Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 124: Veins

Toren Daen

I trudged through the second layer of the Relictombs, my feet dragging behind me. Every eye seemed to hold shadows as they spotted me, but I was too tired to care.

My heartfire pumped weakly in my chest; the excess energy wrung dry by my dangerous use of it not long ago. I'd changed into some clothes that were more fit for ascents; namely some loose gray pants and a tight-fitting maroon shirt.

After all, I couldn't walk around drenched in my own blood.

Aurora's relic had reverted to its brooch state and was pinned to my shirt. I'd needed to retrieve the lifeforce I'd imbued there for a measure of relief. My aches weren't as bad now, at least.

The Unseen World clouded my vision. As I walked, Lady Dawn kept a steadying hand on my shoulder, making sure I wouldn't fall. "It was foolish of you to invest so much of yourself into that confrontation," she said hotly. "You narrowly started down a path of no return."

But I didn't, I thought back. And it was necessary.

Aurora huffed, then carefully maneuvered me away from a dip in the road. "You are weak and sickly from the stress. But if you had not undergone the First Sculpting; if part of you were not of the phoenix, this may very well have been a death knell. Your heartfire will recover from this; but you must be thankful that it will."

I groaned as I stumbled around the dip, the movement pulling something that really didn't want to move anymore. What do you mean? I asked internally.

Lady Dawn's lips came to a pursed line. "Once someone's baseline of heartfire is affected outside of natural aging, it is rare that they can recover fully. Though the phoenix is different, as our lifespans are mutable. Shifting and uncertain. But for a lesser, merely touching the edge can spell a downward spiral. But theoretically, you shall recover with a stronger flame than before."

Like wearing out a muscle, I thought tiredly. Good to know.

I spotted Sevren not far ahead. The Fiachran Ascender's Association loomed over both of us, the lines of intricate statues boldly announcing their legacies. When he saw my weary approach, he looked both ways, and then hustled over to me.

"What in the Vritra's name happened to you, Toren?" he asked, scanning me up and down. "Were you attacked?"

I chuckled weakly. "I'll be fine," I said, waving away his concern. "What gave it away? The bags under my eyes?"

Sevren scoffed. "You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over. Who attacked you? Was it that Rat fellow?"

My vision flashed to the Rat's broken mask. His fury-burnt eyes. And how something in him had shifted as he ran.

"I'll be fine," I said again with a little more bite. My fight with the Rat meant more than just a battle between two men. It was symbolic of my own will to preserve the barebones peace of East Fiachra, as well as my own promises for the future. My oaths.

Sevren was not convinced. He was tapping his finger on his bicep with a look that showed he was clearly worried about me. It was a look painfully reminiscent of Norgan's.

I felt Aurora's steadying hand on my shoulder. Her disapproving stare. I took a deep breath in, letting my lungs fill with air. Then I exhaled, imagining my anxiety misting on the wind like steam. If I wanted to keep my oaths, I needed to be in the right state to follow through on my word. "No. You're right, Sevren. I'm not in fighting shape right now."

It stung to admit that. Especially as I'd grown stronger, I'd taken solace in the surety of my combat abilities. Admitting any sort of weakness was like ripping off a scab that would never heal.