Chapter 163: Channels

Beta-read by Infinity21

Toren Daen

Circe carved a spell in the ground, one point of three. Her finger shook slightly as she expertly traced her blood across the grassy surface, streaks of crimson red trailing the digit.

She heaved for breath as she finally completed the tiny symbol, falling onto her back weakly as she groaned. She covered her face with her arm, blocking out the sun from on high as it streamed down.

"It's done," she breathed out. "Just gotta… activate it, and they'll all connect."

I knelt, looking at the patch of red on the ground. The rune wasn't anything super special, but if I strained my ears…

Yes, there it was. A bit of heartfire weakly pulsed within that blood, separate from the body. There was a bit of lifeforce in every drop of freshly spilled blood, but was there something different about this?

In The Beginning After the End, Circe Milview could heighten the effects of her three-point array crest by using her blood to trace the anchor points instead of normal mana. But how?

"Wait a minute to activate it," I said, walking from this one rune to one of the others across from it. I knelt, trying to hear out the differences in pitch and tone in the little bits of blood. There was a small bit of mana that coursed along the crimson splotches, but it simply held its intent and purpose close.

"It won't work in a few minutes, Lord Daen," Circe said weakly, looking extremely tired as she lounged in the sun like a cat.

"I figured that," I said, sensing the thrum of energy as a musician senses pitch. The mana didn't seem to react to the heartfire, but it was somehow kept in place by the aetheric binds of blood.

The problem was that blood itself was a good conductor of mana even when the heartfire within had evaporated. Was the effect I witnessed a result of the blood insulating the mana, or of the lingering traces of lifeforce doing so?

"Activate your spell," I said absently, immersed in the act of listening.

Circe weakly clapped her hands together.

And my ears erupted with noise. I felt my eyes widen as the initial tump-tump-tump became a steady hum. Yellow mana condensed from the atmosphere, bouncing from each rune. The mana continued in a flow as the particles bounced from the first point to the second and third, then finally back to the first.

It creates a sort of feedback loop, I thought, standing up with a slight frown on my face. A vaguely triangular star of mana glowed within Circe Milview's front lawn as the particles danced in an even flow. The mana goes around and around, like…

Feeling as if I were onto something, I engaged my Acquire Phase. Circe's weakly pulsing red heartfire became visible to me, alongside the burning orange-purple bonfire in my own chest.

And the lines of the array glowed a deep red crimson, seeming to match the chain runes over my arm. Heartfire moved in tandem with the mana, darting around in a triangular circle that tainted the normally yellow lines of mana a slight red.

My eyes widened as I watched the interplay. The aetheric sparks of lifeforce seemed to gravitate around the mana, agitating it in a way I couldn't understand. The mana seemed to glow a bit brighter every time the swirling specks of deep red brushed along the edges of the spell, pushing the light faster and stronger.

I stepped around the light, getting a better view of each point of the array. I was able to feel as the lifeforce flowed in a circle that defied my understanding.

I cursed internally. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing for the benefits of Realmheart. I could see the aetheric soultether, but not the mana itself. I only had half the picture I needed to fully understand what was happening here. If I could see the exact interplay between the two energies, I had a feeling I'd figure this out far faster.

I flexed my fingers. There was one thing I could do.

"Circe?" I intoned. "What does it normally take to break this array?"

The young woman lolled her head to the side, looking at me without comprehending. "Just scratch out one of the array points," she said simply. "It breaks the loop. The entire thing falls apart after that."

I hummed, then dipped a finger into the stream of yellow and red. The mana itself seemed to dip and part as the digit pierced the flow. I watched as the many particles of red parted around my hand.

Like a stream of water when a stick is thrust into the center, I thought. I thought of how I was able to blur through water even better than the air like some sort of demented fish. Though every time I'd fought in the water, I'd come back covered in blood.

My body froze as another piece of information clicked into place. "Not a stream of water," I blurted, feeling as though I'd gotten another bit of the puzzle. "A stream of blood. Like a vein!"

"Wha?" Circe asked drunkenly, still not quite there.

"It's nothing," I said dismissively, watching the flow. "I just figured something out."

"Toren," my bond said quietly. "Your time is almost up."

I blinked in surprise, then withdrew an item from my dimension ring. I looked at the pocket watch, then quietly cursed.

"Thank you, Lady Milview," I said, huffing in irritation as I stowed the timepiece back into the dimension ring Sevren Denoir had repaired. If I only had a little more time.

And thank you, Aurora, I thought. I wouldn't want to be late for this.

"It is nothing, my son," Lady Dawn thought back a moment later.

