Discordant Note | The Beginning After the End SI

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Seris Vritra

Battles had a rhythm to them.

It mattered not what sort of battle it was. Be it one of the mind across a Sovereign's Quarrel board, one of the heart as two grew to love each other, or one of steel as blades parted flesh, there was a rhythm, a tempo that followed each and every movement of the players, moving them inexorably toward a distant conclusion.

When I was young, deep within the confines of Taegrin Caelum's vaults, I had seen this with the inquisitive eyes of a basilisk. I had sensed the puzzle pieces as instruments in a grand production, each one becoming more than the sum of its parts.

And deep within those white testing labs—so sterile to be nearly pungent and offensive in their glaring lack of contrast—I had desired to be the conductor of the grand symphonies. I had seen Orlaeth and Agrona push and pull on those around them with the precision of masters in their craft, and I had seen myself in their place.

I remembered my ambition, decades ago. Not understanding that I was just as much another player on the board, I had wanted to be the one above it all. And once I had become a Scythe, my first steps had been to align the game in my favor.

The symphony of oncoming destruction whirled about me like the eye of a storm as Chul Asclepius stood between me and certain death. The young phoenix kept his offhand extended to the sky, his fingers outstretched, but he did not move as he faced the basilisk. Dozens of soldiers finally remembered their mortality. The stronger ones screamed, fleeing for their lives.

The weaker ones trembled as Chul's aura struggled to protect them from the encroaching shadows.

My remaining hand clenched around the stump of my left arm as I calculated my options. Chul was powerful, absurdly so. But compared to a full-fledged warrior of Epheotus, who would never slow and never tire…

My eyes narrowed as I refined my fledgling plan, realigning and refactoring possibilities. Chul would fight, true… but would he win? And if he didn't…

If he didn't, I would be ready.

Ayana Kothan's visage was one of utter disgust as she adjusted her dislocated jaw, before snapping it back into place. She spat out a tooth, ignoring the blood that streamed from the edge of her lips where Chul's fist had struck her.

"Another half-breed," she hissed, her form rippling. Scales red as blood glimmered beneath her flesh, her features turning slightly more angular. The sunlight glinted strangely off her as something tried to tear its way free from beneath her fleshy exterior, like a miner emerging from the dark. "I will take my time tearing you—"

Chul was already moving, a gale of wind trailing him like a cloak. He bellowed, fire coating his fists. Ayana growled, her fingers elongating into claws as the warrior of the Hearth took the initiative.

Collision.

Fire danced with shadow, and force tore from them that would sunder the greatest of mankind's creations. I didn't see anything more as the eruption of mana threw me from my feet.

I rolled through the haphazard camp again, my senses overwhelmed by pain. I thought I struck my head across a stone, but I couldn't be sure. All I knew was agony. White-hot fire scalded my nerves as dust and heat blanketed my vision, turning my surroundings into a kaleidoscope of movement and dying men. My thoughts—which had been so clear at the moment—scattered again as I was once again imbued with my mortality.

A trailing arc of shadow passed through nearly a score of men before it dissipated. Fire roared in tune with someone's battlecry, and the sound of tearing metal and cacophonous thunder was all I could perceive.

I coughed weakly, blood streaming from my lips. My vision swam with spots of white, inverted decay, my very eyes feeling like they would burst within my sockets like overripe fruit before withering away. Colors and sensations that shouldn't work together struck me from all sides, each assailant taking turns hammering their grievances into the depths of my skull.

And suddenly, I was being moved again. Hauled in some direction I couldn't discern. Up? To the side? I… The pain made it hard. I wanted… I wanted to just…

My vision flickered, blurry images focusing, before blurring again. Sounds flowed around me. Sounds that should have meaning.

Concussed. That was the first thing I managed to pull together from the scattered mist of my thoughts. I struck my head.

The second thing I was aware of was the blood. It streamed from somewhere above my forehead, dripping through my eye and into my mouth. For an instant, it tasted sweet.

