Caera Denoir
My eyes darted around the family meeting room, and I immediately felt a dash of dismay as I realized Sevren wasn't there. But someone else was meeting with Lenora.
A lithe, handsome man in sleek, elegant clothing had turned to look at me with an inscrutable expression. My eyes caught on his well-groomed reddish-blonde locks, which were pulled back into a neat tail. There was a single streak of deep red that faded to an almost pinkish silver that wove through his hair. His eyes seemed to simmer like hot coals.
On his breast was a sigil I recognized almost immediately: that of Named Blood Daen.
Toren Daen, I quickly realized. He was the man reports said my brother had been accompanying for the past few months. His hands were clenched tightly behind his back, and from the set of his jaw, I imagined whatever talk he was having with Lenora was not going well.
"Ah, Caera," Lenora said, feigning welcome. But I'd known her long enough to sift through her mask to see her alarmed irritation at my intrusion. "I was asking our guest about your brother, true. But right now–"
Toren took that opportunity to quickly take something from his pocket. A piece of folded paper appeared in a blur, and he held it out to me. "Lady Caera?" he said quickly, cutting Lenora off. "Sevren's told me a lot about you. Your brother asked me to pick up a bit of the equipment he left behind. Do you know where this mana-tuned fluid resonance dissector toolkit can be found?"
I took the paper from Toren hesitantly, reading the lettering. It was written in Sevren's dry tone and handwriting, and it described accurately where to find this toolkit. I chanced a look at Toren again. His eyes quietly asked for my help.
"I know where that toolkit is," I said, taking a risk. "If you follow me, I can take you to it," I added, holding the paper to my chest. "You can tell me what Sevren's said about me on the way. Deal?"
Toren's eyes displayed quiet gratitude as moved toward me, distancing himself from my predatory adoptive mother.
"Caera, dear," Lenora said sweetly, "aren't you still preoccupied with your training? Do you have the time to do this?"
I looked at my adoptive mother's pinched expression. By barging in, I'd inadvertently ruined whatever trap she'd maneuvered Lord Daen into, but that didn't mean she was going to let us go without a fight. "My mentor left a while back," I said diplomatically. Scythe Seris had left in a bit of a rush not long ago, leaving me tired and worn from our sparring. She'd claimed she needed to speak to Corbett about something critical, but that wasn't important right now. "And I heard from Taegan and Arian that something related to my brother came up. So I came here to see if there was anything I could do, and it seems I can," I said, turning slightly and gesturing to Toren with the paper. He began to follow me, but Lenora raised a hand holding a sealed envelope.
"Lord Daen," she said with a hint of concealed exasperation, "I believe you'll appreciate this," she continued, handing him the letter. A wax stamp of Highblood Denoir kept the letter closed. "I hope we can talk again. It takes a lot to gain the interest of my son, so I hope you understand my own intentions in offering this invitation."
Toren reluctantly pocketed the letter, bowing ever-so-slightly. "Thank you, Highlady Denoir," he said. I saw Lenora's interest in how little respect he deferred to her. "I promise I'll read this soon."
Lenora looked at me with a bit of disappointment as I led Lord Daen out of the meeting room. We both knew I had a bit of a problem with respecting her authority, but this was the first time I'd abruptly barged in on a meeting with another Blooded representative and hijacked her discussions.
"She's going to have a long talk with me later," I muttered absently as I walked through the halls of my family's estate.
"As long as I'm not involved," Toren said sympathetically from my side. As I'd just left my combat training, I was abnormally attuned to minute body language. I watched as the long-haired mage's shoulders visibly loosened and his hands unclenched, though there was still a steady alertness to his posture that told me he was a trained fighter. "Thank you for the help, Lady Caera. Your brother warned me this would happen, but it seems I'll never learn without experience. I'm Toren of Named Blood Daen, by the way," he said, offering a hand. I noticed the start of a deep maroon chain inked along his palm.
"Caera Denoir," I said, though I didn't offer my own hand. "Sorry for not shaking your hand. I've just gotten out of training and I don't think you'd appreciate getting my sweat all over your lavish clothes. How is Sevren doing, by the way?" I paused nervously. "He hasn't been back here much lately. We get worried."
I knew Lenora and my brother's relationship wasn't the best, but she still worried for him. I suspected she'd been trying to get more detailed information out of Lord Daen before I'd arrived, and in typical Lenora fashion, had treated Lord Daen like a Sovereign's Quarrel piece rather than someone worth talking to.
Toren retracted his hand as we walked, and a strange expression crossed his sharp features. "You mean he hasn't been visiting?" he said, sounding skeptical.
