Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Toren Daen
I watched in a mix of guarded fear and surprise as Aurora embraced the stranger, weeping from the depths of her soul. The splash of her tears on his cream-colored robes sizzled slightly, contrasting the sounds of her soul-deep emotions that radiated over our bond like fire.
Very, very rarely did I feel such overwhelming emotion from my bond. I felt panic and fear for a moment at how fast this person had managed to get close to me without triggering any of my senses.
Sonar Pulse didn't even register him until he was right next to me, I thought, keeping a ways away from my bond as she bled her sorrow and loneliness. I'd gotten in the habit of keeping my echolocation spell always active, binding the pulses of sound magic to my heartbeat so that I'd always have a perception of the people around me. And his heartfire and intent…
I could sense none of them. They were utterly blank to my perception.
Yet even as I acknowledged all of these things, my panic and fear began to settle as I recognized the person embracing my mother.
I'd only met one asura before this, but Mordain Asclepius was nothing like Agrona. He didn't make my head throb and my body tremble from fear. Though I could sense no distinct mana or heartfire from him, there was a sort of… resonating warmth that seemed to flow from him into the very air.
My bond and her brother seemed entirely lost in their reunion for a time. I thought I saw a tear blurring at the edge of the Lost Prince's eye, but when he blinked, it was gone.
I worried so much about what would happen when I reached the Hearth, I realized, feeling slightly guilty, that I didn't consider how my mother would feel. What it would be like for her.
A slight smile stretched over my face as the shade of my mother was comforted. I didn't know how Mordain could see her, nor how he could even hold her. But that didn't worry me.
Too long had I been the only one to see my bond, to hold her and give her support.
Finally, Aurora let her arms slacken around her brother's back. He gently pushed her away, his breath shuddering. For an instant, I thought I felt a mote of his intent, before he leashed it back underneath hidden wings.
"You never were one to cry, Aurora," he said softly, firmly holding her shoulders as he looked down at her shade appraisingly. "I'm sorry that you need to."
Aurora laughed, a raspy sound that was beautifully ragged from her happy tears. "I have known more joy and sorrow in the past year than we saw in an age, brother," she pressed out. "I worry that I might not be who you once knew."
Mordain chuckled lightly, before embracing his sister once more. His hands clenched around her body protectively, and it was his turn to hug her tight. "We are phoenix. Change is in our nature. No matter who you are, I won't stop loving you."
Aurora turned slightly, her tear-streaked face, lighting up with a smile fit to raise the sun once more from its slumber. She looked at me, her phantom eyes flashing. "Brother, there's someone I need you to meet," she sniffled.
Mordain turned to me, tilting his head in the exact same way Aurora did as his burning orange eyes roamed over me. He still bore a slight smile on his face, and though his eyes were welcoming, I got a sense of hesitance from him.
I shifted uncertainly, before raising my hands together in a standard martial salute. Aurora had grilled me on a lot of Asclepius traditions on our bare moments of downtime as we approached the Hearth, and this was the traditional bow of respect of an asura to a clan patriarch.
I began to bow, but Mordain shook his head. The glowing orange runes beneath his eyes—the exact same kind that appeared beneath mine whenever I engaged my Acquire Phase—flickered slightly. "There is no need for that between us, nephew," he said, neither sharply nor softly. "I'm still wondering from earlier, though. You may not have slain the Phoenix Wyrm, but you honored it well. Am I free to partake around this fire?"
I stopped hesitantly, recognizing what this was. The Hearthrite of the phoenixes. If I allowed Mordain to eat around my fire, then he was under my 'protection,' and he was oathbound not to hurt me in any way. A subtle pact of community.
I nodded slowly. "Of course," I said, nodding to the fire where I'd been cooking slices of Phoenix Wyrm meat. "Though I'm not the best cook, and I didn't have much room for spices in my dimension ring."
