Chapter 95: From the Chrysalis

Sevren Denoir

I watched as Toren's corpse disappeared beneath the waves, feeling a wave of horror at the spirit's actions. The young mage had been extremely suspicious of me from the start, but as we'd gotten to know each other these past few days, a kinship had budded between us.

To see him die tugged at my emotions in a way I did not expect, especially after the tantalizing offer from the thing inside his body. I'd thought it had cared for Toren, yet its actions spoke otherwise. Stabbing him through the heart…

Part of me was still unsure if he was even dead. The young man had a strange aura to him; one of mystique and power that burnished under his truthful exterior. The young mage was no politician. I had very quickly deduced the tells he gave for when he lied.

I wasn't even given a chance to process further. An elite undead rushed me, snarling through deformed lips. I was forced to divert its mana-clawed hands to the side with my own, before punching it square in the jaw with a supersonic fist.

The creature's head twisted at an unnatural angle as my knuckles rocked across its face, dropping to the ground.

But I was still without a weapon, only my hairavant wire to my name. Without my dagger to accentuate my skill, it was like going into a fight with only a buckler and no way to strike back.

Bered was launched to the side by the commander undead. Internally, I felt at my mana reserves. Less than half of my total capacity was left.

I gritted my teeth, banishing thoughts of Toren Daen. The Relictombs cared for nobody, and I had a battle to win.

I blurred back toward the commander, sidestepping an arcing bolt of lightning one of the grafted appendages threw at me. Those attacks were exceedingly weak: maybe even under what a mark could produce, but even the slightest misstep now could bring death.

I zipped toward the commander, my hearing a buzz for the barest moment as I engaged my rune. When I reappeared, I tried to wrap my wire around its leg, but the thing had clearly been watching my previous fight. It grasped onto the thin loop, then pulled.

The wire cut deeply into the monster's fingers, but I was forced to disengage lest the creature break my only weapon. If I had my dagger, I would've had more options.

Hraedel was the next to attack, the fool. Five sickles of ice spurred through the air, their pristine white edges gleaming. Any other mage or monster would've tried to dodge that attack or attempt a parry of some kind.

But the brutish commander, standing easily two stories tall, simply tanked the assault without a care. The ice sickles cut divots into its flesh, yet new meat quickly flowed to fill in the gaps.

Bered rushed the creature from behind, aiming his mace at where Numar's sword was still embedded in its leg. It impacted like a gong, driving the blade further in. The commander stumbled, going to one knee.

Seeing an opportunity, I zipped forward, my fist blurring as I altered its mass. Right before the moment of impact, I increased the mass of my strike tenfold. I'd practiced this technique for years, but the timing had to be precise.

My blow struck like a boulder, the shock rippling up my arm and making my joints ache fiercely. The creature's pristine skull cracked from the impact, toppling over and sliding slightly on the metal.

I was careful in using my regalia for barehanded combat. Due to the nature of how my body accelerated and decelerated with reduced mass, I couldn't change the direction of a punch once it had been thrown. It was very, very easy to overextend what would've otherwise been a catastrophic blow simply because the opponent shifted slightly to the side.

Furthermore, if I increased the mass of my strike too early, the energy would bleed off, like an inverse to how a bullwhip cracked. Increase it too late, and I simply had a very heavy fist.

Numar rushed forward, Jameson's shield clutched between his hands. He raised it up, ready to drive it down like a wedge through the monster's now cracked skull.

An arm erupted from the monster's shoulder, latching onto Numar's leg. He screamed as frost spread from the grip, and his calves instantly freeze-burned. I sent out my wire, hoping to loop the arm, but not fast enough. Instead of holding onto the boy, it tossed him to the side.

Right into the water.

Bered immediately abandoned his skirmish against the monster, crying out in alarm as his twin splashed into the lake. He rushed to the side, forgetting about the present issue entirely.

Inexperienced fool! I thought, taking a step backward as the thing rounded on me. Hraedel was sulking to the side, the fight having gone out of him. He looked up at the sky emptily on his knees, awaiting the end.

The flesh titan rounded on me. Beady violet pits peered out from where the eyes should be, and I thought I saw a flicker of triumph there.

I squared my stance, preparing for this final battle.

Then the commander froze , its movements stalling robotically. It looked up at the sky, its eyes dimming. The entire battlefield stilled, spells no longer firing as something blotted out the sky overhead. Jana dropped her shield as she gasped, her knees shaking. Alandra whimpered into Jared's wilting embrace. Bered was drawn from the water's edge, his survival instinct overpowering his worry for his sunken twin. Hraedel looked up at whatever it was, laughing maniacally.

"Yes! The Vritra are here! They'll save us from this hell!" He cried, the only words in the stillness.

I felt my stomach lurch as a shadow was cast over me, enveloping me in cold. I felt like I'd been cast out bare in a winter storm, the aura suffusing every inch of the air like snow.

Yet this wasn't the cold of winter that made you huddle next to a fire and share tales under low light. This was the chill of death; the season of ending. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristle, my core roiling in my chest.

I slowly turned around, looking up at what had blotted out the sky.

