Discordant Note | The Beginning After the End SI

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Toren Daen

As the world rushed by me, I pulled my mana signature inward and measured my heartbeat. I doubted these mages had spotted us by our mana signatures in the first place, considering a massive metal bird in the sky was the sort of thing that garnered attention. But that meant that my upcoming attack wouldn’t be detected.

My breathing was calm and steady as I slowly picked up speed, the earth’s gravity pulling me lower and lower in her tyrannical clutches.

The terminal velocity of a person falling through the air averaged out to around one hundred and twenty miles per hour. If one made themselves more aerodynamic, then one might reach two hundred miles per hour as the wind whistled past their ears.

But as I used an application of sound magic to strip the wind resistance from my body, I felt myself begin to accelerate even faster by the second. Five seconds… Ten…

I sensed that the twelve riders had halted in a specific formation right below the clouds, fanning out in a maneuver that would have boxed Aurora and Cylrit in perfectly as they ascended. Furthermore, I got the vague impression they were… aiming something at the clouds from Sonar Pulse.

One silver core mage, the rest yellow core, I thought. This won’t be as simple as I first expected.

But that wouldn’t stop me. I thrust from the clouds like a bullet, trailing streams of mist as my eyes flashed. I immediately focused on the silver-core mage—a burly woman with short blonde hair and intent that radiated ferocity. Her bond—which looked like some sort of cross between a bird and a bat with long, razor-sharp wings—screeched as it tried to pull back.

She saw me too late as I emerged from the clouds like a reaper of souls. She swung her staff, a fifteen-foot tall tornado gyre of wind surging towards me in an attempt to intercept.

A wind mage, I thought, my focus narrowing. Then she’s more likely to survive what’s coming.

I shifted to the side, letting the tornado roar past me. This slowed my momentum, unfortunately, giving the other mages time to adjust on their massive avian mana beasts to face me. I saw the silver core wind mage aiming her staff again, half a hundred wind blades solidifying around her body and bond.

Her mistake. I engaged my regalia, reaching out with my mind as I pulled on her bond’s wings. The simple task of aiming suddenly became hellish as her beast lost control of its flight.

Her spells fired prematurely as she yelled in surprise and dismay, but I was already in front of her. The nameless rider’s brown eyes contracted into horrified pinpricks as I levered a shrouded dagger.

I didn’t slit her throat, but I could have. Instead, my blade parted the tether anchoring her to her bond’s saddle, searing through the leather like a scalpel through flesh.

And then I was past her and the attempted encirclement, falling again. I lashed out with my regalia once more, pulling on the rider as I passed by. I sensed with Sonar Pulse as she was ripped from the safety of her spiraling bond’s back, screaming in terror.

I swiveled in the air, allowing myself to fall back-first. Extremely mindful of my mana reserves, I considered my options as my long, golden-red hair flared around me like an inverted curtain.

The wind mage was struggling to reorient herself in the sky using bursts of magic, and I could tell that she’d eventually succeed. Though her intent was rife with fear, I could sense the underlying grit as she tried to adjust her fall.

Her bond, too, was wobbling in the sky as it screeched. Its eyes darted everywhere, but I could tell that it was focused on its falling rider.

It’s going to try and save her, I thought, my eyes flitting to the rest of the surprised mages on their bonds. I can expect the others to try as well.

I exhaled as I watched the other riders reorient on me, maneuvering their bonds into position for a dive. Mana gathered around them as they prepared attacks to snipe me out of the sky.

I wanted to remain nonlethal in this confrontation. But my reserves were a ticking timer as they depleted, I knew I couldn’t take any chances if I wanted to get Cylrit home safely. My resolve solidified.

I am sorry to both of you, both rider and beasts, I solemnly vowed within my mind. I wish it were otherwise.

Spells were already beginning to hurtle down towards me. Most of them were wind spells, like bullets and blades. There were a few water spells, too, conjured from the pervading clouds high above as a source. Some fireballs and wisps of heat trailed smoke, too, seeking to scorch me to cinders.