"I never found the time to teach Toren the arts of luxury cuisine," Aurora said quickly, a bit of embarrassment radiating over our bond. "I have shown him how to honor fallen prey in the traditional way, of course. He will not be found lacking."
Mordain chortled slightly, his shoulders shaking as he slowly set himself down cross-legged around the fire. "It's no matter, Aura," he said, sighing in contentment as he lounged on the ground. "You know I was never the best cook, either."
Hesitantly, I set myself down across from Mordain, crossing my legs as I looked at him uncertainly. His taunt from Rahdeas shifted in the back of my mind, leaving me wary of getting burned.
"While I'm not a good cook," I said, looking at the slices of meat as they neared perfection, "I like to think I'm not bad, either. You won't be disappointed, Mordain."
Mordain shrugged nonchalantly. "If your bond told you anything about me, you'd know that I wouldn't judge a young asura for such a thing. But that's beside the point, Toren. I'm here to make sure you make it to your home safely, because too often falcons fly high and forget that cats sometimes lurk on the ground."
Aurora—who had been fidgeting slightly as she watched us interact—looked at Mordain with a furrowed brow. Then her eyes narrowed, her martial robes flaring with power. "We were followed?" she said sharply, divining the Lost Prince's hidden meaning with lightning speed. "But I made certain that my son covered his traces. The undead Scythe could not have followed us."
Mordain chuckled. "You're too quick, Aurora. I almost let myself forget how you won't let me have my hidden words." He shook his head. "But it wasn't a Scythe following you, sister. You caught the attention of someone far more dangerous, which was partly why I sent my message when I did."
A cat, I thought, leaning forward as I noted Mordain's focus on that word. My eyes narrowed as my blood chilled in my veins. Wasn't there an asura who could shapeshift into a cat? One who was tasked to oversee all the 'lessers?'
Mordain turned to look at me, his expression less strained than it was before. Still, his eyes had something I couldn't really read. As we locked gazes, I felt a sort of… trembling resonance shudder across my soulspace. "You're quick to catch on, Toren Asclepius," he said sadly. "Windsom has always been a plague on these lands and peoples, and you've managed to draw the attention of some very dangerous people with your actions recently. I intervened soon enough to waylay any chance of the Hearth's discovery, but it is worth a mention regardless."
I thought of how I'd snapped Olfred's tether. My confrontation with Aldir Thyestes, and the burning all-encompassing eye.
I leaned back slightly, filing this information away as I inspected the skewer holding the phoenix wyrm meat. I'd been in this world for far too long and had far too many close encounters with death to be deeply rattled by this. But still, the implication that I'd nearly led Windsom to the Hearth made me darkly irritated.
"I guess I have drawn the attention of some dangerous people," I said after a moment, hoping my words didn't sound too bitter as I thought of Mordain's letter. "But that's par for the course considering my plans."
Aurora looked between us, a slight sadness radiating over our bond as she sensed the tension between me and her brother. Her face of sunshine fell slightly, the woman seeming to wilt.
Mordain's eyes flicked to the shade near imperceptibly as she seemed to darken, then back to me. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Regardless of all that," the asura said dismissively, "We of the Hearth will have to show you how to cook. It's a useful skill, one I'm certain you'll exceed at," he offered like an olive branch.
I snorted. "I'm not so sure about that," I said, taking the metaphorical peace offering. "I never was a good cook in my previous life."
Mordain rolled his eyes, picking up one of the skewers and inspecting the smoking meat. "Speaking of which, you do know that 'par for the course' is not a saying of this world, yes?"
I blinked, noticing my slip. Most people didn't pick up on those, but Mordain could see further in ways I didn't really understand. It would probably drive me mad if I tried to figure out how he knew about my reincarnation."You don't have golf in the Hearth?" I prodded. "You seem like the exact kind of person to enjoy it."
Mordain raised a single orange brow. "Is that an insult, or a compliment?"
A smirk stretched across my lips. So there were limits to his sight? Brilliant. "Yes," I responded, feeling self-satisfied.