I dropped my hairavant wire, staring up mutely at the final challenge of this strange zone. A massive sea serpent looked down on us like we were ants, its head larger than the ice floe we all fought desperately on.

Its mute gray scales, each the size of my head, rejected the light as the thing scrutinized us all.

If its head is this massive, I thought numbly, It must be as large as a skyscraper beneath the waves.

Then the thing opened its mouth, revealing what must have been a portal to hell. The hands of the damned clawed and thrashed from within as the creature slowly lowered its head, clearly intent on swallowing the ice floe whole.

We all awaited our imminent deaths with a broken acceptance. Even the other undead around us seemed resigned to their end.

Something bright and orange shot from the water, humming with power. It crashed against the side of the massive snake's head, exploding with the force of a dozen bombs. The impact made the skull lurch to the side, a roar that made my teeth rattle echoing from its gullet. For a moment, the serpent's skull was engulfed in hellfire.

Then it crashed back into the water, throwing up a wave that cascaded over our tiny ice floe. I was tossed off my feet, nearly tumbling into the water as the lake churned.

I held onto a jagged divot in the ice, Jameson and Mralka's bodies tumbling limply past me. My arms ached from the strain, my core having been nearly wrung dry. I cracked my skull against the metallic surface once, stars crossing my vision. When the turbulence finally settled, I spared a glance up, feeling dizzy from the injury.

Toren Daen hovered over the platform, his hand smoking as he held it out like a benevolent asura. He was drenched in water, his long hair sticking to his neck. His shirt hung in scorched tatters around his body, making the glowing chains on his arm–which stretched all the way to his sternum–all the more prevalent. In his other hand, he clenched Numar by the collar like a wet puppy.

How? I thought, my mind struggling to try and make sense of this madness. I watched this man get stabbed through the heart. Nothing could survive that.

Toren peered down at our platform. The mages around all looked up at him with incomprehension, each and every person attempting to make sense of what had just happened. The mage tossed Numar to the ground unceremoniously before settling his feet down, then quickly walked to where Darrin clutched Dima's broken body. He started to do something as he held his hands over their still forms, power surging at his command.

The undead all around us finally seemed to recognize that a new threat had appeared. The commander, who had been focused on me originally, bellowed from the depths of its soul, crashing over the platform as it surged toward Toren. Each of its steps heralded doom like a drum.

I gathered myself finally, calling out in alarm. "Behind you, Daen! The commander!"

Toren didn't even look up from whatever he was doing over Darrin and Dima's bodies. His back was to me, a tired hunch to his shoulders.

I began to run forward, my hairavant wire forgotten on the ground where I'd left it. Yet before I could even engage my regalia, Toren pointed a single finger over his shoulder. Mana buzzed around his index finger, a bright red glow shimmering into existence.

Without even turning back, Toren released his spell. A thin beam of searing plasma shot from his finger like a laser, unrelenting in its course. The beam punched straight through the charging commander's chest, erupting out the other side and passing inches from my skull.

I numbly raised a hand to the side of my head, feeling where some of my hair had been singed by the attack. I hadn't even had time to react. I turned numbly, noticing an elite undead right behind me–one I had missed in my confusion and awe–falling as if its strings were cut, a hole seared straight through its skull from that beam of plasma. All around us, the corpses that were on the brink of overwhelming our broken crew stumbled limply, falling to the water and for once acting like the corpses they were. Without the commander's influence, they were no more than fodder.

The commander stumbled, crashing to the floor as its momentum carried it over the ice. Dead flesh seeped around it like wax off a melted candle as the collage of bodies slowly broke apart around it. A disgusting smear stretched as the ice carried it onward.

Its body stopped a foot from where Toren worked, intent on whatever he was doing to the two mages. Then Toren stood, clenching and unclenching his fists.

I forced myself out of my stupor. Now was not the time to gawk. While the battle had lulled, I was under no illusions we were in the clear. We were still on track to die, and that massive monster still lurked beneath the waves.

Toren turned to me, a strange look on his face as he observed me, yet my own eyes were drawn to the young man's chest.

A deep, thick scar stretched over his left breast. Arcing scar tissue stretched over his heart as if he had been branded with an iron, yet otherwise, I would never have been able to tell he'd been stabbed through the heart.

"My bond made an oath to you," Toren's voice said, strangely even in the air. I looked up at him, confused. Bond? "And it looks like you're down a weapon because of it."

I opened my mouth to reply, unsure of what to say. Was he referencing the thing that had spoken through him like a puppet? It had promised me answers about the Relictombs through the young mage. Despite my situation, I felt a bubbling hope build in my chest.

Before I could respond, however, Toren reached down to his side, unlatching something from his belt. He tossed it to me, then turned to regard the water.

I caught what he threw with a quick swipe. I recognized it immediately: it was the basilisk blood alloy dagger he'd always used. Basilisk blood was one of the few materials that could be used to channel decay-aspected mana without breaking down, and thus was extremely durable.

"A Promise to you," the heir of Named Blood Daen said, before hovering in the air again. Light flourishes of mana glowed on the ice all around him. "I'm going to hold this sea creature off as best I can. I need you to work with Darrin to get the survivors out. Got it?" he said.

