Bab 271: Chapter 268: Bloodtie
Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Toren Asclepius
I'd spent only a week and a half in the Hearth, but it felt like a lifetime. Between the constant talks with my clanmermbers, the stories I gradually got to hear, and the time I'd spent every day with them, I felt as if I'd known each phoenix for years instead of a few days.
"Well, this is it," Diella said matter-of-factly as she led our little group forward. "Our kitchens."
I struggled not to gape as I stared at the scene before me, because it wasn't really a kitchen. It was like a living, shifting garden. A dozen different plants floated around the space on islands kept aloft by whirlwinds. The scents of each of them drifted back to me in an almost dizzying array of aromas. Cinnamon and vanilla I recognized amidst the smells, but most were so alien and rich with strange and untold flavors that I couldn't even begin to decipher them.
The ambient mana itself seemed to carry the scents of those hundred different ingredients in a truly fantastical way. My eyes darted about, focusing on one plant. Alathora. Its clover-shaped leaves were ever-so-slightly purple, and each of them seemed to move individually of the others.
My attention shifted to the side again. Norsican wildflower. That one did look like a bright white flower, except it was constantly furling in on itself over and over and over in an almost mindbending manner. I felt that if I stared too long at it, I'd be drawn in like a fly into a spider's web.
"Careful there," Lithen said, patting my shoulder as he walked past me. "Norsican wildflowers grow in large patches on Epheotus. Their innate mental magics ensnare their prey. A single one isn't really enough to warrant the fear of an asura, though."
I blinked, abruptly pulling my attention from the flower. With my growing sense for the soul—which cascaded in an almost trickle-down effect toward my Mind—I could belatedly sense the effect the flower had in siphoning my attention like water down a drain.
"This is more than a kitchen," I said slowly, struggling not to sound like a teenager in over my head. "It's an entire garden in and of itself."
Indeed, there was even a stream that ran through the large chamber weaving through the entire room in a gentle, meandering manner. Every now and then, the islands would dip down toward the water like animals roaming for water, allowing the roots to drink of their sustenance, before rising back into the sky.
"Kitchen is the best word we could use," Diella said simply, putting her hands on her hips as she strode forward confidently. Her hair was dark as dying coals as her lifeforce simmered away, indicating she was close to her Second Sculpting. "But we of the Hearth don't really have normal kitchens anymore."
She waved an intentionally impassionate hand toward the jungle of plants around us. "All our ingredients are grown fresh here in the Hearth, saturated in the ambient mana as they await the table. We only pluck them when needed, ensuring maximum quality."
To punctuate her point, the phoenix reached out, casually plucking a glistening fruit that looked somewhat like a plum from a nearby branch. She bit into it, trying her best to appear unaffected by the taste.
Diella liked to present herself as nonchalant and unbothered, but I knew she was just as passionate as the rest of our clan through the rumble of her low-burning heartfire and the pulse of her intent. It was a strange quirk of hers I'd observed over these past days.
Roa strolled in next, a wide smile on her face. "It was one of my ideas," she said proudly, puffing out her chest as she strolled toward the stream. "We can't hunt like we used to, of course. But we can grow and nurture any food we need!"
She sat down heavily on the ground, the ethereal grass bending easily beneath her. Roa patted the space next to her invitingly. "Come on, sit down, Toren!"
I strolled closer, setting myself down next to the phoenix. A second later, Lithen plopped down heavily next to Roa. Roa leaned against his arm slightly as the bulky phoenix leaned backward, settling there like a bird on the nest.
I still wasn't exactly sure what the two were. Lovers, I was pretty sure about. Husband and wife? I didn't exactly know if there was an equivalent of that in Asclepius culture beyond "nest-mate." Apparently, Lithen himself had been adopted in from another clan: those of the Avignis, long ago. Before the sundering.
I felt a smile stretch across my face at the relaxed atmosphere. There was a warm little fire in my chest that simmered with each interaction with these phoenixes.
I haven't felt so at peace in a long time, I thought. It has been such a long time since I've allowed myself anything like this. Not since…
Not since Greahd's death, I realized. That was the last time I'd truly felt this warmth of community with so much of my soul.