The Lost Prince simply rolled his eyes, this time more exaggerated than the first, before taking a bit of the phoenix wyrm meat from the skewer. He tossed it up, before catching it in his mouth with casual ease. He observed the skewer critically when he swallowed. "I think you might be right, nephew. It will be a long time before your cooking skills are anything noteworthy. Something we share in common, then."
Aurora squawked slightly beside me, settling down and glaring at Mordain. "That isn't fair, brother," she snapped, grasping my shoulders firmly. "Toren is fit to accomplish anything he sets his mind to. He is a prodigy worthy of the greatest station in our clan."
"You speak as if you are an ancient Malleus smith and he your Fury," Mordain said playfully. "Have you grown more arrogant in the time since we've last met?"
My mother huffed, shooting her brother a very unAurora-like glare. "Please, Mordain. A Deinos smith made every bit of armor and weaponry for their Fury. Toren's only ever forged his own."
A Malleus smith? I wondered absently, missing a great deal of context. I tentatively raised my hand. "And, uh… Mind if I ask what a Malleus smith is?"
Aurora blinked, looking down at me. "Ah, just an old tradition in one of the old city-states of the titan asura. A master smith would deem himself Malleus, and craft weaponry for a dedicated champion."
"The Fury," Mordain nodded sagely. Something complicated flashed in the depths of his eyes. "A shame that the practice ended after Kezess' rise. The titans forge for their clans now instead."
It belatedly occurred to me how much context I'd almost always be missing whenever I spoke with the members of the Hearth. They knew all about Epheotus and its customs, and had a shared history that I simply lacked.
It's fine, I repeated to myself for the dozenth time. It's just like meeting the inlaws. If the inlaws were nigh immortal gods who could level continents. No pressure.
I pulled a bit of meat off my skewer with my telekinetic emblem, then let it settle in my mouth as Aurora hovered protectively behind me. When I tasted the meat, my face fell a bit.
With all the mana inside and the way it was cooked, it should have a lot of innate flavor, I thought with annoyance. But somehow I've managed to not bring that out. Somehow.
Mordain and my bond continued to talk for a short while as we settled into eating around the simmering fire. They didn't really talk about anything of importance, just reminiscing and testing and teasing at old memories.
I could sense Aurora's worry and fear over our bond with every word, nearly as great as her hope. She worried that she'd changed. She worried how I would be accepted by the Hearth. She had so many worries that I hadn't even realized she'd carried. I'd been too wrapped up in mine.
But as she chatted with Mordain, seeming more elated and emotive than I'd ever seen, I felt my world-weary soul drifting toward something fond.
"I instructed him on the proper form of Hidden Talon early on," Aurora said proudly. "Toren used it to great effect on his enemies in the short time he has been under my tutorship. I can say with certainty that his use of the Distracting Wing rivals that of our greatest clanmembers."
The way my bond puffed out her chest and her words burned with pride was unlike anything I'd ever seen from her. She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, holding me tight as she smiled at her brother. "Yeah," I said slowly, coughing into my fist. I felt a bit like a child who'd been brought along to a 'bring your kid to work day' from my previous life as Aurora showed me off to her brother. "I couldn't have gotten as far as I did–or really anywhere at all–without Aurora's help. But her martial arts are the core of my fighting style."
I never really used the technical terms for the styles Aurora taught me despite her insistence. They felt over-the-top and flamboyant most of the time, but Mordain took it in stride.
Mordain nodded slowly, crossing his arms leisurely behind his head and leaning back slightly. "A good thing, sister," he said appraisingly. "But the combination of Hidden Talon and Distracting Wing leaves the user weak to attacks from the side, especially from a more experienced martial artist. I've told you this before, of course, but I never got to hear your solution."
Aurora smiled again. Not the warm, soft smile I was so used to or the motherly expression that had been stamped deep in my soul. But the passionate grin of someone engaged in something that they loved. "Indeed, your words bear truth. To this end, the Distracting Wing technique I taught my son is more derivative of Swooping Feather with elements of warding rather than simply hiding."
