Chapter 107: To Silver

Toren Daen

My feet made no noise as they hit the floor of the Cistern. Instinctually, I quested out with my senses, trying to get a gauge on who was here. The last time I'd seen Naereni and Karsien, they'd been chatting with Renea before I'd left for the clinic. Part of me expected to sense them down here.

I frowned as I sensed only one lifeforce in the cistern. And from how it was thundering, the person clearly wasn't in good shape. The intent that infused the air spoke of despair and death. I felt my anxiety spike at the clear sign of distress, revving my mana and rushing toward the center of the Cistern. If someone was hurt, I needed to be there to heal them.

I skidded into the main chamber of the Rats' hideout, expecting some sort of bloody mess. Maybe there would be blood on the walls, or signs of battle strewn about the old structure.

Instead, I was greeted by Wade alone, pacing back and forth in the center of the room. His brown hair was a mess, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. From the sight of his wrinkled clothes, I could easily guess he hadn't washed in a while.

Apple the skaunter–whose lifeforce I could now sense now that I was closer–was curled up on the sofa, watching Wade with glistening eyes.

Wade whirled when I entered, his bloodshot eyes honing in on me. I paused, surprised by the intensity I saw behind them.

I remembered the last time I'd spoken with Wade. He had been in a rage, distraught by the capture of his family at the hands of Mardeth. He'd blamed me for that, and perhaps rightfully so. I'd antagonized the Doctrination, after all.

Oh no, I thought, finally thinking of the implications. Wade's family was in that basement, weren't they? I realized with rising horror. Did I see one of them on the wheels and racks? Were there corpses amongst the brutalized dead?

"My mother and sister are alive," Wade said, reading the horror on my face. "Thanks to you, I suppose. For bringing in Bloodstone Elixirs." He walked around the sofa, falling into the cushions. His muscles seemed to simply give out as he slumped, utterly exhausted. Still, his heartfire thundered.

I opened my mouth, grasping for words like a fish on dry land. "That's… that's good. Better than what could've happened."

Wade closed his eyes. "Was it better?" he asked breathily. "My rats refused to go into that basement, Toren. Refused. They've never done that before. And once the bodies were carted out…" He shivered visibly. "My familiars wouldn't go near those, either. It smelt too wrong to them. But Naereni told one of my summons what you were doing."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, feeling confused.

"My sister," he said quietly. "Kori. Naereni said you accompanied her to the hospital. And I sent my rats after you. The clinic was full before you started working. She only got in because of you."

I felt a sense of pride at what I'd managed to accomplish, but as my mind caught up with Wade's words, that sense was doused by worry. "Your mother?" I asked.

"She was among the survivors," Wade said, closing his eyes tight. "But she hasn't woken up. Only Kori did."

I thought of the little girl– Kori's –weak grip as she clenched my hand in terror. Her mute expression as she slowly drifted off to sleep under the effect of my music. Her blithe-green skin and patchy hair.

"It would have been better if she stayed asleep," I said quietly, images of that torture room burned into my retinas. "She saw more than she ever should."

"What was it like in there?" Wade whispered. "Down in that dungeon?"

I felt my throat constrict, my lips suddenly very, very dry. Wade looked at me with empty eyes, not needing his glasses to find me.

"I see," the young sentry muttered after I failed to respond. He pushed himself up, making a poor attempt at fixing his hair. "I need to go to the clinic to see Kori," he said. "But I don't know how I can face her. I– I failed to protect her. Protect them both."

I exhaled. I remembered the coursing guilt that nearly consumed me in the undead zone. Every life lost in that zone was because of me and the effects my presence had.

Aban, Jameson, and others I never learned the names of all perished because I failed to protect them. I needed to come to terms with that somehow. But I knew what I needed to say to Wade.

"I can tell you about the fight I had with Mardeth," I said after a moment. "About the futility of that battle. And then the Doctrination's blockade of the warehouse, making it nigh impossible to smuggle someone out. I can tell you with a dozen logical points why you aren't to blame for what happened," I continued, walking toward the young sentry. "But I know that won't help or change how you feel. The only thing you can do is act. Make choices that show your resolve."

Wade looked up at me, his eyes clouded by restrained guilt.

"She needs someone with her right now," I said quietly. "It doesn't matter if you think you don't deserve that position. You're her brother."

Wade slowly stood, nodding mutely. He walked past me, trudging toward the exit, and hopefully toward the clinic. Apple gave a morose bark as he scampered after the sentry.

I shoved my hands in my pockets as Wade left, hoping I had made a difference.

—

Not long after, I sat cross-legged in my room in the Cistern. I allowed my palms to rest face up, my eyes closed as I meditated deeply. The ambient mana thrummed with quiet pulses as it reacted to my intent.

Dark silver cracks lined my light yellow core, an intangible light flowing like steam from the seams. Within, the phoenix feather that contained Aurora's power pulsed mutely. Ever since my First Sculpting, the outpour of mana from it had stalled to a bare trickle.

