Discordant Note | The Beginning After the End SI-Chapter 304 - 302: Ashes to Ashes

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Seris Vritra

Those asuras waited, each like a captured thunderstorm. I heard no words and felt no more changes in the ambient mana, but still, I knew. I knew what they were waiting for. I knew—on some instinctual level—what was about to happen.

The treaty was broken, and there was nothing that would forestall the fury of the heavens themselves.

Plans and contingencies rumbled through my head at fevered speed as I pulled myself to my full height. My fatigue vanished like a veil of fog beneath the summer sun, the unrelenting, scorching heat scouring it all away.

"Run to your king, Aya Grephin," I said quietly, my hands shaking. "Go. Now. Before the sky falls."

The candlelights spaced across the room slowly fizzled out, the very air tearing away their life. Shadows slowly coated Lance Phantasm, but I could see the fearful look she sent me.

"Go," I said more harshly, forcing myself to walk past her. "This is your only chance. It might already be too late to deliver this knowledge."

She didn't say anything. Her jaw trembled. Her hands tightened. But finally, she acquiesced. Mist wrapped around her from the floor, tendrils rising from the stone to whisk her away.

The asura should let her pass, I thought through the haze of that King's Force. But me… I am a different story.

Cylrit finally managed to pull himself together as I stumbled to the door. "Seris," he said quickly, nearly stumbling over his words as he rushed to my side. "We need to evacuate. The asura cannot—"

"Go to the dungeons, Cylrit," I retorted, not looking at him as I limped through the dark hallways. "The asura will not let us flee, and my troops are caught in the aura below. They will suffer and die if we do not do something. So go to the dungeons. It is our only hope."

I do not leave bodies needlessly in my wake, I reasserted, tasting iron on my tongue. I do not sacrifice without cause.

Cylrit's gauntleted hands clenched. His blood-red eye shimmered with indecision, some conflict warring inside. "Seris," he said quietly, "You… cannot do this. You can escape now. We can leave this behind. If you don't, then… Then they will kill you."

"They will try," I said sharply. I spared my Retainer one steady, assured gaze. "Have I ever led you astray, Cylrit?"

The man—who had been my companion for decades now—swallowed. Something in him was changing in the wake of Toren. I could see some of it there: questions he had never allowed himself to ask, rising to the surface like oil separating from water.

I laid a hand on this unmovable soldier's arm, hoping to try and convey some of the confidence I felt. Some of the hope. Fear pervaded every inch of my cells, but it was a fuel I could burn for the drive I needed. I needed Cylrit, now more than ever, to be that pillar of unwavering strength he had always been.

Even if it tore him apart inside.

I remembered the last time we had had a conversation so daunting. I had made a misstep, approaching something that should not have been touched. I had told him that I could never be what he wished for. My Retainer had retreated from my words, as was only wise.

But as his resolve slowly solidified and he nodded, I saw that unspoken emotion harden him, in the same way my fear and hope guided me.

"As you wish, Scythe Seris," he said with resolve more solid than black diamond, wasting no more breath than was necessary. "I will bring help."

He turned on his heels and then began to fly down the corridors, leaving me alone. And as he left me underneath the overwhelming swell of the asura's intent, I felt the urge to crumple like a box of brittle wood.

I banished that feeling, forcing my chin high as I strode through the halls. With a careful application of mana, I withdrew a single item from my dimension ring: a last resort, if all else failed. A final, desperate gambit was possible if there was no other way out.

The djinni medallion—designed to teleport the user far away to a distant sanctuary—was cool against the inside of my skin as I palmed it. The intricate etchings were a slight comfort in a dreary, cramped, and altogether uncomfortable castle.

I felt the temptation to run. To just teleport away and hide myself. But besides the fate of the army far below, using the djinni medallion would leave Toren stranded and bereft of allies when he returned. And when Toren returned…

When I emerged from one of the castle's rooftop entrances, the first thing that struck me was the silence. Even this high above the sands far below, the sounds of men shouting orders, the grinding of iron, and the sound of intermittent spellfire was always audible. The hustle and bustle of thousands of soldiers going about their days and waiting in tense silence created a life to this place that made me think of a living, breathing thing.

The Dicathians on the far bank, too, had made the occasional noise. One might hear the sound of gunshots as they used those new weapons with deadly efficiency. I could occasionally hear the jibes of the elves at the forefront as they reaped their due.

Like two great beasts of war, the armies became something more than the sum of their parts as they had danced and clashed with each other these past few weeks. Limbs of those creatures grew, entwined, then broke apart in a state of constant flux—and amidst that flow, there was always noise.

But now, no sound graced the skies. The force in the air quieted any and all sounds of protest. Far below this castle, an army thousands of mages strong was stunned into heart-attacking silence from the weight of mountains in the sky. Not even the wind blew its secrets to my ears, the forces of nature themselves bowing to a higher power.

I clasped my hands over my stomach, ensuring that I was perfectly suited for this upcoming performance. My nails were painted the color of blackened blood. My silver hair traveled in loose waves down to my back, accentuating my dark dress. My horns stood proudly atop my head, a pronouncement of my station.

My exhaustion did not matter. The painful pulse of my heart as infection clawed at my insides did not matter. My reservations and fears did not matter. The ache of my core did not matter.

All that mattered was being a Scythe.

I finally looked up.

Hundreds of figures glimmered in resplendent battle armor all across the late afternoon sky, each silent and still. Armor crafted of the world's highest metals contrasted weapons so sharp they could cut space itself. Blades and spearpoints segmented by every sort of element in existence turned the sky into a spectrum of angry colors.

Dragons, pantheons, phoenixes, and more dotted the sky, each like fruit suspended from an invisible tree. And at their head…

"General Aldir," I said, projecting my voice. It didn't carry far, but it didn't need to. "Rumors and whispers of your deeds have reached even Alacrya." I held my chin up, ignoring how I trembled under the weight of his presence. "For what reason do I have the honor of speaking with you today?"

The pantheon general, foremost of the echelons of Epheotus, studied me with a single, violet eye. His long, white ponytail stood starkly against his black armor. That pupil scrutinized me over and over, making chills trail along my spine. "Scythe Seris Vritra," he said dismissively, lowering slightly in the air. His voice was just as cool as his gaze, flowing along the currents of the world. "You are either very bold or very foolish to present yourself so openly before us."

The other asura remained silent as my attention flicked to them, then back to Aldir Thyestes. The djinni medallion I kept pressed against my palm was slick with sweat, and my pulse slowly rose in my head. "If you wished utter annihilation upon all under my command, Lord Thyestes, it would have already been done. Yet you waited here, projecting your power. Which means you wish to make a statement."

The asura nodded slowly, measuring my words as if they were a cool drink. "Indeed, lesser. I bring a proclamation from Kezess Indrath. The treaty has been renegotiated."

My blood froze solid in my veins, and my hands clenched around the medallion. The treaty barring asuran intervention in this war. The only thing stopping the devastation of Burim from spreading across the entire continent. But what sparked another renegotiation? If Agrona wanted to try and open up talks with Kezess, he'd need precedent.

"And what are the renewed terms of this treaty?" I asked, dread rising like a corpse from the grave.

Aldir considered me for a time. A long enough time that simply standing beneath his oppressive strength was becoming more and more difficult. My balance wavered as I summoned every ounce of willpower I had in reserve. I knew it was a fruitless attempt. As powerful as Aldir Thyestes was—a warrior among the greatest warriors—he could likely deduce my weakness from a bare thought.

The general's single eye darted to the trail of blood along my neck where Aya's blade had grazed. "This war has been marred by constant interference from outside parties," he said, his voice nonchalant. As if the entire concept of this war was nothing more than a passing errand or a noonday stroll, his tone portrayed nothing of his innermost thoughts. "At every step of the way, a battle between two has been forced into a muddy pit as a third intervenes. Lord Indrath has found these complications… unsatisfactory."

The Hearth. The Asclepius. After everything Toren and Chul had done, the war had finally escalated again. I swallowed, but Aldir was not done.

"In light of these frivolous interferences, your Lord and mine have come to an understanding. This third party will be removed."

The phoenixes of the Hearth had voted to stay out of the lesser's war. But to Kezess and Agrona, that did not matter. Like a child upset that another had spied upon their game, they were going to wipe out any and all who dared to interfere. Kezess had sent an army here to eliminate the clan of refugee phoenixes.

A dozen questions danced about in my head like scalding hot fireflies, but one clawed its way to the top in the barest instant.

Why is Aldir here, and not in the Beast Glades? Why is he taking the time to address me here?

I would have said it was because Chul was my prisoner in the dungeons far below, but one did not need an army and a royal decree for such things.

"Lord Indrath would not extend himself so fully and risk more losses among his warriors if there was not due recompense paid by the High Sovereign in turn," I said, everything that had been happening these past few weeks settling into place like swirling sand at the bottom of an hourglass. The reason I had been kept out of Agrona's plans. Why I'd been ordered to lead the warfront by Cadell. The illusory and hidden nature of the High Sovereign's gambit in Xyrus, and why I was alone leading the Darvish front.

"Ahh," I said softly, my lips parting like flesh beneath a blade. "That is how it is, isn't it? We are a sacrifice for the board to be reset."

My shoulders loosened, and I felt a dreaded fog slowly seep in. Aya had taken her shrouding mist with her, but it seemed only now had the veil been truly lifted from my sight. I had been too preoccupied with the vision of a lesser's war. Too invested in my games and back-and-forth with King Arthur. Too prideful to recognize the truth of what was happening. I had been so focused on trying to preserve the Dicathians for the aftermath that I had forgotten, in some small way, that this war was never about us.

It was ironic. It seemed Agrona had driven a knife into my back before I could sink one into his core.

Aldir watched me the same way a man watched an ape. His controlled condescension was slashed through with characteristic indifference. "Agrona has offered the armies of Darv as fair recompense for Lord Indrath's removal of the Asclepius traitors," he said succinctly. "This war has gone too far out of what it should be, and that shall be remedied shortly."

His nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly. "Treachery is in Agrona's nature, Scythe," he said with utmost distaste. "You must have thought yourself immune to it."

I could see the grand plan playing out before me as if from Agrona's eyes. This army of Epheotus would ravage the Alacryan forces on this warfront, and then put the Hearth to the sword. And all the while—distracted as they were by reaping lives that could not resist them and doing battle with the phoenixes—Agrona would strike with whatever ritual he had prepared in Xyrus, catching the homeland of the Dragon Tyrant completely by surprise.

A master play. I would see it ruined.

I forced a smile on my face as I stared up at the waiting asuran army, hoping against hope. I needed to buy time. "Indeed, treachery is in his nature," I acknowledged. "Do you think that you are free from that treachery? Even now, Agrona plots to strike at your back. I might tell you how."

Aldir paused, weighing my words. He no doubt sensed the scheme forming in my head, but he was wise enough to listen. A true general did not dismiss information.

"And I suppose you would ask for your life to be spared in exchange for this information, lessuran?" Aldir pressed, his aura flexing the barest bit.

I might be able to give the Hearth a chance, I thought, feeling my heart speed up. My core ached painfully as I cycled mana through it. If they will listen…

"No," I said with strain. "Think of it as a betrayed general's final play. If Agrona has truly offered me to your armies as a sacrifice, then I offer something else as well. Xyrus City. That is his focus."

I paused, gauging the silence as I stared up at Aldir. It occurred to me that he had likely been gambling on something of this nature by being so open with his proclamations. No soldier appreciated being fed to the wolves.

"That powderkeg has been his goal throughout all of this war, I suspect. And now, you will play right into his hands." I swept my gaze across the many asura, noting their disdain. I did not smile. That would wound their pride. Instead, I pulled my lips down into a sympathetic frown. "You think yourselves higher than me, but we are all one and the same. Betrayed."

The pantheon on high did not speak. He studied me as I stood on those castle ramparts, but an unseen ripple went through the asura high above. More than a few turned, looking to the northeast. Some muttered amongst themselves, questions overriding their disdain. What if I was telling the truth? What if this was all some sort of trap?

I saw my chance.

"I do not ask to be spared from your wrath," I said slowly. I raised up my arms to the pantheon general. "Take me prisoner, if you will. Cripple my core, remove my arms and legs… It doesn't matter. I will assist you in foiling the upcoming attack on Xyrus. Kill me after, if you wish. But it would bring me… joy, to see the High Sovereign's plan fail."

I ran my tongue across my lips, wetting them as I took my chance. Indeed, I would happily drive a knife into my own core. Toren could heal that later, alongside any mutilation necessary. Only death was the end. If I could make my way into their inner circle for a time—

"Don't tell me you're listening to this lesser, Lord Aldir," a voice hissed, echoing from the depths of the throng. The asuran army shifted, the attention all centralizing on a single being.

A woman floated closer, her body covered in resplendent red armor interlinked with chains. Her hair was cut short and parted haphazardly to the side, revealing squarish facial features that looked like they had been meticulously chiseled from ivory. Red eyes gleamed balefully behind those curtains of black. "It only wants to save its life. What do you think taking it into captivity will do? It's treacherous, just like Agrona is. You can see its plan, clear as day."

She had horns. Black, onyx horns that curled from her skull like a ram's. A basilisk.

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Aldir turned to the basilisk, observing her impassively as she floated down. "Ayana Kothan," he said simply. "I do see her desire to save herself, but that is not all we must consider. Even if this Scythe is treacherous and conniving, she holds valuable information. It may take time to extract it from her, but… There are methods we are both aware of."

Clan Kothan, I thought sharply, the clan that replaced the Vritra among the Great Eight.

The basilisk's hateful gaze bored into me from above, and my mouth went dry. "My time is now, Aldir. Lord Indrath promised me vengeance for my race. He promised me I would get to wipe out the lessuran scum who dared to endanger everyone I knew. And now, one such spawn stands before us, and you act as if it can speak. It mimics the words of intelligent things, and you act as if they have value."

A ripple went through the waiting gods, like a flash of lightning trailing through a thundercloud. I could suddenly sense their electric tension all over again, that desire for violence, that need to move. Everyone present was a warrior god, and they had descended to enact their authority upon the mortals who would not listen.

"If you are so afeared by the wretch's words, then go first to the Hearth," the basilisk, Ayana Kothan, said. Her lips were pulled into a snarl so vicious I thought it might burn me from the sheer proximity. "I will see to these fools and their army, and you will have the resources to investigate Xyrus further. Mordain is a slippery eel. If you do not act swiftly, he will run and hide again."

I covertly summoned a few items from my dimension ring as Aldir visibly considered the vengeful basilisk's words. I forced my breathing to steady as I slowly got a handle on the events around me. Plans started to align. Desperate, foolhardy plans. Last-ditch gambits for survival. But still plans.

"Do not underestimate them," the three-eyed pantheon finally said, the sun glinting off his armor. His third eye flicked down to me. "Taci Thyestes paid the price for his arrogance. Do not make the same mistakes."

The basilisk sneered, her fists clenching. "Do your duty, Lord Aldir," she said. "Time is wasting, and for the sake of Lord Indrath's greater mission, it cannot be wasted here."

I slowly prepared my magic as the tension in the air rose, the metaphorical band ready to snap. I cycled more and more mana through my body, preparing to call on my runes as I clasped the few artifacts I had ready.

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Aldir spared Ayana a glance. Her rage—which had fueled each of her biting words—cooled under the calm and assured power he kept restrained. "I understand your anger, Ayana. I know what your clan endured because of the Vritra's treachery. But keep it contained, lest it see you burned."

The basilisk, who had once been so quick to snarl and bite, turned away as Aldir's presence cowed her. "So be it," she said quietly. "I will be cautious."

The pantheon general nodded, before rising back toward the rest of the asura in the sky. As one, the many auras became more and more indistinct, before the many forms blurred eastward.

One asura remained, hovering in the sky like an executioner's axe, ready to fall. Ayana Kothan stared in the direction the rest of Kezess' army had gone, something hollow in her gaze.

My executioner, I thought, imbuing a bit of mana into the djinni medallion. The executioner of this entire army.

I ground my teeth. Not if I had anything to say about it. I was Scythe Seris Vritra, foremost of Sehz-Clar. Even as this god hung in the sky high above, I would not allow myself to falter.

The basilisk's head slowly turned, like a massive cog on an oiled machine, to stare down at me.

I had seen hate in the eyes of others before. So, so many times had I witnessed the desire for death and destruction from my enemies. I had watched so many men bleed out beneath my feet, hatred the last thing that had flashed in their eyes.

But that sort of hatred needed basis. Acknowledgment of my status as a person. What shone in the back of Ayana Kothan's eyes was the kind of hatred one reserved for an animal that had bitten them. A callous, disregarding thing. She did not hate me. She hated the idea of me. She hated something other than me, and what I saw was only a distant byproduct of this creature's hatred.

"It has been centuries since the Vritra fled from Epheotus," she said evenly, her voice cold as the wind began to suddenly pick up. It tugged at her short hair as her aura swelled. Black shadows writhed between the gaps of her chain-link armor, reaching and cloying about her. "Centuries since my entire race nearly faced extinction because of Agrona's foolish choices."

She held out her hand, and a scarlet axe—the head wicked and curved, with jagged points along the tops for tearing flesh asunder—phased into existence. Drops of blood oozed off it continuously without any apparent source. Her fist squeezed around the haft, almost as if it were a neck to be broken.

"Aldir told me to be careful dealing with mutts," she whispered, staring through me, "but I am going to take my time tearing you apart."

The asura rocketed downward toward the castle, her axe clutched in her hand. Her boots slammed into the stones, obliterating an entire section of the ramparts in a catastrophic boom. Mana flashed around her, and the shadows formed into twisting, writhing tendrils that sought to tear me apart.

Before the asura was even moving, I released a gout of soulfire from my shoes, eroding the castle ceiling beneath me. I fell through the clash of hellfire, narrowly avoiding the noose of those living shadows.

At the same time, I activated my cloaking artifact, restraining my mana and heartfire from all who might sense it. I fell through several floors of the castle, rubble and debris masking me from sight high above.

I need to make it to the dungeons, I thought, ignoring the weakness across my body. That is my only chance!

I clung to the shadows as I blurred along the hallways, barely a flicker of silver light amidst the darkness as I fought against time. I passed a few of the dwarves and Alacryan attendants who saw to the lower floors.

Most of them were unconscious on the floor, knocked out cold by the asuran presence. Some were stumbling on their feet, bleary and unaware of the doom that approached. My heart beat rapidly as I cycled more and more mana, trying to think through the pain.

I only had a split instant to react.

The attack that scythed through the corridors wasn't a gale of soulfire or a barrage of blood iron. Instead, the shadows from whence I'd come seemed to darken. More and more and more the shadows blackened in an expanding tide of despair as they raced for me. The mana of the spell seemed to feed on the very absence of light.

And everything those shadows touched withered away, as if time had stayed her hand for a dozen generations, then come to reap her due in one fell swoop. The stones themselves slowly crumbled into sand, then dust, then nothing at all as I flew as fast as I could afford.

There were those who could not outrun the steady surge of the shadows. Their deaths were quick, at the very least. Their skin fell from their bodies before their flesh followed suit. And when only bones remained, those tumbled into the waiting abyss far below.

She draws strength from the shadows, I thought feverishly. I can't go straight to the dungeons. Her arts would draw power from the darkness.

Before the plan was even fully formed, I veered off to the left, cutting through a hallway. I could sense the bloodlust behind me as I flowed like a fish through raging currents. That tide of shadow tore through the very foundations of the stones, withering it to dust with every second. It nipped at my heels like a jackal wearing out a fleeing impala.

I gritted my teeth as I dropped a few items from my hands. Flares pulled from my dimension ring illuminated the darkness behind me, weakening it ever-so-slightly as I moved due east, threading through familiar passageways. Whenever a wall blocked my intended path, I coated myself in soulfire and plowed straight through.

Almost there, I thought headily, blinking white spots out of my eyes. The furthermost wall is—

A red-plated hand surged from the darkness to the side. Each of those fingers was rigid in its extension, as if the body the hand was attached to was already a corpse under rigor mortis. And death came for me, too.

I tried to move to the side to avoid the deliberately slow movement, but my weakening physique failed me. I couldn't move fast enough to avoid the fingers that closed shut around my throat. I jerked to a halt, my wayward flight stopped as if I were a bird slamming into a waiting noose. The djinni medallion tumbled from my fingers, clinking to the floor in steady chimes.

Ayana Kothan sneered as she stepped from the shadows, holding my neck like a broken doll. She looked into my eyes, savoring the fear that made me tremble. She would have been too tall for the hallway, but the steady waves of decay radiating off of her served to erode the entire castle itself.

My hands tightened around the gauntlet as my breathing choked off. Ayana's vindictive eyes trailed up along my horns, her lips pulled into a sneer. I tried and tried to pull my way free, but I was too weak. The greatest strength I could muster was not enough to make her fingers even budge.

"When Agrona watched things like you crawl from the wombs of lessers," she seethed, her grip tightening, "he must have known. He was so willing to taint his blood with your kind. He did not think for the clans of basilisks left behind in Epheotus. He was too busy cavorting with apes."

Her eyes flicked to the medallion rolling about on the ground. "And you thought you could escape, didn't you? So arrogant, thinking yourself above punishment for your sins."

Think, Seris! I told myself, gasping for breath. I could feel my heart rate slowing as I lost oxygen, my vision flickering in and out. Don't let her kill you! Don't let them win!

I couldn't… I couldn't die here, dangling like a broken doll from a basilisk's grip. As my heartbeat slowed more and more, my struggles futile as this monster casually squeezed the life from me like a hand around an overripe fruit, I felt my body weakening even more.

Chul was still down below. He was… the only chance. But if I died here…

I blinked, my struggles weakening. And in the hallucinations in the back of my mind, the sneering basilisk that squeezed my throat was no longer the ram-horned, vindictive Kothan.

No. I saw a man with an easy smile. With antlered horns that split and branched with the ancient weight of a hundred trees. Those facial features became something mocking and quietly familiar.

Part of me had always expected this to be the end. Dying beneath the claws of an asura for daring to hope for more. For daring… to try and rise above my station. The hope in the corners of my mind—that burning light—began to dim, overcome by shadow as everything else in the castle.

My heartbeat slowed more.

My heartbeat. My heartbeat. My desperate mind caught on that as a titan bear's claws sank into a silver panther's flesh.

On pure instinct and desperation, I moved the hand grasping Ayana's gauntleted fingers, instead drawing sharp claws of mana across my opposite hand. My blood sprayed, strangely pale against the dancing shadows.

My own blood burned as it coated my fingers, the energy within eating me away. And with a simple flick of my wrist, I sent droplets of that red liquid spraying at the arrogant basilisk.

She wasn't caught off guard. A slight barrier of dark mana arose right before her eyes, an extension of her mana shroud. She probably thought it would spare her my pitiful attack. After all, what could I conjure that would ever pose a threat to a true asura?

Her defenses were insufficient. The white light of the deviant magic within my blood flared, scouring a way through her mana shroud with ease, before splashing against her eyes. She shut them in utmost surprise, yelling in sudden pain as her eyelids sizzled.

I took that opportunity to build up every reserve of strength I had. Every ounce of power I could muster. I snarled, slamming a fist coated in my blood against the gauntlet holding my neck.

The deviant mana was indiscriminate in what type of basilisk it chose to devour. My slim hand phased through the asura's mana barrier as if it didn't exist, before crashing into the metal armor surrounding her wrist. The metal dented slightly. Not enough to truly wound her.

But enough that her grip spasmed, allowing me to just barely slip free.

I fell weakly to the ground like a sack of grain as the asura howled in pain, one of her hands going to her burned eyes. I blinked through the haze, scrambling toward the djinni medallion on the floor. I grabbed it haphazardly, trying to get my feet under me. Once again, I tried to follow that predetermined path.

Ayana had other plans. She howled—the pain more in her pride than her eyes—and swung that axe of hers in a haphazard cut. A line of solid shadow trailed it in an arc, carving through the several floors of the castle in a straight, unerring slice toward me.

I conjured one of my shields, bracing as I stumbled over my own feet. I forced my hand to stay outstretched, desperately stumbling away from the god's casual attack.

It was not enough. The shadow parted my barrier and skin, then my flesh and bone, before passing through without ceasing. Blood sprayed as my severed arm fell to the ground, still outstretched in a vain attempt at defense. I screamed in pain, blood pumping from my shoulder as I tried to keep sense of my surroundings.

The basilisk moved. One moment, she was a few feet away. The next, her fist was pressing slowly into my stomach, the impact measured and careful. I locked eyes with her, noting the inflamed redness around her eyes as her mana fought against the infection I'd thrown at her.

So much hate, I thought distantly through the agony. So much hate.

And then she followed through. I slammed through half a dozen walls at speeds too fast for me to comprehend, stones breaking and shattering at every intersection. The bones in my back broke long before I erupted into the afternoon light.

But then, I was outside. The sun gleamed down from on high as I trailed slowly through the sky, the light bathing me in its warmth.

I fell, smoke trailing from my body as I arced down toward the camp far below. I hit the ground with a sickening crunch, rolling a few times. Through the fog of my perception, I was aware of the soldiers running and fleeing from me. Men screamed for their mothers. Others had succumbed to the aura already, their hearts seizing. Still more tried to organize a retreat.

Blood trailed from my lips as I lay in a heap. Pain wracked every inch of my body, the inverted deviant stretching further than it ever had before. The shoulder stump of my arm sizzled with soulfire as it fought to try and heal me.