Mordain laughed slightly, leaning back more. "Leave it to you to improve on millennia of martial tradition, Aura. You've still got that fire deep inside."
At those words, however, my bond's smile slipped from the ecstatic and joyous one she displayed. Her eyes darted down to me, her hand massaging my shoulder as a bit of melancholy overtook her earlier happiness.
I frowned, looking up at my bond in worry. Aurora–
"Worry not, Toren," she chided over our bond, ruffling my hair. "It has simply been… far too long since I felt unburdened enough for joy."
"That fire was not extinguished," the phoenix shade said aloud, the joyous atmosphere darkening slightly. "But that was not for lack of trying, Mordain."
The Lost Prince removed his arms from behind his head, lowering them and settling them in his lap as his face was overcome with shadow and sorrow. "I'm sorry, Aurora," he said, his voice a deathly whisper. "I did not… did not foresee what would happen to you. Whether that be because of something Agrona Vritra did to obscure his actions from my abilities, or my own failings… I cannot ever do anything to truly mend what I let happen to you."
Aurora wrapped her phantasmal arms around me from behind, using the anchor of our bond to draw what heat she could. She buried her face in my hair, and I heard her inhale a shuddering breath.
I raised a hand, holding Aurora's delicately as she relived memories of darkness and untold pain. I massaged my finger along her translucent skin, sending my hope and warmth and comfort over our bond.
I'm here, Aurora, I thought to her, closing my eyes and trying to let her know that she wasn't alone. And Mordain is, too.
The air was still around us as my bond let those repressed emotions of hers flow. It wasn't something she always knew how to do. No, this was something akin to my meditation technique that let me reach my soul. Something she'd learned from me.
Acknowledge your emotions, and let them flow, I thought as my bond's feathered hair flowed across my chest in light-splitting waves.
Mordain didn't watch for long. Even though I could not sense his intent, I could taste his guilt as he turned his head away, unwilling to look his sister in the eye.
"It is done, brother," Aurora finally said, burning tears sizzling across my decimated clothes. "You could not have known what awaited me as the Asclepius' envoy. The Lord of the Vritra followed every protocol, even sharing the Hearthrite. But when his betrayal came, I had never suspected it. Only when I languished in his dungeons did I recognize my folly."
Mordain didn't respond, staring into the fire.
"And it was I who volunteered, so soon after my Andravhor left this plane," she said softly. Aurora's hands massaged mine, finding comfort there. "It was my decision to take the offer and travel."
A tense silence permeated the slight clearing as the fire slowly died. Mordain only stared at the embers, his face cast in shadow. "I will try to ensure it never happens again," he said sadly. "I see much when I look at you, Aura. But… but I can't let myself look further. It burns me to stare too long. And all I can do…"
Mordain shook his head, then stood slowly. "Regardless, our home is close. Come, Toren and Aurora Asclepius. It's time you met your family."
—
The dark tunnel we walked through was made of simple, packed earth. I felt strangely compressed and contained as I strolled behind Mordain. The lack of the sky made my metaphorical wings quiver with the feeling of being trapped.
"Do the others know of my arrival?" Aurora finally asked from where she walked at my side. She didn't seem as nervous as she'd been before, but that was more from emotional exhaustion than a true lack of worry. "It has been a long time since I have seen my family. Soleil, Roa, Sundren, Lithen…"
My bond trailed off, her fists clenching at her sides. "And my son. Chul."
Mordain slowed in his step, looking back at the phoenix shade. His eyes glowed with light as he thought of what to say. "They know a little, sister," he said softly. "When I became certain that you yet lived, I sent out my message and informed the rest of the clan. Soleil, Sundren, and all the others should be waiting in the Sunswept Gardens."
The Lost Prince tilted his head, slotting his hands into the belt of his robes. "And Roa doesn't go by that nickname much anymore, though. Upon your presumed capture and death, she took up her full name at last. We call her Aurora of the Vine now. In remembrance."
