Discordant Note | The Beginning After the End SI-Chapter 288: Those Who Hold the World at Ransom

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Toren Daen

It had been a long time since I welcomed anything cold. My blood ran hot, and every pulse of my heart banished the chill of the world. But in the depths of a hot and humid summer, it was a novelty to feel anything other than warm.

But as the slow rain soaked my clothes and made my hair stick to my skin, I marveled at how paradoxically relaxing the cold was. It washed the blood from my face in a slow draw that made me sigh in exhausted relief.

As I walked, I could feel the grass beneath the sole of my right foot. Taci had cut it off at the very start of our fight, which had relieved me of my well-worn boot. The soil felt grounded and real beneath my bare skin. The scent of fresh rain mingled with the quiet solemnity of the Glades.

The forest was silent except for the pitter-patter of rain and my beleaguered footsteps. Every beast had fled in the wake of the cacophonous battle that had made the sky tremble. Even those who bore the mantle of S-class ran with their tails between their legs.

My heartbeat slowed as I found the first trace. A tree ten feet thick had shattered clean in two like a matchstick from some sort of impact. And as I loped forward, mana rotation slowly drawing energy towards my weary mana core, I saw more and more signs.

A furrow of dirt trailed on like a road to destiny. Drops of red blood mingled with the puddles of rainwater, the cleansing breath of the sky pushing away the scarlet. But the devastation couldn’t all be washed away by the rain.

Taci’s body had smashed through a few trees, before carving a trench in the earth. It had finally stopped once his back hit a boulder. A pool of red slowly spread around him, unbanished by the drizzle from on high. The hole in his stomach wept crimson openly, an injury that was bound to be fatal eventually.

But as the young asura raised his head to look at me, I tilted my head contemplatively.

His entire face was burned. His eyes—all six of them—had been destroyed by my last strike. But he was still awake. He was still conscious. An asura’s physique was absurd. The wounds on his body would have killed a normal man a dozen times over, but I could tell from the weak pulsing of his heartfire that he wouldn’t die for a time yet.

Lightning flashed overhead, bathing us in light for a split instant. The rainfall picked up.

Taci and I exchanged no words. We didn’t need to. As I slowly strode forward, a shrouded saber glimmering in my grip, we reached a quiet understanding.

Taci kept his intent leashed. Even as his death approached, he desperately refused to let me sense his emotions. His six arms—each blackened and burned—trembled at his side as he awaited the end.

Not from how weak they were, no: but from fear. My earlier sense of triumph and vindication sizzled away like drops of blood in the rain as I realized this. Taci was dangerous: a threat to every lesser in this world. But he was also a child, built and made to be a killer. He never got to choose his Fate, not like I did.

I arrived before the body of the broken god, staring down at him with solemn eyes. It is sad, in a way, I thought, raising my saber high. In two timelines, this boy dies to a mortal man for his loyalty to Kezess Indrath.

I exhaled, clenching my saber. Maybe, before the Breaking of Burim, I might have left this asura to die alone. But mercy for my enemies could not come at the expense of their victims—past or future.

I swung my blade, ready to relieve this dying pantheon of his head.

Instead, my body erupted in pain once more. I flew backward, lightning flashing overhead as something too fast for me to see cratered my ribs. My vision flickered in and out, before a tree welcomed my body like a clenched fist.

I grunted in pain, bones in my back breaking as wood fractured around me. Then I fell forward to the forest floor once more, coughing and sputtering as I tried to assess what had hit me.

Was it… Was it Taci? But I’d been certain he was incapacitated. He hadn’t even been able to move. I groaned, forcing my weary heart to pulse lifeforce across my wounds. Splinters of wood pushed themselves free of my flesh, the rain seeping into the injuries before they sealed over.

A disappointed sigh echoed out into the world. And the world trembled.

My body locked up at the King’s Force that gripped it. My heartbeat hammered in my chest over and over and over, my pulse accelerating in tune with rising realization. My mind told my body to run, to flee to the depths of a cave and never return.

The ambient mana gripped me. It stole my breath. It stole my courage. It tried to steal my hope.

I raised my head, trembling in fear at the intent that held me in its impossible grip.

