Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 136: To Dance

Toren Daen

The echoing boom of the massive hardwood doors closing behind Varadoth mirrored the thunder of his heartfire. The highbloods in attendance pulled themselves to their feet one by one in a collective daze. I saw one man wearing a mask that bore an exaggerated feather wobble as he stood, his bright white suit bearing prominent marks of sweat. Another woman stumbled into her lover, and he nearly went down again.

And as people gradually came to their senses, more than a few hastily scrambled to the doors, trying to escape the ballroom. What had once felt so tall and grand had become claustrophobic and looming as Varadoth's power tainted the light.

Corbett's olive hair was in disarray as he squared himself, his breath shuddering. He spared me a glance, one that asked a hundred questions but had played a long game of keeping those to himself.

I didn't know what I should say. Apologize? Ask to leave myself? I was in just as much of a scattered daze as the nobles who watched me like I was radioactive.

Instead, the man displayed a level of self-control I found enviable. He smoothed his bangs back into their typical part, straightened his jacket, and raised a glass to the air, calling the attention of all who remained at the Denoir ball.

"I think we've had more than enough excitement for the week," he said, his voice barely wavering. As he spoke to the crowd more, it became steadier and steadier. "First an... Impactful performance from our friend, Lord Toren Daen, and then a surprise interruption by the Voice of the Sovereigns himself. We should count ourselves honored to have experienced these events together!" he said, his voice amplified by some sort of sound artifact.

"But the night ticks on! All of us are a little tired by now. So let us relax and dance!"

As Corbett announced the start of the masquerade ball, I tiredly loped toward the long tables bearing refreshments. Mages parted around me as if I were Noah and they were the Red Sea. I tried to decipher the emotions entrenched in their mana signatures, but there wasn't much conscious thought. Everyone was rattled, and though the best of the best had quickly assessed the situation, many reacted on pure instinct when seeing my beeline for the tables.

Have I truly accomplished anything tonight? I asked myself as I braced myself on the white table. My eyes inspected the tablecloth, tracing the threads on the pristine cloth. Intricate patterns wove themselves out of seemingly nothing, coming together to form something admittedly beautiful. Varadoth changed everything I tried today. My music had an effect, but how will my confrontation with the High Vicar taint their perceptions of what I tried to show them?

I thought of Varadoth's words. His pierced eye sockets seemed to yawn ever wider in my mind's eye. "Through perception, power is leveraged. And through power, self is enforced," the High Vicar quoted, a blackness seeping from those words. How did these people perceive me now? If I wanted to push my ideals, did I need to be the Named Blood musician? And would my message be altered if I was seen as a pillar of strength? As High Vicar Varadoth dubbed it, a man with a soul?

I grabbed an ornate wine bottle from the table and a clear glass nearby. I noticed a few other highbloods following suit, though the area around me was empty as the space between the Relictombs and the real world. I poured a glass slowly, watching the deep red liquid gradually fill the glass. Like blood streaming from the edges of an eye socket.

I felt a phantom hand brushing my back comfortingly. I closed my eyes at Aurora's soothing gesture, though I could not see her through the Unseen World. She offered no words, simply because I wasn't in a place to receive them. I needed to process this before I could even begin to hear anything more.