Thinking quickly, I reached out with my regalia once more, pulling on the falling silver core mage as she just managed to adjust herself. She rocketed towards me with a yell, hauled by a few telekinetic pulls. I could sense the panic of her comrades high above as she surged closer and closer to me.

When she reached me, however, I twisted in the sky, maneuvering so that my feet were planted over her sternum as I faced the clouds. Those spells were all about ready to envelop me in a pincer attack and destroy me completely and utterly. Wind, ice, fire, and water all sought my demise.

I bent my knees, building up power as I used the still-falling mage beneath me as a foothold.

Then I released a mindfire stamp, blurring upward as I conjured shrouded wings about myself. She was engulfed in an eruption of fire and force as she shot downward in a smoking trail, and I knew not if she still lived.

I threaded the needle of the volley of spells by the skin of my teeth, tearing through the sky as my crystalline shroud flared. Half a dozen feathers of solid energy separated from my wings as I rose, darting off after the scattering mages and their beast bonds. Each of them hummed with contained fire and vibrating sound as they streaked for their targets.

Three found their mark. One man tried to direct his beast to dodge and spin out of the way, but couldn’t react when the feather abruptly shifted in the sky, performing a hairpin turn and sinking into the soft flesh beneath his bond’s armored plates. Another hastily tried to conjure a panel of ice, but too late for any sort of impact. The feather dove into his chest as it ignored his mana barrier, sinking deep as he coughed blood. And the other caught the rider entirely unaware in the flank, the glint of the morning sun blinding him from the attack.

I clenched my fist, and all six feathers detonated.

The three unlucky mages who had felt the tear of my shrouded feathers didn’t even have the chance to scream. Waves of fire and light blocked out the light of the rising sun as the sound tore through the sky.

The other three of my feathers exploded midair, tearing apart a few errant spells that were rushing towards me. The oscillating vibrations of sound magic tore at the balance of the other flying beasts, making them stutter and fall with terrified screeches.

I rose higher into the sky, gnashing my teeth as my heart clenched painfully. When I reached the apex of my arc, hovering above the rest of the disoriented riders, I thrust my wings out. They sparkled with reflected light as I slammed my intent into the ambient mana.

“Hear me, Dicathians!” I boomed, projecting my fury and anger into the air itself. “I am Spellsong, the White Flame of Fiachra!” I conjured a shrouded saber in my hands as the rest of the riders struggled to maintain their altitude under the weight of my intent. Sweat ran down my temple as I turned up my chin, floating like an angel of death. I stared down at the fools who tried to match me in the skies. “I give you a choice only this once: flee or die.”

Where at first there had been twelve riders, now there were only eight. In a simple exchange, I’d deprived this squad of a third of their numbers, including their most powerful mage. It was clear they were outmatched.

The best-case scenario was that I wouldn’t have to fight at all. Aurora flew within the clouds above, sheltered and hidden from these mages as she kept her distance.

I locked eyes with the man at the forefront of the aerial squad—a paunchy man with scars across his brow and a bald head—daring him with every inch of my intent. Though my reserves were low, there was no outcome where these soldiers fought me and lived.

The riders managed to pull their scattered numbers into a loose formation across from me, every one of them stinking of fear. I could taste the grief of many as they stared down in horror as the charred remains of their comrades continued to fall, becoming more and more indistinct as they fell toward the far-distant river forks below.

The mage at the front spoke up hesitantly, clearly doubting his words even as he said them. “We know of you, Spellsong,” he said, sweat beading on his brow as he fought under the waves of my power. “You have taken a high-profile prisoner from the heart of the castle. We cannot allow you to escape.”

My expression darkened as I registered this man’s words. So these men were ready to die trying to retrieve Cylrit? I should have expected the news to travel quickly of my flight from the castle.

I held my arms out to the side. Feathers separated from my shrouded wings, before elongating into massive lances. A dozen of them poised themselves around me in the sky under my command, fire flickering and sparking along their edges. My core clenched as I cycled more power in from the ambient mana.

The wind whistled past my ear, pulling at my hair. “You’ve made your choice,” I said solemnly, ready to fire my volley at these poor fools. “You should have fled.”