I inhaled, drawing mana in through my mana veins in the process. I felt the foreign energy sift close to my core, then purify as it cycled through. Bit by bit, the mana I drew in widened those cracks. This was why I'd entered the Cistern in the first place. I needed a safe haven to finally push past my bottleneck.

I rarely had to actually draw in ambient mana to purify my core. The constant deluge of mana Aurora's feather provided scoured away impurities and pushed my nexus of power further in development, but the trickle it let out now wasn't enough for that final shove.

I exhaled, feeling my breath steam as fire and sound mana intermingled across my body. My heartfire thrummed slowly, my heartbeat low and steady.

I drew in another ounce of ambient mana, subconsciously preparing for what came next. When that mana cycled through my core, the rivets in its dark yellow surface seemed to fall away like dead skin, a silver shine glowing from within. I gasped as my core advanced, mana coming in a wave as I finally broke through.

Alacryans weren't taught to purify their cores on their own. It was more efficient to acquire runes and increase your mastery in them, as the upgrade of a spellform forcefully elevated your core level. Before I'd come to Alacrya, Toren had only experienced the upgrade from light red to dark orange from upgrading his mark to a crest. Then, the most notable experience afterward had been in my battle with the Joans where luck and circumstance allowed me to push into the dark yellow stage.

I hadn't had time during that confrontation to actually feel that advancement. The adrenaline, warmth of my Acquire Phase, and companionship of Aurora overshadowed all of that.

But now, with my senses heightened and my focus clear? I felt as my lifeforce surged in tandem, growing larger and larger as if it had been fed gasoline. Mana flowed through my channels, strengthening my physique even further.

And the feather in my core glowed. I felt something familiar rise in tune with my advancement, drawing a smile to my face as the ambient mana churned around me. Little sparks of fire lit up the room as fire mana reacted, while the air and stones around me vibrated from my subconscious touch of sound.

Welcome back, Aurora, I thought with a smile, feeling the phoenix's mind slowly awake under the effect of my core advancement. You've been out for a while.

"Wh-what?" the asura said, her voice uncertain and tenuous. "Where…"

The Unseen World washed over my vision. My grin faltered when I saw Aurora, the shade looking disoriented and tired.

Instead of the sundress I'd always seen her in, voluminous orange robes clothed the phoenix. Purple trim stretched along the seams and lining, creating an almost regally casual effect. Her hair seemed to be a deeper red than I remembered, and I marked confusion in her burning eyes.

She wavered, clearly not fully conscious. I stood, striding over and trying to steady her instinctively. To my surprise, when my hands touched her arms, they didn't phase through as they had before. I carefully led the asuran shade to a nearby chair, allowing her to sit down. Though it seemed I could touch the shade, her body still made no indent on the chair.

" Toren? " Aurora asked, blinking slightly. She turned her head, taking in the room around her. "Where are we? The zone of that horrid Tomb…"

"I made it out safely," I said both aloud and over our bond, trying not to stare at the left side of Aurora's chest. I had a feeling I knew why she was still so weak, considering what I saw there. Or didn't see. "Thanks to what you did for me."

The phoenix looked up at me, seeming to realize I was there for the first time. Her emotions, which had been streaming over our bond, stuttered like a car hitting a pothole.

"I thought–" she started. "You didn't wish to speak with me. For what I took from you. I–" She turned her head away, closing her eyes tight. "I am not whole, Contractor. I am pulling myself together, but I feel… Distant. Like I have been stretched beyond my means."

I nodded slowly. "I understand," I said. "You sacrificed much to keep me alive, Aurora," I said quietly. I pointedly ignored the deep red staining her robes, which seemed to spread from her chest. "More than I can understand."

"But I took so much from you, Toren," she said weakly, her hands clenched. "Why do you speak to me still?"

I licked my lips, then knelt in front of Aurora's chair so that we were at eye level. "Maybe you did take from me, Aurora," I said, trying to convey the emotion I felt over our bond. So she would know my words to be true. "But you've given me so much more as well. A chance to improve this world. A say in Fate. And another opportunity to achieve my dreams, even if they have changed." I let myself smile slightly. "And because of you, I've already taken the first few steps."

The asura finally opened her eyes, staring into my own. 

She made a striking image. Her slouched form seemed to sink into the chair. Her blazing eyes contrasted with her deep red hair. Those loose robes, fit for a queen.

And it all seemed to draw together over the asura's chest. There was a void where her heart should have been; like a savage rend in space. Only a bloody hole remained where I instinctively knew that center of emotion once beat. I could feel no lifeforce from the phoenix at all.

When she thrust that dagger into my heart, I wondered absently, Did she give me her own?

I felt the strange mix of relief and uncertainty the asura felt over our tether. 

