Toren Daen
The next morning, the entire Unblooded Party–plus the additions of myself and Sevren–were looking down at the map Dima had drawn.
Alandra pointed at a certain spot on the map. "I've been able to pinpoint the teams to these locations," she said, blinking slightly.
The auburn-haired sentry looked as tired as she did yesterday, but the shadows in her eyes didn't seem as dark. Her cheeks were hollow, but I had hope that would change soon. We'd all eaten our fill yesterday, but the Unblooded Party wasn't back to peak shape.
But they were getting there.
"I'm not good at drawing, so Dima had to help me with this," Alandra said, rambling slightly, still clearly tired.
Jared snickered, earning himself a piercing glare. "Shut up, Jared," the sentry said.
"I didn't say anything!"
"You were thinking too loud."
Jared opened his mouth to retort, but closed it after a moment, smirking slightly. I raised a brow. Had he goaded her on purpose?
"Anyway," she said, stressing the word. A bit of the fire had returned to her eyes, which flared whenever they passed over Jared. "I was able to narrow down the larger mana clusters of mages to these buildings. They're not too far from each other, and both are 'skyscrapers,' to use Toren's wording." She paused. "It'd be pretty easy to reach them, especially with Toren's abilities. But what to do when we get there?" Alandra asked, looking up with a furrowed brow.
Darrin spoke up next. "Well, we want to get everyone out of this zone alive, so that's where we start. We've got Toren now," he said, giving me a nod, "So we have a good chance of moving past most of the undead guarding our way. That's a good carrot."
Sevren interjected next. "I haven't been in this zone long, but I've been an ascender long enough to know that groups hate cooperating any more than is necessary. It takes away glory for oneself; sharing the credit," the white-haired ascender said, his arms crossed.
I frowned. "This is a life or death situation, though," I said, looking at the Denoir heir. "I don't know how long these teams have been here, but they're sure to be running out of supplies. If we point out to them that I can help them–"
"You expect too much," Sevren interrupted, shaking his head. "Ascenders are a stubborn lot. If it's a pass on glory or even a relic… They won't follow easily, even if it's to save their own skins."
My train of thought shifted to The Beginning After the End once more. I remembered Arthur's first convergence zone, where he interacted with Caera properly for the first time. The way all the teams kept their distance when not in battle with carallians, separating into pods of twos and threes…
They'd only unified because of the absurdity that was Arthur. Would we be able to pull off anything similar?
Darrin cleared his throat, drawing our attention back to the green-eyed striker. "Unfortunately, Toren, Highlord Denoir is probably right. We'll need more than basic altruism to convince these people to work with us. We have the carrot: food and an escape route. We need a stick."
"I'm not Highlord yet, Ordin," Sevren countered smoothly. "It's just Lord for now."
"Lord Denoir, then," Darrin said, seeming unphased by the soft rebuke. "But our point still stands."
"Perhaps we could play them off each other?" Dima offered, his scrutinizing pale blue eyes looking at the map. "Offer alliances to each of the other teams, using food and safe passage as guarantees? They'd be reluctant to turn us down if we made a point that the offer would only be valid for one team. If they didn't take it, the others might, leaving them utterly alone in the zone."
"We don't want to alienate them," Darrin chided before I could speak. "And we want to get everyone out, not just one team."
"You needn't follow through on the 'one team' threat," Dima said nonchalantly, looking Darrin in the eyes. "You need only ratchet up their anxiety. Make them desperate. And when people are desperate, they're more likely to take the easiest path."
"They're also more likely to make rash decisions," Darrin said, his jaunty smile straining. "And if that ploy were to be discovered, there would be no chance of trust and cooperation. It's too risky in my opinion."
Dima moved back from the table, seemingly content. Her critical eyes focused on Darrin, who did his best to shift his attention back to the topic at hand. "We can make preliminary plans here, we need to focus on getting these people to a meeting table first. Any ideas?"
The discussion continued on at a more sedate pace as plans were suggested, tweaked, shot down, and ironed out. I pitched in where I could, giving the group a better grasp of my 'sound distortion rune.'
I didn't really have limits on my ability to quell sounds, but if I was going to treat it as a rune, I quickly laid out 'rules.' As far as the Unblooded Party knew, my 'sound distortion rune' actually created an invisible sphere that nullified any sounds inside of it. I could expand the size of this sphere or make multiple of them, which allowed me extreme versatility.
Darrin was a natural leader. It shone through in how he gave everybody a chance to speak, letting them say their peace and voice their thoughts. If he disagreed with their proposed idea, he'd point out the benefits of their plans first before offering his criticisms. Every now and then, one of us would chime in with more to say, adding our own ideas to the pot.