A figure stood with their back to me, their dark, militaristic coat billowing in the wind. The rain tried to soak into their close-cropped, wheat-blonde hair, but every single element of this world ceased the moment it encroached on this being’s domain. Even the mud and water inched away from their boots, too afraid to sully such power. Their gloved hands were clasped behind their back as they ignored me, inspecting the bleeding body of Taci Thyestes.

“I expected better of a pantheon,” they mused, their tone disappointed and arrogant. “To fall to a lesser being is inexcusable as a servant of Epheotus. It seems your skills were… overstated to us.”

Then they turned to look at me, their upturned chin and intent crushing me back into the mud. Those eyes held galaxies in them. A captured supernova judged me worthless before their power.

Oftentimes, I could tell what kind of expression a person liked to wear simply from the lines of their features. Lines here and there would denote age and one’s tendencies. People who laughed often carried it in the folds of their features. Those who wept seemed to keep tear tracks along their face.

The being before me bore no such markings. I could not tell if they smiled. If they frowned. If they laughed or raged. Their face was an utter, empty canvas of consuming apathy.

Windsom Indrath, the personal messenger of Kezess Indrath, inspected me as if I were an interesting bug. “Where is Aurora Asclepius, lessuran?” he demanded, not moving.

My sluggish thoughts immediately darted to the phoenix wyrm pendant I’d stored back in my dimension ring. It would take a few seconds to activate, but—

I flew upward, my arms wrenched back painfully as some foreign magic stapled me to a nearby tree. Shackles of pure mana wrapped around my ankles and wrists, anchoring me to the wood. I didn’t think I could feel any more terror, but as those endless eyes peered through my chest and toward my core, panic arose within me once more.

“The treaty,” I wheezed. “Asura–”

“This war is already over,” Windsom replied to my weak protests, ignoring my words as he scrutinized me like a fly pinned to a wall. I revised my earlier assessment of his features. His eyes weren’t apathetic. They were filled with contempt. “You simply do not know it yet.”

Behind Windsom, another figure had appeared as if from thin air. Clad in pitch-black armor and bearing a long, white ponytail, Aldir Thyestes knelt over Taci’s body. The preeminent general of the Great Eight’s warrior race muttered something soft and quiet, his intent unreadable.

The dragon straightened out his gloves, sighing in annoyance as he straightened his fist into a knife-hand. He lined it up over my chest, his eyes inquisitive. “All the aether you stole is hoarded in your heart,” he contemplated. “It seems I must simply rip it out to end you.”

I snarled, unable to do much more than that. My mind raced with terror as I threaded my mana along my channels, hoping against hope as it inched toward my dimension ring. I needed to stall. I could get out of this. I refused to die.

“Do you think,” I wheezed, sensing the asura’s arrogance, “that Epheotus will stand?”

Windsom paused. Not in surprise, no. But I played to the one thing that this bastard had in abundance.

His pride.

“I have heard enough lessurans waxing poetic about the majesty of their Vritra overlords,” the dragon said dismissively through the thunderstorm. “If these are your last words, phoenix whelp, then they’re pitiful ones.”

His hand shifted from where it had been poised to rip out my heart, instead going for my throat. My pupils dilated as that gloved hand neared, the leather seeming to take up my entire view. But then he pulled my collar down, revealing a single mark.

The Brand of the Banished.

“Interesting,” Windsom said, his galaxy eyes narrowing. “It is a wonder that you can bear this mark at all. Is this why you taunt the Indraths?”

There, I thought, catching immediately on this possibility. Kezess doesn’t know where the Hearth is. They want to, though.

I would never sell out the Hearth to the Indraths. Banished I might have been, but they were still my family. Perhaps I had left them for a greater cause, but the loyalty that pulsed in my heart would never die.

“Mordain won’t let his sister fall into your hands,” I hissed, blood dribbling between my teeth. “You’ve miscalculated everything in this war, dragon.”

My mana reached my ring. If I wanted to try this, I only had a few seconds of opportunity. Take the bait, I internally begged. You need me alive. I’m your avenue to the Hearth.

Windsom seemed unfazed. Instead, he lined up his hand over my heart once more, shrugging off my taunts. “Your attempts to play for time are petty, lesser. If you thought I could not sense the mana flowing towards your ring, then you are even more prideful than I expected.”