"Seris!" that voice echoed again. It was trembling with fear. Cylrit? "Seris, I'm going to activate the medallion artifact. You cannot stay here."

My vision focused suddenly, squeezing more drops of concentrated misery from my aching skull. I took in my surroundings with rising clarity. I became aware of my breath again, the sense of each particle of dust and blood coating the inside of my lungs. I could feel where my arm used to be. Cylrit's gauntleted arm was on mine as he lifted me to my feet, his other hand already fumbling with the djinni coin.

"No," I pushed out through bloody teeth. The words sounded weak, like the last whisper of autumn through the leaves before winter finally came. "I have…"

I shook, aware of how far the infection of inverted decay had spread. It had sunk its heaving claws further into me than ever before, the deviant of mana as opportunistic as I was.

I didn't have the energy to smile at that. But it seemed that some things were going according to plan.

"I have a plan," I finally pressed out, my sense returning to me at last. "I need to get to the… top of the castle. Away from the others. And you need to leave… now."

Another wave of force echoed somewhere behind Cylrit and me. The trailing bellow of pain would have thrown me to the ground again if it weren't for my stalwart Retainer. I could see his eyes, though, feverish and worried. Worried for me. He braced before the aftermath of two dueling gods, protecting me from their thunderstorm as it trailed further away. I heard the distant splash of water and spellfire.

Chul is taking the battle elsewhere, I thought, pulling on the Retainer's arm as much as I could manage. But he won't last. He'll burn out.

Cylrit didn't move, despite my insistence. "Seris, you're dying," he said quietly. "That energy is going to kill you. We need to get you help. That's what matters right now."

I had the strength left to turn and glare at him, feeling how my heartbeats ticked closer to my death. I opened my mouth to try and explain, to try and order him away, but all that left my lips was a bloody wheeze.

This insufferable shell! I thought with bitter desperation, my head pounding like a drum. What use is a mind with no way to profess its secrets?

"There's more that matters," I said quietly. "Not just me."

Cylrit's lips pursed, and I could sense his reluctance. I silenced him by stealing the djinni medallion from his palm, clutching it tight to my own.

"This cannot save me," I said weakly, separating from Cylrit. I didn't know where I found the strength, but I started in an errant movement as I calculated my path to the castle. "There is only one way I… survive this, Cylrit. One way we all make it out alive."

I turned back to the man, observing him from the toes of his boots to the horns on his head. I thought I could see tears glistening on the edges of his eyes, too, but I was certain that was only because of the dust.

He was so unlike Kelagon. Cylrit's father had been a monster of the highest order, and I felt something in me shift as I saw his care shining through his hardened exterior.

Cylrit always reminded me of what I could become. Physically, he was a near-perfect mirror of his father: the exact thing I could never let myself become again. But he also stood as proof that I was not that creature from the Redfeud. He was not his father, and that was because I had pulled him from that path.

"Get as many as you can away from the castle," I said, blinking past the encroaching whiteness in my vision. It was getting harder to focus as I slowly succumbed. "Escort our army into the tunnels. That is where they'll be safe, Cylrit. Get them to the safehouses, and hope. Trust me. I'll see you again soon."

"I will take you there," he tried immediately, stepping forward. He stretched out his hand, the gauntlet trembling. "You can hardly walk. You need my support."

I swallowed dust. "You would die if you accompanied me, Cylrit," I said with utmost honesty. "And I will need your support. When this is over. I will find my way there."

The man stood rigid for a time, just staring at me. I saw his hands clench, his mind flash with indecision. He wanted to ignore my words. He wanted to ignore everything I said and rip the medallion from my hands, before escorting us somewhere else.

It occurred to me—distantly—that I was not the only subject of Toren's empathic senses. My Retainer was changing, too.

"As you wish, Master," he finally said, snapping a grim salute. "I will report as soon as my mission is done over the standard channels."

And then he turned and hurtled back through the dust. I heard his loud voice, booming like it had never before as he shouted orders to scattered troops to convene and gather together.

