Chapter 221: The Depths of the Soul [End of Book 4]

Toren Daen

I lounged in the center of my rooms, feeling the push and pull of the mana within my core. With every inhale, a little more mana streamed through my veins, and with every exhale, I slowly edged closer to my goal.

It had been many, many months since my ascension to the silver core. And as the deluge of Aurora's mana within my nexus of power continued without ceasing, I scraped closer and closer to the power of the white core.

Until now, when I was on the brink.

I inhaled, feeling not just the rush of power, but of emotion. I acknowledged my fear, cloying and pervasive. Side by side was my rationality and reason, keeping me in check and supporting my goals. Here and there, anger and hate lingered on the outskirts–the traces of Agrona and my enemies still taking space in my mind.

And surrounding it all was hope, suffusing my very being.

It hadn't been long since my talk with Seris. As my thoughts lingered on the silver-haired beauty, I noted the increase in passion that subconsciously coursed through my veins. As my thoughts drifted toward that sole kiss, I felt my concentration waver.

Acknowledge it, I thought, taking a deep breath as I centered myself, and let it flow.

"Once you reach the white core stage, it will be time for your true abilities to grow," Aurora's voice feathered across my mind. "You have struggled to assimilate knowledge from my Will because you lack the inherent insight of an asura's mana core–our natural control of organic magic and connection to the material plane. But that shall burden you no longer."

"Soon," I muttered, my eyes closed as I sat in a meditative pose, my arms resting on my knees, "soon, the ground will not hold me."

I would be reborn in fire and flight.

I inhaled deeply, the ambient mana flexing. Like a man who pressed a piano key, the rumbling vibrations seemed to twist and warp the very air around me as the world itself sensed my ascension. Though I was underground in the depths of Burim, I might as well have been beneath the open sky.

Aurora's feather surged with mana, scraping away the last impurities on the inside of my silver core. But for the last push, all I needed was to…

An ache of pain twisted from my center as those brilliant white cracks spread further across the surface of my core. I winced, wondering if this was what it was like for a butterfly to wrench itself from a cocoon. I hissed slightly as those cracks spread, the pain arcing with it.

"Steady, my son," Aurora said soothingly into my ear, centering my meditative state. "Steady. This is a balance."

I inhaled, noting the pain as well. It flashed red like pincers in my mind, and though it tempted me away from peace, I had experienced far worse. More brilliant white cracks spread.

And as those cracks spread, I found my attention shifting to my pulsing heartfire. The nimbus of energy beating around my heart, it was… swelling, expanding as my core gradually advanced. A beautiful interplay of mana and aether danced in the recesses of my psyche as the bonfire grew and grew, both nurtured by my mana core and simultaneously protecting it.

I'd tried many ways to force my mana and personal aether to interact–and though I'd finally divined a pseudo-method through Resonant Flow, that was more of a sideways implementation. But as I watched the mana nurturing my heart onward like a hearthmother, I finally realized the foolishness of my thoughts.

The world and the self, I thought headily, unsure of where the words came from. The world encourages the self to grow, but the self must also stand firm in the face of the world. They mix and they mingle, like yin and yang. But for both to exist, there must be a line. A curtain of shadow.

Mana cannot interact with heartfire any more than a mother can force their child to grow, I realized. To do so would be to harm, to denigrate. So mana can only intervene in steps when it is necessary. When it is possible.

That, I thought distantly, feeling as if light were scouring through the recesses of my mind, that is the essence of the Soul.

And my vision went white.

—

I blinked my eyes awake, feeling a strange sense of quiet in the depths of my soul. I felt unweighted, entirely distant from concepts such as stress and fatigue. My body felt warm. Safe. Comfortable.

I stood atop a familiar reflective lake, the edges expanding far and away. Each movement I took sent little cascading ripples through the water, reflections of light skittering across the surface like fireflies. The surface of the water might as well have been a mirror.

A warm, inviting sun seemed to kiss the edges of the horizon no matter where I looked, shining in a gentle caress that made any thoughts of pain or sorrow slowly simmer away. This was the kind of sunrise I could sit and drink a hot cup of coffee to, watching as its rays slowly kissed mountains.