His nostrils flared slightly as he prepared the finishing blow. “Too many mutts with mongrel blood exist. Your existence is a stain on the purity of the asuran races.”

My eyes widened as I tried to struggle, but nothing I did offered me any respite. Windsom drew back his arm like an arrow along a bowstring, a glint of pleasure flickering in his galaxy eyes. My heartbeat raced even faster, sweat running down my face.

When his hand sinks in, can I steal his lifeforce? I wondered, my mind racing for possibilities. I could kill him, too—

Something burned the space between Windsom and me. A dark curtain of licking black flames blocked my sight. It raced onward, howling silently as it separated us like a curtain. My eyes widened as I sensed the familiar mana signature.

The dragon stepped backward, his eyes narrowing as the edges of his lip twitched with annoyance. The edges of his glove had been ever-so-slightly singed by the flames, and little specks of soulfire lingered there. He clenched his hands shut, washing away the energy with ease.

Those black flames twisted midair, then separated into four distinct parts. I watched with just as much surprise as Windsom as those tongues of fire latched onto the shackles of pure mana around my wrists and ankles, cannibalizing them and tearing them apart. I fell to the mud with a wet flop, utterly confused.

A figure stepped from the shadows far away. Like an ill omen, darkness swirled around every inch of their body. Her horns absorbed the light like a black hole, making them seem even darker than night. The dress she wore rose and fell on soft breaths of air, and their outstretched fingers still flickered with hellfire.

For a moment, my exhausted mind wondered if Seris had intervened to save my life. Yet she was supposed to be on the north-central front of the war, not here in the Beast Glades. She was over a thousand miles away from here.

But as my savior stepped fully from the shadows, I realized something even more bizarre.

Sylvie Indrath bared her teeth at Windsom, her body tense and her intent quietly furious. The despair that had wrapped her like a shroud had burned like kindling, fueling something greater.

“Step away from Spellsong, Windsom,” the young dragon ordered, her amber eyes glinting in the darkness as she called on her magic. “I command it.”

Windsom slowly lowered his hand, his intent straining with respect and irritation. “Lady Sylvie,” he said, “this man is a dangerous enemy. It would be in your best interest if—”

“Don’t talk down to me, Windsom,” Arthur’s bond countered, marching forward. Unlike Windsom and Aldir, the rain clung to her. It soaked her hair and streamed down her horns. Her scaled dress reflected the droplets darkly. “I know what he is.”

Sylvie put herself between me and Windsom, forcing the dragon to take a few measured steps back. I could see his jaw flexing with annoyance.

“I’ve been fighting a war these past few months, Lord Windsom. I know what I am doing.”

My eyes drifted to Sylvie’s clenched hands as the young woman placed herself between me and the asura who had come to take my life. But the only question I could ask myself was why. Why was she risking herself like this? Why was she sparing me?

Her hands trembled slightly, just like Taci’s had mere moments ago. Because underneath the masks of resolution and determination, her intent smelt of fear.

Windsom restrained a sigh. Thunder crashed overhead. “You are wise and worthy of all respect, Lady Sylvie,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, “but you have only fought in this war for months. The appointed dragons of your grandfather have seen millennia of combat. It would be wisest to adhere to our expertise.”

His eyes flicked to me, then to the phoenix wyrm pendant that I clutched in my hand. I held my breath, watching this interaction with rapturous attention.

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“Maybe I would,” Sylvie said quietly, her shoulders slumping. Her head dipped. “Maybe I would, Lord Windsom. But you don’t care about this war. My grandfather doesn’t even care about this war.”

Windsom frowned, his blonde brow creasing like a perfect sculpture. “Lady Sylvie, I assure you that Lord Indrath’s highest priorities are on this war with the Vritra. They are a threat to everything our society holds sacred. You know this. And the lessuran behind you is proof of it.”

Mana hummed into existence along Windsom’s palm, startling in its silver purity. The world rumbled as his King’s Force radiated outward again, seeking to crush my body and steal the breath from my lungs. “Which is why it must be killed, before it can taint everything in Epheotus. That is the truth, Lady Sylvie. You must step aside.”