My bond went silent, running through these thoughts and more. But I spoke up next. "Does Chul know?" I asked, feeling strangely awkward as I asked. "I've been… well, I've been looking forward to meeting him. I've heard a lot about my brother-to-be."
Mordain smiled slightly. "Chul knew something of your survival," he said, turning to look forward. "About you, though? He didn't know much at all. I imagine he would be… surprised."
I frowned, feeling something off about the way Mordain spoke. I opened my mouth to question more, but my bond was faster. "How is he, brother?" she said in a small voice. "He must be a young asura now. A man grown. Does… Did he mourn me? He'd just lost his father when I left, and then…"
Fear and guilt radiated like hot iron through my bond with Aurora. I remembered the story she'd told me so long ago; that she'd practically run from the Hearth after Andravhor's death. She'd left a young Chul behind without any parents due to her inability to process her husband's passing.
Mordain was silent for a long, long time. So long that Aurora's step began to falter behind me as she withdrew deeper and deeper into herself.
"Chul never gave up hope in you, Aurora," he finally said. "When you did not return at the designated time, we worried for a long time. But soon, that worry turned to grief and sorrow. To mourning one we thought destined for the Beyond in our hearts. But your son never gave up hope."
Mordain paused in his step for a moment. "He showed us the folly of clinging to our perceptions, I suppose. He was right about your survival. He never despised you, Aura. We never did."
We walked in silence for the next twenty minutes. Though Aurora had no heart in her chest, I could feel the swell of warmth and relief deep in her soul at the confirmation that Chul did not despise her for her mistakes.
And finally, we arrived before a set of grim doors. They were small, barely seven feet tall. Yet the stylized phoenix emblazoned onto the black wood shimmered with light the same color as the runes of my Acquire Phase. Vines stretched down from the ceiling, brushing against the wood with leaves the color of autumn fire.
I paused at the edge, feeling a lump building in my throat. Beyond these doors were the phoenixes of the Asclepius Clan, long fled from Epheotus after the revelation of Kezess' genocide of the djinn. For over a year I'd been aware of this place in the back of my mind. Aurora's very purpose in reincarnating me initially had been to draw me to this place so she could warn her clan of Agrona's plans.
That had changed, of course. My bond—my mother—had shifted in her goals as she placed what little faith she had yet burning in my small lesser form. And against all odds, we had arrived here.
I took a deep breath, feeling how the ambient mana flexed and churned with my trembling emotions. I reached out a hand, taking Aurora's for a moment as she stared at the doors. I squeezed it for a moment, finding solace in the smooth texture of her palm.
Mordain seemed to sense that we both needed a moment to center ourselves because he waited simply at the doors, letting my eyes trace the beautiful filigree and unnaturally black wood.
I released Aurora's hand, feeling just a bit stronger as I squared my shoulders. Without another word, the phoenix raised a hand, pressing it into the doors.
Then he pushed it open, like the lid of a chest swinging open.
Or Pandora's Box, I thought, squinting slightly as light streamed through. Bearing hope at the very bottom.
The Prince of the Asclepius Clan strode forward casually, his loose cream-colored robes swaying as I stepped behind him. I followed after him with jilted steps as I felt my heartrate rising traitorously, my anxiety threatening to overflow.
We found ourselves in a twenty-foot square room with marble walls. To the left, a towering mirror of the small doors we'd just exited stood strong and imposing. On our right, another set of smaller doors.
When Arthur visited the Hearth, I thought, trying to use something familiar—like thinking of The Beginning After the End—to center my racing heart and sweaty palms, he came through that door after passing through a dungeon. One with an emperor scourge.
I turned around, and was surprised to see that the door we'd entered had vanished entirely. Only marble greeted my gaze instead of a small set of dark doors.
"The nature magic pervading this place allows passages in and out to dynamically form for those who are attuned to the Hearth's magic," Mordain said simply. "I've chosen to take us close to the place where all the others are waiting."