I knew not how long I stared at that distant star in quiet awe. It painted the entire skyline in oranges and pinks that seemed to radiate pure emotion itself. While the sky above faded toward an infinite blackness behind me, I could not draw my attention away from that star–so close, yet so distant.

"The Sea of the Soul," I whispered, my body unnaturally loose. I remembered this place–I had been here twice before, after all. Once when I first became Twinsoul, Toren and I merging into one. And the second time when Aurora had sacrificed part of herself to reforge my body.

I'd met Norgan, then, on the edges of my very soul.

"Even in all the phoenixes' vast expanse of knowledge about death and rebirth, this place… This place is different, my son. I spend my time here, staring out into the darkness. Wondering. Hoping."

I turned to the side. Aurora stood beside me, quietly resolute. Except when I witnessed her in the waking world, she was phantasmal and ethereal. Her eyes burned like stars and she appeared to be fashioned from the light itself.

Here… Here, she seemed solid. More real. She didn't radiate an outline of dawnlight like some sort of ephemeral goddess, and neither did her eyes burn. No–her eyes were like my own, simple ember pupils instead of an unending expanse of fire.

I raised a hand slowly, pointing at the glimmering sun far in the infinite expanse. "That's you, isn't it?" I asked, feeling as the sunlight washed away my aches and pains.

Aurora smiled. As I saw my bond's lips stretch into a soft grin, I watched it with as much awe as the earlier sun. Without the glare of her eyes burning like stars, she seemed so much more… so much more human. I noticed things I didn't when she was a shade–the barest indication of laugh lines at the edges of her eyes and mouth seemed to stand out as she stared at me with a measure of pride. Her pupils flickered warmly.

"That is my soul, Toren," she said softly. "At least as you perceive it. A morning star."

I blinked, turning to look back at the ever-rising sun. I knew that an infinite expanse of black space stretched behind me, but right now, I faced the sunrise. "I can feel it," I said quietly. "Your soul… It gravitates towards mine. As does mine to yours. I don't think I understand."

My bond wrapped me in a simple embrace, staring off at her own soul. "I don't understand either, Toren," Aurora said–and she seemed happy with that. Truth be told, it was hard to feel any uncertainty upon the ever-still lake of my soul. "So it seems we'll have to learn to understand this together, hmm?"

My bond released me, before ruffling my hair in a way that made a bit of warmth rush to my cheeks. I coughed, finally turning away from the burning nimbus that was my bond's soul.

And I finally stared into the infinite cosmos beyond.

When I had last been here, I'd spoken with Norgan on the edge of infinity, finding the resolve to push forward once more and accept Aurora both as my bond and as my mother. I'd never truly questioned how Norgan could have been there, when he had died so long ago. Yet I'd known deep in my soul that it was him, come back to speak with me once more.

And as I stared into the void, which had at one point just been an empty expanse, I saw shapes silhouetted against the light of my bond's soul. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus and banish the effervescent dark.

I could see… a collection of theater masks of black ivory, encompassing a veil of shadows. When the light of the sun struck the mask, the material seemed to shrivel and burn. Yet even as the masks smoldered, the shadows beneath stayed contained, hiding whatever was within. I knew not what lurked in that darkness, but I knew that whatever those masks hid was something deep and dangerous.

Not ugly. Not horrific, like the mask seemed to think. But dangerous nonetheless.

And not far away… There was a crown cemented together by family and steel. The golden crown was littered with innumerable cracks, Grey light seeping from its battered surface. Yet a tapestry woven of memories themselves sutured shut those cracks like a surgeon's wire. Not far away, a vine sought growth as it weaved around suppression, silver flowers blooming as it inched closer and closer to the crown. Between and beyond them both was an opal egg that shimmered and danced, pulling the two closer and closer.

Like anchors.

And at once, I knew what I witnessed. I knew what the void beyond represented.

