Discordant Note | TBATE

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Toren Asclepius

The Forumground was familiar. I had never seen about it before, but I had read of it.

Balconies of black wood encircled a raised platform of gray marble, giving the many gathering phoenixes of the Asclepius Clan a place to sit with ease to peer down at the central platform. Those familiar vines—each with leaves the color of autumn fire—encircled the pillars of dark wood in an almost caring way. As with everywhere else in the Hearth, those vines inched everywhere I looked, caressing the gray marble and leaving a true sense of wonder and beauty.

The smells of burning hickory and fall leaves were ever-present as I sat out of sight on the side, covertly watching as more and more phoenixes drifted into the large chamber. I spotted Sundren as he entered with a pair of others, before he drifted up and toward to sit into a seat with the rest of his kin.

There were no stairs to the balconies, of course. Phoenixes flew.

A central, raised platform not far from me gave me a place to speak. And inlaid into the gray marble was another thing I had read about in a novel from another world.

The cityscape of the old Faircity of Zhoroa–one of the djinn's great bastions of life and learning–stood prominently in etched beauty in a central display.

At my side, Aurora rested a hand on my shoulder in her usual way. "This will be your time, Toren," she said quietly. "You know the rules of the Forum, what it entails."

I sighed lightly, feeling my nerves tingle from the stress. I would be given three chances to plead my case to the Clan before a deciding vote would be held. The Forum was unique in that it allowed a single member to plead their case to the entire collective Clan, something that Mordain had taken from the long-departed djinn. A way of honoring their memory, I supposed.

But it also gave me an opportunity. I wanted to call this family of mine to action, and this was the best way. But the price of failure… if the Hearth voted to stay out of Seris' rebellion, then that would bind Aurora and I, too.

That just means I can't fail this, I thought, grinding my teeth as I took a deep breath. Simple.

I had three chances to take a stand and respond to any questions from my audience. Three chances to sway their hearts and draw them to my point of view.

Aurora and I had planned our arguments out precisely. I would take the first stand, she the second. And depending on how we were received, we could direct our third and final argument as needed.

Mordain stepped from the shadows, seeming to glow with his own light as he observed the central podium. Aurora stared at him forlornly, noting the quiet tension between us.

I knew it hurt her. She loved her brother deeply, and seeing the strained emotion that rippled in the space around us made something in her wither that hurt to feel.

But regardless of our squabbles, Mordain was here as an arbitrator. He was the mediator of the talks, ensuring everyone who wished to speak would be heard.

"It seems everyone is gathered," the Lost Prince said, his hands slotted in the waistband of his loose clothes. "Have you made sufficient preparations, Toren?"

I rolled my shoulders, looking out at the crowds gathered around the balcony. Though their hair were all different shades of a hearty campfire–from burning orange to smoldering darkness–their eyes were like half a thousand breathing embers at the bottom of a dying bonfire as they contrasted the black wood around them.

"I'm going to do this, Mordain," I said sternly, suppressing my burning contempt for my mother's sake.

The asura only sighed, his eyes aging rapidly. "So you shall."

Mordain didn't say another word, just stepped up to the central platform. Little motes of orange energy cast rays of faux sunlight about the chamber, granting everything an equal amount of healthy glow.

But as he took center stage, those lights all shifted as if they had a life of their own. Their rays of light focused like spotlights, rays of luminescence highlighting the phoenix like a performer in a play.

At that moment, I was briefly reminded of the true nature of the man as he swept his eyes over my clan. I'd forgotten in some way the power this being held, the authority he'd wielded for countless human lifetimes. I'd spoken with him casually, an inherent disregard for normal positions of authority allowing us to debate with surprising candor.

But as his ageless airs were exemplified by those beams of light, I remembered again. This was an asura. This man was one of the most powerful beings in this entire world.

"It has been countless years since we last gathered for a Forum," he said, allowing his voice to travel across the sea of orange eyes. "The last was called as news of Lord Indrath's assault team failed to break Taegrin Caelum so many centuries ago. We had many of us argue for different paths to take, before we finally settled on one: sending a representative to learn more of the Lord of the Vritra. And now, our representative has returned to call another Forum."

Mordain tilted his head as the collective attention of two hundred asura focused on him. He raised an arm to the side, his robes falling like curtains of molten gold.