Then a spear impaled one of the flying beasts near the back. The blade wing screeched, blood trailing from a bloody wound in its chest as it desperately tried to ascend on wobbly wings. Scarlet droplets fell like rain.

My hands lowered slightly as I watched the blade wing and its rider struggle, a mute numbness spreading through my mind.

Because the spear that erupted from the creature’s chest wasn’t one of mine. No, it was of a dark, oily metal. Blood iron glinted dully in the morning dawn.

Another power was rising from far below, their intent furious and angry. Every pulse of their heartbeat pressed their unnatural rage into the sky. They were cloaked in a shroud of dark soulfire that ate away at everything that neared it.

The riders were trying to turn, trying to adjust to this new threat. But as a barrage of bloodiron spikes punched through wings, chests, and skulls in a hailstorm of hell, I knew it was too late.

I never had to fire another spell.

Scythe Nico Sever slammed into the disoriented blade wing riders like a comet of dark fury. Whenever the reincarnate swung his hands, hellfire trailed like a storm. Every clench of his fists made spikes of dark metal erupt from the shadows like spines from angry flesh.

I pulled my mana back into myself, dismissing the spears I’d conjured as I numbly watched the slaughter. That’s what it was, after all. Nothing the terrified Dicathians threw at Nico did anything. Their spells were subsumed by his Vritra-tainted fires, then hurled back at them.

Man and beast alike fell from the sky in pieces. Through it all, Nico’s intent raged.

Flittering motes of black fire lingered in the sky, drifting on the scent of blood. The Scythe of the Central Dominion stared at the last blade wing rider as they fell to a pointless death, his mouth curved downward in a sneer.

And his intent… It was like a caged beast. Every pulse of his heart showed more undertones of his lingering hatred. Black flames danced around his hands.

Then he turned in the sky, staring back at me. His eyes were hard and just as furious as his intent. Bags drooped under his eyes, indicating his utter lack of sleep. His dark hair was rough and unkempt, clinging to a head with skin that looked too pale. He heaved for breath, and I could not tell if the slaughter had sated the emptiness I felt yawning somewhere deep in his soul.

“Spellsong,” he said, his words harsh, “we need to go to the ground.”

I measured my next words as I considered my options. Killing Nico here wasn’t remotely on the table, even if I were at full strength. But that meant I couldn’t afford to start a fight. “Scythe Nico,” I said, feigning respect. “I’m currently on a mission for Scythe Seris. I’m afraid I can’t afford to–”

Nico scoffed, interrupting my words. “Seris has a message for you,” he said with an irritated frown. “And I have questions that need to be answered.”

Seris has a message for me?

If Seris wanted to send me information, she’d simply contact me with my communication artifact. Unless…

“Your nest-mate promised you a chance to put down this Anchor,” Aurora thought to me from high above. “She was given command of Nico’s position. If she wants to subtly give you information in regards to this…”

It would be like Seris, to have the victim of assassination deliver information about their demise. I couldn’t sense any deception from within Nico’s intent, either.

“We’ll follow you, Scythe Nico,” I said after a moment, coming to a decision. I could sense the reincarnate’s frayed patience. “Where is your camp?”

Nico waved a dismissive hand. “We’re at the westward bend. If we stay in the sky any longer, they’ll send more of those blade wing riders to intercept us. So let’s move.”

The Scythe began to drop, his intent utterly dismissive and hyper-focused. After a beat of hesitation, I allowed myself to follow.

Aurora’s Vessel Form descended from the clouds next, Cylrit in tow. Nico showed no surprise at the massive construct of bronze as it hovered close to me.

This could be a trap of some sort, I thought to my bond. I’m weak and exhausted right now. If Agrona wanted to pull some sort of double cross, now would be the perfect time.

The phoenix was silent for a few seconds as she processed the proposition. “Perhaps,” she said slowly. “But we both know it is unlikely. It is more probable that this is some sort of plot from Seris.”

As we descended towards the ground, I focused on the Scythe in front of me. As I stared at his open back, I found no little temptation seeping through my mind.

I was a silent killer; the stalker of the skies. If I wanted to, I could just… slit his throat. One quick slice and a flash of heartfire, and he’d be unable to heal. It would all be over.

