B3 CH 7 - Ascent
The extent of the Maker's power is not written anywhere—he has seen to that—but there are a few historical incidents that may allude to the true depth of who he is. The Severing and The Red Eclipse. Perhaps you remember those titles, Primus. Perhaps not. It is, however, a crucial matter.
–Nerovian Orenn, Virien of the fallen House of Amethyst Dragons
Draven hovered in front of the source of his Empyrean power, his astra, and drew a deep breath. The Shield around his soul vanished—a minor obstacle in revealing his location to those who hunted him. Let them come, he thought, if they dared. Will spread from the inner reaches of his soul, coursing to the emptiness that was the spiritual recesses between flesh and soul, pulling the edges of his soul along with it.
The white of his soul stained the black outside of it, like a light shining in a dark room. The untamed emptiness inside him was a curious space. It was nothing, yet it was also everything. It vibrated in a silent rhythm of the memories Draven tried to forget and those he tried to remember. The more his soul intruded on its domain, the more he was forced to confront what was better left buried.
His father's death. The chasm his absence had left in the hearts of his family. His mother had tried her best to keep their family whole, but she had been a shadow of herself ever since. Now, he couldn't even remember her face or name. Will—Korvax—betrayed them. He had condemned Draven to a life of suffering and regret, and he had done so knowing what awaited him. Abyss take him, the Severer should have taken the memory of his existence instead.
Draven's breathing, once even, sped up.
Power granted many things. Authority. Competence. Status. For the power Draven had amassed, he had still failed to save so many. Dan. His mother. Myra. Corvanis. Each of those deaths left a hole in his heart, a bitter taste in his mouth that never went away. It was hidden behind every smile, like a shadow that awaited the opportunity to smother all light.
He had failed. Again. Again. And Again. Even when he had promised himself never to do so again. Even when he had trained so hard, he could feel his sanity slipping through the holes in his heart. A failure, Draven thought, that's what I am.
Draven gasped as the darkness reacted to his expanding soul, rejecting—pushing it back. There, another failure. He wished to be angry, but the apathy of it smothered the fire. How can I beat him if I can't ascend? It was not the first time he had tried to break through from Lesser to Median Ascendence, not by a long shot. He had tried countless times in the past year, but each attempt ended with the same result.
He was broken. Deep down, his soul knew it. The Archon of Blood might be capable of mending any physical wound, but those powers fell short of fixing the scars left by those he failed to save.
***
The Elysian Inn was an establishment renowned for its privacy—a place where Empyreans from around the Haven, not just Ethernatus, could have their prolonged stays, not compromising their training in the Paths. Each room was insulated with transmuted materials that prevented sound from escaping.
Discretion above all else.
Draven entered one of the Elysian Inn's many dedicated places for the training of Empyrean Arts. Rows of lightspheres neatly organized into a pattern in the ceiling spilled light into the room, which was made of silver metal for the walls. The floor was coarse gray stone, cleaned to a point where Draven suspected he might be the first person to enter it.
The room itself was plain except for a few training rugs on the floor, arranged near the edges next to the walls—meditation mats. Finn sat cross-legged on one, the white armour glistening under spherelight. His eyes were closed. In Daevor, Draven thought, most likely. Korvax had taught him how to better shield his Presence from the Maker in the past year.
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Elevalein sat on the opposite side, six spheres of green fog hovering in circles around his head. Specters. Ethereal strings connected the spheres to his head, passing through flesh and disappearing inside his skull. Draven couldn't help but shiver. Evokers were a bit disconcerting sometimes, even his brother. A deep frown etched lines on Elevalein's forehead as he undoubtedly shaved away at the last meridian that prevented his Ascendance.
The last man in the room took Draven by surprise.
He had raven-black hair cut short around the temples, and wore a worn purple vest adorned with fading golden embroidery. He once carried himself with poise and pride, head held high as if the ground was a forbidden thing to look upon. Now, Nerovian Orenn sat with the weight of many things upon his shoulders, for his house was no more. For the Haven might soon follow it.
"Primus, we meet again." Nerovian stood up from the meditation mat and approached with careful steps. He held Draven's gaze, but his eyes were troubled. "It has been a long time, Draven."
"Nerovian." Draven nodded but offered no more words.
Nerovian was a man who had caused him much suffering, a Sovran who reminded Draven of things he wished to forget. For the sake of the Haven and the memory of his brother, he'd let no harm come to the Sovran lord of the destroyed Orenn house, but that didn't mean he had to pretend their relationship was not a strained one.
"Draven… I…" Nerovian hesitated, his face troubled. Ashamed. "I know my arrival is sudden. I know you do not wish to see me, but there are things I wish to tell you. You see, I've had a lot to think about after what happened to my House—about the things I've done."
"If it's forgiveness you seek, Nerovian, then you can rest assured. I hold no hatred toward you." Draven sighed. Nerovian was not his enemy; he had never been. He acted on the principles he had been raised with, even if those resulted in cruelty that left scars on those around him. "What you did to me is… irrelevant. It isn't the reason I've been avoiding you for the better part of a year."
The relief on Nerovian's face made Draven sick to his stomach. He stood with hands clasped in front of him, lips involuntarily pursed into a thin line. It was the same expression Dan had when he sought forgiveness. Abyss take him, Draven looked at Nerovian, and all he could see was the vestiges of his brother.
It hurt him more than he cared to admit.
"I am sorry. Truly, Draven, I cannot express how ashamed I am of my actions." Nerovian's voice trembled, but his face was determined. He had mulled over those words for a long time, kept them inside. They needed to be let out. "The things I've done—not only to you—eat at me every time I close my eyes. I know it is impossible to atone for these sins, for the people whose lives I've so cruelly robbed."
The words struck a chord deep inside Draven.
"But I will live the rest of my life knowing I took those lives, knowing that I was a hateful, terrible man. And I will make amends." Nerovian's shoulder, which had been slumped, suddenly regained a shred of the regality he once carried himself with. "I will carry the sins of my past with me, but I won't let them determine what kind of man I will die as. I will honor the memory of your brother."
Carry the sins. Move forward despite the past. Nerovian went back to his meditation mat with a nod. The change in the young lord's character left Draven at a loss for words. This was not the same spoiled, cruel man he knew when infiltrating House Orenn.
Honor my brother? Dan?
Draven doubted such a thing was possible; Nerovian had indirectly been the one to kill him, after all. He might not have known if due to the oaths inscribed in the Heightening Chamber's runes, but Draven doubted the knowledge of the ritual would have changed the outcome. Dan and his mother were destined to die, prophesied to have their lives drive Draven's growth further.
"It's time for you to come out." Draven unfolded his Presence into the room. "Come out, Korvax!"
Finn snapped himself awake with a gasp. Elevalein burst to his feet, hand shooting for his sword. Nerovian jumped, eyes wide.
White light emanated from Finn's skin, condensing into the outline of a tall man. His hair was brushed back, face shaved and clean. Korvax wore the simple clothes of a miner, even though his stature mocked the hardship Draven's people endured for their lack of physical strength. The Echo was difficult to distinguish from reality when inspected from a distance, but upon closer look, Draven could see his silhouette was faintly translucent.
"It's time for you to tell us everything." Draven snarled the words through gritted teeth. Elevalein looked at the Echo with a mixture of surprise and undistinguished hostility.
Korvax stared Draven in the eye, his face bitter, before giving a nod. The time of secrets was over. Draven would find out what the man knew, what his prophecies had in store for the Haven.
He would stop them.