I exhaled, feeling my lungs brush against some ribs that must have been broken. I felt weak again, without my constant support.

But it didn't matter.

I turned on my heel and trudged toward my destination. Blood coated the ground in thick pools, and my heels were hardly high enough to spare my feet the red liquid seeping through. A slurry of dirt and broken dreams trailed behind me as I began my trek.

Chul and the Kothan had barely clashed, and already it had torn apart dozens of lives at the minimum.

I stumbled over a body that was missing most of its limbs, the shadows at the edges leaking null light. I caught myself haphazardly on a jutting spear, cursing my weakness and the way my limbs burned.

Come on, Seris, I thought to myself. It is only a few yards.

And—for the second time in barely a few minutes—I felt someone bolstering me from the side. A sturdy presence, solid and rigid like the stone as they supported me on my feet.

I blinked down at the person who had lifted me, wondering if I were hallucinating.

Elder Rahdeas had seen better days. The dwarf had always borne scars, each like that tattered page of a distant battlefield book. The long-lost memory of a knife arced over his bald head, joined by another along the back of his skull. More littered his arms like clippings of pale grass. One had robbed him of his eye, leaving him wearing an eyepatch and a well-worn, grandfatherly appearance.

Something had stolen his other eye today. Only a dark red gash remained of the socket, and it leaked fresh blood like tears.

Yet despite his wounds—I could tell he bore many—the old dwarf was solid as a mountaintop as he helped me stand.

"Where are we goin', Scythe?" he muttered absently, his voice a low bass rumble. "I can't see."

I slumped into his bolstering frame. "Forward," I said quietly, trusting my fellow in rebellion for this simple moment. "Just keep going forward."

We left the cloud of dust soon enough. I was only partially aware of the chaos unfolding as men screamed and ran, their shouts and spells flying. Above us, a battle was taking place in the sky between two behemoths of mana, but it would draw to a conclusion eventually.

I blinked away the pain in my eyes, and suddenly, we were before a pile of rubble that barred our path.

I must have lost consciousness for a moment, I thought distantly, my hand clenching around the djinni medallion as if it were an oath.

Rahdeas sighed, then began to shift his spellwork. He didn't speak, intent on his craft as he moved boulder after boulder out of the way. In the distance, the castle loomed, inviting as any chest of treasure or wicked-sharp knife.

I could feel my sweat against my robes as the dwarven Elder practically hauled me through the gap. "You still fight," he said quietly. "The asura come, and you still fight."

There was an unspoken question there. How.

Rahdeas… He had fought, too. When he thought there was a chance, when he thought there was hope for his people. But once the true might of Alacrya had been made known, he had begun to wither, taking a backseat in everything.

And so he asked me why I kept going. He wanted to know what made me move, step after step.

I scoffed, drawing on some of my oldest strengths. "I am… a Scythe," I said. "I have spent my years always fighting. Do you think that I would simply let them kill me?"

Rahdeas didn't respond as we finally approached the dwarven castle. It loomed high above us, casting a shadow as deep and dark as Taegrin Caelum's. The parapets were tall, distant. Far apart from the shattered army that was retreating with all haste from the battling gods.

An orange comet slammed into the ground a dozen yards away, before skidding with enough force to dig trenches in the earth.

I barely had time to register that Chul had been grounded. The young phoenix was covered in countless wounds, each streaming blood. His teeth were clenched, and his left hand was still outstretched, as if in silent offering to gods that would never come. He heaved for breath, hauling in lungfuls as fire sputtered weakly around him.

High above, Ayana Kothan—bearing only a few cuts across her face and lingering burns in her hair—sneered as she surged down to assault her prey. Her axe was nowhere to be seen. "I will tear out your eyes and present them to Lord Indrath!" she howled, her body shifting as a light the color of blood shone beneath her wounds. "Behold, halfling! A true asura!"

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And she started to grow.