Nico’s emotions were easy to sense. He projected a constant haze of anger and irritation into the sky that followed him like a raincloud, but it wasn’t natural. I could almost taste how each of his thoughts were pulled and molded by the spells laden deep in his core.

He wasn’t allowed to feel anything other than anger. He wasn’t given the chance to be anything more than a rabid dog.

That understanding dampened the temptation gripping my blood. Seris had promised me an opportunity to kill this man and prevent the descent of the Legacy. I would trust her to follow through.

My melancholic eyes traced across the approaching ground, scanning the massive battlefront. At this northeastern corner of Darv, the Sehz River traveled along the northern border before cutting southward, bordering the Grand Mountains. At that southward bend, two powerful tributaries emptied themselves into the southward Sehz.

I could see Alacryan fortifications all along the Darvish front. Steamboats loitered on the banks and platoons of mages darted about between tents, likely preparing for an assault. Every now and then, spells would hurtle from the Dicathian sides of the river, before being intercepted by panels of mana conjured by Shields. Alacryans would return fire with uncountable volleys of spells, but they never found purchase. Because…

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My eyes squinted as I noticed an anomaly on the Dicathian side of the river forks. Every stretch of land was heavily, heavily forested, far more than what seemed natural. And something was leaking and seeping through the leaves.

“Mist?” I muttered aloud, confused.

Nico evidently heard me. Dark fires sputtered around his clenched fists. “Tessia has been conjuring those damned trees at every junction, making progress across the river impossible,” he said. “The sentries are working on a system to pierce through it, but it’s taking too much time.”

I was grateful for the time I’d spent learning to hide my expressions and emotions, because Nico’s words hit me like a truck. Tessia was here? Across that river? And Nico was here. He was so close to her, so close to capturing her.

I knew that Seris had direct authority over Nico. She’d told me as much, and also promised me a shot to kill this Anchor. Her plots and schemes wove through the battlefields like snakes through the grass. The fact that the reincarnate was stationed directly across from Tessia didn’t feel like a coincidence.

And that meant it couldn’t be.

“Was Lance Silverthorn here when Seris assigned you to this front?” I asked, trying to get my thoughts in order. The dying thresher of Aurora’s wings made my nerves tingle slightly in anticipation as the ground grew closer and closer.

Nico clicked his tongue. “No, but it’s a good thing you’re here.” He turned to look at me over his shoulder, and his bloodshot eyes burrowed into mine. “Tessia is bound to Grey by that fucking Lance artifact. Grey thinks he can get away with taunting me with her on that border, so close but yet so far.”

The Scythe said the words with such vitriol that it almost burned me. “Agrona needs Tessia for his plans, but with those tethers connecting them, it’s become hellishly difficult. Like a cockroach, he keeps crawling his way into places he doesn’t belong.”

I exhaled a deep breath. Arthur appointed Tessia here after Nico was placed on the northern front? Is he insane? He’s directly risking the Legacy being reincarnated!

I was missing something. Arthur—king or not—wouldn’t do something so stupid. As we neared the ground, I considered what this new development meant. Arthur couldn’t be betting on the Lance tethers to protect Tessia from Agrona. That was foolish.

When we finally touched down on the southern end of the Darvish bank, I exhaled a weary sigh that contained every ounce of my questions. The sand sank beneath my weight, accepting me gratefully as the water lapped up in steady waves.

The Sehz was easily a mile wide at this bank, and the Dicathians had successfully boarded and blockaded the river from Alacryan crossing. Though the steamships not far away from us churned with waiting mages and the sounds of soldiers readying for combat, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the far banks.

The mist swirled and eddied, thrusting tendrils out across the water. That illusory vapor no doubt hid the enemy soldiers from detection, sight, and retribution. With how that magic coasted over every inch of the crossing, it made sense how the Triunion had managed to hold it against the spearpoint of our advance into Sapin.

Aurora touched down a bare moment later, her metal form creaking like a leaking steamer. Her thoughts were muted and contemplative as she lowered her head, allowing me to lift the nigh-comatose Cylrit from her neck. I held him as carefully as I could.