Sylvie’s head rose, her intent solidifying. “No,” she said quietly. “Everything you say only proves me right. You don’t care.”

“Lady Sylvie–”

“I order you to be silent!” the young dragon yelled, her voice coming out half a roar. “You say you have been fighting this war with the Vritra for centuries, but you care nothing for what passes in your wake.”

Arthur’s bond stepped forward, her aura flaring with soulfire. “When I was on the ground of this war, I saw all the devastation that my father trailed behind him. Every massacre. Every battle. I was here. And then you tried to assault Taegrin Caelum again!”

Windsom’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t open his mouth. After all, the Lady of the Indraths had commanded him to be silent. But I could see the desire to speak waging war with his pride deep within.

“When you found the opportunity to help us again—when the lessuran behind us entered, trying to make this war better for us all—you didn’t send us generals or troops or men who could train the Dicathian resistance.” Sylvie thrust a furious finger at where Taci lay, Aldir still kneeling over him. “You sent a child who would see every life burnt away in a crimson tide. You didn’t send help. You sent an untrained whelp to see them all die.”

Windsom took a deep breath. “You are acting emotionally right now, Lady Sylvie,” he tried. “Taci Thyestes was assigned to this war to gain experience in combat and leadership, something he clearly failed at. But it was a logical decision for the war effort.”

“For the asura,” Sylvie countered simply, staring up at Windsom with defiance. “But not those we are supposed to protect. It was never about them. This entire stance of Epheotus assisting Dicathen was all a façade. Because you expected us to lose from the start.”

Some sort of understanding flashed in Windsom’s eyes, his intent pausing. He didn’t respond to Sylvie’s quiet accusation for a time, mulling over his words as he faced the heir to his clan. “I see,” he muttered, his voice neutral. “I have forgotten that you are still… young. Raised among the lessers as you have been, you lack perspective.”

Sylvie’s hands clenched, rainwater seeping between them. “I’m young,” she agreed. “But I can see what’s happening. My father and grandfather… They treat them the same. It’s all just a game.”

In that instant, I realized that I had never seen Windsom angry before. When he’d slammed me against the tree and prepared to end my life, he’d been disappointed. Maybe a little irritated.

But as Windsom’s intent unfurled like great, black wings that enshrouded the Glades, I knew his fury. “I have weathered your disrespect, Lady Sylvie, for you are the scion of the Indrath Clan,” he said, his tone churning with a thousand promises of retribution. “But that does not grant you immunity to insult our lord.”

My heartbeat skipped over itself as I hastily began to funnel mana along my hands, but the flow was slow. I was too weak, too tired to act with the speed I needed. I shuddered, only my intimate understanding of intent keeping me conscious.

Sylvie took a step back, settling into a defiant stance as she trembled like a leaf in the wind. Her determination and intent shrouded her like an aura, keeping her on her feet as the messenger of Kezess Indrath professed his displeasure. It raged like the storm above us, and I knew this being before us could snap us like mere twigs.

Can I take Sylvie with me if I activate this pendant? I wondered worriedly. Will Windsom actually attack her? It must be a bluff.

“It does not matter,” a simple, even voice said, devoid of inflection or intent of any kind.

Windsom's intent froze as he turned, annoyed eyes looking toward a sole figure.

Back near the boulder, Aldir Thyestes had used some sort of magic on Taci’s body. His heartbeat had evened out, and there was some sort of preliminary mana stitching over his gut wound. But still, the injuries I’d given him with my lifeforce bled.

Aldir scooped his arms underneath Taci, cradling him gently. The blood that flowed from the young boy’s wounds, unlike the rain, stained the general’s pristine, black armor.

He slowly rose, seeming apart from the world. I was reminded of how Taci’s intent vanished under the use of Mirage Walk, but this… This was even more primordial. The pantheon General was a void to my senses. I couldn’t feel his mana. I couldn’t feel his heartbeat. I couldn’t even hear him breathe. I could hear Windsom’s heartbeat and breath, but not Aldir's.

“We need to move with haste, Lord Windsom,” he said without inflection, his third eye focusing on the dragon. “Without the attention of your clan’s healers, he will die. We do not have much time.”