And I couldn't sense the nature magic, but the sheer quantity and quality of the ambient mana around me was like night and day compared to outside. Though the concentration of mana far in the Beast Glades outstripped that of the wider continent, it was still as if I'd stepped straight into a sauna as the purity of it all caressed my senses.
"I've been to Taegrin Caelum, you know," I said with a nervous laugh. "But I don't think I was this nervous, even then."
Mordain patted my shoulder in a surprisingly friendly way. Beside me, Aurora's gaze was laser-focused on the final set of doors barring our path. She seemed to have forgotten how to even think.
"We cannot wait forever, Toren," he said sympathetically, "but we can take as long as you need to ready yourself."
I exhaled a shuddering breath, sharing one more look with Aurora. "I'm ready, Mordain."
The phoenix looked to Aurora, measuring her emotions a bit, before smiling softly. "Very well then."
He strode toward the final set of doors, before pushing them open. I followed after Mordain as he led us down a pathway of gray marble, silver sconces, and snaking vines. The scent of fall leaves tickled my nose, swirling in tune with the ambient mana in a way that made me almost think of Seris' perfume.
It smelt of home, in a way that called to my very blood. As the entwining spice of autumn wind and sweet cinnamon pervaded my very soul, I felt something in my veins sing in response.
We walked for a time as I stared about the passageway in wonder. In Taegrin Caelum, I had been barred from staring and taking in my surroundings. But here, I gave myself the privilege of staring at every twisting silver vine and glimmering sconce.
And then we finally reached the end of the passageway, where it opened up to a grand balcony.
For a moment, Mordain blocked the path and I could not see past him. The light streamed across him, casting a long shadow that enveloped me and kept me contained.
But then he stepped aside, a light smile on his face as he gestured forward.
When I stepped in past him, my jaw threatened to gape as I stared at the scene before me. Aurora's strong hand rested on my shoulders as her shade stood behind me, the Unseen World wafting around us. The airy and tantalizing beauty of the gardens before me made my heart stop in my chest.
"The Sunswept Gardens," Mordain said from beside me, though I struggled to hear him.
The room before me was utterly enormous. Massive trees draped in dresses of silver bark stood tall and proud at every inch of the glade. Bright orange leaves absorbed light from hovering lights near the roof–each like tiny suns. Those globes drifted about like fireflies as they cast the gardens in light summer heat.
I watched it from above, uncertain if I should feel detached or overwhelmed. Because far below, milling about the trees, were dozens of phoenixes, all speaking in quiet and soft tones.
My eyes traced over them, noting the colors of their hair. Some had locks of a pure red, as deep as the strongest forest fire. Others bore shades of a deep gray or the smokey black of a withering campfire. Their heartfires rose like a lilting song to my ears, beckoning me forward at their familiar tunes.
I left Mordain behind as I lifted into the air, the ambient mana itself seeming to barely restrain its excitement as I hovered off the marble balcony, before settling myself down and down and down. The sunlit grass bent beneath my feet as I finally reached the ground. Not far away, a peaceful stream meandered across the impossibly large gardens.
Aurora's hand still held my shoulder as I strode forward, carried by a strange sense of Will. Deep inside my soul, I felt my Phoenix Will churn as it sensed familiar souls.
I strode along a pathway that somehow felt right. My boots had never tasted the soft earth beneath my soles before, but as Aurora's emotions built and built, I knew the path I needed to take as I wove closer to my destination.
And I finally arrived before them. Three dozen asura at least, with more gathering every second in the small clearing. Many stepped hesitantly forward, radiating curiosity over their intent. I was almost swarmed with the pressing effects of the mana, but for some reason, I could parse this easier. Filter it down and through my soul without suffering the crushing weight any other man would no doubt suffer.
The air was silent as the gods of this world watched me questioningly. Those I saw seemed hesitant to approach as if they were afraid. I saw a few phoenixes opening their mouths, then closing them as they waited.