"These are souls," I said in wonder, transfixed by the churning mass of shadows cloaked by a theater mask. "As… As I understand them. And as the people understand themselves."

I knew not how I could feel my own heartbeat–for on some instinctual level, I understood that the avatar I inhabited was merely a way for me to compartmentalize something too vast, too intricate and dense for my normal mind to handle. Yet as I stared at Seris' soul–so beautiful, enchanting in its shadows–I felt my heartbeat quicken.

"How?" I whispered to my bond, tracing the flares of darkness that seemed bound within the smoldering masks far in the distance. "How am I witnessing this?"

"I don't know," Aurora said again, her eyes fondly tracing the outline of Arthur's soul as Tessia's tried desperately to inch closer, bound together by Sylvie's warmth. "This is your soul, Toren. And while the arts of the Asclepius knew of the soul, they focused on the body more innately. This is unique to you, my bond."

I swallowed, tracing the vast void beyond. Would I see Hofal in the great expanse if I peered deep enough into the abyss? Karsien's spirit?

Was Greahd's soul out there somewhere, drifting on eddies of reflectionless black?

I sighed, closing my eyes as I recognized the futility of such questions. Maybe one day I could delve into where souls went after death, but–

Something landed on my shoulder. I opened my eyes in surprise, staring down at whatever it was. I came face to face with a small sparrow-like creature–except it appeared to be made entirely of fire. It chittered and hopped on my shoulder, swiveling its head as it peered from Aurora, to me, and back.

My bond chuckled lightly, holding out a hand. The little fiery sparrow hopped happily onto Aurora's outstretched fingers, trilling contentedly. She raised her finger to her face, the little fire-bird nuzzling its face against her cheek.

I was about to ask a question, but Lady Dawn was faster. "This is someone you know very well, Toren. In fact, we both know this presence intimately."

I stared at the little fiery bird, squinting as I tried to place it. The bird stared back, tilting its head before chirping lightly.

My eyes widened. "My Phoenix Will?" I said, feeling utterly dumbfounded. I always knew that my Will had a level of sentience, but this…

The fiery songbird hopped from Aurora's finger, circling us several times before darting into the sky. It trailed a bright orange streak as it slowly ascended, seeming to grow impossibly in size as it crested the edges of my soul.

"That reminds me, Toren," Aurora said slyly, a glimmer in her eye, "would you like to fly?"

I felt a matching smile cross my face, anticipation tingling across my limbs. I closed my eyes instinctually, centering my thoughts.

And when I opened them once more, I was back in my room in Burim–but I was floating. Instinctually, I set my feet beneath me as I restrained my joy. A quick glance inward told me that my core was indeed a brilliant, pulsing white–the highest power in the land, barring Integration. My senses felt infinitely heightened, each twist and swirl of mana around me so much more intimate than it had been before.

I felt a rush of energy coursing through my veins, my heartfire pumping in a steady stream and flowing with impossible ease. My limbs felt stronger, my body more whole as I called on my mana, sending it coursing along my channels. The purity was far beyond anything I'd ever felt before.

"The white core," I muttered. This was what I'd been waiting for; what I'd been holding out for for so long. And the all-encompassing sensation told me that it was all worth it.

And on my lower back, my emblem had evolved, advancing as my understanding of ambient mana grew. Now it was a Regalia, the highest plateau a spellform could reach. I would have to test that out too, but first…

I reached within my dimension ring, which Seris had helpfully placed onto my finger while I'd lain exhausted after our talk, and withdrew a single item. A feathered brooch born anew, appearing unravaged by the trials and tribulations it had faced.

Aurora's relic looked as good as new–though unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the armor Sevren had made for me. Arthur had ruined that beyond repair in our battle, but such thoughts were inconsequential.

I called on my lifeforce, beckoning it forward. The energy flowed like molten honey through steel, so smooth and easy did it bend. I resisted the urge to gawk at how the energy obeyed me, instead imbuing the relic with a dose of heartfire.