As if on cue, Darrin Ordin began to stir nearby, his groans echoing outward. Around us, the mages slowly gathered like moths to a flame. They hovered around Toren as if he were a bonfire and they weary travelers, keeping a distance but needy for the warmth. Alandra and Jared knelt by Dima and Darrin's side. Bered hugged his twin's soggy form, crying openly. Numar simply stared at Toren as if he were a diamond. Jana seemed unsure of what to do. Hraedel laughed madly.

I swallowed as I processed what the mage had told me to do. I didn't like taking orders. In fact, I hated it. That was why I'd avoided my responsibilities as a highblood heir for so long. I chafed at the unsympathetic and petty demands of my parents, irritated that they didn't see the big picture.

Couldn't they see that their politics and maneuvering accomplished nothing? That unless we made ourselves truly useful to our Sovereigns, we were simply another stain on the map?

But maybe there was one who saw this all from a different perspective. A person who knew what was at stake and how to win this endless struggle.

"I'll get them to the center island and to the exit portal, wherever it is in that giant skyscraper," I said earnestly, drawing the basilisk blood alloy dagger and clutching it tightly. "Just don't get yourself killed."

"I've already done that twice," Toren said flippantly, turning away. "It didn't keep me down long." Then he paused. "Though it might be three times now. I'm not sure."

While that opened up another endless box of questions, I shoved it aside. "Wait, Toren!" I called after him as he slowly hovered over the water. "How are we going to get this ice floe to the center island?"

He turned back to me, an almost devious smirk on his face. I paled, recognizing the look in his eye. The exact same one he had before he'd shoved me out a window.

"Oh, you damn bastar–"

Our ice floe lurched as Toren shoved on it telekinetically, sending us skipping like a rock along the water.

Toren Daen

Mana coursed through my veins in turbulent, powerful waves, contrasting the serene water I looked down at from above. I felt strong; my body a fortress as sturdy as Taegrin Caelum's vaults. The sheer quantity of mana suffusing my muscles made me almost gawk in wonder. 

Lady Dawn's spell, whatever it was, had altered my body on a fundamental level. The basilisk within me had been scoured away, replaced with something both foreign and not. My leg was healed, feeling sturdy like a pillar once more. The scars that had crisscrossed my body had vanished as if washed away, except for a brutal stretch right over my heart.

My chest ached with a strange pain, but it was paltry compared to the changes in my physique. If before my mana channels were garden hoses carrying energy, now they were akin to steel pipes. Mana stayed in my bones in a way that baffled my mind, suffusing me with a power and perception I'd never felt. The ambient mana around me reacted and flowed as if compelled by an invisible hand.

So this is why the asura are to be feared, I thought absently, keeping my eyes peeled for the giant serpent under the water. Using wide-area telekinetic pushes, I was able to hover over the water as I sent the other mages on their way to their destination. I trusted Sevren would see them to safety. I had my own task to complete.

"While still mostly human, your body is not just of the phoenix," Lady Dawn said against my mind. She sounded weary, something that immediately dampened my spirits. "But of the ancient djinn as well. The First Sculpting was a success. No longer do you suffer from the foul taint of the Basilisk."

I knew the djinn part of my new physique well enough. Upon seeing Darrin and Dima's wounded forms, I'd acted under a fugue state, twisting and funneling my lifeforce through their bodies in a way I had never done before. And, to my astonishment, they had healed.

There was a tangible relief to Lady Dawn's words as she said them. But never before had the woman sounded so small, like a candlefire bracing against the wind. I remembered Norgan's words as I drifted through that soul space.

"She's making a deal with Sevren Denoir. Your bond will live through what she's about to try, at least if it works. Though she won't be as… whole."

I could feel it over our tether. My bond had given a part of herself over to me, leaving her exhausted and hurt in a way I didn't understand. I didn't know what the phoenix had promised to the Denoir heir, but I would be willing to pay nearly any price to account for what the asuran shade had done to herself and to me.

The leviathan in the deep was an ambush hunter. It only struck when it was sure of its victory; when prey wandered too close to its domain. I had to count on that to lure its attention away from the ascenders on the water. Far in the distance, the undead began to organize themselves again, creating tiny boats and platforms to close in on the central island. I'd have to kill those things, too.

My Phoenix Will burned hot in my core, suffusing me with knowledge. But I still didn't think this would be enough to kill the monster in the deep. But with the stability of my new physique, maybe I could push my Will further than just the first phase…

I quickly shut that thought down, instinctively recognizing what would happen to my Bond if I tried. She was already so diminished.

I drew Oath from its scabbard, the swept-hilt saber settling neatly into my hand. Mana thrummed from my core, suffusing the edge with a shearing force. The water reflected the vermillion shine of my eyes as I prepared to face the undead scourge.

I felt the asuran shade of my bond going dormant, our mental tether conveying her exhaustion as a physical weight. I didn't know what she had done to heal me, but thinking of what it must have been sent a sharp, brittle ache through my chest.

"Rest for a while, Aurora," I said quietly, directing my gratitude and care to the woman who had sacrificed so much to keep me alive. "This will be over when you wake up."