Windsom ground his teeth. “You would have us leave the one who did this, then? Have you lost your sense for war, old friend?”

Aldir’s eye flicked to me. I stared into it, my body locking up as I lost myself in the expanse of violet. I felt myself drown in how vast it was. It was bigger than anything I’d ever seen. Vast enough to watch this world from far above, judging and understanding it all.

My world was subsumed by the single, violet dot as it peeled me apart. It flayed back the layers of what I was one meticulous piece at a time, inspecting each and judging them back to back. Time didn’t pass in that inexorable moment. Skin, muscle, bone, mana, mind, soul.

A sea of blood rose and seared in the back of my skull, backlit by an expanse of neverending stars. The Brand of the Banished burned on my neck.

And then Aldir’s casual gaze passed over, returning to Windsom.

I fell to my knees, gasping as the rain washed away the sweat all across my face. My heart frantically remembered to beat, pumping blood and nutrients across my veins. My hand clenched my chest, digging in and drawing blood.

My heart forgot to beat, I thought, blinking as I tried to pull myself together. My soul burned. I almost…

I remembered the last time I had faced this General’s eye. When I’d snapped the tethers of the Lance artifacts, I had earned his attention. And that single look from a literal dimension away, way back when, had nearly killed me.

It was humbling to remember that I was still weak.

Sylvie had turned around. She was saying something, aether and soulfire rushing across her fingers as she sought to heal wounds that didn’t exist.

“My blade is sharp as ever, Lord Windsom,” he said evenly. “But Toren Daen will die no matter what as this lesser war draws to a close. Ending him now or at a later date matters not.” Especially if you risk alienating your heir, went unsaid. “The priority is my pupil.”

Windsom sighed, turning around and showing us his back. “Very well.” His annoyed eyes passed over me again. “Taci was a disappointment. You know our lord will demand much for this favor. He was already graced with too many honors in being placed here.”

“Taci was no disappointment,” Aldir disagreed in an even tone. “His quarry exceeded expectations. It will not happen again, and Clan Thyestes will pay Lord Indrath’s price for his safety.”

Sylvie’s amber eyes were worried as they found no wounds to heal. She opened her mouth to speak, but Windsom had a few parting words before we were finally left in peace.

“Our mission today was originally to slay the student of the Lost Prince for disseminating lies and deceit amidst Dicathian ranks,” he said simply. “Though events of greater magnitude diverted our course, it is clear that those insidious words have sunk deeper than they should have.”

I shuddered as Windsom’s baleful gaze honed in on both of us. “When this war ends and it is time for your retrieval, Lady Sylvie, you will learn why such things are necessary. Empathy for lesser beings only weakens your rule.”

The two walked away into the darkness of the storm as I frantically cycled my mana, drinking in everything that Lady Dawn’s feather could grant alongside mana rotation. My core squeezed on the brink of backlash as I tried to make sense of all that had just happened.

The asura of Epheotus are planning something for the end of the war, too, I thought fearfully, my hands clenching the grass. Both are preparing for the finale. But what is it?

I worked my jaw, my mouth feeling dry. “Thank you,” I said weakly. “You… saved my life.”

I couldn’t even begin to calculate the consequences of Sylvie’s actions. For me? They meant I survived. But she had taken a risk in stepping between Windsom and his victory. She’d risked alienating her own grandfather, all for what she believed was right.

That took courage and willpower. It took emotion. The same impulse that drove Mordain to defy his former friend.

“You need to escape,” the young dragon said without preamble, ignoring my words. “They might still come back. I don’t know.” Her eyes zipped across me, the young woman thinking just as fast as I was. “You asked me what my father said to Arthur, didn’t you? You said it was wrong somehow?”

My attention snapped back into focus as I looked at the dragon, remembering the talk we’d had right before Taci had interrupted. She’d told me that Agrona had delivered a megalomaniacal speech to Arthur. But in that otherworld novel, Agrona had wanted Arthur to withdraw from the war. That was why he’d approached him so cordially.

“I did,” I said quietly, slumping back against the nearby tree. I said the words as they came to me, struggling to filter myself past my exhaustion. ”But it doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t… He shouldn’t. Unless he wants something different from before.”