Immediately, the relic glowed red-hot as Aurora piloted the puppet, the little bronze bird appearing before me. It clicked and whirred in a familiar way, puffing purple mist as it stared up at me. And though I could no longer see Aurora's pupils, I could swear I saw a flash of anxious anticipation in the eyes of the relic.

"Are you ready, Aurora?" I whispered, every instinct in my body telling me to move. Telling me to go. Telling me to fly. "Are you ready to crest the clouds?"

"You will understand," Aurora said over our mental link, "you will know freedom, Toren! You will know the breath of the sky!"

The relic shot out of my room at absurd speeds, little more than a bronze blur as it entered the hallways. I laughed aloud, calling on the ambient mana around me.

The world itself allowed my passing, the mana buoying and pushing me along in equal measure as I shot after the relic like a rocket. I blurred down the claustrophobic stone hallways of the dwarves, uncaring of the many guards and mages I made cry out in alarm–though I did use my regalia to help pick up an exasperated secretary's dropped pages as I zipped past.

I took twists and turns at breakneck speed, maneuvering with expert precision as I honed in on my bond. It was a lot like how I'd always maneuvered with my telekinetic pushes and pulls, while simultaneously far, far from it.

I finally shot from the stone complex I'd been housed in, hovering in the air for the barest moment as I observed the sprawling cityscape of Burim. I'd been placed in the Divot, of course, the highest location available to dwarven nobles.

Men, elves, and dwarves alike stopped and gawked as I emerged, and I belatedly realized I was projecting my intent into the air, coating everyone nearby. Not killing intent, no, but my sheer joy at being released from the ground was infectious. I smiled at Jotilda Shintstone as she stopped dead in her tracks, gaping up at me. I gave the dwarven elder a little wave and a wink before I was surging away again.

The wind whipped and tore at my face as I accelerated, beelining for the large exit of the cavern. As I finally emerged on eddies of mana, I had to raise my arm in front of my face as the glare of the sun became more intense. The sounds of early-morning dockwork and harbor maintenance echoed from all around me, and my already unnaturally keen hearing raised to an even greater plateau. The heartbeats of hundreds pitter-pattered against my ears, and for the barest second, I was overwhelmed.

I didn't know how to process so much information; so much sensation. But as I lowered my arm from my face, allowing me to see the sun peeking through the slightly cloudy sky, all of that fell away.

The rising dawn greeted me as I hovered over the Bay of Burim, tall sea-beaten cliffs rising behind me and rays of sunlight glimmering on the calm ocean below. The sensation was so like my very own soul–the warmth, the stillness, the life–that I felt a single tear pull its way from my eye and trace down my cheek.

Aurora's relic flapped its wings, hovering beside me in Puppet Form. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said quietly, aloud this time. "The kiss of the dawn and embrace of a new day? Is there nothing more grand than the loving caress of the sun as she gazes down on her children?"

I turned slightly, observing the puppet. "Is that why you're called Lady Dawn?" I asked, feeling something in me shudder from it all.

Aurora's relic spared me a glance. "I wanted to be the sunrise, Toren," she said. "I wanted to light the ground where I passed; to be a beacon for something more. And what you saw of my soul… How you perceived me to be that very light…"

I sniffled, laughing lightly as I wiped tears away with my forearms. "Come on, Aurora," I said in a more playful tone, "show me how to fly."

"It would be my pleasure, Toren," Aurora replied, her eyes flaring.

On unspoken agreement, I reached my hand out and grasped the tethers of heartfire that linked Aurora's shade to her relic. And as I detached them, shifting their source to the feather in my core, the relic began to shift.

I watched in amazement as Aurora's form changed, growing and growing twice over. Where before she'd been two stories tall, now she loomed even taller with ease. The flap of her massive bronze wings created currents of wind, and a massive shadow was cast behind her as the brass plates of her wings rippled.

It seems I'm not the only one who gets an upgrade, I thought with amusement. You do, too.

My bond let loose a victorious cry to the heavens, the sound rumbling through the ocean itself. The water rippled slightly as the sound traveled, triumph radiating from the reborn Dawn.

