Crimson Ascension

Helvan started at the campfire, dazed. The flames might draw attention had they been isolated, but tonight, a small fire in the forest was the least of people's concerns, for Anaverith burned.

I thought we had more time, but I was wrong.

The Maker sent a message, loud and clear to any of those who were privy to the dark rumors. He would meet defiance against his rule with fire and destruction. No one who lived under his shadow was beyond the decree written with the ashes of an entire city. Those waiting in the shadows would hear of Anaverith and think twice about their actions.

Helvan was not one of them.

He knew this fate would unfold before it happened. Although the future might not be set in stone, he knew some events were like knots tightened into a rope—hard to unravel once the pieces started falling into place.

Draven slept on the ground next to him, still unconscious after incurring the wrath of a Perfected. At least he is alive. That is more than some of us can claim. Helvan tried to keep his mind away from Myra, to the wrenching pain and realization he would never see her again.

He failed.

Someone without a soul was supposed to have no emotions, but somewhere along the past month, Helvan had started to feel again. The reason eluded him, and so did the consequences of the revelation. Tonight, he wished not to feel at all. It was painful, worse than physical torture, worse than he remembered.

With a sigh, he let his presence out in minute pulses, willing it to follow the wind, to meld with it. Where are you, Corvanis? Helvan refused to think the Transmuter had succumbed alongside the city, but fate had a way of taking him by surprise.

Corvanis showed up hours later, his face covered with ash and blood. Finn followed him with wide-eyed terror.

"Who the abyss is you?" The young man said, taken aback by Helvan's appearance.

"It is me, Finn," Helvan said. "Helvan. Reverting the flow of time is simple if you have been a Chroner for as long as I have."

"Where's Draven?" Finn ignored Helvan's appearance, running next to his friend's unconscious body. "Is he? Hey, stupid, wake up." He shook his body lightly, worry plastered on his face. "Gramps, why isn't he—"

"Give him time to rest, Finn." Helvan poked at the fire to revive the flames. "Draven has exerted himself past his limits. He is fine, but needs time to recover."

Finn felt for a pulse and only did as suggested after confirming Draven was alive. In minutes, he too fell asleep. Helvan did not blame him. Venturing into Daesvor, The Land of Dreams, was taxing to the most powerful Dreamers, and Finn had just started his path. To find someone through it required resilience and power he was still not equipped to handle.

Helvan waited until the sound of light snoring filled the campfire.

"You finally did something about the old man's facade," Corvanis said from the opposite side of the fire. "It is pure chaos in there. The Silver Flame Inquisition and that beast killed all the Virien of Anaverith, but they are not stopping it."

"I know. They intend to burn it to the ground," Helvan sighed. "The Maker knows no half-measures."

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Corvanis nodded, looking around with a frown. "Where is Myra?"

The question made Helvan's stomach fall to the ground. His shoulders trembled with unrestrained emotion, something which he had lost the practice of controlling. The words attempted to leave his mouth, to answer the question, but stopped at his lips.

"I… understand." Corvanis closed his eyes, a wince of pain on his face. "May she find peace in a better place than this. It is the least she deserved."

After an hour spent in silence, Helvan got hold of his loss.

"The core of the Hemomorph was not inert, Corvanis. The creature all but possessed him, nearly getting all of us killed." Helvan moved Draven's face, careful not to wake him up. "But that is the least of our concerns. He was branded."

Corvanis sucked in a deep breath, looking away a moment too late. "He got a damned rune in his skin? That can be dangerous. He cannot be allowed to activate it, Helvan. Since you lost your sight, who is to say the boy will know what the effects of the rune are? It will most likely kill him, one way or another."

"He already did." Helvan shook his head. "Amplification, if I am not mistaken. He survived a strike from Ulissan, so there is no mistaking it."

"Abyss take me." Corvanis winced, either from the rune burned on Draven's skin or from what he learned. "Veotherium. He must be suppressed at all times—"

"That won't buy us enough time." Finn, who Helvan swore had been sleeping, took a seat around the fire. Blood trailed from his eyes, nose, and ear as if he had taken a beating. "He was waiting for me there, in Daesvor."

"Who was waiting, boy?" Helvan asked, even though he knew the answer.

"The Maker." Finn shivered. "It… it felt as if his Presence was the world itself. How can someone be so… Fucking shit! We have to get out of here, Gramps."

"If the Maker saw you, Finn, explain to me how you are still alive." Corvanis narrowed his eyes, hexion brimming under his skin.

Finn stared down the Overseer with nothing but serenity in his bloodshot eyes before muttering, "He shall stand before that which has died, shall die, and yet shall die again." He threw a glance at Draven, regret all but emanating from him. "He said Varn'Kess is our only hope."

Helvan sucked in a gasp. "Is he… alive? No, that cannot be."

"I can attest to that much." Corvanis glanced down at the thin saber on his hip.

"I don't care. Dead or alive. Echo or not, he's right. Varn'Kess is the only place in the Haven where the Maker's Presence can't reach. At least that's what he said." Finn muttered.

"Varn'Kess, the Fallen's Tomb." Helvan nodded. "It will buy us some time for him to get stronger. The Fallen might have died, but his shattered will is still enough to match the Maker's. We will be safe there. For now."

Corvanis threw him a look, a silent question floating in the chilly night. Helvan was unsure if revealing a lot to Finn was a good idea, but they needed the help of a Dreamer if they were to pull off what needed to be done.

Helvan held Corvanis's gaze and nodded.

"Are you abandoning the plan to steal the First Book?" Corvanis raised an eyebrow. "The Maker is onto us now."

"Of course not. Without the power of the runes, even if Draven were ten times the Empyrean he is, it would not be enough. Let alone the Maker, he would never so much as touch a Perfected." Helvan scoffed. "His Az'Tenri Circlet is still incomplete. Until his Malediction awakens, I expect you to keep your mouth shut, Finn."

Finn hesitated, glancing over at Draven before looking away with a wince. "Get him a mask or something, dammit. Look, I don't like keeping this kind of secret from him. The moment his Malediction awakens, whatever the abyss that is, you're telling him everything. And I mean, everything."

Helvan nodded without hesitation. Draven would need to know the full picture soon, but now was not the time—knowledge might askew the working of the circlet, and he refused to take that risk. Still, he reached into the Timeless Void and retrieved a pair of veotherium manacles.

The apparatus was meant to suppress the power of an Empyrean, but Helvan only hoped it suppressed the influence of the unforeseen beast that slumbered within Draven. With Asthagon's remnant spent, the next time the boy activated the rune would be the day he died.

If Draven died, the Haven would soon follow. Helvan would stop at nothing to ensure that fate did not come to pass.