Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 147: What Flows Through One's Blood

Naereni

I took a step forward, not fully registering the pain that lanced through my calf and up my leg. The darkness of the basement was barely combatted by the distant glow of the basilisk blood crystal.

"Come on, twitter-fingers," Caera said, heaving for breath as she helped me move forward. My legs felt like lead as we continued, each step taken with less than half a mind. "You aren't going to just lay down and die. We're going to... to destroy that crystal."

Karsien had pushed me into the hole where the crystal had fallen, and Hofal had sealed the opening over after me. They were still up there, fighting against the vicars that surged toward us like a demented hive. My core throbbed from my near brush with backlash, pain threading through each of my mana channels. But that was nothing compared to the wrenching ache in my heart.

Up ahead, Sevren stumbled before getting his balance back under him. "Only a little bit further," he coughed. The air was damp and cloying, each breath trying to strangle me with its weight.

My ice-splinted foot caught on a rock, causing me to stumble forward. Caera, tired as she was, failed to catch me in time. I hit the stones, splaying out as I scraped my forearms with barely a grunt. I pulled myself to my hands and knees, staring at the stone as more tears blurred the edges of my vision.

They were going to die. Die alone fighting those horrible, demented vicars.

Something threaded under each of my arms, hauling me to my feet. I hazily noted that Sevren had backtracked, helping his sister as they both worked to haul me forward. The Denoir highblood braced my left side, his face–smeared with both dirt and blood–set into a grim mask of determination. Caera's was much the same, and for the first time, I thought they looked alike. Though their physical features couldn't be more different, the fire that burned in their hearts had the same kindling flare.

It made me feel all the more small. Useless. A street rat, undeserving of my magic and friends.

But the world was slowly reaping its due, putting me back in my place. My family was already being taken from me above. I could just barely feel the clash of magic far above, my crew fighting to their last just to give us more time.

Then something in the air changed. A pulse seemed to flood through the cavern like a hammer to the chest, a sense of power reaching us even in the dark basements of the Joan estate. Simultaneously a roaring, raging bonfire, and a soothing hearth that rumbled like a heartbeat. I shuddered as it washed over me, my weakness made all the more prevalent. Caera stuttered in her step, wide ruby eyes turning to peer back whence we came in utter shock.

"Is that... is that Toren?" she muttered, her bangs covering one eye. "Merciful Vritra, what in all the hells is he? I can sense his aura from here! Like a fire burning against my skin!"

"Keep moving," Sevren admonished, seeming unphased by the shift in the air. "We still have a job to do. Feel free to ask my friend any questions when we're done."

"Y-yeah," Caera said, turning back toward the glowing crystal not far ahead.

The crystal had tumbled into a large room. From the flaming scorch marks and blackened furniture all around, I suspected this was the place where the distillery used to be.

Before Karsien had blown it to smithereens.

There was another exit at the far end of the basement room, but my eyes were forcefully drawn to the hulking heart of crystal.

It was large. Larger than some of the houses in East Fiachra, and from how mist continued to swirl and writhe in concentrated power within, I knew it to be infinitely more deadly than anything my home had faced before. Caera and Sevren set me down gently, propping me against a wall. I slumped as Sevren carefully edged his way closer to the crystal, avoiding the constant stream of energy funneling out of the horns embedded into the side. He laid his single hand on it and engaged some sort of spellform.