"You were victorious, then?" she asked, looking at the single lock of hair I had that changed. That deep red plume of mine that faded to silvery pink stood out against the rest of my strawberry-blonde hair. "That serpent is defeated?"

I chuckled. "All that remains of it are bones," I replied. "And I managed to gain insight into aether from that zone as well. All in all, I think that would be called victorious. "

I let my memories of the battle flow over our link, something I'd never done before. Even as we'd grown closer, I'd kept my own perceptions distant. Aurora and I shared emotions, certainly, but thoughts and memories were deeper secrets.

But part of me knew there would be no more secrets between us.

Lady Dawn bowed her head. "I am sorry I was not strong enough to assist you further," she said, noting the strain my mind had felt using the Phoenix Will unaided.

I looked at the void where Aurora's heart used to be. "You've assisted me more than enough," I said. "Even now, the effects of your sacrifice still mark you."

The asura smiled sadly. "Every time your core advances, it allows me to heal more and more," she said. "But it seems it was not enough to seal this wound. I doubt anything will."

I huffed. "You've helped me so much through these past months," I replied. "And very rarely have I ever paid back the favor."

"You have done far more for me than you know," Aurora said quietly. "When I was in Agrona's dungeons, his method of torture was…" The shade visibly shook. Her eyes took on a haunted cast as she relived memories. I felt our link go dark, the phoenix fighting not to withdraw inwards further.

This is her trauma, I thought, my mouth feeling dry. What hurt her so deeply.

"You don't have to–" I started, wanting to spare the asura reliving that pain.

"No," she said. "No. You must know what you face. Agrona is a master of the mind. He prods and pokes, weaving his tendrils through your thoughts. And when he finds something delectable; something that ties your sense of self to your soul, he rips it out. Tears it from your mind like wrenching a dagger from a wound. Who you are bleeds away through that wound. And you are left to wonder what you've lost, for even that knowledge is taken from you."

Aurora looked up at me. "The wounds in my mind were deeper than any that stained my body," she said quietly, resting a hand over the hole in her chest. "When you first approached me for a Contract, Toren, do you remember what finally changed my mind?"

I swallowed. "I mentioned the name of your son," I replied quietly, silently dreading what Aurora was going to say. "Chul."

Aurora smiled bitterly, pure white teeth clenched almost in a grimace. "I knew the name you spoke, Toren Daen. I knew I'd selected it. I knew my husband, Andravhor, had grinned when I chose it. I knew my son had grown under that name, proud of its heritage." She took a breath. "But I did not know his face. Every memory of mine was as empty as this cavity in my chest."

I tried to understand that. To process what she was saying. Memories of Norgan's features had drifted in the time since his death, as my meeting with him in that strange soul plane had proven. But for it to be taken from me… To have my enemies know the face of my brother; and me unable to even recall the color of his eyes?

I felt stiff from this admission. As she spoke, Aurora's emotion slowly leaked over our bond. I was expecting regret, fury, or sadness. Instead, I found familiar gratitude and joy. Those emotions struck me like a hammer, confusing me utterly.

Aurora pointed a finger at my core. "Until you advanced in your core level. My memories returned in tandem." She lowered her hand to her lap. "I know my son's smile again because of you, Toren Daen. Something I never thought I'd remember again."

I stood, turning around and trying to cement this in my mind. By advancing in my core level, I'd healed Aurora's own soul somehow. I could understand why she felt such gratitude to me now, but it still felt undeserved. I hadn't intended to heal her. From my perspective, I'd still done so little.

But there was something I could do, I thought. I can give her hope for our quest.

An idea of what I could do for the phoenix slowly came together as I thought. Something only I could do that would assuage her fears; maybe give her some perspective on what was to come. What was the deepest secret I held? That I'd kept even from my soul-tethered Bond?

I'd kept something hidden for a long time; only able to keep it as such because of Aurora's own sins. But now…

I turned around. "When we first met," I said, drawing myself to my full height. "You said that Agrona was fated to win. You feared that this world was lost already; that our quest was doomed from the start. And I told you that Agrona had weaknesses." I sifted through my dimension ring, pulling on a leatherbound notebook that had followed my every step through this world. My journal settled into my hands, the familiar symbol of Named Blood Daen stitched into the front cover. "I didn't answer you why I believed the High Sovereign was fallible. I couldn't."

Aurora tracked my every movement with wrought attention, the air strung tight enough I could play it with my violin bow. The asuran shade sensed the gravity of what I was about to tell her. My own mind churned as I prepared to open my own heart.

"But I think it's time you felt hope for a better future," I said, holding the notebook close. "So I'm going to tell you a story. It tells of a lone man reincarnated into a new world; forced away from his past obligations and struggles. Of a King who recognized that second chances do come, and that there are causes worth fighting for. Of a mortal man who would grow to slay asura and protect those weaker than he." I smiled slowly. "I'll tell you the story of Arthur Leywin, and how one person alone can defy gods."