Nico’s attention—which had been so stalwartly and angrily focused on the far bank—shifted to the relic with a mote of hidden interest. His eyes traced over the ruined plates of soulmetal, something analytical noting ever edge and curve.

And I could feel it, deep within his core. The boy-Scythe wanted to ask questions. He wanted to inspect the massive automaton. A part of him desired to know how it worked, the engineer within intrigued and amazed by its existence.

But before the curiosity had a chance to take hold, something else rose instead. Like a great, smothering blanket, that same force that stretched his anger and fury rose with the subtlety of a venomous serpent in the grass.

I could sense in painfully real time as the spells Agrona had laid in Nico’s core sank their venom into his curiosity. That poison sifted low and deep into the near-bright emotion, slowly killing and tearing it apart. And instead of that insight into the world, it was replaced with wrathful hatred.

My earlier disdain and questions were overwhelmed for a moment as I stared at Nico, feeling an overwhelming sense of pity from deep within my mana core.

Nico didn’t notice my expression. As Agrona’s spell injected more wrath into his veins, he’d turned to glare once again across the far bank. Towards Tessia. Towards his goal.

“This is what Agrona does to people,” Lady Dawn whispered over our mental link. “This is what he does. He makes puppets of people, pulling them to his strings.”

I held the limp Cylrit in my arms as Aurora’s relic slowly phased away, shrinking back into its brooch form. As that bronze feather drifted towards me, I closed my eyes.

Everyone in this world is a victim of that wrathful serpent, I thought with a mote of resigned sorrow. Even Nico. Even him.

“You told me that Seris had a message for me,” I said, breaking the silent reverie. “What is it?”

Nico tore his gaze away from the far bank, looking at me with eyes fueled by dark fire. “I’m going to capture that elf,” he vowed, his aura churning around him. “And Grey thinks his little princess is safe because of those tethers. But she’s not. Because Seris told me that you could fix this problem, just like you did with Olfred.”

And then it began to sink into place, what Seris had planned.

I took a measured breath, hyper aware of Cylrit’s weak body in my arms. “I’ll have to talk personally with Seris about this,” I said, turning towards the camp a bit to the south. “But Cylrit and I need rest before we do anything.”

That much became clear once the Dicathians tried to intercept our flight. We’d be harried nearly every inch of the way if we tried to fly now, and Cylrit was painfully unconscious. We needed time to recover our strength before returning to Seris, and I wouldn’t continue with anything without her full input.

Instead, I felt a cold, clammy hand clutching my shoulder. “No,” Nico demanded, his voice like caustic acid. “You’re going to act as I command. We’re going to go across that river, and you’re going to break that tether.”

I turned, suppressing my anger as I met Nico’s demanding stare. Then I allowed my aura to unfurl, my patience worn thin.

Tired as I was, my intent wasn’t the cloying aura of a baleful sun. But still, the ambient mana reacted immediately to my intent. The weight of an angry star settled onto the reincarnate that had gripped my arm.

Nico’s face didn’t have color to drain from it, but his pupils still contracted into tiny pinpricks as my intent slammed into him. He stumbled backward, withdrawing his hand as spikes of metal thrust from the ground around him in automatic defense.

“Do you know what I have been doing these past couple of hours?” I asked, no little irritation lacing my voice as I struggled to keep my emotions under control.

The anxiety that had been electrifying every heartbeat and pulse of my thoughts since my mission to rescue Cylrit had erupted during my fight with Taci. But after that I’d been exhausted, tired, and pissed that my prey had gotten away. I wanted nothing more than a nice cup of coffee and a long nap.

Nico opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off. “Look. I’m exhausted and not far past backlash, Scythe Nico. And if you want me to free Tessia from that tether, then you need me to be at my full strength, because if I’m not at my best, then King Arthur can just activate the artifact restrictions anyway.”

Something about the similarities between Nico and my situation caused the agitation I’d been suppressing to overload. I wanted so much to just kill him and be done with it. If I did so, then so much suffering and death would be averted. So much more despair could be prevented. The Legacy wouldn’t descend.