I sighed. "The last time he visited was a few months ago after a particularly long and dangerous ascent." Sevren had come back, seeming half mad from enthusiasm, telling me he'd made progress. He didn't elaborate, no matter how much I asked. And I hadn't seen him since. "All I've gotten are reports I've managed to wheedle out of my family. Your name came up in most of those, I'll have you know."
Toren rubbed his face with a hand. "So it was after our first ascent he came here last, then?" he said mutely. "I know he's not the most sociable person, but…"
"Is that how you became friends?" I found myself asking, paying close attention to Toren as we turned down a hallway. "By ascending together?" My brother was irritatingly sparse on details of what he was doing in the Relictombs, no matter what I tried. It drove me halfway insane how he avoided talking to me. But maybe I could learn more from this ascender.
Toren's smile held a hidden story. "He saved my life a few times, and I helped him out of more than one rough spot," he said, though I had the feeling he wasn't telling me everything. "After a while, I found myself in the privileged position of being his friend."
I worked my tongue in my mouth, slowing my pace slightly to give myself more time to talk. "Is that all you've been doing?" I asked. "Going on ascents together? I've heard a lot about you, but not much."
And most of the reports on Toren Daen I'd managed a glance at were second-hand information. He had a habit of scaring off anyone who tried to covertly approach him with his power.
"No, it isn't all we've been doing," Toren said honestly. "I'm sure you've heard a bit about me from the reports, but Sevren's been helping me navigate dipping into politics. And now…"
The Daen mage stopped in the hallway. He seemed to visibly hesitate, contemplating his next words. I looked at him with a frown on my face, feeling a creeping foreboding inching up my spine. I felt a subtle wash of mana as Toren clenched his hand, a spell passing over us.
"I've raised a sound barrier," Toren said with a sigh. "Sevren needs this toolkit for something big he and I are working on together. Something that has huge stakes at play. He's managed to get a hold of a dangerous substance that he needs to dissect."
I felt my breath catch. When Sevren had last visited, he hadn't said much, but I could fill in the details. He'd made progress in his pursuit of aether. And considering his one-track accompaniment of this mage in front of me, did that mean that they'd managed some sort of breakthrough together?
I had so many questions rolling in my head, the implications piling up. But the next words Toren said took the breath from my lungs.
"And I didn't tell your adoptive mother this," Toren said slowly, "Yet she was able to pick up on my hesitance about it. But I think if anyone has a right to know, it's you." He looked at me, his eyes like hot coals holding mine like a vice. "Sevren was hurt badly in our most recent outing. He's recovered… fine, by now, but it's permanent. I came here because he couldn't afford to see your adoptive parents. He'd lose the protections he relies on so much."
My questions about aether and the intricacies of the Relictombs fled my mind at Toren's words. I imagined my brother broken and hurt; camped out in some inn or in a field. I leaned against the wall for support. "Is he…" I swallowed. "Does he need medical attention?"
Toren raised a hand, and his fingers flickered with a strange sort of light. It shifted between hues of fuchsia and magenta, splashed through with streaks of deep orange. The color of a waxing dawn. "He doesn't need medical attention. He's had the best medical care possible," the mage said, snuffing out the strange light. "But he won't be able to avoid this indefinitely." He paused, finding his words. "I thought someone should know beyond myself, and… I know how close you two are."
I breathed in sharply. Toren was closer to my brother than I'd expected if Sevren had told him any details about our relationship. Yet I felt woozy and uncertain, questioning what would happen next. I forced myself to straighten, turning to continue walking down the hall.
Why won't Sevren talk to me? I thought angrily. I hadn't even heard from him in months. And the only way I learned he'd been hurt was through somebody else! Did he think I couldn't handle it?
"What is this substance that my brother is working with?" I asked quietly, trying to find some reason for all this.
The Daen mage was quiet as a grave. As my feet took us subconsciously to Sevren's old room, I turned back to him, inspecting his visible hesitance.
Is it about aether? I wondered. I opened my mouth to finally voice the question that had been stinging the back of my throat for what felt like an age.
"Hey, Caera," a voice said from ahead, snapping me out of my thoughts. "What're you doing with our honored guest?"
I turned with surprise to see Sevren's brother, Lauden. His olive hair was in characteristic disarray, and he had a carefree smile on his face.
He was standing inside Sevren's doorway, blocking our way inside. Further down the hall, Taegan and Arian watched apprehensively.
"Lauden," I said stiffly. My other adoptive brother had always been loose and dismissive of his duties, especially as Corbett and Lenora tried to saddle him with more in the absence of Sevren. We rarely talked, and when we did, he had a quiet mocking to his voice. "I'm escorting Sevren's friend to pick up something," I said, feeling nervous. "Could you step away from the door for a second?"