As she flew down, more and more of her true, asuran form became distinct. Her face shifted, elongating as the serpent beneath shed its skin, casting off a weaker, imperfect form. Larger and larger she grew, armor melding into blood-red scales that covered her from serpentine head to toe. She was sinuous, sleek, and terribly graceful. Graceful like a lightning bolt. Graceful like death. Wings like a bat's spread from her in a span wide enough to cast the shadowed castle itself into darkness.

All six of her eyes gleamed with that same, dull hatred. And she roared.

The sound sank into my very soul: a distorted mix of serpentine hiss and a landslide. I could feel the infection in my blood crying out in rage at the very noise.

Chul's lips pulled back into a snarl, phoenix fire swirling around him. He didn't move. He didn't shift. Where once he had been gasping, now he barely seemed to breathe. The warrior was a frozen statue, hand still stretched out behind him as he bled into the dirt.

"The substance of your form matters not," he said quietly, barely audible over the roar of the deity above as it dove for him like an arrow. "They can bleed. They can die."

I heard the whistle of something far in the distance as it tore through the sky, screeching like a bird in flight.

"Underground!" I shouted, with as much energy as I could muster. "Underground, now!"

Rahdeas was already acting, calling on the mana as the two colossi reared for a clash. And as the ground sank beneath our feet, Mother Earth swallowing us in her gullet, I could just barely see what happened.

A mace hurtled in from the south, alight with fire and fury. Suncrusher returned to Chul's hand with a rush of air, his fingers closing around the blackened haft. It must have tracked all the way from distant Burim, a shooting star returning to grant a wish. The young phoenix spun like a tornado, pivoting with the condensed momentum of a returning meteor.

Ayana Kothan didn't have time to react. The speed of the hurtling missile carried Chul's upward, crashing blow into her outstretched lower jaw, a flare of phoenix fire engulfing her face.

And then we were underground. The shockwave traveled over us, the earth rumbling from the tooth-breaking strike. And I could feel the castle rumbling, shifting toward collapse above. I felt the stones heat with sizzling force, the proximity to phoenix fire imbuing them with Chul's fury.

We were underground for barely a moment before Rahdeas shifted us upward again. The air was hot and nearly scalding as it assaulted us, embers of asuran destruction lingering everywhere.

I coughed, hot air scalding my already tattered lungs. By the Vritra, I felt so… weak.

My gaze drifted to the castle, so high above.

It had been nearly destroyed. The stones were blackened. Of the four tall towers it once bore, each like an unwavering, unbreakable pillar, now only one remained. Like a ribcage scraped free of flesh, the stairwells and tower exposed their innards to the burning sky.

"Just a little bit more," I coughed, unsure if the dwarf could hear me. "We just need to go a little bit… further."

Rahdeas groaned slightly, wavering on his feet. But then the stocky man plodded onward under my direction, angling us toward an exposed staircase.

As we slowly started to ascend, one painful step at a time, I glanced at the sky.

It was awash with fire and burning shadow. Two distant figures danced: one, a brilliant star, and the other a black hole that wanted nothing more than to extinguish all light. They zipped and moved about each other as they ascended, their battle leaving the lessers behind.

But even this far away… Even from so far below, it was clear to my trained eyes.

Chul was losing. That blot of starlight was dimming, while the nova of darkness only grew.

The only solace I had was that the Alacryan and dwarven army was beginning to retreat back into the sands, their movements far, far more orderly than they were before. Cylrit had succeeded.

Now it was only myself and an old dwarf, ascending on a stairway to the skies.

I raised my foot, my thighs and calves and very bones straining just to move up from step to step. "You asked me why… I still fought," I said, my consciousness drifting as I struggled to keep hold of my plan. "You asked me why I refused to… die."

Rahdeas didn't reply right away. His torn socket bled into his beard like a river splitting into a dozen tributaries of scarlet, and the only source of his acknowledgment was a tremble of his lips.

"Aye," he said quietly, hauling me up that open stairwell. Rocks tumbled around us, the stones beneath our feet shaking and trembling as the castle fought not to buckle beneath the weight of all that had struck it.

