Crimson Ascension

The Gloom is a peculiar sickness reported by some Overseers on duty. At first, it was regarded as a form of superstition originating in the mines, but soon, trusted sources lent credibility to it. Like the Call of the Abyss itself, the Gloom shaves away at the life of miners. For that reason, it is exceedingly rare for one of them to survive past their thirties.

–Nerovian Orenn, Virien of the fallen House of Amethyst Dragons

Unlike the Eminence realm and its painful to open meridians, advancing in the ranks of Ascendance didn't cause any pain. Draven sat cross-legged on the roof of the Elysian Inn, his eyes watching the distant outlines of verdant forests in the distance. His soul spread throughout his flesh like hexion flowing inside his veins.

DRAVEN VON ASTRAIS
PATH: BLOOD - ASCENDANCE [MEDIAN]

All it had taken was coming to terms with the regrets that marred his soul, the guilt that made him hesitate before every step. That's harder than it sounds. Draven chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. A merger of soul and body meant attacks that harmed the flesh now also wounded the soul, which some considered a disadvantage. However, the Mending of flesh also healed the soul, and the wounds incurred by his refined hexion also affected the soul.

The sound of tiles cracking brought his attention to the newcomer, who now shared his preferred spot on the roof. Finn. "Took me a few days, but Korvax's Echo is finally restored to its highest form. Are you ready to…" The Dreamer stopped, a frown overcoming his features like a question unasked. "You look different."

"Well, I just reached Median Ascendance." Draven couldn't contain the smile. The progress meant having the power to protect those he cared about. "But that's not why."

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you had given up on it." Finn slapped him on the back. "But if that's not why, then what's going on?"

"I suppose I'm finally coming to terms with some things, Finn—what I thought would haunt me forever. Now, I can see myself living with them. Despite them." Draven held his friend's gaze for a moment before Finn looked away. Behind the playful smile, he, too, had wounds from the past that refused to close.

"At least that makes one of us. Anyway, I don't want to spoil the celebration, so what do you think about Dreaming that stuff your old man talked about?" Finn took a set. "But this time, I won't risk bringing you to Daesvor. Projecting what I see about Korvax and Helvan's past to your eyes might be safer. That way you won't wander off like a child and get lost."

"You can… Dream about someone's past?"

"Sort of. Not by myself, at least. I'm not strong enough to do so. Yet." Finn shrugged. "Korvax is a powerful Echo, Draven, like a medium through which my powers can be enhanced. With his help, it will be possible to see through the eyes of those who slept."

"You see, whenever someone sleeps, the stuff that happens to them has to be processed. Our minds can only understand so much at a time, so we need Daesvor to help us get some… closure. A Dreamer can find the fragments of those memories in Daesvor and read them, pierce the past and experience it through the eyes of whoever they belonged to." Finn winced, looking at Draven with odd side-eye. "Except yours, since you don't sleep anymore—incredibly weird, by the way."

"It can't be that easy." Draven shook his head. "If anyone could just read the past like this, there wouldn't be any secrets from your lot."

"Fragments last about five years in Daesvor. If you know how to shield yourself against Dreamers, they last much shorter than that and are hard to find." The frustration in Finn's voice made Draven think he had tried it before. Tried and failed. "You'd need to have a strong connection to those you're trying to read to even have a chance at seeing their past. Like the one we share with… Helvan."

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"Helvan." Draven spit out the name. "I can't say I look forward to seeing his past. It's probably riddled with people he sent to die. But if my father thinks we need to understand what happened to me in Daesvor, then I guess we have no choice. Just so you know, Finn, Korvax died over five years ago."

"Korvax is a different story. He's an Echo. His entire being, past and experiences, is stored in the projection of his consciousness." He spoke as if knowledge about highly advanced Dreaming Arts was common sense. "Don't worry about it."

"Alright. I call Elevalein—"

Near the edges of Ethernatus, two heartbeats abruptly ceased to be. Crime and violence were unusual capital city of the Haven, but it was not unheard of. What was unusual was the three other lives that dwindled a few moments later. Draven felt the panic in the surrounding hearts near those who had fallen.

"Something is wrong, Finn. There are people dying in the city." Draven stood up, a sickening feeling worming its way into his heart. Though he felt those who died, he could not pinpoint who had killed them.

"Sovrans die all the time, Draves. They aren't immortal, as you well know." Finn shrugged.

"Not like this." Ten more lives flickered out like candles in the wind. "No. Something is going on here. Alert the others and stay together!"

Draven leapt off the roof, easily soaring hundreds of paces in the air. He felt stronger, different. It was as if his body responded effortlessly to his commands. Midair, he unfolded his Presence. Tendrils of blood surged in all directions, covering the vicinity of the spires with an intricate web of blood that pulled him forward. The ground's pull did not affect him as he soared in the afternoon sky like a bird.

Every moment that passed, lives were lost. Unlike before, hearts beat with resolve and power—Empyreans most likely defending the common people from whoever was wreaking havoc in the city. Their resistance bought time, but the heartbeats continued to flicker out from his senses.

They are losing. Draven realized. The Empyreans of Ethernatus, the Magisterium Arcana, were losing. Tenfold Amplification!

Draven blurred in the air, arriving near the epicentre of death within moments. He landed on the ground, cracking stone and sending rubble flying. The Hemomorph's Mantle burst his clothes to shreds, as the crimson set of armor enveloped his body in reptilian scales and plate. Inside an alleyway, screams and heartbeats echoed with terror. Draven ran, his amplified body taking him to the source of the commotion like a Chroner stopping time.

Four terrified Sovrans huddled behind a man wearing silver armor—an Inquisitor. Claw-shaped rents tore his armor into scrap. Blood flowed from his chest, staining the uniform of the Silver Flame Inquisition. He held a spear woven out of Souls, two Specters covering his flank against a dark abomination.

The creature was unlike anything Draven had ever seen. Hide like flowing black ink, eyes like burning ambers, it was shaped as a hound and walked with four muscled legs. But it was no hound. A pair of limbs protruded from its back, arching forward like fangs dripping with black ichor.

It had no heartbeat. It was not alive. It was death.

Draven shook himself out of the reverie, crashing into the man-sized beast with his strength increased tenfold. The stone wall in the alley cracked as Archon and beast burst through it, giving a chance for the terrified Sovrans to escape. Draven punched the creature away and fell into a battle stance.

The creature, to his surprise, stood up with shaking legs. Abyss take me, it can survive that? He felt his heart drop to the floor. Though he had used no Art, the sheer power of his physical body was enough to crush stone like powder. Yet the creature had survived.

"Archon," It rasped in a voice that struck a familiar chord. "Had you accepted my offer, I would not have needed to destroy this world. Now, my Beyondra will reap the debt you owe me! "

"Fallen," Draven snarled. "You never required a reason. I might have been blind when we last met, but only a fool would not have sensed the hatred you bear."

Draven dashed forward, congealing blood in the shape of spikes attached to his knuckles. He drove a punch into the Beyondra's head, the hexion constructs piercing the inky flesh. Blood and hexion flowed into the wound, expanding into countless bloodspikes that obliterated the creature's body from within.

Around Draven, lives were being reaped every second. He had no time to waste, for the forces of the Beyond had breached Ethernatus, and the Maker was nowhere to be seen.