On cue, I stepped forward. I felt my nerves tingle as those eyes watched me with varied emotions.

Fondness. Uncertainty. Exhaustion. Sorrow. The intents of every phoenix conveyed their emotions to me as Mordain stepped back, giving me the place of speaker.

Preemptively, I pressed two fingers to my chest, drawing out a vein of heartfire before connecting it to Aurora's shade. As she suddenly became visible to the majority of her clan, I felt those emotions fluctuate once more.

"Toren and Aurora Asclepius," Mordain said serenely, "do you swear to uphold the ideals of the Forum, such as they have been told to you? As an Asclepius, will you abide by the will of the clan, no matter the outcome?"

"I swear," I said surely, noting how the chains on my arm flared with red light. I felt this promise settle somewhere in my very soul, binding me in a way I only really understood now. "As part of the Asclepius Clan, I will follow whatever is agreed upon by the whole."

I'd always held oaths and vows close to my soul. Ever since Trelza's assertion that they were what separated us from beasts, that had settled somewhere in my spirit as a fundamental truth. Ever since my Oath with Aurora, vows to myself and others were how I kept myself on track.

The chains on my arm represented the very first I had ever made. If I failed to prevent the descent of the Legacy, the chains that bound my arm would squeeze my core instead. And now another oath sizzled beneath those runes.

That belief is what makes it clench so deeply in my soul, I thought, taking a deep breath as I felt those metaphorical chains constrict. I cannot go against my word.

Not without consequences.

"I swear in turn," Aurora said confidently behind me, her voice echoing even as she sent me weaves of comfort. "I will follow what my clan decrees."

Aurora's soul was not bound as mine, but I still knew her resolve was as great as mine. I let my gaze travel over the gathered phoenixes as Mordain sank into the background.

I did this for the people of Alacrya. I did this for Seris. I did this for all the dwarves and humans and elves I knew on Dicathen. Aurora did this because of the horrors of Agrona and the experiments he had wrought on other asura and the dread he had instilled in me.

But, on some level, we both did this for ourselves.

"I've spoken with most of you," I said, relaxing as I felt Aurora's warm touch on my shoulder. "Though I arrived a little over a week ago, I've had the blessing to meet and speak with this clan of mine. I've been given a welcome greater than I could have expected. You all held your arms open as I arrived, showering me with grace and an… understanding that I would have never expected."

In the crowd, Roa and Lithen smiled slightly. Sundren, Diella, and half a dozen more looked on with warm expressions. Soleil and a few more—those I recognized as older phoenixes—gazed down at me with disapproval.

"I want you all to know…" I closed my eyes, exhaling a shuddering breath. "You all know that part of me is not of this world. When I came here, I did not expect to truly find a family. Find a people that can understand me."

I opened my eyes, feeling the enclosing attention from two hundred gods as they let me speak. "It is with this in my heart—this comforting, warm sense of home—that I must speak something sorrowful. What my mother discovered in the depths of Taegrin Caelum is dark enough for me to risk all of what I've already grown to care for."

I turned my attention back slightly, looking at my bond. She nodded slowly, resting both her hands on my shoulders so that she stood backlit like a guardian angel.

"I am one of three reincarnates in this world," I said quietly. "And the other two? They are set to be used as anchors."

I took a deep breath as I felt the attention and tension rise in the Forumground. Distantly, I wondered if the djinn had ever held such a charged Forum. Phoenixes were so innately passionate, so soulful.

I let the tension draw out for a time. Partly by intent so that it would have that much more impact. Partly because I genuinely struggled to force the words from my mouth.

"Agrona hopes to call the Legacy down to this world, to use her against the Lord of the Dragons."

The balconies erupted into hushed whispers and chatter as my words reached them. They didn't outwardly seem rattled, but the turbulent twist of their intent told me otherwise.

Those whispers and words started to grow in volume as the Asclepius Clan gradually started to recognize the implications more and more. I heard whispers of dragons and retaliation. Of escalation and wraiths.

"I'm going to deny him his prize!" I said suddenly, my voice echoing with sound magic. The lights seemed to brighten around me, my spotlight becoming that much more intense. "I have sworn an oath to kill an anchor, to deny Agrona Vritra his weapon! But that isn't why we called this Forum today!