And then she shot into the sky, so fast I could barely comprehend it. I was blown away by the burst of wind that trailed in Aurora's wake as she surged upward, and I had to stabilize myself quickly before I hit the water.

I stared upward at the bronze speck that my bond had become as she arced higher and higher, approaching the clouds at rapid speed. 

You want to make this a competition, do you? I thought slyly. I had no dreams of winning a game of flight against the millennia-old phoenix, but I wouldn't give up without a fight.

Almost instinctually, I called on my lifeforce, urging my heart to beat as I threaded it in a specific manner. Yet instead of creating a foundation for a shrouded saber, as I usually did, I allowed veins of heartfire to protrude from my back, the act seeming almost natural. Those veins of energy–invisible to me, but pulsing in my ears–split and spread in a specific manner, gradually growing and shifting around me.

And then I engaged my new regalia, calling on my telekinetic shroud. And as the shroud spread across the twin veins of heartfire that erupted from my back, shimmering crystal shards of mana gradually grew and grew.

And before long, I bore wings.

Each appeared to be made of solid mana, the feathers splitting the light in strange ways as they stretched out like the fingers of an asura themselves. Each wing was easily the length of my body, and they moved as if I had always had them.

I stared up at the sky, preparing a burst of telekinesis beneath my feet. A wild grin stretched across my face as my Shrouded Wings flapped once. Twice. And on the third flap, I released my spell.

I surged into the sky like an arrow shot from the world's greatest bow, a crack of thunder sounding as I broke the sound barrier. I ascended like an angel returning to heaven, my wings folded behind my back as I flew toward my bond.

I watched as her shrouded form shot straight into a cloud, the misty water vapor subsuming her whole as its mile-wide expanse shadowed everything. Were I not a phoenix, but a measly white core mage attempting to master the skies for the first time, perhaps I would've felt vertigo. Would've felt fear.

But there was none. The skies were my domain, and I feared not the thunder.

I shot through the clouds, water vapor misting and swirling around me as it tried to soak me to the bone. Yet as I continued blurring ever-upward, my telekinetic shroud and Shrouded Wings bore the weight of the mist. It all rumbled through my ears: the pounding of my own heart, the wet breath of the clouds on my skin, the rush of displaced air as I asserted my dominance.

Images of days long past flashed through my mind. Of running through the streets with Naereni and Hofal. Of days around the cookfire with Greahd and the many souls of East Fiachra. I saw the mist of the Rat overlaying it all as it overlaid my vision now.

And then I emerged from the clouds, surging back into the sunlight. I spun like a corkscrew, before flaring my wings out wide. The water droplets that clung to me sprayed out in a shower of rain, the sunlight piercing them as an arrow struck true in a lover's heart. Small rainbows glimmered around me for an instant as the light was split by infinitesimal prisms.

I breathed in deeply, feeling the rush of the wind as it whipped at my loose clothes. I floated there for an endless moment, truly knowing for the first time what it meant to be free.

"You understand, Toren," Aurora said, swooping around me. "You see the wonders of the world. See how we are untethered from it all!"

I stared at the impossibly tiny world so far below. I felt no fear, even as I stared down from miles above. The Darvish wastes stretched on farther than the eye could see, sandstorms raging all across the desert. And to the east, the Grand Mountains stretched north like the spines of a great dragon, twisting and turning as each spike pierced the clouds like spearpoints. And beyond even that, the Beast Glades beckoned with their ominous depths, unending forest and sprawling manascape hinting at the secrets within.

"So small," I said, turning in the sky as I observed the earth below. As I did so, I thought of a conversation I'd had with Seris so long ago. On the nature of the stars and the cosmos, and our planet's true place within it all. "We're so small compared to everything."

Aurora's Vessel Form hovered beside me, radiating warmth and surety. "And yet, for one so small, has your impact not been undeniable? A future averted and possibilities made. You have made change, Toren Daen."

I watched as the sun slowly crawled higher in the sky, casting its luminous rays down on the miles of land far below. "Perhaps, Aurora, perhaps," I said. "But now is when true change begins."

[End of Book 4: Willfire]