In the end, it was decided that the Unblooded would split into two small groups, each approaching one of the teams to convince them to have a larger meeting between all three, where we'd make a more concerted effort to bring them all together. Sevren had made this point earlier: if we wanted to portray ourselves as altruistic, we needed to let each team have their say.
When the meeting was adjourned, the others shuffled off to do their own things, which mostly involved sitting around or reading books from their dimension rings or playing board games.
Apparently, Alandra had gone through a specific novel three times already during her stay. That had to be excruciating.
Dima and Darrin exchanged a tense look as she walked off, leaving me alone with the leader of the Unblooded Party.
I watched the blonde caster leave, feeling uncomfortable by proxy from her strained interactions with Darrin.
"What's the issue she's got with you?" I asked Darrin. "She's been challenging you every step of the way," I said, remembering the first interaction I saw her have with the striker leading up to this meeting.
Darrin sighed, his usual smile failing him. "We have… special history. That isn't quite resolved. It's been quite a few years since then, but there aren't many other people I'd trust on an ascent, and her criticisms do keep me sharp."
A scorned lover, then? "I'm not gonna lie," I said, patting his shoulder consolingly, "I am glad I am not in your position right now."
Darrin snorted. "We were together on and off for a long time. But the last time… something was wrong. She cut it off abruptly. We only reconnected a few months back. I'm going to be honest, Toren. I don't know what I did wrong," he said, a bit of sadness in his tone.
I looked at Darrin. Truly looked at him. "You're a good man, Darrin," I said wonderingly. It had been so long since I'd met somebody so purely altruistic in either of my lives. It seemed impossible to me that he should exist, considering the hell that Alacrya threw at everyone who lived within. "But if you're not sure about the reason, I'm not sure I can help you." I paused. "But it's not always a single person at fault. You've probably done this already, but talking is usually the best way to resolve these things. Confront her about it."
Darrin watched where Dima had left. "If only it were that easy."
"If only," I replied.
—
Later that day, I was making sure Oath and Promise's sheaths were secured tightly to my belt. I adjusted my light leather armor, making sure it fit snugly.
"Do you have everything ready, Toren?" Sevren asked from the side, his teal cloak settled easily on his shoulders.
I spared the Denoir heir a glance. He was dressed in dark clothing, which contrasted with his light hair. His bone dagger was strapped to his hip, the strange spool of metallic thread he kept tied to the end disappearing into his clothes. The buttons on his coat were polished gold, which reflected the fluorescent light from above.
Maybe Naereni has worn off on me, I thought, looking away from his expensive buttons. "Just about," I said with a sigh. "You?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," he said primly.
I turned away from Sevren, surveying the city sprawling out before me. If I focused mana into my eyes, I could pinpoint moving corpses on the ground below, milling aimlessly in the streets. They never went away, even after losing their aggro. I wondered slightly. If I was strong enough, could I simply keep this zone spawning undead until their bodies reached the highest of skyscrapers?
"Think you can keep up?" I asked with a smirk, preparing my telekinesis. I was fast when I wanted to be.
"I think you should be the one to worry about falling behind me," Sevren said with a hint of a challenge.
I smirked, then rocketed off the outcropping in a burst of telekinetic fire. The wind whipped at my hair, my eyes watering as the pressure built. I was fast.
So I was surprised when a figure blurred past me. I felt a slight shockwave of wind as the Denoir heir blitzed in a straight line, aimed for the same rooftop. Sevren suddenly came into focus as he slowed at an absurd speed, the light blur suddenly darkening. Right before his feet hit the ground, his body turned back to a lighter hue.
He made barely a sound as his body settled. I grit my teeth, pulling myself down faster with a few telekinetic pulls.
The stone roof cracked as I hit, my telekinetic shroud shuddering. My knees bent to absorb the impact, my bones creaking.
Sevren had a mild smirk on his face. "What was that about keeping up?" he said.
I narrowed my eyes. "You're on."
We both zipped from the rooftop, trying to reach our destination first.
As we moved, I speculated what kind of spellform Sevren had. It seemed to be some kind of weight manipulation. He would make himself incredibly light, then jump. Before he could splat against a wall, he added weight back, slowing himself down, before making himself light again right before impact. It was an incredible balancing act: one misstep and he'd resemble a bug on a windshield.
Yet he kept up with me more than well enough. My telekinesis allowed me to be more maneuverable, allowing me to adjust my direction and pitch mid-leap. Sevren could only make straight-line jumps.
The sky was perpetually cast with clouds, blocking any sort of sun or star. Yet this slight bit of competition stoked a hint of fire in my chest.
Sevren and I were the group designated to go to one of the teams. Darrin would be working with Jared to meet with the others, trying to convince them to meet up in a central location. Darrin Ordin had his own reputation as the leader of the Unblooded Party. He wasn't liked in many highblood circles, but he was a name they could put to the plan. Sevren accompanied me as the guarantee of Highblood Denoir, which unfortunately likely carried a lot more weight than Darrin's word.
