in war was air superiority. With their flying bonds, they had avenues of reconnaissance and attack that Alacrya lacked. That was something I’d failed to consider on my return to Seris.

“You will not fight alone. I will assist,” the stalwart Retainer said. Cylrit tried to struggle to his feet, but he fell back with a groan.

I spared a glance back at the dark-haired man as the water vapor swirled around me, brushing off my telekinetic shroud. “Get some rest, Cylrit,” I said seriously. “Seris is waiting for us both to return in one piece.”

I loped to the edge of Aurora’s wing, internally counting down the seconds as I waited for the mages to inch closer. They’d fanned out slightly as Aurora dipped into the clouds, no doubt expecting some sort of ambush or attempt at escape.

I tasted their intent, honed and deadly. These were elites. They knew the sky. Not as well as I, of course, but my recent fight with Taci Thyestes had proven something crucial to my arrogant mind.

Predators could just as easily become prey from overconfidence. I might be a master of the sky, but that didn’t mean I alone ruled these winds.

With that final acknowledgment of the danger, I fell forward, diving through the mists.