"This shows how far Agrona will go!" I continued, my voice rising as the phoenixes quieted. "He's willing to bring a soul like that of the Legacy down to this world. He is serious in his bid to unseat Kezess Indrath from his golden throne atop Mount Geolus!"

I distinctly remembered a time long ago when I'd held the attention of a crowd. When I'd first played my intent-laced music to a waiting audience. How I'd pulled and drawn their emotions in tune with mine.

I can do this, I thought, my resolve hardening as I stared across the listening asura. Seris gave me a task, and I will see it done.

"There is one planting seeds for a rebellion," I said, more measured this time, but just as firm. I held the attention of my clan—my family—like a vise. "From deep within the reaches of Agrona Vritra's society, there is a dagger poised at his underbelly. It isn't sharp yet. It can't cut the scales of a basilisk's hide. But with the right assistance, it can."

A phoenix rose from the seats, staring down at me with a cautious expression. Soleil. His bearded face showed the depths of his uncertainty. "This dagger," he said slowly, controlling his emotions. "It is a human, is it not? A Scythe. One of Agrona Vritra's greatest lessuran tools."

Aurora had told me that I should expect pushback from him in particular.

I had expected this question. "Yes," I echoed, focusing on Soleil, but directing my words to all around. "Scythe Seris Vritra has seen the depths of Agrona's machinations. She knows that all that awaits those beneath the High Sovereign's boots will be crushed in the clash between Agrona and Kezess."

"And how can you be certain that her intentions are true?" another phoenix echoed, standing up. Aliara, if I recalled correctly. "What makes this nest-mate of yours any better than the wretched basilisks?"

The phoenixes around her looked at her askance, their discomfort clear. The woman seemed to belatedly realize what she'd just said to me, because her intent evened out as she lowered her hand.

But she did not yet sit. Even as her eyes averted from mine, she did not withdraw her question. And from the emotion radiating through the rest of the crowd, I was certain that all present wished for an answer to this very question.

"I can vouch for her character," Aurora said from behind me, standing taller and hovering slightly. "I have seen this woman when she thought herself unseen. I have felt the depths of her emotions through my bond with my son. And through the actions she has taken, I can assure you all of her sincerity."

I remembered the first time Aurora had interacted with Seris, the way they'd exchanged every bit of barb they could. To hear my bond stand for her warmed my heart.

Thank you, Aurora, I thought. Thank you. "Alongside this, Seris has taken steps throughout the war between Dicathen and Alacrya to ensure the survivors on the Dicathian can mount an eventual resistance. I could list a dozen more reasons to all of you if you wish."

I rolled my shoulders, sensing the still-present uncertainty of many-a-phoenix. "But your very prince—Mordain himself—left Epheotus in an act of 'treason.' Every single one of you followed him in defiance of the established tyrant. Is it so great a stretch to believe that a Scythe would wish for the people of Alacrya to escape the yoke of another?"

The comparison rippled through the crowd like a physical force. The phoenixes looked at each other, quiet muttering and conversation beginning once more.

Aliara looked from Aurora, then back to me. She slowly sat down. She'd found an answer in my question. And not long after, Soleil found his seat as well.

So far, so good, I thought. "Seris works for the lives of the lessers in Alacrya, but it is no simple thing for a human to cast off the noose of a basilisk."

Soleil rose once more, his eyes piercing. "You wish to draw the Hearth into this conflict," he accused, restraining his biting tone. "This will only lead to death and despair. It was seen with Kezess Indrath's assault on Taegrin Caelum. Twice now he failed. And twice now, needless asuran blood was shed."

This time, the entire Forumground was silent. The muttering died down as if a sudden gust had extinguished the candle flame of interest. The intensity of all present redoubled as the truth of this meeting came to the fore.

"Chul called for the same," Soleil grunted, looking down at me in a challenging way. "He demanded that we rain fire down on Taegrin Caelum and burn as many as possible for daring to hurt your mother. But we of the Hearth know the folly of such things. We've kept ourselves here to avoid the deaths of countless lives. Asuran intervention will only make the world weep."

Soleil was blunt. He reminded me of Trelza in that way. And as he spoke, it became easier and easier to see those he swayed and those he didn't.