Diella slowly lounged a ways away, then waved her hand nonchalantly. Without an ounce of detectable mana, vines slowly grew from the stone, weaving together like the embrace of friends as they gradually corded into the vague shape of a table.
"Now that that's done," she said simply, "we are going to cook."
And then my sense of warmth slipped slightly. I raised my hand, grimacing a bit. "I, uh… can't cook. At all," I said lamely. "The last time I tried, I somehow made a phoenix wyrm flavorless. I don't want to ruin whatever you'll be making."
Roa chuckled, while Diella shook her head. "Don't worry about that, Toren," Diella said imperiously. "We'll teach you. Just watch!"
She waved her hand, and a parchment settled over the table written in glowing ink. "This is our recipe! You can't mess it up, you know. Not with us helping."
I scanned over the ingredients, noting that I had no idea what any of them were. But as Diella gradually began to explain the process, I fell back into that warm fire again.
All things considered, it was a relatively simple meal–but there was something chaotic about the preparations that started as we finally set our plans in motion. Lithen was in charge of maintaining a steady fire underneath a few pots of water and keeping the temps in check. Roa and I were both sent out to forage for ingredients, while Diella coordinated it all like a master chef.
And thus I found myself hovering about the chamber, drifting from plant to plant and checking their descriptions against a little scrap of paper in my hands. A few ingredients hovered around me like an orbital asteroid field under my telekinetic control.
I furrowed my brow as I looked at the plant in front of me. It looked slightly like a mushroom, except the head of mycelium appeared to be coated in some sort of glassy, reflective scale. The note on its little island read "shimmerfreeze shroom."
Not what I was looking for. The last ingredient was indeed covered in glassy scales, but it was not a mushroom.
"Can't you just tell me where the ingredient is?" I called out, amplifying my voice with sound magic so the phoenixes below could hear me. "This last one is evading me purposefully. I know it."
"You've gotta learn to hunt for it!" Diella called back.
"This isn't hunting!" I echoed back, feeling annoyed. "This is foraging! There's a difference!"
I scratched my long hair with irritation, turning about in the air. My eyes tracked all of the floating islands, my mind trying to remember which I'd visited and which I'd missed.
"I've got it," Roa said, hovering close to me after a moment. She smiled lightly, gesturing with an arm full of random herbs and spices. "As you can see, of course."
I narrowed my eyes as I looked at the scaled leaf. It had one hundred percent been trying to avoid me somehow. I was absolutely certain about that. "Thanks," I said, bringing my ingredients in closer. "I don't care what Diella says. These islands were avoiding me in some way."
Roa chortled, before waving me forward. "Come on. We've gotta actually cook all this now."
As the two of us settled down to the ground, my eyes traced the plants all around me. And unbidden, a hope welled up from within my breast. "Hey, this is a longshot," I said slowly as I finally touched down on the grass, "but you wouldn't happen to have coffee plants here, would you?"
Roa tilted her head, confused. "Coffee?"
Welp, there goes that possibility, I thought morosely, hanging my head. "It's a plant from my old world," I explained with deepest sorrow. "They had beans you could take out and roast. And when you steeped them for a while, you'd get the masterpiece of all beverages. It helped you wake up in the morning with smoky undertones and caffeine. And this world just doesn't have it."
The stores of coffee I'd nabbed from the Town Zone were running low again, but while it was nice, it was the cheap stuff. Canned Folgers was nothing to some good arabica beans.
Roa patted me on the back consolingly. "I could probably try to make something like that," she offered. "I am a master of nature magic, I'll have you know! If it's a mundane plant without mana enhanced properties, it shouldn't be too hard for me to engineer it for you," she offered warmly.
"Thank you, Roa," I said, looking at her as if she were a true deity. "I would be in your debt beyond words if you did this for me."
The short-haired phoenix coughed in an embarrassed manner, looking away slightly. "Of course, of course," she said. Then she paused right as we neared the edge of the cooking area. "And your Sculpting gift isn't done yet, sadly. It's going to take me longer than I expected."
I patted the woman on the back lightly. It was strange, my relationship with her and the others. They were older than me by a factor of a hundred at least, but our conversations made it feel as if we were the same age.