Sylvie simply frowned at me, the rain dripping from her horns as she measured what she would say next. “He announced the massacres,” she said quietly. The earlier strength and courage she’d shown had been like a forest fire, but as she spoke, it simmered down to a steady warmth. “He goaded Arthur. Er, Grey. However you knew him.”

And then she began to speak. It took a bit of time for the young dragon to relay everything that had happened in the castle’s council hall. From the start, where Agrona had been puppeteering her body and lording over Arthur, to the end, where he’d taunted Arthur with who might be reaching for an apple.

My body tensed as the tale of how Agrona had compared himself to the Serpent entrenched itself insidiously in my mind. Even further, the implications of Adam and Eve and the apple made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Throughout the entire story, Sylvie’s hands clung to her shoulders as she spoke as quickly and precisely as possible.

I exhaled, thumping the back of my head against a tree as my vision swam. I tried to slot this knowledge into everything I knew about the High Sovereign. He wasn’t telling the truth to Arthur about it all, but neither was he lying. Agrona never lied. Not really. But neither did he tell the truth.

And what had Agrona said, in that original novel? That Arthur was the only person on Dicathen he was interested in?

Except now… Now, Arthur was supposedly only one of two who had captured his attention.

Rinia’s warning reflected back to me, making my shoulders tense. “He is focusing on you.”

I could almost imagine Agrona in Sylvie’s body, lounging atop a throne as he stared contemptuously down. I could see a perfect, red apple, glinting in his grip. Those red eyes recalled past terrors. The traumas of a deep, dark cathedral, where Greahd was martyred in secret.

“Earlier, you asked who Adam was, and who Eve was. That’s the wrong question,” the phantom Agrona said nonchalantly. “You should ask what the fruit is, Arthur. Because it might just be out there somewhere, waiting for someone to take a bite.“

Sylvie had trembled when she’d told me about this. And as I pictured it in my mind’s eye, I felt myself shake, too. Not just because it was terrifying, in its own way. But because I didn’t know how much of it was real. How much was Agrona just playing a part? And how much of it was a true foreshadowing of what was to come?

I realized then, with absolute certainty, that I needed to take this information to Seris. Not just the worries about Epheotus’ plans for the end of this war, but also this changed event. Something had shifted in Agrona’s modus operandi. I’d always known that since the massacres had started. But this clue itched in the back of my mind, scratching at an intuition I didn’t know I had. I couldn’t do anything with this information, but the Scythe of Sehz-Clar might be able to.

I clenched the phoenix wyrm pendant in my hand, preparing to imbue more mana into it. “It seems I’m in your debt, Lady Indrath,” I said, pushing myself shakily to my feet. I stared up into the rain, inspecting the thunderclouds. My hair clung to my skin, just like the dragon’s. “These things only seem to get more and more complicated, don’t they?”

Sylvie smiled slightly. It was a sad thing. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you know so much about my bond and the future of this world?”

I blinked water from my lashes, feeling melancholy in the storm. I actually considered her words. If anyone could manage that knowledge well, it would be this young dragon. “If we had more time,” I said honestly, “I might’ve told you more, but anything I can say will only bring up more questions. I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass.”

Sylvie chewed her lip as I slowly activated the phoenix wyrm pendant. Those scales of silver and pink rose over my exhausted body, encasing me in a cocoon. As it rose, however, blocking her from my sight, I said one more thing.

“When I see your bond again,” I said into the rain, “I’ll tell him everything I can.”

—

I floated limply through the Beast Glades, trying my best to keep my intent and mana signature low. My fingers clenched at every stray sound as I slowly followed the call of another’s soul. Cylrit wasn’t far away.

Whatever Taci had done with his spear, it had broken Seris’ cloaking artifact. No longer was my heartfire and mana cloaked from watching eyes. So as constant blade wing patrols soared overhead and scout teams tried to track me down, I had to cling to my mana signature jealously.

Everything is moving so fast, I thought, leaning against a tree for a moment to catch my breath. I wish I’d have time. Time to just… process everything.

I wanted to lay down and sleep for an age, but I couldn’t afford it. With how close Cylrit was and how weak we both were, we couldn’t afford a moment of hesitation.