But Lauden was already focusing on Toren Daen, piercing eyes boring into the sigil on his vest. "Toren of Named Blood Daen," the second-born Denoir said with a tone that was almost rude. "It's about time you showed up here."
Toren narrowed his eyes slightly, stepping forward. "Lauden Denoir," he said, then tried to peer past the man into Sevren's room.
Lauden shifted to block his line of sight. "It's proper etiquette to bow when in the presence of a highblood," he said. "And considering you're only a Named Blood–"
Toren slowly focused on the man blocking the doorway. "I'm the head of my house," he annunciated slowly, "While you are the second-born of a highblood lord. Our stations aren't as different as you assume."
Lauden chuckled, though it was strained. I finally took a step forward, unwilling to let a conflict escalate in this estate. "Look, Lauden," I tried, "we just need to grab a toolkit from Sevren's room and we can–"
"There's always someone scraping against the boots of their betters," Lauden said, cutting me off as he forced a smile. "Seeing as this one's been clinging to the coattails of our absent brother, don't you think it strange that he shows up here all of a sudden?" he said, turning his nose up at me. "So why are you following my brother around, Lord Daen?"
I ground my teeth in annoyance at the casual dismissal of my words, but Toren didn't seem phased. "Your brother and I became friends while ascending in the Relictombs," he said slowly. "And he's attended my concerts a couple of times. I can assure you, I haven't asked anything of your family at all. We just need the fluid toolkit in the room behind you."
Lauden narrowed his eyes. "And where is my brother?" he asked sharply. "Still avoiding the house and his responsibilities?" he sniffed, but I sensed something deeper there.
I thought about Toren's earlier admission to me. That Sevren was hurt in a way that made it difficult to show his face. "I've had enough of this," I said irritatedly, shoving my way past Lauden. I pushed myself into Sevren's old room, desperately looking around the messy collage for the toolkit I knew was here. My eyes darted to where I'd last seen it, but it was gone.
I whirled, putting two and two together instantly. In Lauden's outstretched hand, a case materialized from his dimension ring. I ground my teeth as I recognized the toolkit in his hands.
"For Vritra's sake, Lauden," I cursed, marching back toward him. "Could you be any more of an ass?"
To his credit, my adoptive brother seemed to hesitate, a spark of something more in his eyes before they hardened. "No. If Lord Daen wants what belongs to my brother, he's going to have to take it from my hand."
"So that's what this is?" Toren asked with a sigh. "You want to spar me?" Lord Daen's hands were in the pockets of his dress pants, and he looked utterly nonchalant.
Lauden's eyes flashed with a challenge as he looked back at Toren, the case held leisurely at his side. "I was never granted the privilege of ascending with our brother," he said. "I want to see what makes you so special."
I barely had time to process my adoptive brother's words before my blood churned. It warped in reaction to something as I suddenly felt an almost instinctive urge to use my hidden soulfire. My horns–hidden by the artifact gifted to me by my mentor, Seris–suddenly felt an uncomfortable flash. I fought down the urge with an effort of will, feeling disoriented by the sudden need. I stood ramrod straight, my head snapping to where I felt the sensation.
Toren's face was quietly contemplative. Calculating. I couldn't feel any mana emanating from him, but… My Vritra blood writhed as he stared quietly at Lauden. Like it perceived something I could not. I looked toward Taegan and Arian in the distance, and they didn't seem to notice what I somehow did.
I reached out an arm in warning, but it all happened in barely an instant.
Two flashes of deep white fuzzed into existence around Lauden's hand, flaring with the barest force of mana. They targeted two points on his wrist, moving with a snap of pressure that forced his fingers open as the hand bent awkwardly. Lauden yelped as the case ripped itself free of his grip, outlined in a shimmering white as it guided itself to Toren's palm.
Taegan and Arian burst forward with weapons drawn, but Toren ignored them as they leveled their weapons at him from barely a foot away. Lauden grunted as he cradled what looked like a broken hand.
Toren ignored the humming mace of Taegan and the blurring sword of Arian pointed at his side. He knelt, looking at Lauden as he cursed over his wrist.
"Here's something your reports probably didn't say," he said. "I am a lot stronger than your brother. And if Sevren is the metric you're using to gauge me, then you are light years off."
Lauden groaned. "What the fuck is a light year?" he said, rubbing his wrist. "And did you have to break it?"
"It was the most surefire way to get that toolkit from you without pounding your face into the dirt in a sparring ring," Toren said honestly. He proffered a hand, seeming unphased by the bludgeon poised to cave in his skull and Arian's razor-sharp sword. "Mind if I see that?"
Lauden blinked, then offered his wrist to Toren. He only seemed to recognize what he'd done a moment after, fear flashing over his face, but Toren shook his head. "Give it a second," he said, that orange-purple light from before flaring between his fingers.