"Don't worry about it," I said. "In my mind, you're already going out of your way to make it for me. I can't demand speed, too."
Roa's shoulders slumped slightly. "Well, I do have some good news!" she said, trying to sound upbeat. "You told me about how there was an artificer in Dicathen who could extract the abilities of a phoenix wyrm from their beast cores and store them inside a pendant. Well, I did not disappoint!"
The phoenix pulled a couple of items from the folds of her robe, before pressing them toward me. "They're pendants, just like the ones you talked about before. Break the core, and you'll be surrounded by shining scales. And when that cocoon is finally shattered, then zip! You've teleported away!"
I felt a grin break the surface of my face as I took in the pendants. They were simple things, wrapped in slight roots like a helix with a marble-sized beast core at the center. I took them gratefully, feeling reassured by the fact that I had this option.
"What are you two talking about over there?" Diella called, looking at us from where she still knelt in the seiza position. A few cooking utensils hovered about her under currents of wind as she awaited our ingredients. "We need to start cooking!"
Roa shook herself, pulling herself from her reverie. She patted me on the shoulder in a reassuring way, looking back toward Diella as we moved closer. "It's nothing of importance," she deflected primly, settling down beside Lithen again with an upturned chin. "You probably wouldn't really care, Diella," she said simply.
Diella visibly shifted, that faux nonchalance of hers cracking under interest and curiosity as she looked between Roa and me. "She gave me something that could really save lives," I said honestly, crossing my legs as I sat on the grass. "Now I'm trying to think of who to give them to."
Diella's brow furrowed slightly as she looked at Roa more intently. "You know, the Forum isn't… decided yet," she said. "The clan could rule that this is unfair accommodations before a verdict was reached."
The oath-chains on my arm burned beneath my robes, a reminder of the soul-bound words.
I felt my gut clench as the atmosphere darkened. Today was the day of my final appeal, and I'd already decided on what I would do with my bond. Aurora herself was talking with some of her older kin, interacting and easing her burdens. But while we both felt confident in our success, it was still a… touchy topic.
The Forum had divided the Hearth deeply. In the few days since I'd begun my speech, there was a clear delineation between the older and younger generations of Asclepius on what should be done.
And no matter the outcome, I will be bound to it, I thought with a swallow. I'd never really contemplated failure before, but I couldn't imagine myself losing ground. Professing my intent and desire for understanding was my greatest strength.
"I was just helping out a family member," Roa said, squaring her shoulders as she looked at Diella. "That isn't direct assistance in the war. You know that."
Lithen leaned forward, poking his massive finger into one of the pots he'd been allowing to boil. His close-cropped hair reflected the light. "But this does prove Toren's point in the Forum, doesn't it?" he asked, looking up. "All of our elders fear direct combat and bloodshed. And I get that, you know? But we don't have to bleed ourselves."
His eyes darted to mine, before looking away. "We didn't get to help our brothers in Life in time. I was little when it all happened, but I remember them still. I remembered feeling helpless."
My hands clenched around my knees. Indeed, many of the Asclepius were moved by my words to action. But in the process of doing so, I unearthed old wounds that had never truly healed.
Diella poked at a stewpot with a ladle, her nonchalant airs simmering away like the water atop it. "I'm older than both of you, you know," she said. She looked up, staring at Lithen, Roa, and me in turn. "I understand the fire you all have. You want to make a difference. Want to help things. But… you weren't here for the aftermath like so many of us."
Diella rhythmically moved through the process of preparing her ingredients. "It was our elders who set out, searching through the scorched fires of djinni civilization as we looked for survivors. For weeks and months, we all did so, seeing atrocities and hellscapes that unbridled asuran battle brought. There were hundreds of millions of djinn across Dicathen, Toren. And in the wake of the Indraths' attempted coverup, we saw so much fire. So much ash. So much death."
She laid a peach-like fruit over a conjured cutting board, grabbing an intricately etched knife that had been hovering beside her. Her hands trembled for a moment, before she brought the knife down like a guillotine on the mana-imbibed fruit. Its juices splashed across the table.