Higher and higher we went. Step after step. On the outside of the ascending spiral staircase that had been relieved of its walls, I had a perfect view of the battlefield as we went up and up. And as the two of us rose toward the heavens, buoyed on by desires chiseled from decades of heartache and despair, I found myself cast back into the past.

A raw, painful truth seared across my mind, as painful as the inverted decay that had sunk into every single one of my cells.

I never expected to defeat Agrona or topple his regime. For all my plans and schemes and long-term goals, I had no chance to truly break the Sovereigns. And even if I did, I would fall before Epheotus' forces as they came.

The closest thing in my mind was a plan to have Kezess and Agrona destroy each other. It was absurd, foolish, and impossible. Only one would emerge from their dance. It was truth. And it had only become more clear in the wake of Burim's devastation.

"At the start," I said weakly, cycling mana from the air as I slowly succumbed to my wounds, "I never expected a true result. It was just something that needed to be done."

The admittance burned my throat more than any of Chul's fires or the dust lining my lungs. The final, grim understanding that I had never expected to win, that I had been expecting annihilation, just like the army below, tore through my pride like ragged claws.

But then I remembered the burning fire Toren had thrust into my chest, like a searing stake that pierced my heart. I remembered his tales of another world, where it was possible to resist the asura.

I called on mana rotation, flooding my core as much as I could as we continued on our upward trek. And as I fed that ravenous hunger in my blood, perpetuating my approaching demise, I let another emotion rise: a mirror and sister to the hatred I'd allowed Aya Grephin to see.

I stumbled, falling to my knees as my legs gave out. Rahdeas barely caught me. Each strand of muscle and flesh was slowly sizzling away beneath the catastrophic failure of every inch of my body. I felt as if I were submerged in burning tar, the substance refusing to abandon any inch of my cells. My silver hair fell past my face as I glared at the steps that denied me.

I growled, spitting blood onto the cobblestones. Anger and bitter fury rose from the depths of my core, fueling me like nothing before. "I'm tired," I snarled. "Tired of masking it all. Tired of… pretending like they are above us. They can die. And I'm going to see all who press their boots into our throats… perish. So long have they broken everything good."

Rahdeas hauled me up again, grunting from the pain. The old dwarf leaned against the central column for a moment, catching his breath. For the first time, I realized that one of his legs must have been broken. We had been limping all this way, but I thought that had been because of me.

"They are gods, Scythe," he said quietly, disbelief in his tone. "They will not die."

"Watch me kill them," I hissed. "We climb together, Rahdeas. We climb to their heavens to cast them down."

Rahdeas opened his mouth to reply, but the castle rumbled again. The battle outside was reaching its conclusion, and the aftershocks were shaking an already broken foundation.

The stairs beneath us trembled. One crack. Two.

And then they started to crumble.

I only had a second to feel panic washing through me, but the old dwarf was faster. Rahdeas picked me up by the back of my dress with one meaty hand, then threw me forward as if I were a sack of potatoes.

As I flew through the air, devoid of my usual grace, I caught a glimpse of the burly man's face as he fell. It wasn't peaceful. It was strained and wrought with agony as the stones hauled him back toward the earth below.

But even without eyes, I thought I could feel his intent pressing into me, urging me onward. And then the darkness swallowed him, taking him as it took everyone else.

"No," I said in defiance, hauling myself forward with my sole remaining hand, barely clutching the djinni medallion at the same time. I could not fathom how my bones did not crumble to dust, but perhaps they sensed my mission. Perhaps they had an inkling of what was to come. "No. The darkness will not take any more."

I crawled the rest of the way to the top. Like a serpent slithering through the dirt, I let that anger guide me, imbuing each of my muscles with burning determination and resolve. One step. Two. Three. Five.

And when I reached the top, I felt the sun washing over me like a loving hand. Those rays caressed my broken body, granting me some solace.

I gripped the edge of a crumbling wall, pulling myself to my feet. I leaned against the stones, feeling the wind as it rushed past me and set my hair fluttering.