I stared up at the sky. It had stopped raining a few minutes ago, and I had no idea where we were right now. Once I got to Cylrit, we’d have to navigate using the stars.

“Maybe fighting Taci wasn’t a smart idea,” I grumbled, feeling… alone.

I leaned against that tree for a short time, using mana rotation to mask my presence. I hoped that Arthur would find some peace at the end of this. I hoped Sylvie would hold onto that ember of defiance she’d cultivated. They were… good people.

I began to fly again. I would just keep putting one foot in front of the other. That’s all I needed to do. I would never stop moving forward. I’d never stop trying.

But I froze in the sky as I sensed something in my mind. A small, burning ember that slowly kindled into something even more. More and more it rose, casting my entire soul in its warmth.

My eyes watered as I exhaled weakly, a groan of sorrow leaving my throat. That nostalgic, steady heat rising from the depths nearly made the careful collage of my emotions break entirely right then and there.

It had been barely more than a week, and I’d almost forgotten how warm her thoughts were. Every single pulse of her soul reassured me that I wasn’t alone in this world. That no matter what, there was someone there, with their hand on my shoulder.

Aurora’s shade slowly fuzzed into existence near me. Just as ever, she brought the Unseen with her, casting everything in muted mist and shade.

My heart clenched, however, as I laid eyes on the phoenix’s phantom body.

Her once-pristine skin was covered in burns. So, so many burns. Her hands. Every place I could see a flicker of pure skin, a seared scar remained somewhere nearby. And as my eyes traced over those scars, I could follow them to a single point.

The Brand of the Banished pulsed fiery light, leaking with Aurora’s broken emotions. And as I recognized this, I remembered something else.

For me, it had been over a week since the Breaking of Burim. If I wasn’t careful, I’d see the city melting whenever I closed my eyes. I’d remember the sensation of my blade crashing against Chul’s mace. I remembered thousands of heartfires evaporating.

But since then, I’d forced myself to act. To move and fight and talk and do anything but let myself dwell in that pit of misery. I’d found a way to continue despite the devastation. I’d found comfort in healing the broken. I’d found a possibility of hope in Lusul’s resolve. I’d found strength in fighting Taci.

But Aurora… She’d been pulling her soul back together. She’d been asleep, in a coma of despair and fire. She didn’t know if either of her sons had survived the maelstrom of hell as we fought each other.

Silence reigned between us as her horrified, pained eyes looked at me. The trauma was still raw. The pain and misery hadn’t happened weeks ago. It had happened yesterday. And barely a few hours before, she’d pulled together the courage to accept banishment from her Clan for the greater good. She risked eternal separation from her very family.

Aurora’s hands trembled, no longer poised like that of a martial master. They shook like a leaf in the wind as her wide, burning eyes absorbed the burns marring her features. Burns she’d gained from protecting her son.

The phoenix looked up at me, her eyes watering with fiery tears. Our bond was alight with quiet misery. With that very despair that I fought so often. She opened her mouth, trying to force herself to say something.

I reached out a hand. “I’m here, Aurora,” I said quietly, the world forgotten. “I’m here.”

The ghost touched my hand tentatively, as if afraid it might burn. First the pads of her fingers. Then, when that didn’t scald her soul, she let her palm rest over the top of mine. She allowed herself to touch my hand.

Those tears of hers flowed freely as she watched the place where our hands remained locked. She struggled to believe that they didn’t burn. And when she sobbed, I wrapped her in an embrace, holding her close to my heart and soul.

The phoenix buried her forehead into the tattered remnants of my shirt, clinging to it as she shook and wept. I slammed my eyes shut, not allowing myself to cry.

I was so, so used to being uplifted and warmed by Aurora’s soul. Every touch and direction of her lit my way with sunlight. She was the dawn itself. She could never falter. She would always be there.

But sometimes, I forgot that she was a person, too. She wasn’t an impossible, perfect nova who continued to profess light and hope. Sometimes, her star dimmed. I’d learned that they did that. When the world battered you with darkness, it was so easy to lose your light without anyone to help you carry the torch.

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For the time, I figured Cylrit could stand to sit where he was for a few more minutes. My mother needed me.