I snapped my head to look in the far distance, observing the mist. If I tried, I was certain I’d be able to pierce the veil all the way to Tessia deep within. “You haven’t been subtle with your secrets. Your vendetta against Grey—Arthur, whatever the fuck you want to call him—will come to an end. But you need to be patient, because any wrong move can screw it all up. Your goal is standing right in front of you, but that just means you can’t act rashly.”

Nico’s expression darkened as I pulled back my intent. I could see the gears churning behind his eyes as he considered my words. For the first time, he took in my utterly devastated appearance, then the Retainer limp in my arms.

A silence stretched over us like thick sap as I restrained my anger. This war had stretched me so thin. Every single push and pull made me feel like taffy that was being drawn closer and closer to the breaking point.

And Nico’s throat was so close. One swipe with a heartfire blade…

Aurora’s thoughts along my own helped me settle slightly. I needed to remain calm.

Nico finally scoffed, then marched forward, clipping my shoulder as he stalked towards the camps. “Fine. Follow me. We’ll see you rested.”

—

Nico led me to a nondescript, out-of-the-way tent on the edges of our encampments, out of sight of the rest of the soldiers. Within, a simple cot rested near the center. A few tables held documents and books depicting old fairy tales from Alacrya.

The Scythe had stomped away in an irritated huff without giving me even another word, leaving me alone with Cylrit and Aurora.

The sound of distant battle and the intent and heartfire of dying men were a constant presence as I laid the Retainer out on the bed. Then I nearly collapsed as the events of the past few hours weighed back in on my shoulders.

With a tired hand, I withdrew a communication artifact from my dimension ring. A few subtle pulses sent another message to Seris.

Sorry to keep you waiting. At the Triple Fork, resting with Cylrit. Nico and Silverthorn both present.

Will be back soon.

I exhaled as I stowed the communication artifact back in my dimension ring, listening to the sound of my own breathing.

In, and out. In, and out. Slowly, I lowered myself to the soft grass, feeling how each individual blade bent beneath my weight. I adopted a lotus position, resting my hands on my knees. Across from me, Aurora had mirrored me, both of us enveloped in a mutual understanding.

“Our goal is near,” the phoenix said quietly. “It’s just within our grasp, my bond.”

I closed my eyes, breathing in the mana in the air. The ambient fire mana rushed through my mana veins like magma through a lavaduct, the energy eager to follow the command of a white core mage. The power trickled down my conduits, before being welcomed by my greedy core.

I felt the aches and pains of my body lessen slightly as I drew in power like a generator. The rhythm of my heart was slow and measured in my chest.

When I first came to this world, I made a bargain with you, I thought, the oath-chains on my arm tingling with the memory. I would stop the descent of the Legacy, and you’d grant me power.

I exhaled steam, immersed in the nexus of power that was my white core. Aurora had granted me power. She’d more than fulfilled her end of her vow. And soon…

“When I first took your oath, I called you Contractor,” my bond said quietly. “I did not think we would live to see our goals successful. I did not expect you to succeed.”

A mirthful smile stretched over my face as I recalled the first time I’d recognized this truth. When I first made my vow, I was so angry, I thought sadly. I was so embroiled in fury at Norgan’s death that I was willing to condemn to death a man I’d never met. I swore a vow on my soul to end someone who had committed no sin, purely based on the awful circumstances of their rebirth.

My bond’s thoughts slowly joined mine in their solemnity. “You were young then, my son. You were naive.”

Am I not still?

Aurora took a long time to respond. Long enough that I opened my eyes, observing her as something bittersweet seeped its way across our mental tether. Each emotion was tender in their poignancy, each pulse of her soul pained and wonderful.

Tears were falling from the phoenix’s eyes, each brimming with painful pride.

“You may yet be young, my son,” she said through a smile strong and brittle all at once. “But I have never seen someone grow into who they wish to be with such fervor. When we first made our contract, you only knew vengeance and a strange, naive hope for those whom you called your fellows. And now, you stand ready to make your own hearth in this world. We have lost so, so much… But you have gained just as much.”