A phoenix fell from the sky. A creature of fiery wings, orange feathers, and streaming blood careened from the heavens, trailing smoke as the Sehz River rushed up to meet it. Chul slammed into the river like a cannonball, smoke and steam rising around his asuran body as the water subsumed him.

High above, Ayana Kothan's red basilisk form sneered in triumph, the winged serpent twisting about itself as it spat shadows down into the water. She bore a few cuts and wounds, but nothing that would hamper a warrior. Nothing that signified true damage.

She was in the sky. Good.

Inversion had been created by taking a piece of a basilisk, flushing it of mana, and imbuing it with a spark. A primer of something other. And in that process, it had changed.

My core shuddered. The pieces were ready.

I sent out one, last desperate plea, one request of the ambient mana around me, as recompense for all those who had died. A tribute for the misery and death that had wrought itself across the world.

And I began to rise into the sky again. Painfully and fitfully, I slowly ascended into the winds, my blood streaming from me in flecks of near-white.

And now… I needed to talk to him. I needed Toren's help.

I gathered every ounce of my conviction, every stored reserve of my love, hatred, anger, and everything else. I compressed it into a ball, hammering it deep and down into a singularity of emotion. I gathered everything that connected him to me, everything that our bond had been built upon. I remembered our kisses, his touch, his care.

And then I stared up into the open sky, and I let that emotion flow.

Toren, I thought to the world, working on a hunch, Toren. Listen to me. Toren. I need you.

There was silence for a moment. Pitiful, broken silence. My demand was met with emptiness as vast as the sky. I recalled my lover's tales of how Circe Milview had called to him, and I felt a rise of fury in my gut, reinforcing my plea.

You'll listen to the calls from a girl you only healed once?! I hissed into the aether. But not me, now? Listen to my heartbeat! Hear me now! Give me your strength!

For a moment, I was worried that my gambit was wrong. That my guess would fail; that every cog of this plan would fall apart without that needed spark.

But I felt a warmth brush close to my mind. A soothing, loving calm that wanted to wrap me in its embrace. It made the agonies across my physique somehow easier to bear. Right now, I wasn't alone. Even as I hovered like a lone monolith in the sky, I could almost imagine the red-headed mage's frantic worry as he sensed my wounds.

Yes… He could heal through the distant soul, couldn't he? The foolish phoenix-born mage had shown it with Tessia Eralith and Circe Milview, had he not?

I smiled through bloody teeth, ignoring the sudden streak of horror that Toren felt through his soul. I could sense his healing energies at the ready, but I stalled him. Not now. Not yet.

At the edge of the Sehz, Chul was pulling himself from the river, drenched and weakened. His asuran form had fallen away, unable to be sustained by his defunct core. Ayana Kothan snarled, preparing herself to lunge downward for a finishing strike. Her talons dripped with phoenix blood.

Both of us were aware of one solid truth. Today, a god would die.

I gathered all my power into my lungs, and then I yelled. "Asura!"

The call traveled like the shockwaves that had rippled across the world in the wake of these two titans clashing. The wind seemed to still as the world held its breath.

Ayana turned. It wasn't just her head, but her entire being that seemed to writhe about itself, six thin limbs stamping at nothing as she hissed at me. I felt the weight of her attention, but it was nothing compared to the burning in my soul. Toren's horror deepened.

I began to call on my mana, one last time. I flooded it toward the djinni medallion, imbuing it with the necessary reserves. My vision fuzzed. "I will kill you," I taunted. "When I return, I will see you gone. I will tear off your wings and feed you your charbroiled eyes. Always I have worked to climb, and finally, I will drown your Heaven in war! That is my word!"

The basilisk's eyes widened with fury as she observed the space around me begin to warp, no doubt recognizing the effect. I would escape, and she would be left with nothing. Nothing but ash.

She snapped sideways like a whip, ignoring the defeated Chul. As planned, a hundred tons of living deity surged for me in that silence between the winds.