Lauden's face shifted from fear to surprise as the light seeped over his wrist.
"What are you doing to the second-born, Broken Sword?" Taegan barked angrily, leveraging his mace threateningly. He seemed hesitant to risk breaking off whatever spell Toren was performing.
I watched it, mute with awe. The others didn't figure it out yet, but…
"He's had the best medical care possible," Toren had said not a few minutes ago as he showed off that strange light.
"It's not broken," Toren exhaled. "It was sprained. Test it now," he commanded, retracting his hand.
Lauden worked his wrist, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Toren stood, pushing Taegan's massive mace away from his face with the flat of his palm. "I've got what Sevren needed," he said, meeting the massive striker's eyes. "Want to escort me out?"
For once, Taegan seemed utterly unsure of what to do next. The crimson-haired man looked down at Lauden, who slowly nodded. "Escort Lord Daen to the gates," he said tiredly, still moving his wrist with obvious wonder. "And give him back his weapon, too."
Taegan's mouth opened, closed, and then he simply huffed with anger. He marched off, Toren following behind after a respectful nod to me.
My mind was left awhirl with questions. There were three aspects of aether: spatium, aevum, and vivum.
And what did vivum deal with? Life. The creation of it, maintenance of it, and more. Sevren had told me this before. But there was something else a part of the edict, too.
Healing.
You found someone who can manipulate aether, didn't you, Sevren? I thought as the pieces came together. That's why you've been following Toren Daen around for so long. That's why you said you had a breakthrough.
The pulsing in my horns slowly diminished as Toren walked away, but that was inconsequential to the discovery I'd just realized. I stayed rooted to the spot, the implications of it all bouncing around in my skull. Was he an ancient mage? A descendent of them, perhaps? Or had he–
"That is the last time I follow Mother's orders," Lauden said, slumping to the floor and thumping his head against the wall. "I think I'm due a drink after that wogartshit."
Lauden's words snapped my mind out of its downward spiral. "What?" I said, blinking as I looked at my adoptive brother.
"Mother told me to try and start a fight with the man," he said tiredly. "Something about trying to get a measure of his strength in the dueling ring. I think she thought if I beat him, we could force him into our service or something. Maybe offer him ways to get stronger if he were indebted to us. I really can't guess. You know how she is about politics."
My mouth gaped at the admission. "Lenora did what? " I said, raising my voice a bit louder than intended.
Lauden winced, but it was Arian who spoke up next. "Or if he beat you, we could also bind him into a contract, too, by claiming malfeasance," he said with a huff. "Which, according to reports, was the most likely outcome."
Lauden flushed. "She expected me to lose to that upstart Named Blood?"
At my pointed glance at his hand, Lauden scoffed. "Please, Caera! He got me by surprise. If we'd been in a real duel, I would have wiped the floor with him." He twisted his wrist absently.
Arian's lips drew to a thin line.
"What?" Lauden demanded, seeing the mage's skepticism.
"He was able to sense Taegan and me through the wards outside the walls," he said slowly. "He turned to look at us the moment we started walking toward him. All the way from the estate building to the gate. He was aware we were coming."
I blinked, and Lauden blanched. Those were the best wards money could buy. They obstructed mana inside on a level that would make even the Scythes jealous, giving everyone inside a level of privacy that was rare. And if Toren could pierce through those so casually?
"Oh," Lauden said a bit stupidly, looking down at his hand. "You don't think he was bluffing when he said he was stronger than Sevren," he added, seeming to realize just what sort of situation he'd avoided. Lauden had always pushed himself to be a match to his brother in strength, yet we both knew he wasn't there yet.
"And there is information only Corbett and Lenora know," Arian continued, looking down the hallway toward where Toren had just left. "Something about Toren clashing with the Doctrination in Fiachra. I've only heard rumors, but that's what really sparked their interest in him."
Lauden sighed. "I'll split that drink Mother owes me with that asshole," he said. "Now that dear Mother and Father have their sights set on him, he's like a wogart in a pen. Poor bastard."
"And even if you didn't manage to spar him," I said, feeling a rush of something cold in my stomach, "You got to witness something even more amazing when he fixed your hand."
Healing spellforms existed, but they were incredibly rare: nearly one in every ten thousand mages managed to awaken a spellform that could effectively regenerate another's wounds. That was likely what Corbett and Lenora would suspect had happened. They'd jump at the chance to have a personal healing mage, and the speed and seeming efficiency of Lauden's treatment would make his spellform regalia-level.
If his spell used mana, that is.
I needed to have a talk with Sevren, and soon. If aether could not fix whatever had hurt him, what in the High Sovereign's name had he done to himself?