Circe blinked, seeming to come to her senses. She pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly. "Surely this isn't it!" she said, seeming to be wracked with a desperate urge. "You said you wanted to see my three-point array spell. But that's still not worth what you did for me," she said weakly. "For Seth!"

I exhaled, letting my Acquire Phase drift back into my core. I didn't have all I needed, but the clues I'd gotten to understand this phenomenon were substantial. With my Dicathian spellcasting abilities and Aurora's help, I could piece this puzzle together.

I shook my head. "I never once charged those in Fiachra for my healing," I said, thinking of the still-ongoing recovery efforts. After two weeks, the damage to the city had recovered notably. Mages made the work far, far easier as they cleared canals, hauled supplies, and erected gravestones. But the damage to the people themselves? The thousands that had perished?

Bodies were still being fished from the canals. And my medicine was still needed.

"I've never asked for any true repayment for the work I've done," I said honestly. Then I knitted my brow. "Though you should be careful using your blood, Lady Milview," I added seriously. "Push too far and you'll affect your lifeforce."

The young woman did not have the dynamically regenerating reserves of lifeforce that I relied so much on. Once her excess energy was exhausted, she'd inevitably touch that lower base of lifespan.

"I…" Circe's throat clenched. "Thank you," she said weakly. "I'll stay out of the war. Like you asked."

I nodded seriously, turning toward the far-distant teleportation gates. The looming spires of the Central Cathedral seemed to pierce my eyes, even from the edges of my perception.

I jumped up, using my telekinetic pulls to rocket into the sky. The wind blurred around me as I engaged my speed.

I'd made myself another Oath that night in the Relictombs. When I'd found a coven away from Agrona's touch and held my trembling bond, I'd made a decision.

I was going to use my knowledge of the future to better this world.

But what did it mean to better the world? Part of me still didn't know. But there were a few easy steps I could take.

Hopefully, Agrona's push into Elshire Forest would fail without Circe Milview's intervention. And while the thought of Alacryan forces winning the war in Dicathen seemed inevitable to me, what wasn't difficult to realize was the loss of millions of elves to the World Eater technique–a true genocide on a scale I could hardly fathom–was something I was morally obligated to try and stop.

What I did next with my future knowledge? That was far, far more uncertain: but I had ideas.

Cardigan blurred underneath me as I darted along the streets in the air. I tapped down on the wall of a noble's tall warehouse, then used another burst of force to continue on.

Below me, people pointed and muttered or clutched their hats as the slight trail of wind I kicked up in my wake. I felt more than a few of their intents. Surprise, irritation, and then some fear.

I didn't stop.

I did not like Cardigan City. In fact, I hated it in a way that felt hard to explain. Though I'd long left behind the blackened cobblestones tainted with Varadoth's final act, it seemed to me this entire place was coated in a darkness I couldn't tear away. And after the Plaguefire Incursion, I was afforded some political liberties due to my connections with Scythe Seris. A few ruffled hats would not hurt anyone.

I spotted my target a minute later. Central Academy was a sprawling campus that housed thousands of students and a hundred different buildings. It was one of the premier centers of learning in all of Alacrya, akin to Harvard or another Ivy League school from my previous life. Their graduates were the best of the best.

And at Seris' careful political maneuvering–as Renea Shorn, of course, and no doubt due to the reputation I'd garnered after breaking Mardeth–I'd been allowed to perform a concert there for all the young highbloods to listen.

The theater complex of Central Academy was the largest I'd yet entered. A tall building with many jutting pillars of dark stone thrust into the sky, an air of grandeur and grace exuded by the architecture. It was central in the small plaza I approached, no other buildings bordering it.

A small crowd was gathered outside. I saw the blue-black vests worn by faculty, alongside a few student uniforms. When the mages present sensed my approach, they all turned to look upward, surprise on their features.

I skidded to a halt not far from them, removing my cloak in one clean flourish and stashing it in my dimension ring.

"Hello," I said jovially, quickly slowing my skid to a leisurely walk as I strode toward the entrance. "I pray I'm not too late for the main event?"

The Central Academy faculty gawked for a minute, clearly not accustomed to a flying entrance, before one man felt the need to shut his jaw. "Lord Daen," he said, his surprise quickly overcome by irritation. "That was a highly unprofessional act. You should have been here five minutes ago. It is almost time for you to start!"

I heard a few snickers from the crowd of students, but a sharp glare from the professor quieted them. "You'll be escorted to where you're needed, Lord Daen," he said, looking at me imperiously. "My students will have the honor of doing so."

I raised a brow as a few students separated from the crowd, led by a single young man who looked to be about my physical age. He had darker skin than most, and his eyes were a bright red that was almost pink. He smiled with white teeth as he beckoned me over.