I stared into those eyes. I looked across that sinuous form. And I realized—somewhere deep in my core—that this was what I had been preparing for for years. I had spent so long beneath the boots of these beasts, so ready to tremble and cower.

"Arrogant!" it hissed. "I will tear your army apart! Agrona will have nothing left of your corpse to twist and experiment on!"

The asura closed the distance with frightening speed. In one instant, she was miles away. The next, she was barely a few yards from me, her fangs poised to tear me apart. Red subsumed my entire vision as I stared into the gullet of this god. I could see her pulsing flesh beneath all the pomp and arrogance.

I exhaled. My mana core cracked, then shattered.

And Integration began.

All the inverted decay—every ounce of it, spread wholly across my body over the past few minutes—erupted from me like the rebounding power of a supernova's collapse. A wave of white soulfire roared outward in an omnidirectional wave, imbued with every inch of my hatred of the basilisks. It was hardened and tempered by my trials and my pain. It burned with my hope and drive and seared from the depths of my soul.

The wave of decaying energy turned the entire castle to less than ash in a heartbeat. Stone recalled that it was simply dust in the end, then gave a last sigh before the might of Integration. Though I must have screamed from the depths of my spirit, the flames were silent. When they devoured, they did so without a sound.

Ayana Kothan was subsumed. The wall of white soulfire struck her like a tidal wave, hungry and rabid. The ocean of fire surrounded her, scorching her wings. Her eyes. Her bones. Her scales. Her everything.

A bare speck of this energy had torn its way through her mana barrier, nearly blinding her. And now…

Now she faced enough of it to blot out the sky.

The basilisk screeched once in a pitiful wail as her flesh withered across her skeleton. The skin beneath her wings burned away, leaving only charred sticks masquerading as bones, before those vanished too.

White fire devoured her whole. A single remaining eye stared at me in horror and disbelief as the asura was thrown backward, the entire being going up like charred paper. Ashes the color of bone trailed in the wake of her disintegrating body. She tried to move, but every shift and use of mana only sent that infection deeper into her mana veins.

I stared into that single eye, savoring the light as it evaporated. Something deep within me welled up as the spark within winked out, too fast for true comprehension. I felt it press against the confines of my chest, needing release.

Toren was right. What separated asura from man? What made these mana-bound beings any better than those beneath their feet? They all died the same.

I was devoid of mana. Completely and utterly, in that instant where a god withered before me, I was no more powerful than an unadorned as the nimbus of power washed over the battlefield.

In perfect timing, Toren's heartfire streamed from his soul under my demands. I drank it greedily, my weakened heart pumping it across every inch of my body in record pace. My horns ached as lifeforce streamed through them, and I found that I was gleaming white. I shone like the moon as embers of power flowed around me.

That force pressing against my lungs finally erupted.

I laughed aloud as my arm regrew in record pace, my bones reknitting as my body shifted with lifeforce. I laughed to the heavens as Ayana's bleached bones hung adrift in the sky, poised in a hubristic attempt to devour me whole.

I laughed. I laughed with delight and sorrow and love, staring into the sky as my horns—once dark as obsidian—gleamed with moonlight. I laughed as I felt the world around me in a way never before, my ascension complete. I laughed as I changed, everything inverted. I could sense Toren's disbelief and confusion over this soul-bound connection. I wanted him to be here. I wanted to take him in my arms and dance over this tattered creature's bones, laughing about life and absurdity all the while.

That spherical expansion of inverted soulfire halted in the distance. Then, as if pulled by some gravitational well, it started to crash back inward. The weave of mana washed over the bleached bones of Ayana, tearing them apart again like strips of paper from a forbidden manuscript. They disintegrated into white ash, before the energy slammed back into me.

I gasped, that lingering dust coating me from head to toe as it all compressed again. My consciousness wavered once more as I hovered in the sky, a saint anointed in the ashes of a dead god.

The djinni medallion in my hand flickered, space warping around me.

And then I was lost, my mind scattered to the wind.