"I know you think us fearful of intervention. But it is not so simple, Toren Asclepius. Even as one of our clan," Diella said, looking up at me. "You are… fragile. It all is so very fragile. Many of us struggle to call flames to our fingers for their remembrance of dragonfire and what it could do when unmatched."
I swallowed slightly, sensing the truth in her words. "I understand," I said. "At least in part. Before Greahd, I would have likely sat out this war and let it play its course as I foresaw."
Diella gently set her knife down on the table. "I know, Toren. I agree that something must be done. I will vote for you at the end of this next plea. It seems that the tide is shifting heavily in your favor regardless. But the others cannot be blamed for their reluctance. When asura go to war, lessers die."
Silence held the air for a time, the earlier aura of contentment simmering away as we all fell into our thoughts. Me, of what would come after I brought the Asclepius to Seris' cause.
I won't that happen, I thought with grim resolve, my hands clenching over my knees. I won't let the people I'm protecting be hurt. They keep saying that it can only end in death and fire, but they're wrong. They don't understand what we can do.
My thoughts were interrupted, however, as Roa piped up in her chipper way. "Diella!" she said, clearly intent on changing the topic, "have you heard any word of Evascir? The titan is currently in Klethra, is he not? Keeping his ear close to the ground?"
Diella blinked a few times, then a smile stretched across her face. "Oh, yes!" she said after a moment. "I suspect he'll be back soon. He owes me a book from the Great Library. I never got to read much when I was back in Epheotus, and I could do with more of the outside world."
Lithen's brows furrowed at this. He was a deeper thinker than his partner, and as he leaned forward to help Diella with her cooking, I could sense something bubbling to the surface. "The outside world…" He kept his orange eyes trained on the cutting board as he shuffled ingredients toward the older phoenix. "I struggle to remember what the sky felt like. When I try and see the blue, all I see is… the white of marble. I joined the Asclepius for love of my Roa, and I shall never regret that, but… I envy your Guardian, Diella. I envy that he can explore, dangerous as it is."
Roa melted into his side, for once silent as she stared upward, a longing there I'd seen so much in her namesake. A longing that threaded through us all. The desire to fly. But even though they wished to feel the kiss of the wind, they feared leaving this place they'd known for nearly all their lives.
Roa's attempt at changing topic had only led from one avenue of sorrow to another.
"I've never had the chance to stay still," I said, finally joining in to help with the divvying up of ingredients. "Ever since I came to this world, I've never had a place to call home. No Hearth for myself, or a place I could be certain to rest my head."
The phoenixes listened as I continued to speak from my heart, our arms a blur of repetition and motion. I conjured a shrouded knife over my fingers, using it to mince vegetables before passing them to Roa, who used some sort of magic to concentrate the mana within, before Lithen used a tongue of fire to roast them.
"I've found that it isn't the place that matters most. It matters, yes. But it's the people that are most important. If I'm being honest…." I squinted my eyes, staring up at the stones. And if I pushed past the fugue of love and acceptance and happiness in my heart, I could find the seed of discomfort being beneath the earth brought. How the lack of sky and stars made me feel trapped. Through the weave of silver vines and autumn leaves, this place was still a cave, barring me from the freedom my blood desired.
"It's the people that matter," I said, thinking of how even those in the hell of East Fiachra found happiness in community. They pressed onward because they were together. And though this Hearth felt so very constricting, it was the phoenixes that made it a place of home. Not the marble or the leaves. "The right people can make any cage beautiful. I don't think you're wrong for wanting to fly, or see the world. And I think that home will stay with you, wherever we go."
In the end, the food we made together was the most delicious I had ever tasted in any world.
—
"Today we hear the final plea of Toren Asclepius," Mordain's voice rang through the cavern. "Today is the final push. If a majority decision is reached, either we shall bind our collective flock in support of Seris Vritra's eventual rebellion, or all will be forbidden from doing so."
The Lost Prince's eyes swept across his clan from where they sat in the balconies on high. "Over the past week, many of you have thought long and hard on what shall become of us. But after Toren and Aurora finish their plea, the future of this world will be set in stone."
The ancient asura seemed old as he watched me gradually approach, his eyes and intent unreadable. Aurora's expression was somber as we passed, each like soldiers marching to war.