They couldn't seem to see Aurora's shade—at least not with the casual ease of her brother. All their eyes were focused uncertainly on me; no attention spared for the trembling shade behind me.
I felt her grief and fear begin to surge as she realized this. As she internalized the truth of her nature as a ghost; a phantom spark of something once great.
I gritted my teeth, feeling her pain. And I refused to let it continue.
Wordlessly, I raised a hand. Heartfire the color of a waxing dawn flickered there as I called on the depths of my reserves, drawing gasps of surprise and curiosity from the many asura all around me. From my family.
I pressed two fingers to my heart, feeling the paradoxically slow timbre of my pulse. And when I pulled it away, I drew a vein of pure life from my chest. The asura watched with anticipation, most seeming to sense something was about to happen.
Then I settled my hand over Aurora's where it clenched my shoulder. I let the energy of my lifeforce flow through her, before it finally found purchase where her heart used to be.
The world itself seemed to freeze in place as Aurora's shade became visible to all. I could sense no touch of a dragon's spell, but I could hear half a hundred heartbeats simply stop in their respective chests. Shock and awe and disbelief pulsed across me like the coronas of a dozen suns.
And then it snapped as a few of the phoenixes walked forward, stumbling over their feet. And then more followed them, cascading inward like the collapse of a star.
Aurora stepped out from behind me, her head darting everywhere as her family finally saw her. I sensed her emotions begin to break as a woman I didn't recognize reached my bond.
This phoenix had deep green robes, setting her apart from the lighter colors of her peers. She was shorter than most, her hands trembling at her sides. I thought she looked young, and her burning orange hair barely brushed against her shoulders.
"Roa," my bond said weakly, "oh, you've grown so–"
The one my mother called Roa reached her first. My bond's words choked off suddenly as the phoenix hugged her tightly.
It was as if a dam broke.
Gradually, phoenixes crowded around my bond, wrapping her small, weeping shade in the world's greatest hug. I stepped back slightly, smiling, but then the first phoenix—the one my bond had called Roa—looked at me with a trembling lip as she separated ever-so-slightly from the swirling maelstrom of emotions.
"You brought her back," she said, tears falling down her face. "You brought Aurora back to us."
My words caught in my throat as more of the phoenixes began to focus on me. I felt small. Unworthy of the admiration I felt radiating over half a hundred intents. Their emotions carried on the wind like mine did, telling me perfectly of their passion.
"I–" I started, my eyes darting to where Aurora was still being held by another member of her family, "I did, but–"
And then I was pulled into an embrace by the weeping phoenix. I felt her warmth and gratitude over her intent as she clasped me in shaking arms that I knew could crush me like a grapefruit if they truly tried. But she held me gently, unwilling to let my comparatively frail physique crumple.
Hesitantly, I returned the hug, feeling undeserving of the purity of the emotions directed at me.
I didn't know how, but somehow the rest of the phoenixes managed to pull us all into some strange, complex group of hugs and disbelief and gratitude. My thoughts stuttered atop the sea of my soul, trying to maintain some sort of direction. And finally, the sheer weight of all the happiness around me broke through my barriers.
I couldn't hold back the tears anymore as everyone else around me struggled to maintain their inverted grief. I began to weep in tune with the rest of them, my intent joining their happy song, one more note in the chorus. A hundred tears watered the glade of the Sunswept Gardens.
In some way, I'd always felt myself out of place. An intruder in this world, changing and altering and breaking things that I had no right to influence. A Discordant Note in a symphony already set. There was no room for Toren Daen in The Beginning After the End.
But as the ambient mana itself carried the weight of a clan's worth of grief and sorrow and joy and relief, I found that I wasn't Discordant. No, the emotions I professed somehow fit perfectly into a groove I didn't know was waiting for me. That, too, flowed back to me, making something deep in me crack as I fell to my knees. I felt my very soul tremble deep in its foundations, drowning in wonder and beauty and family and home.