It was strange, the things that ran through one's mind when they were in distress. Because as I thought of all that I might lose upon my death, in a way I would have never imagined just a year past, my mind fell upon my most recent experiment. Where I tried to emulate the creation of Inversion using a separate vessel, draining part of my blood. Just like separating an arm.

And as I cycled more mana through my mana veins, the strangest idea struck me. An inkling of a possibility that pulled everything I knew together. What had Toren said about Integration, again? When one's core finally broke upon ascension, did the mana within not… leave, for a moment? Was a body not… empty, for a brief second, before it all came crashing back in?

I smiled beneath bloody teeth as a wondrous idea fell into place. My body was nearly broken. My core was on the brink of shattering. That inverted deviant had reached every recess of my physique, and I knew I would die soon if things did not change.

But my mind… My mind was as whole as ever, bathing in that sunny sky high above.

I coughed, then slowly pulled myself to my feet. I blinked, looking down at my decimated dress. It was tattered and torn, and caked in blood and dust. The ribbons had once been beautiful and graceful. A shame.

"This dress was one of my favorites," I muttered with a confident wheeze, pulling myself into as upright a posture as I could manage. I gripped the stump of my left arm with my right hand. "You will pay for sullying it, asura."

Ayana Kothan stalked toward me, the shadows around her writhing like serpents. Her face was pulled into a snarl, the area around her eyes red with rage as much as pain. But the droplets of my blood had hurt her. Red liquid fell upward from her axe as if caught in a gravity well. It gleamed in the sunlight. In a radius hundreds of feet around her, soldiers collapsed with whimpers from her sheer presence, mana fizzling out as her shadows grasped at them and turned them to less than dust.

"Petty tricks, Scythe," she sneered, moving forward with inexorable power. "This is where you die."

I slowly shook my head, adjusting the mana in my core as I cycled it in. I had attributed the twinge in my nexus of power as being a side effect of overuse, but I realized how wrong I was. "It is rare that I meet an asura that is not a hypocrite," I said, my hatred suffusing my voice. "So self-righteous in wishing to avenge your race."

I swept my gaze across my army. The people I had led here. The people I had ordered to wait. I saw Lusul Hercross there in the crowd, gasping for breath as he stared up at me with despair. Elder Rahdeas was not far away, his gaze broken and defeated.

"And yet you go on to try and commit a genocide of your own." I tilted my head. "You will die for it, godling."

The asura's focus honed in on me completely and utterly. I felt it squeezing every side, like a manapress breaking down steel into mush. She tuned out all else as she stalked forward, her nostrils flaring as she hefted her axe. "I will make your death slow," she hissed. "Slow. I care not for what Aldir said."

I did not move, despite my fear. My reddened smile only widened.

Ayana Kothan did not defend herself from the fist that smashed into her jaw. How could she? She was too focused on me, too blinded by her rage.

She shot away with a crack of thunder and breaking bone, a wave of force radiating outward from the impact. A few military tents were sent hurtling into the air. Men screamed as a small storm of dust trailed outward from the center.

The Kothan basilisk carved a furrow into the dirt, before haphazardly righting her balance. Her jaw was dislocated from the punch, and she had dropped her axe. She stared in disbelief at the one who had caught her by surprise.

Chul Asclepius exhaled, his fist still extended in a perfect, graceful straight punch. His breath steamed, and when he clenched his fist, wind radiated out from him that made my dress flare. A dozen small cuts still littered his orange martial robes from where Toren had landed blows, but they were inconsequential as his aura pushed away the asuran warrior's.

Cylrit had made it in time.

The half-phoenix turned to look at me, eyes of orange and blue taking in my disheveled state. I wondered if he remembered the last time we had faced off like this, the half-blood so ready to end those who stood in his way.

But he was different now. His eyes still raged, needing vengeance. But it was not blind.

His brows hardened as he saw the blood streaming from me. His eyes drifted to the stump of my arm, the blood marring my teeth, and then to the thousands of dying men. Men who would die because an asura did not care.

Then he turned back to the surprised basilisk, settling into a martial stance as he outstretched his fingers like talons.

"The thunder in my heart demands the blood of the Vritra," he snarled, phoenix fire coating his fists. Something glimmered on the edge of his neck: a Brand slowly forming as he resolved himself to fight for the men sprawled about. "You are not of their blood, basilisk. Yet it shall suffice to quench my thirst."