The warmth of the hearthlights above was familiar. The weight of the asuran attention was familiar. As I finally took my stage above the mosaic of Faircity Zhoroa, I once again wondered what the djinn felt in every freehearing.
I felt like the captain of a ship as I stood there, quietly absorbing the intent and heartfires of the phoenixes. The sea of their desires and fears was a challenge to overcome, every rise and turn of my wheel navigating my little boat of hope through a raging storm.
But I was close. I could sense it in the storm like an old weathered sailor knew the skies and oceans. I was almost on the other side of this hurricane, and there would be warmth and sunlight waiting for me. For us all.
I felt my heartfire pulsing in my chest as I inhaled. In and out. In, and out.
"The djinn were our brothers," Aurora said behind me as I concentrated on my heartbeat. "Those few who could not bring themselves to continue the Lifework. Those few who sought to live a quiet life, away from the lingering dragonfires. Who wished to mourn in peace."
My bond rose into the air slightly, our hearts beating as one as she called to those who yet were hesitant. The magical light outlined her in a warm, fuzzy halo, granting her mystical grace. Deep in my soul, I remembered the time I had first met the phoenix as I lay dying in the Clarwood Forest. She'd seemed like the concept of beauty itself. Ethereal in robes of impossibly crafted sunlight.
"Our final plea will be different from the rest," my mother said. "Before, we offered words and logic. But while sophism and conversation is something of we phoenixes, it is not our truest nature."
"I only recently became aware of what a Bloodtie was," I continued, drawing the attention back to me. "A way to share memories and emotions in the wake of loss. A way to leave behind your grief and step forward. But my bond and I… we decided that the best way to show you all what drives us is through a shared death."
More conversed chattering. A few phoenixes looked at Mordain with growing uncertainty from where he lounged on the sidelines.
Soleil predictably stood, a wildfire condensed in his core. I locked eyes with him, sensing the utter turbulence that roiled beneath his chest. He was angry. At me. At Aurora. At himself. "There is no death you can show us, Toren Asclepius, that will outweigh the countless that will follow our intervention," he hissed bitterly. With every plea, something in the man seemed to wither slightly as I clawed myself closer to victory. "Do not expect us to be swayed by such things."
I let myself observe the gathered phoenixes, sensing their intent. I only needed a majority. And I was close.
"I have already swayed many," I said, but not harshly. Where Soleil became more and more fiery with each plea, I knew I needed to keep my calm. "There are more in this place who wish to spread their wings and do good. I can understand your fear, Soleil. I know it.
"I am the Willbearer of the Asclepius," I echoed, punctuating my words with a flex of sound magic and intent. "Countless generations have compounded their insight and desires into one little sliver of a soul. And on and on that soul has built into something truly great. Something that burns like a star and eclipses the world!"
Soulplume threaded through my veins, my eyes burning as I fell deep into my Will. Feathered wings stretched beneath my eyes as the oath-chains on my arm burned red. Runic weaves of orange feathers traced over my body as I let myself dip deeper into that power, Aurora guiding me. The world sang.
And as my power echoed out like a song, a few phoenixes stood in turn. Not to voice their questions, but to show the draw of my power.
Roa. Lithen. Diella. Sundren. Aliara. Half a hundred more took their stance as Aurora held the room. The young of the Hearth pulsed out with their mana, our hearts beating as one as the sun seemed to shine in the relative darkness of this dungeon for a brief instant. Soleil winced, his once-stern eyes looking about with a measure of growing worry.
A few of the older phoenixes shared his uncertainty, but none quite like he.
So close, I thought to myself, feeling reassured by the chorus of heartbeats. So very close.
I gestured wide with my arms, as if I were ready to embrace every single one of the phoenixes of our family. And when next I spoke, it was in sync with Aurora above me. "I have marched through flames hot enough to burn even fire itself. I know the deepest darkest of the deepest dungeons. But that will not sway those yet fearful."
I exhaled, and then I let my heart beat. I showed none of the pain of the action as veins of heartfire emerged from my chest like the roots of a tree. They stretched for a dozen feet around me, splitting and twisting before circling back to me.