And what he asked? It was a valid question. And in a way, that was exactly what I was calling for my family to do: to risk their life and limb for a thin chance at victory.

"In a way, I am asking you all to join a war," I allowed, staring up at Soleil as I raised my arms, gesturing emphatically at every word. "But not a blunt, bloody battlefield that you might think. I'm not here to demand you all give up your lives for a hopeless endeavor. I haven't yet met my brother, but I am not as brash as he, and neither am I as brash as Kezess Indrath."

From the side, Mordain closed his eyes.

"The phoenixes of the Hearth can do more than throw their weight against Agrona's Wraith squads. With your knowledge of magic, you can make Hearths for those seeking refuge from the Vritra. You can create advanced spellwork to help the 'lessers' resist. You can heal and teach the men and women of Alacrya the arts of asuran battle. There is more to war and battle than bloodshed!"

"But it would still demand we intervene," a familiar voice said. Roa. "Demand we leave our Hearth and put our faith in words and promises that we cannot verify! And Toren, we… we saw your Bloodtie. The woman, Greahd… What is to stop all those we love from becoming like her? We…"

I looked up at the short-haired woman, sensing her intent as it radiated down and past me. Many shied away from her in rising horror as tears built along the rims of her eyes.

One was never supposed to speak of a Bloodtie after the day it was shared. But in an act of passion—or folly—it seemed that Roa had broken an old tradition.

I scanned my eyes across the reluctant phoenixes. My words had an effect, certainly. But as I sensed the growing emotion in every single one of them, I felt something in the back of my mind align.

Aurora had spoken to me once about how she didn't fear that my family would reject me. She didn't worry about me truly being a contender for power against Mordain, or causing political troubles of that sort.

But she did say that the phoenixes would feel fear from my arrival.

Seris had said to me once that all lessers were motivated by fear. But that wasn't true, was it? Asura were held in the grip of it just as much as men. Because the phoenixes of the Hearth feared the change I demanded, they feared to step outside the safety of their home. Even those who were drawn to my words, like Lithen, Sundren, and a dozen younger members of my clan. The kiss of sunlight scared them, now. Because as much as it could warm, it could burn, too.

"You aren't safe in your Hearth, Roa," I said quietly. "That is what Greahd's Fate told me. That no matter where I run to, so long as Agrona holds power, he would always take my warmth. Just as he took Aurora's warmth from you. Just as he will take the warmth of countless asuran lives from this world if he is allowed to continue. Regardless of Seris' rebellion, Agrona Vritra will climb up a mountain of corpses to reach the heights of Mount Geolus.

"The Dicathians will lose this war with Alacrya. And once that is done, Agrona will use this continent as a staging ground to strike at Epheotus. Maybe the Hearth can remain safe for another century. Maybe another two or three. But as the millennia march on, you will not escape his notice forever."

My eyes swept over the Asclepius Clan. Most refused to meet my eyes. "The power all of you wield eclipses mine by magnitudes, and already I have brought change to this world. I have no doubt in my heart that you can do wonders for the people of all continents."

I lowered my head, Aurora's thoughts warm and solemn against mine. "My first plea is done," I said, looking toward Mordain. "I'll leave you all to think about my words."

—

Not long after, I found myself atop a training platform in the lowest reaches of the Hearth. In my hands was a shrouded saber, glistening like crystal as my heartfire flooded through it.

I moved through a dozen and a half martial forms, mana thrumming across my limbs. I felt the strain on my heart as I summoned a shrouded spirit about myself, the myriad veins of lifeforce coursing back to the thundering engine in my chest. I could understand now how it enhanced my strength and speed with my enhanced sense of mana as a white core mage.

The constant flow of force through the strata of my telekinetic shroud subtly pulled my strikes forward through the world, adding multiplicative force with every attack. Every blow held the force of a train behind it.

I moved faster than lightning as I swiped my blade upward, mimed a parry, then shifted into a forward lunge. At my side, Aurora's shade mirrored my actions. Our forms flowed in near-perfect sync as she performed the hand-to-hand equivalents of my saber forms. Though we did not mesh as we did in Soulplume, our minds and hearts beat as one as we worked through the arts of our clan.

I remembered the lessons I'd taught myself throughout my hellish trip through the Beast Glades. Every day was filled with constant and nigh-unending battles as I was given no time to rest or recuperate.

It seemed that every forest I entered became a battleground. A place for training and shed blood. And over this past month and a half or so, I'd grown exponentially once more as I put together the pieces Seris had given me.

I swiped sideways, imbuing my saber with a flare of lifeforce. The saber flashed with a brilliant sheen of dawnlight. Siphon their heartfire and cut their strings, I thought, reorienting my feet. Deny them recovery. Move with every pulse of your heart.

I jumped, flipping sideways as I used my telekinetic pulls and aerial abilities to rev up a momentous upward slash. Red plasma hummed across my saber as I forced sound mana along the coursing energy of fire. The world spun around me as I expertly reoriented back to my feet, bending my legs as I planted my stance. Take what hits you can and rip what it takes to heal from their Vessels.

And even without the Unseen World layering my vision, my sense of the soul had increased manyfold. By spending so much time in the Sea of my Soul, I'd gained an almost instinctive sense of the edges of my mind and spirit. And now, if I focused, I could see Aurora's shade without her direct help.

With the barest twist, I engaged my regalia. A dozen spheres of force appeared around me, before immediately being subsumed with burning red fire faster than I could even blink. Then they belched fire toward me, little glimmering motes of force helping propel them onward. The ambient mana itself amped the mindfire strike higher.

I whirled, conjuring shields of solid force all around me. And just like with the fire, sound magic quickly imbued my panels of compressed kinetics. The two clashed in a wash of absurd heat, the buzzing vibrations and pushing force dissipating the oncoming flames.

I exhaled a breath, feeling my core twinge slightly. My telekinetic regalia was so much more than it was before. I could cast with it almost faster than I was consciously aware of, the flow of force following my intent. And if I used this absurd casting speed and versatility, I could enhance my other spells, too.

My fire and sound magic still required me to—in some way—subconsciously designate a location for the spell. Augment its shape, formation, everything. But that took time. Even if it was in the thousandths of a second, the time it took to form a spell could be the difference between life and death.

But my regalia wasn't so limited. While manipulating the ambient fire and wind mana for flames and sound was like another limb to me now, my telekinesis was more like an extension of my thoughts rather than another body part. I'd continued to use my template spells since my induction into this world, but only now did my internalized view of "object-oriented casting" find an even better way to get the "variables" for input.

I used this to increase my casting speed, versatility, and power. I didn't need to dedicate that tiny bit of my mind to forming a fire or sound spell if my regalia could direct and guide it beforehand, generating my "variables" and slotting them where they needed to be. If my regalia could feed me every bit of miscellaneous information, I became truly powerful.

All of this was being pulled into a single, cohesive fighting style. Resonant Flow, Sonar Pulse, my shrouded spirit, my sense for intent and lifeforce, my telekinetic abilities… It was starting to take shape.

I moved in tune with my heartbeat. Every thump heralded an action in the delicate dance of fire. Every pulse opened up a momentous continuation of the last in my style.

I slowly let my shrouded spirit dissipate, withdrawing those veins of orange-purple energy that supported it back into my heart. I couldn't hold that technique for long, either. My heartbeat thumped with slight pain in my chest.

If I had more lifeforce and a stronger heart, I wondered how I might be able to expand my shrouded spirit technique. But right now, I struggled to maintain the minimal shroud.

I understand what you feared, now, I thought as my movements slowed down. I could sense it there, at the very end.

Aurora lowered her hands, exhaling as she wound down. Her whipping hair slowly stopped in its constant flow as she measured her emotions.

"Change is a terrifying thing for we asura," she said, keeping her attention forward and her emotions somewhat distant. "The Asclepius have embraced change more than any other clan. With my brother's progressive ideals and manners, they have shifted more in one generation than most do in dozens."

She looked at me from the side of her eyes. "But change is exhausting, Toren," she said quietly. "For the first time in thousands of years, we phoenixes finally had a chance to… rest. To acclimate to something, when we reached our Hearth. And now we seek to pull our family into something grander than anything before. Something that has a small chance of success."

We won't fail in this, I repeated, resolve burning over my blood. Change is never easy, but it is necessary. When we stop changing, we die inside.

My bond's response was mute silence as we finished our martial forms.