Once upon a time, Aurora had lamented to me of my growth. I moved so quickly, felt so much. She’d found something wonderful in our bond and in being my mother, but it felt like it was falling through her feathers as I grew into my own person.

She felt the bittersweet emotion of watching a chick leave the nest.

I swallowed back the emotion in my chest, tears blurring the edges of my vision as my meditation was disrupted. I still feel just as foolish as the first time I earned your King’s Force, I said after a moment. I still need you so, so much, Aurora. I still make so many mistakes. I fall so much, and I don’t… I don’t know how I can pick myself up without you.

The phoenix shade chuckled lightly, shuffling forward. She wrapped me in a simple embrace, pressing her forehead to mine in a caring, motherly way as the world around me fell away.

Silence lingered between us for an indeterminate time as I let my emotions flow, acknowledging each and letting them go. Fear, passion, courage, hope… Each and every one, I knew intimately. Memories of all the other times I’d experienced these emotions flickered through my mindscape as I let myself feel.

When a dark aura approached at an irritated pace, it didn’t feel like an interruption. The angry storm of emotions and distant sounds of battle were just another part of our emotions.

But as Nico approached the edge of the tent, I allowed myself to look just a bit deeper. I drank in the dark power of his intent and let his desires coast along the surface of my thoughts like a ship.

The Scythe marched into our tent without a single care, each footfall a stomp as the spells inlaid deep in his core twisted and pulled on his emotions.

“Did Seris tell you anything yet?” the boy-Scythe demanded, his aura flaring as it slammed into me. “She will assign you here. Tess won’t be on that other bank forever. My only chance is slipping through my fingers!”

I opened my eyes, gazing up at the disheveled, dark-haired boy. And I really, truly inspected him.

There were dark, dark bags under his eyes that absorbed all the color in his face. His pupils seemed to be forced into a constant state of pinprick contraction as his mana fluctuated around him.

Here was another reincarnate. Alongside Arthur, he was the only otherworld being who belonged.

When I’d fought with Arthur and my resolve had wavered, I’d recognized that the Lance might be one of the only people who could understand me. After all, he was from Earth too, right? He knew of skyscrapers, coffee, and computers. The auburn-haired mage should’ve been able to recognize everything that I’d lost.

But that wasn’t true, was it? For all that Arthur was of some future, alternate Earth, he had been a warrior King. He was a man who had reached the highest of heights of the human body and mind, honing his political acumen and martial skills.

Grey might understand on some level, perhaps. But not on the most personal.

Something in my solemn gaze made the Scythe pause. His emotions—leashed like a slave to Agrona’s will—jumped with slight fear. “What is that look on your face, Spellsong?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes as he sensed some sort of threat, like a cornered animal. “You’re judging me, aren’t you? Just like all the others.”

I slowly shook my head. “No, I’m not,” I said honestly. “But I want to ask you a question.”

Nico scoffed. “The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth is–”

“When you’re done with all of this, what are you going to do?” Nico’s brow furrowed in anger at my interruption, but I ignored it. “When you’ve captured Lance Silverthorn, beaten Grey, and won this war, what do you want to do with your life?”

I imbued my words with every ounce of honesty I could muster from my soul. I leveraged every inkling of control I’d ever borne over my intent, projecting my question into the air. The ambient mana accepted my request with a childlike embrace, carrying it like a message in a bottle to the uncertain Scythe.

I could sense it. Even from deep underneath the spells that tore and mutilated Nico’s mind, something responded to my intent, rising like fresh springwater beneath cracked desert land.

But it wasn’t enough. Even though the Scythe stared down at me with something between confusion and contempt, strangely frozen in place, my question alone wasn’t enough to draw out an answer.

I sighed, looking down at my hands. Once upon a time, they flew across a keyboard, writing code and algorithms as I sought a lifelong dream. I’d found fulfillment and purpose in the creation of programs and computational wonders in my previous life. There was something about computers that called to me.

And Nico had been an engineer. I could imagine it, understand it. Veiled deep beneath the cage Agrona had placed his mind within, I sensed his burning curiosity for the unknown. I could almost taste the desire to know how the world worked and put machines into action. It was all there, too, a mirror to my own.

The only reincarnate who might understand me, I thought solemnly. Nico Sever.

“When this is all done, I don’t think I’ll need a place to call my own,” I said quietly, imagining the scene. “I can go anywhere in the world on my wings, traveling from sight to sight. There’s someone I want to be with me, too, but I don’t think they’d like that sort of life. They need a mountaintop villa and a place to look out over the sea. But you know… So long as my heart is full, that’s where I’ll be.”

I felt my gaze unfocus as I allowed myself to dream for a moment. Flying from Fiachra to Darv to the Hearth and back, playing my concerts along the way? That was such a beautiful life. The image of it made something inside me ache with such potent longing. “I could say a lot more, but it’s that vision… that idea… that makes it all worth it, don’t you think? Hasn’t your heart asked itself where it would feel at home?”

I gave Nico a slight smirk at that. I still sat in the lotus position, but I leaned backward on my hands in a more relaxed posture.

The Scythe was frowning down at me as if I were insane. He looked me up and down as if I were a strange sort of insect. “Did you hit your head when you came here, Spellsong?”

“Probably,” I answered with tired leisure. “Taci Thyestes hits hard. Something could be scrambled inside.”

The Scythe snorted in derisive amusement. “I don’t need to answer your questions,” he said defensively, his emotions struggling to react to my intent. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Then what makes it all worth it?” I asked simply. “Vengeance? You’ll have that soon. But there needs to be something after. You don’t answer to me, true. How do you answer to yourself?”

Nico’s face slowly turned red as his emotions fought each other in a cannibalistic scramble inside his skull. Anger was always there. It could never go away. But so, too, was fear. Courage. “So you presume to know me, Toren,” he hissed, lashing out in the face of my intent. Dark spikes of blood iron abruptly speared into the air around us, shearing through the tent’s roof as easily as a scalpel danced across flesh. “Once Grey grovels like a dog, I’ll be satisfied. That’s it.”

His intent centered on me like the core of a dark star, trying to compress and break me. But I acknowledged each emotion like a folded paper boat, before allowing them along the stream of my mind.

“I wiped out the Named Blood family that killed my brother,” I responded, unfazed by the Scythe’s attempt at puffing out his metaphorical plumage. “I killed them to a man. And vengeance soothed the balm of that loss. I don’t think Norgan would have wanted me to do that.”

Nico’s face screwed up into a demon’s visage as he tilted his chin higher. I could sense it all boiling within him, like a balloon ready to pop. Hope and courage clawed their way up along branches of determination and grit. Intellect and desire sculpted the ladder of his escape. Between the effects of my intent, the knowledge my eyes carried of his very soul, and the nearness of his final goal, each of his emotions slowly rose on that crafted ladder.

“I’m going to live my life,” he finally spat. “I’m going to have the life that was taken from me. From us. And nobody will ever hurt us again. Agrona will make sure of it.”

I closed my eyes as I sensed Nico’s emotions finally break free of his binding spell, all of them erupting like the lava from underground. They went everywhere, each splatter like multicolored paint across a red canvas. Wind like a hurricane rose around him, ripping at the tent and nearly making it fly away. Only a brush of my mana coating Cylrit behind me allowed him to remain asleep.

“That’s all I’ve worked for. I’m going to make the life that was taken from us. Cecil and I will be happy. It’s what we deserve. It’s what we need. It doesn’t matter what stands between us. I’m going to rip it from Grey’s cold, dead hands.” The Scythe heaved for breath above me, his hands rictus claws at his sides. “Does that make you happy, Spellsong? You’ve gotten your fucking answer.”

“It wasn’t just about being happy,” I responded after a moment, allowing it all to drift by and through me. “It’s about finding peace with our actions, and what we’ll do in the future: however unfair it may be.”

“Peace is a myth the strong tell the weak to keep them enslaved,” the Scythe bit out as he turned on his heels, utterly unaware of the irony of his statement. Agrona’s spell was already reasserting itself over Nico’s emotions, constraining and containing them. “Tell Seris that she only has this one chance while Tessia is here.”

The Scythe stalked from the tent, trailing little embers of soulfire and leaving me to my solemnity.