And as I did so, I thought of one memory. One particular death that had changed everything I'd ever known.
J'ntarion, dying in our arms. The last of the djinn as he told me the path I trod was one of his people.
More phoenixes stood, not in support like the others, but in shock and surprise as those veins of heartfire threaded about us. I could see their orange lifeforces in each of their chests as they leapt with surprise at our blatant control of aether.
"A Bloodtie," we whispered. We imbued all we could into those veins. "We are not only Willbearers of the Asclepius. We bear the Will of another in our souls."
They floated forward. Like cautious fireflies, more and more of our family floated down. As moths were drawn to light, a hundred different people drifted about us. I felt their hesitance, each like a man who had never yet seen fire. Murmurs rose and abounded like currents on a sea. I met the eyes of those I had known for endless time and naught but a week, an encouraging smile growing on my face.
We never shared our memories before with another. Our mind was our sanctum. It was the only place we could be free of the touch of others. But for the first time in an age, we let ourselves be truly open.
And then the first brushed their hands through where they knew the warmth of a hearth awaited. Roa was the first. She thrust her hand forward as if it were into an open fire, but when she found the gemstones within, she gasped. Then more and more sank their hands into the lifegiving tethers. Haladrun. Anasa. Duskar. More and more and more let their fingers mist through.
And they knew. That crux in Fate where it all had changed. I was a nexus of emotion and power; a beating heart delivering truth to all who touched my vessels.
I sensed it. The very air was heavy with power and intent as all saw to the depths of our souls. I remembered as J'ntarion's breath feathered across my ears, telling me I was on the right path. The last man of an entire race had died in my arms. He had whispered in my ears words of the path forward.
I was not only Asclepius. I was djinn, too, carrying the last breath of their people as I fought for the future.
Aurora and I were closer than we had ever been as the entire Hearth trembled with emotion. I felt myself dip deeper and deeper into my Will, feeling my body strain and protest. But our souls––they were in perfect sync as we welcomed our home into the world's purest embrace.
I was Aurora and Toren both in that pivotal instant.
"You fools," a familiar voice uttered, sounding utterly broken. Like a shifting chord in a symphony of melancholy and hope, Soleil suddenly burned like a dark star of despair. "You still don't understand."
We turned to the one we had known for long and short. Tears of fire streamed down his cheeks as he heaved, his blunt façade finally breaking. He clutched that vein of heartfire close to himself, drowning in what it showed him.
"We do understand," we whispered back. "This is why we are here, Soleil. So that when all is done, everyone can have the chance to understand without the boots of tyrants across their very souls."
Soleil—still immersed deep in the vision of J'ntarion's death—shook his head. He clutched his hands together hard enough his nails drew blood, each sparkling with embers of orange lifeforce.
"I offer my rebuttal to your plea," he said, before allowing his blood to cross with our veins.
We had opened ourselves so fully—exposed the depths of our hearts so purely—that there was no way to resist what happened. Like electricity racing along a conductive stream, Soleil's burning orange heartfire-blood used my veins as an outlet. It tracked back to my heart in an instant nearly too fast to comprehend.
—
The beast of the Indrath Clan choked on his blood as I kept my boot over his throat. His face—once an immaculately sculpted visage—was blackened and charred by my fire. Little flakes of blackened skin fell from his face, his lips nearly burnt away.
The world around us heaved and trembled from the spatial spell he'd used to keep us encased. Ripples of light misted in from everywhere and nowhere, before fracturing into countless streams and then swimming away.
My core ached. It had not done so in a very, very long time. Blood streamed from my countless wounds, and though my mana fought to heal them over and char them shut with an effort of fire, I felt the struggle.
This was no simple soldier I had felled. I knew not his name, but from the potency of his aetheric arts, I knew he was a full-blooded warrior of the Indraths.
"I have not known a monster such as you in my countless years of life," I wheezed angrily, pressing my boot further into the dragon's throat. Broken gold scales flashed within the bloody flesh of my foe. "Worthy opponent you might have been, Indrath. But you are as much a beast as those in the Glades despite your reason!"