"Lusul of Named Blood Hercross, at your service," the young man said, holding out his hand.

"Toren of Named Blood Daen," I said, mirroring his words as I shook his hand. "I suppose you're my escort?"

"Alongside a few of my classmates," Lusul said, turning and walking toward the doors. "It's my job to drop you off at the waiting rooms."

From how the young man walked and how the other students remained quiet as we walked into the theater, I got the feeling he was the ringleader of their little group.

"Named Blood Hercross," I said as I was led down a wide, stretching staircase. The interior of the theater was as lavish as the outside. "I feel like I've heard that Blood before."

Lusul waved his hand dismissively. "My blood is one of the larger donors to Central Academy," the man said, casually explaining why a whole bunch of Bloods were tailing him like pups. "I'll be honest, it gives me a bit of privilege in this place."

I blinked, somewhat surprised by the young man's casual admittance to that privilege. "Clearly not privileged enough to avoid escort duty," I joked lightly, scanning the halls. The ceilings were painted in beautiful mosaics of deep, royal blue and inky black. A dozen different scenes were portrayed from what I suspected were classical Alacryan plays.

"Well, considering the anomaly you are, most would consider it a privilege," Lusul said. "Nobody knew your name a month ago, and then you suddenly killed Mardeth. A Named Blood ascender without a hint of glory to his name suddenly disrupts every power structure we know. And then after that, that incident with the Scythe of Sehz-Clar herself? I count myself lucky to show you to the stage."

I exhaled through my nose. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I'll have you know I can literally sense empty flattery," I said, feeling the man's intent on the air. There was a measure of simultaneous tension and calm to his true emotions that showed me his current chipper attitude wasn't much more than a facade. "If I were you, I'd try another angle."

I'd grown used to political ploys by now. Nearly every person who approached me on the street wanted information or some sort of connection to me nowadays. It had led me to wear my mask and cloak more often whenever I ventured past the familiar walls of Fiachra.

The mood over the whole little group shifted to something approaching anxiety. Not fear, no. Just…

What? I thought, feeling a measure of surprise. Was that admiration?

Lusul coughed into his hand. "Can you actually sense empty flattery?" he asked a bit weakly.

I simply raised a skeptical brow. "What do you think?" I said, a bit of a smirk on my face.

The man's eyes darted to his nearby companions. "Well," he said slowly, "There is something we've been wanting to know."

"What do you want to ask?" I prodded, feeling a bit of genuine curiosity.

"Well, what model of violin do you use?" Lusul asked, looking at me with an anxious jitter in his gaze. "From the recordings we were able to see, it looked like a Rosaere Clarwood from Gorten and Sons, but we couldn't figure out anything more. There's too much custom on it!"

I nearly missed a step. The earnesty I sensed in the young man's intent nearly made me stumble with surprise, a similar emotion radiating from the quiet students nearby.

"What class are you, exactly?" I finally asked when I'd gathered my thoughts.

Lusul flushed a bit. "We're the string orchestra for Central Academy," he admitted. "The man who told us to escort you is our conductor. And he also said not to ask questions about your music."

I barked a short laugh, feeling a warmth spread through me. I still couldn't deny this may be a political ploy, but I got the sense that Lusul and his bandmates weren't directly involved. "You were close with your guess," I said, flourishing my hand and withdrawing my violin. The light that shone in the students' eyes was reflected perfectly in the smooth shine of the clarwood. "It's a 1645 Rosaere Clarwood, but back in the day, my Blood was more powerful. My late steward told me that the head of my house knew old Gorten. He got this commissioned directly from the man himself."

The company Gorten and Sons were the premiere crafters of string instruments in Alacrya with few rivals. The late Gorten himself had possessed a rune that helped him tune instruments to near mathematical perfection, while his sons had magical talents that allowed them to craft beautiful woodwork and etch with precision. Though the man himself had passed, his sons continued his craft, albeit with slightly lesser-quality instruments. There was a reason Gorten and Sons actually had rivals now.

The students' intent erupted with interest and awe as they crowded around, pushing to get a decent look at the instrument as I held it. Lusul looked like he might just drool. I felt a swell of pride as they fawned over my violin.

And I also felt Aurora's amused sigh as she watched.

"I recognize the clarwood base," a young girl said, her brown doe eyes tracing the contours and fittings, "But what kind of material is used for the strings? Not metal or gut fibers, clearly. It looks like swiftsure horse hair, but I can tell the quality is higher."

"They're hairs taken from a manefire razor within the Relictombs," I said, referencing the fearsome feline aether beast. "Old Gorten was able to use their unique ability to lengthen and become strong as steel to create strings that would never wear."

The students looked upon my instrument as if it were some priceless artifact of the Vritra, a reverence in their leaned postures and wide eyes that made me smile.

My music was a deep, fundamental part of myself. Very rarely did I find anyone who emulated that part of me. Who understood my love for the craft.

So as we continued to walk, I fell into a lively discussion with the Central Academy string orchestra members. While I admittedly didn't know as much of their craft–I was raised without much contact with Alacrya's musical society–I managed to maintain a healthy conversation by referencing my unique intent-based music. It gave us each a chance to learn.

"If you want to see more on the harmonics of magic and instruments, Bartaelus' papers would be a good resource," the doe-eyed girl said excitedly. I'd learned a few minutes ago her name was Adestine. "It's been tried before, weaving magic into art and music. But never with as much success as what you've done," she added. "Bartaelus theorized there were runes that would allow someone to achieve perfect pitch in every note they played."

I blinked. "Well, there's more ways than that to use magic in art," I said, feeling surprised that what this Bartaelus suggested was so… simple.

The other students looked at me with hungry eyes. "What do you mean?" Lusul asked, his dark eyes demanding.

I shrugged my shoulders, pulling a random idea from the depths of my brain. "Well, there's many people with spellforms that create illusions. Imagine a theater or play where you could perfectly display the characters people were acting," I said gesturing vaguely.

There were a few confused looks at that and more uncertainty. "Well, those are all combat runes," an older girl named Varsa said. "Why would someone use them for theater?"

I stopped in my tracks, feeling a bit of mute understanding course through my veins. Of course I was the first person to try and come up with an idea like that. It wasn't so much that I was a creative genius with endless unique ideas, but the warlike nature of Alacrya's magic culture stymied the use of magic for anything but. I could think of a dozen different ways to use magic in art: create practical effects. Make illusory backgrounds for plays. Allow everyone to see the play or feel the emotion intended to be conveyed. Wind magic could simulate a rolling breeze, or even act as a part of music itself.

But these youths were told from the day they were born that illusions were for tricking an enemy. Modulating one's voice with a sound spell should be used to talk to troops on a battlefield instead of achieving a higher pitch with a song.

Magic was a weapon to them.

The students grew nervous at the rigid frown across my brow. "Does it need to only be used for combat?" I prodded.

Varsa blinked rapidly several times, as if someone had flashed a light in her face and she was struggling to adjust. "Well, it's what's always been done," she said lamely. "Magic is for fighting."

"No, it's not just for fighting," I countered. "The imbuers and instillers create artifacts that enhance your way of life all the time. Why not add art into the mix?"

While many of the students showed uncertain looks, the young Adestine was the first to catch on. "Imagine," she whispered. "We could add illusions to our plays! Fireflies and glintfeather projections as we play. Why didn't we think of this before?"

As the walk resumed, the subject of conversation shifted as each student tossed random ideas into the center. Spreading sound across a massive crowd without the use of artifacts. Conjuring wind during a performance to evoke a spring breeze. Using the illusory abilities of some spellforms to change the perceived location.

And so I felt a measure of surprise when Lusul changed the subject as we neared the back rooms.

"Say, Toren," he said, using my first name, "Are you going to be joining the war in the next few months?"

I took a moment to respond. "I will," I said honestly. "I'll be a part of Scythe Seris' contingent."

Lusul chanced a glance at me. "Oh, that's good!" he said, smiling genuinely. "My blood is insisting I go, too, as the second son of Named Blood Hercross. He thinks beating down the Dicathians will give me some spine."

I felt my mood sour at the mention of the war, but Lusul continued. "It's a good idea," he said. "I mean, that's far easier than being an ascender or training in the professional leagues. Breaking a bunch of savages should serve that well. And it'll show them the glory of our Sovereigns, too!"

I felt as if I'd been dunked in cold water. The casual, unsympathetic cast of Dicathians as savages that needed to be brought to heel made a knot of anger and uncertainty roil in my gut.

"There are rumors that their magic is primitive and unrefined," Varsa said, her eyes still alight. "We could show them this new music. They'd appreciate a bit of culture, wouldn't they?"

That anger dipped into sickness as the thread of connection I'd built with these young Blood shattered. Some part of me had forgotten that the common perception of Dicathians now was that of savages in need of conquering. Yet the casual discrimination felt like a punch to the gut. Even after I'd begun creating a bridge between mages and nonmages, there was still something so fundamentally wrong.

"I'll need to prepare for my show soon," I said, and I couldn't fully restrain the distaste that coursed through my tone. "I hope you all make progress with any sort of magic you choose to employ in your music," I said, pushing past the nobles and ignoring their looks of surprise.

I had a concert to perform.