Using the status of your Blood was frowned upon in the Relictombs, but not forbidden.
As I landed a jump, I spared a glance at the small map drawing in my hands. Sevren feathered to the concrete beside me, looking around us warily.
My mood for competition had waned as we got closer to the detected hideout. The buildings had gotten progressively taller, meaning I had a distinct advantage over Sevren. I could stick to walls like a certain blonde ninja fond of saying 'Believe it,' and Sevren had to constantly use his roped dagger like a grappling hook to keep up. He'd throw it at absurd speeds, the white bone lodging into brick. Then he would lighten his body, pull on the razor-thin wire, and drag himself toward the buildings.
That might have spurred me forward normally; a spice to the normal parkour. There weren't many who could match my athleticism, even among the Rats. But as the buildings changed, so too did the streets.
Far below us, undead milled in droves. Their empty, purple-flame sockets were splashes of color amidst seas of gray. I wouldn't be able to even set my feet down on the ground without drawing the attention of an elite. Several of the rooftops had zombies, which I dispatched quickly.
I found myself wondering once again where these corpses came from. Were they conjured from the depths of my mind, like some twisted representation of my fear? Or were these Alacryan look-alike corpses truly raised from the dead, the end result for any doomed mage in this zone?
Yet the numbers for such a thing didn't make sense. If all of these corpses were ascenders who had stepped into the city zone, Alacrya would be in a full-blown crisis. There were easily thousands roaming about aimlessly. But the fact that they mimicked zombies felt intentional.
I'd subtly asked Darrin if anyone in the Unblooded Party had been wounded by the zombies and if so, if there was anything strange about the wound. He'd been cut a couple of weeks ago by the stray slash of an elite, yet that had healed over with barely a scar. So they presumably didn't infect people like the pop-culture icons of my previous life.
"This place isn't nearly as safe as I'd expected," I said under my breath. I'd taken to keeping myself and Sevren covered in a sound-muffling barrier. "I'm wondering how anything could live for long around here."
Sevren looked nonplussed at the swarm of undead on the streets below, his dagger clutched in a loose reverse grip. "I'm not surprised there is a team somewhere amidst this. We ascenders are resourceful," he said absently. "It takes a lot to put us down. Despite this… strange zone. And strange circumstances."
I spared him a glance, lowering the map. "How long have you been a solo ascender?" I asked, feeling a strange sort of kinship with the man.
"Over half a decade," Sevren replied nonchalantly. "I've learned to take many things in stride."
I blinked owlishly. That was a long time to survive as a solo ascender. Most only went for a year or two before switching to a team. Or never being heard from again. "And how many ascents?" I said slowly.
Sevren looked at me, a slight downturn at the edges of his lips. "Not enough."
I looked back at the map, thinking of the fate this world had in store for him. The only things that would be left of his body were his cloak and dagger, waiting for who-knows-how-long for Arthur to pick them up. This world would claim him eventually; a sidenote in the history of greater things. Sevren was a dead man walking. He just didn't rot like the corpses below.
"Why do you go on solo ascents?" he asked suddenly, drawing my eyes back to him. "It is a difficult path. The rewards are not always equal to the effort."
I rolled Sevren's question around in my mind. Of course, I went in solo to practice my unique abilities away from prying eyes. Furthermore, I had a very visible effect on the Tombs.
I was unnerved by how knowing Sevren's eyes seemed to be. Did he suspect my effects on this zone? All my interactions with him seemed innocent enough, but taken together, could they mean he was onto the impact of my presence?
Caera stated–would state?--that Sevren had thought the Relictombs were more than what the Sovereigns told Alacrya. And that was more than true. But how much did he actually know?
But there was another reason I ascended alone. I traced the movements of a single elite undead over a hundred feet below. From where we were, it couldn't hear or see us. While the other zombies stumbled and fell clumsily, the skin on their spines shriveling the red ink where spellforms might've been beyond recognition, the elites took steadier strides. Not perfect, but clearly deliberate.
"My brother and I planned to be a team in the Tombs," I said, restraining my emotions. "We were the last of our Blood, you see. But we were a Named Blood. We gained our power in the past through the Relictombs. We'd get that prestige back, through glory and accolades. A simple, naive dream for simple, naive mages."
The wind seemed to go still around us. "But that wasn't what happened. My brother… he was taken from me." Just as I was taken from my previous world, I thought absently . "His flame was snuffed out. The Brothers Daen will never be a rising ascender's team. So I ascend alone."
Sevren's face was pinched with something complicated. Was that concern? Sympathy? But I didn't wait for his reply. My patience for the conversation had worn thin. "We're almost near the building Alandra marked. I'm going."
Before the Denoir heir could protest, I jumped toward the nearest building, aiming for the place Alandra had marked.