But my manyfold senses—Sonar Pulse, my understanding of intent, my ears for heartfire, and the inherent understanding of the physical plane brought by being a white core mage—alerted me to a few spectators.

I turned my head, looking up toward where Roa, Lithen, and half a dozen other phoenixes looked down from a nearby balcony. I locked eyes with Roa, sensing the guilt that radiated through her emotions. At her side, Lithen averted his eyes slightly.

I smiled softly, waving them down. "You're all free to join me," I echoed. "Don't just perch up there!"

That was enough, finally. The phoenixes drifted down, all varying shades of awkward, unsure, or guilty. Roa especially.

She didn't look at me. "I, uh… I'm sorry, Toren," she said quietly. "For saying… what I did in the Forum. It was wrong. I just–"

I patted her on the shoulder in the way Norgan always did whenever he tried to comfort me, quieting the nervous phoenix. "It's fine, Roa," I said quietly. "I'm not all caught up on Asclepius traditions, but I know your intent wasn't to hurt me."

She bit her lip, nervously looking away. "That doesn't make what I did right,"

"The loss of the woman, Greahd, is what spurred my son to action," Aurora said, distancing herself from me slightly. I could feel that she was lost deep in thought. "It is a sorrowful tale, but an important one to tell."

I got the vague sense from my bond that she needed some time to herself. I gave her an understanding nod, before looking at the phoenixes around me.

"I'm going to work through my forms again," I said somberly. "You can make it up to me by joining me in my practice. Deal?"

The phoenixes exchanged a bunch of uncertain looks. "We have not used these training grounds in a long time, young blood," Sundren said. "We will not make adequate grindstones for your blade."

I shrugged. "That doesn't matter right now," I hedged, gesturing with my arms. "We're family. Maybe sometimes I seek to hone my edge. But maybe I just want an excuse to get to know those around me."

I raised a brow, a defiant smirk rising on my face as the members of my newfound family appeared entirely baffled by my words.

A few of the others stepped forward, drawn in by my words. Roa's face softened slightly. "You know, your brother always talked about this kind of thing before he set out for the human lands. He insisted that we should join him on the training grounds. But he was not… kind."

"He thought us cowards," Sundren cut in. "But he never did understand what battle meant. But you… you do. There is death in your eyes, young blood."

Unbidden, my thoughts returned to the Battle for Burim. The casual death I had wrought on every soldier who had crossed my path made my palms sweat and guilt churn in my gut. Skarn and Hornfels Earthborn's empty, accusing eyes still lingered in the night.

I was quiet for a moment, the knowing expressions of the phoenixes around me telling me they knew exactly what I thought of.

"It's despite this… understanding of battle that I called for this Forum," I said, turning away. "No, it's because of it. Because if I don't oppose Agrona, then that is the inevitable fate of all those I love. Just… endless war."

J'ntarion had told me I was taking the first steps towards understanding and peace before he died. But the djinn were people of utter pacifism. Their vision crumbled before the tyranny of asura, which meant I needed to meet the asura on a level they could understand.

That was what I'd done with the nobles of Fiachra, after all. Though my music compelled them, their truest language was that of brute force. And when I spoke with both of those, I pushed them toward the former.

I looked up at the milling phoenixes, sensing their discomfort. "I understand your reluctance. I do. It took… Greahd for me to resolve myself to really intervene. And I wouldn't wish such an experience upon anyone."

Before Agrona had sent his message within his very church, I would have been content to simply wipe away Nico. Then I could let Arthur get his aether core. Let him ascend and fight the gods, as he was Fated to do. But at that moment, I realized I had a sort of power. Why else would Agrona try and put me down, as Wade had implied?

And as I'd told Mordain, power begot duty.

Roa looked down, blinking a few times. Covertly, Lithen took her hand, interlocking their fingers in a gesture of silent support. I understood these asura. I knew their hesitance.

"We know," Lithen eventually said, a smile on his broad face. "I did notice that your martial forms were slightly different than what we know of, though."

My smile returned at the olive branch. "Well, the style I'm developing is derivative of the martial arts of the Asclepius, but it's not exactly the same," I started, shifting into stance as my family watched.

And as I started to explain the changes I'd applied to Hidden Talon and the other forms, I felt my good mood return. Because as long as people were willing to listen, there was a chance at understanding. A chance at community.