The little pocket dimension of reflectionless light trembled as the Indrath coughed up blood, the caster of the spell slowly bleeding into the dark stone. Red stained their impossibly blonde hair, their eyes misty purple as they struggled not to fade.
His spatial domain had proven difficult to circumvent, but by coating my body in my blood and focusing on my heartfire–that warmth I vaguely felt around and through me–I had been able to navigate through it to my foe.
"They must all die," the beast muttered mindlessly. He only had one arm, the other charred at the stump. Golden scales stretched up his left arm, the armor he'd once worn broken and seared beneath the cuts of Lightdream's blade.
The dragon's muttered words—likely one of his last—made my heart beat with rising hatred again.
"You were supposed to be protectors!" I seethed, slamming another fist into the dying body. Another. Then another. The near-corpse shuddered from the impacts, offering no resistance. My foe's mana sputtered as blood splattered across my arms. "You told us all that you kept the lessers safe!"
Mordain had told us all of the atrocities the dragons were wreaking on their subjects. The lessers—the People of Life—who knew not the arts of war and defense.
I had not believed him at first. I was one of the first to rush from our nests in the Starbrand Sanctum, seeking out the Old World and the cities within.
It had not taken long for me to discover the truth. I had searched for days to find a hidden alcove of lessers, knowing not what to expect.
I had found them eventually, barely two hundred in a small cavern as they sheltered from the sky. Their rattled, broken, sorrowful forms. Even as lesser beings, the wretched sight I had seen had compelled me to action.
The Indraths touted themselves as protectors. The lessers feared the sky itself, instead opting to cower in the depths of the stone. It was wrong.
The dragon had arrived not long after, commanding the capture and submission of the lessers sheltered beneath my wing. With spear and shield in tow, they had demanded surrender of all.
I had refused the fool. And so he had cast his spatial spell, drawing us into a strange labyrinth of twisting existence where every attack I threw threatened to come back toward me.
But the scaled lizard had proved far from enough to overcome phoenix fire.
I snarled, siphoning mana from my core, before I slammed my boot into and through the pale throat of the dragon, feeling as mana-enhanced flesh squelched. My boot impacted stone, sending reverberating power through the entire world. And the domain about me broke.
I expected to return to the small coven formed by the djinn. But when I returned to the cave, it was only darkness.
Strange, I thought, wavering from exhaustion. My arms burned. Was it not lit by motes like stars before I engaged the dragon?
I needed to bring this news to Mordain. That I had slain an Indrath directly would endanger me to the dragons, but even more was that I had proof of their atrocities firsthand beyond just the words of the one called J'ntarion.
I stumbled into the twisting cavern. "Rul-Kae?" I moaned, feeling my stomach twist from internal injuries. "The beast is dead. Your people… they are safe."
No response. Why was there no response?
I only felt half an asura as I trailed my blood through the caverns. Searching. Calling. Uncomprehending.
But I finally smelt it. The scent of charred flesh. And as dread coiled about my heart like the squeeze of a basilisk's venom, it began to fall into place.
I arrived before them long enough. What survivors I had hoped to shelter beneath my wing.
Except there was nothing left. Not even ash; only dark outlines amidst the stone. The entire cavern still glowed red-hot with my lingering fire mana, a slew of molten rock gleaming like a volcano. The small cave had expanded to the size of a thousand aurochs as the heat suffused the air.
There was nothing left of the lessers. Not even ash.
In the depths of my mana core, I realized that the spatial domain spell had not been what I suspected. It did not fully separate us from the world around us. I had thought our mana contained, our presence fully separated from the mortal plane as we battled about unseen platforms and refracting skies.
"Our people are done," Rul-Kae had said. "No matter what protection you offer, we shall only burn, phoenix. The only thing that can be done is hide away what is left."
They had been so broken inside. So defeated and awash with despair. And in place of the Indraths, I had deigned to offer myself as a weathering wing.
"Your power will only hurt 'lessers,' asura," the woman had mocked. "No matter how you try. It is the nature of power itself to corrupt those who wield it. Such is why we kept to peace for five millennia. Until power washed us away."
I swiveled my head slowly around the cavern, where once hundreds of hearts beat.
Now there was only the sizzling of molten stone as the fire in my chest slowly died.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone