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Caera Denoir
Such were the oddest things, what one learned in the Relictombs. Over all of my ascents with my brother and Twitter-fingers, I'd improved immensely in power. My soulfire arts were honed to a razor's edge, my instincts and combat abilities tested on countless mana beasts.
I'd become many times more powerful in everything I deemed my bloodright through those endless trials, honed myself to a razor's edge. I knew when to cut, when to dodge, when to sear with fire that was an agent of entropy itself.
But there were other things I'd learned, too. Strange things that I didn't even realize I had internalized until now.
Like the different smells of wood and stone when they burned. Strange, how I could pinpoint that now.
Lauden, my other adoptive brother, was the last to leave the building that housed the teleportation gate. When he stepped through the door, he turned to say something to his parents—who had stepped through barely a moment before—but his gaze caught on the city before us.
"Sovereign's blood," he cursed, his nose wrinkling as smoke stung his nostrils. "What happened here?"
Corbett's expression was tense as he took his son by the shoulders, maneuvering him away from the teleportation gate. "Keep your hood up, son," he said darkly, his olive hair hidden by his own nondescript cloak. "You don't want to be spotted here."
I suppressed a grin of wry amusement at that. My adoptive family—all of the members of the direct line—were all present here, wearing enchanted cloaks that helped divert the attention of any who looked at them. My two protectors, the bulky Taegan and the lithe Arian, watched from the sidelines, ever vigilant for potential threats.
I made sure that my hood was up as I sidled closer to my adoptive father. "The estate isn't far that way," I said in a hushed tone, my eyes flicking east toward where I knew the mountaintop villa awaited, untouched by all of this. "But I don't think it's safe for us to take the normal route."
Aedelgard, the capital city of Sehz-Clar and always considered a jewel of the Vritra's Maw Sea, was burning. Smoke belched into the sky in dark clouds, the dying breath of a hundred buildings all across the city. Orange flames illuminated the early evening sky, and the cacophony of screams, crashing blades, and crumbling buildings was a constant drone.
My mentor had been right when she'd predicted that Sehz-Clar would bear the brunt of the war's failure. When the High Sovereign had finally spoken, he had condemned everything of Toren Daen, blaming all of us for 'taking him in.'
And then the other Dominions had struck, teeth sinking into an already weakened underbelly, ripping and tearing. They gorged on those who dared to live in Toren's home Dominion. Highbloods all across the country lost their positions and had their assets seized. Those less powerful, the Named Bloods, were lucky to have members of their family taken as hostages by rabid debtors. Those who had made enemies?
More than half a dozen families were wiped from the face of Alacrya within the first three hours of the High Sovereign's decree. And unless Highblood Denoir did something drastic, they would be torn apart by their rivals for daring to ever sponsor Spellsong.
"Keep close to me," I said quietly, moving off to the right. It spoke volumes about the state of the city that so many guards were keeping watch over the main entryway into the city. The ashen remnants of spellfire around their feet spoke volumes more, the guards' hands twitching near their weapons. "We can't afford to be spotted. Not by anyone."
Lauden plastered one of his characteristic, arrogant smiles across his face as he turned to regard me, doing his damndest to pretend like the city wasn't burning down around him from the riots. "I'm certain you know the exact way through this place," he said in his condescending way, "but I'm really, really not feeling like—"
"Not now, son," Corbett interrupted, serious as stone. For the first time in history, my adoptive father had abandoned his usual highblood's attire, instead wearing something almost simple. He looked exhausted, his olive hair a mess instead of its customary neat part. "She holds the fate of our entire Blood in her hands. We follow her."
Lauden looked like a strange mirror of his father as his lips came to a thin line. Some part of me recognized he was trying to hold onto the boy he'd used to be—irresponsible, utterly uncaring, and just a bit of a womanizer. But since Sevren had been set aside as the heir to Highblood Denoir, his brother had been forced to step into the role.
"Okay," he said weakly, the mask draining away. "Guess we're following our savior to victory."
I gave my adoptive brother a slow nod, before scanning the streets once more. "We need to stick close," I said quietly. "Those cloaks will help keep attention diverted, but with so many of us in one place, it won't be as effective as usual. We'll take the route that skirts around Tornseed Street. Should be less people there."
I turned back to our small entourage, heartbeat quickening in my chest. My eyes skirted across my family, the people who had raised me all my life. I hadn't been nearly as kind to them as I should have. Hadn't appreciated all they'd done for me. Corbett, ever the hammer to his wife's anvil, staring at me with grim resolve. Lenora, her snow-white hair brushed back and her expression as exhausted as anyone else's. Lauden, ass that he was, standing nearby as he tried to fill the shoes Sevren had left empty for so very long. Even my protectors, Taegan and Arian, stood at the edge of our group, ready to fight and die against anything that would dare hurt Highblood Denoir.
I'd felt so trapped in my station as the glass sculpture of my family, so constricted by an existence tethered to pointless waiting. And all that time I'd been waiting, I hadn't even known what I'd been waiting for.
But I knew what I had been waiting for now, and that purpose swelled within me like a fire given life by the bellows.
"Taegan, keep to the back. Guard our rear," I ordered, falling into my ascender's mindset. "Arian, you're faster: keep on the lookout for anything approaching and be ready to move. I'll be at the front."
I turned away from them, ignoring how Taegan made a pointed comment about 'Tiny Sword' and Arian responded jovially in tune. And with every ounce of skill I'd gleaned from Naereni, I began to lead, sticking to the shadows and slinking like a thing of the night.
The path toward Seris' old estate was uphill. My mentor had built her villa overlooking the sea, perched like an impregnable fortress atop the cliffside. Every other time, I would have scented sea salt and heard the cry of gulls.
Now, the smell of burning timber overwhelmed the sea. Several times I called for my family to stop, waiting in the shadow of tall buildings as angry citizens charged through, chanting and screaming, torches in their hands and rage in their hearts.
We were currently huddled like a clutch of rabbits amidst a storm, clinging to the underside of a bridge. I watched a dozen scattered men charge through the rubble of a building, covered in soot, smoke, and blood. I sensed mana from some of them. Others were unadorned.
But they were all kin in the frenzy I saw in their eyes, like a pack of maddened hyenas looking for a kill. Their chants echoed like a chorus of drums, a pack of agonized howls demanding respite from the pain. My family watched them go, too, their eyes wary and unnerved.
"What are they saying?" Lauden whispered, trying to peer after the people.
I forced my gaze forward, visions of what had happened in the immediate aftermath of Circe's little show replaying in my mind. Barely a few minutes after her display of aether, the High Sovereign's decree had soured any sense of victory, turning the entire gathering into one of fear.
"Spellsong," I replied, forcing my heartbeat to be steady. "They're calling for Spellsong."
Lauden shuddered.
"Come on," I said, sensing an opening in the crowd. "It's only a few more blocks. Make sure to hold your breath."
I zipped out from the cover of the bridge, a few shadows close behind me. All of them were more nimble than I'd initially expected, something that was a welcome relief. We pushed through a cloud of smoke within a decimated building before emerging on the other side. From there, we tracked upward, trailing the hill higher and higher and higher. More and more often, we had to duck to the side, avoiding errant rioters, weaving away from the sound of clashing Supervisory Officers. Errant bolts of spellfire streaked across our path a few times before they slammed into buildings that had once been pristine.
It's so bad, I thought, ducking away from a sickle of fire shredding through the wattle and daub finish of an upper-class home. I'd been there in the immediate aftermath of Agrona's decree, working feverishly to evacuate what East Fiachrans I could to safety. The city had been caught in a lull, like an innocent lamb that finally understood it rested in the palm of a butcher. But it hadn't become this. They hadn't torn each other apart.
We were almost there. Almost.
And then a bolt of wind spiralled above us, before slamming into the second story of a stone meetinghouse. A sizable chunk of rock creaked as it separated from the painted building, before tumbling down toward Lauden. My adoptive brother was already turning, mana building along his fists as he prepared to destroy the stone.
Damn it, I thought, tensing like a cat that had been poked as I watched the act play out in slow motion. The obscuring cloaks only work if we don't use mana!
Before Lauden could land his blow, however, a familiar streak of reflective bronze slammed into the stone with a metallic cling. A blade of sculpted soulmetal embedded deep into the stone, trailed by a barely-visible line of translucent hairavant wire. In a single blurring motion, the line went taut, yanking the stone out of the way.
Lauden's eyes went wide as he traced the wire to its source, the rest of my family instinctively preparing themselves for combat against whoever had intruded. The figure was entirely obscured by smoke, leaving them indistinct and formless like a Wraith.
But me? I let out a sigh from the pits of my soul, recognizing the person immediately. My mood plummeted, the distant estate seeming further and further away.
Sevren marched from the smoke like some sort of beast from the Relictombs. Even with his teal cloak, snow-white hair, and pristine ascender's garb all attempting to mask that loping stride, it failed to civilize the hound beneath. His soulmetal blade retracted back into his left arm like a serpent's tongue retreating, his aura radiating like a caged wolf.
His eyes panned across our cloaked forms, and I knew that the obscuring effects had failed by the way his eyes widened with every face he spotted. And then his attention settled on me.
"Hey, Sevren," I said, forcing my voice to maintain an even timber. Even before I spoke, I felt a bit of exhaustion creeping in. "Wasn't expecting you to show up."
"Caera," he said sharply, his metal fingers tensing. "What the hell are you doing here?! I overheard from Wade that our Highblood was here for some reason, but why are you…"
His eyes drifted to my head, past my navy hair—where my cloak was still raised. Whatever thoughts he'd been having ground to a screeching halt, dashed into a thousand pieces by what he saw.
Corbett took the chance to step forward, his eyes darting around the empty streets before resting on his firstborn once more. "Son, I tried to send word to you about what we were going to do, but we're on a time limit. We're boxed in right now, and with the riots going on—"
Sevren ignored his father, marching toward me. He was nearly shaking as he gripped me by the shoulders, looking me in the eyes as he failed to hear anything, failed to see anything but me. "What the hell are you doing?" he whispered, his emerald eyes haggard. "Is this something Seris told you to do? Tell me she didn't."
I ripped my shoulders from his grip, staring up at my brother gravely. "If you can't recall, my mentor is dead," I hissed. I'd wanted to avoid this confrontation in the first place, which was why I'd intercepted Corbett's message to Sevren and had it destroyed. Maybe that wasn't fair, but neither were our circumstances now. "And no. This was never her idea. It was mine."
It had been my proposal, against every wish of my mentor. And when I had made the suggestion, I had—for the first time in my life—seen abject fear in the eyes of the woman who had taught me everything.
And the first time I'd truly realized she cared for me, too.
Sevren shook his head. "No, you're being stubborn again," he insisted. "This had to be her idea, you just think it's yours. This isn't something we're doing."
"I know what it damn well means, Sevren," I interrupted, pressing forward. "Look around us! Aedelgard is burning. Our entire lives are going up in flames. Everything we thought we knew about the world burns with it. And if we want to survive, if we want to make anything worthwhile in the aftermath, we need to take risks."
"And so you'll march right up to that estate and present yourself on a silver platter?!" Sevren erupted, pushing back. "Do you have any idea what I've been doing these past few weeks? I've been doing all I can to make it so none of my family has to do anything!"
My brother's eyes were hard like crystal as he stood between us and our goal, and for the first time, I tried to look at it from his perspective. In fact, I didn't know what Sevren had been doing these past few weeks. Seris had given all of us different instructions for what to do when we returned to Alacrya—instructions that we were never to share with each other. I had no doubt that it would weave together somehow, at some point, but that just kept us separated. Modules in one great machine.
I knew how far he'd gone for me and for his family, fighting against the standards of the Highbloods, trying to master aether and carve a place for me. It had to be terrifying for him, seeing me so ready to march into the fire. But I also wasn't a little girl for him to protect anymore, either.
I took a deep breath, calming myself. I didn't think anything I said, no matter how logical, would be able to get through to my brother. But I owed it to him to say my piece anyway.
"So none of your family has to do anything?" Lauden interrupted, stalking forward as mana poured from him. "Sevren, what fucking rock have you been living under? You have no right to claim anything like that!"
The youngest son of the Denoirs shoved an aggressive finger toward his brother's chest, his bravado roaring like a bonfire. "All of this, all of our family's struggles right now? Every single inch of them is because of you!"
Sevren's face scrunched up into a disgusted sort of scowl, as if what his brother hurled were not words but excrement. Damn it, and right here in the middle of the street?
"Lauden," I tried, moving to stop this argument before it exploded even more, "you don't mean that. We need to—"
"Look, Caera," he snapped, his eyes fierce, "I know you care for him. I know you've been going on all of your ascents with him, but it's true. If he hadn't befriended Spellsong, if he hadn't gotten us tied to Toren Daen, our Highblood wouldn't be teetering on the brink of collapse!"
"I'm not going to hear this from you," Sevren grunted dismissively, already brushing his words away like stale air. "Caera, we need to talk in private. This isn't the right thing to do. You know what will happen to you if you try this."
"She's the one trying to help us!" Lauden countered, yelling over the not-so-distant sounds of weapons clashing. "She's the one willing to put everything on the line for our family. You don't get to just push her aside, Sevren! She's taking responsibility for what she can do! And you're here to fuck it all up again, just like last time."
I saw the moment Sevren's patience finally snapped, the fear and anger and worry finally given a target. He snarled wolf-like, his teeth bared as he glared at his sibling. He took a step forward, his aura slamming into Lauden's like a hammer through glass.
"And what would you know about responsibility?" he growled, words a knife between the ribs.
I swallowed my gasp, feeling caught between two extremes, one hand on two opposing ledges. Silence pervaded the world for a moment, the family stunned by the spat. Corbett had been shuffling forward, no doubt about to try and separate the two. Now his face was scrunched up in pain, knowing that any attempt at intervention died with those words. Taegan's hands clenched on his mace, and Arian let out a hiss between his teeth.
Lauden recoiled as if Sevren had slammed his soulmetal fist into his jaw, hurt flashing across his features.
I was so, so close to giving my adoptive family a way to survive this catastrophe, a way to hold on for a bit longer. But I felt a sudden terror, a small girl's fear. What if they tore themselves apart before we even made it there? I should have been able to stop this somehow, but I felt powerless. Powerless.
"I'm certain you've been doing all you can for us, Sevren," a cool, implacable voice chilled through the silence. "In your own way, I'm sure you have."
Lenora strode forward slowly, her shoulders hunched and her eyes shadowed. She placed herself between her sons, looking up at her eldest with something unreadable. "But I cannot remember the last time you sought us out, or spoke to any of us besides your sister. The words you speak about your brother are evidence of this… because he is not who he was a year ago."
The white-haired woman spared Lauden a single glance, before looking back toward her eldest with that same, strangely empty expression. "Whatever you're doing for us, it won't save us from where we are now. It won't fix our impending doom."
Sevren hesitated, looking between us. Trying to find some other way inside of his mind. But his mother's words finally served to snuff out his anger, dousing his fears with a mote of helpless despair. He looked suddenly so very vulnerable, the fight leaving him.
He opened his mouth to say something, but a shout interrupted us once more.
"Here! I found them over here!" a voice howled not far in the distance. "I found more Supervisory Officers!"
My attention snapped to the side, horror seeping through my veins as I spotted the woman who had spoken. One of the rioters was standing on a pile of rubble, frenzied eyes staring down at us.
"Shit," I cursed, immediately realizing what had happened. Sevren and Lauden's mana had been too potent, too attention-catching in their spat. "Damn it, we need to move!"
I could sense more mages—and no doubt a dozen unadorned or more, considering the shouting I heard—converging on our position. I snapped a glance at Taegan and Arian, but they were already pushing Corbett and Lenora forward. I grabbed Lauden's arm, hauling him along with me.
As we went, though, Sevren stayed behind, still clearly rattled. "Sevren!" I called hoarsely, worried that he'd be caught by the mob that was slowly seeping through the streets like water through carved grooves. "Sevren, you need to—"
He answered my worry by firing his soulmetal blade into the second story of one of the nearby houses and pulling himself up onto the rooftops. "I'll be fine," he echoed back. "Just don't—"
The rest of what he tried to say was lost in the shouting. My heartbeat rose octave by octave as I forced my attention forward. I needed to lead my family to the estate—that was the only chance we had.
"There's a bridge nearby that will lead to Seris' estate!" I called, hoping to be heard over the din of combat. "If we can make it across there, we'll be okay!"
Lauden cursed as he ducked beneath a stray bolt of stone, before whirling with fists shrouded in stone and batting an arrow of fire into the sky. Taegan casually smashed apart a conjured golem of ice with his hammer, while Arian withdrew his sword and swiped quickly at a few mages—no doubt strikers—who had made the mistake of getting too close.
When he was done with them, they were bleeding on the ground, whimpering as they clutched disabling wounds.
"Don't kill them!" I yelled as we climbed a small heap of rubble. I spun, sending out a few blades of wind. My arcs of magic intercepted a few mages as they tumbled from nearby buildings, drawing blood and cries of pain, but nothing fatal. "We can't afford to kill them!"
"Why not?!" Lauden demanded, shoving away a striker he'd downed and wiping a speck of blood from his chin. "They want nothing more than to see us die, Caera!"
I wove beneath the swing of an axe: a woodsman's weapon, not a thing of war. It was a boy barely older than me who had swung it, high on adrenaline and barely capable of seeing straight. With precision honed over countless hours in the Relictombs, I swept around him, robbed him of his balance, and slammed a fist into his temple. He fell like a toppled tree, unable to even utter a sound. I hoped he wouldn't have any lasting injuries.
"They're not fully thinking," I said, hardly out of breath as I returned to the Denoir Highblood's tight formation. Me, Taegan, Arian, and Lauden were on the outside, the four of us the strikers. Corbett and Lenora, both casters, covered us from the inside. "Look at them! They're hurling themselves at us without even taking a proper formation. If we attack, it will be a bloodbath!"
Sweat beaded down my skin, and I fought not to blink as it seeped into my eyelashes. Smoke and soot covered my robes, grimly reminding me of the Plaguefire Incursion. Nearly a year ago, I had witnessed a mob slowly grow, then be harnessed for something truly good. Unadorned rose above the station decreed by the Vritra, delving into the toxins left by Mardeth and helping their fellows from the rubble. The people of East Fiachra could have been like these tragic, angry figures, directionless and mad as they took out their fear on anyone they could get close to. But Greahd, the Mother of Fiachra, had reminded them of a better path. Reminded them of peace and kindness.
These people had no Greahd. All they had was fear and lies fed to them by the Vritra.
"And if you kill any one of them," Corbett pressed out, hurling a small tornado of wind that kicked up dust and obscured our position, "then they won't ever stop trying! This isn't even a mob yet. Just idiots with a deathwish. You want to set the entire city on us, son? You kill one of them, justify their rage, and they will lose what sanity they have left."
We rushed through the last of the buildings, and I finally caught sight of the bridge that led from the main part of Aedelgard to the slightly separated cliffside on which Seris' estate rested.
And immediately any hope I had of an easy escape flickered and died as I stumbled to a halt, staring out at the thin chasm that separated us from salvation. In the distance, the waves crashed mockingly against the rocks.
The bridge was shattered, broken by whoever had come before. It wasn't clear what had done it, but the archway of stone was now a gaping wound to the grounds on the other side. I quickly calculated the distance, listening to the sounds of the rioters getting closer.
Fifty feet, I thought, chewing on my lip. Most of us can make that jump if we have enough time and preparation. But not Corbett or Lenora. Maybe not Lauden, either.
"Arian, you jump across," I ordered, adapting with the well-oiled precision of an ascender facing a new zone. "Be ready to catch anyone thrown your way."
Corbett's face drained of color, and Lenora's eyes narrowed as she put together what was about to happen. Arian, for his part, coughed into his fist. "Lady Caera, that would be very, very—"
The massive Taegan, his crimson hair flared from the constant run, did not let his friend and rival say another word. He grabbed the smaller striker by the scruff of his cloak with a single meaty hand, picking him up off the ground with a single paw.
"You will fly longer, Tiny Sword," he said gruffly. "You are light enough."
Arian spared his friend a look of utmost betrayal. "Could you never try and spare me a little bit of compa—"
"You always spoke too much," Taegan said, then hurled the poor man across the massive gap, utterly apathetic to his quips.
Arian, ever the skilled ascender, adjusted himself mid-flight, then landed deftly on his feet on the other side. He turned, and I could just make out his disgruntled stare beneath his ruffled brown hair.
"I'm ready," Arian's exasperated voice reached us, carried by one of his sound runes. "Just be careful with the Highlord and Lady, please. I really like this job and do not want to lose it."
I let out a breath, blurring to intercept a few errant projectiles that would have crashed into the back of Lauden's head. With a twist of mana, I withdrew my ruby-red blade of Basilisk Blood from my dimension ring, cutting cleanly through half a dozen plates of metal that sought to wrap around the targets like constricting serpents.
With another twist of my wrist, I engaged one of my emblems, sending a gust of wind toward a few rioters who'd emerged from the line of buildings. I weakened it enough that it sent them tumbling back, but I knew it was only a temporary measure. "Go, now!" I commanded, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
Corbett swallowed down his pride, stepping forward toward the guard he'd employed nearly all of my life. "You do not speak of this ever again," he ordered, brushing down his coat and adjusting his hair in an attempt to appear dignified. It didn't have the effect he would have wished.
"Speak of what?" Taegan echoed, his eyes flashing with wry amusement. He wasn't as slow as he let other people think.
He grabbed his highlord by the scruff of his cloak, then chucked him across the gap like a sack of potatoes. My adoptive father did a phenomenal impression of a wooden board as he careened toward the waiting Arian.
Lenora was far more graceful when she was heaved across, her dress fluttering around her as if she had planned this all along. Her husband went out of his way to catch her, and if I hadn't been so focused on warding away the people sporadically popping from the road, I might have thought she was blushing when she fell into Corbett's arms.
When Taegan got to Lauden, the young heir to Highblood Denoir pushed his hand away. "No need," he said nervously, backing up along the short bit of path he was afforded. Before we could say otherwise, he began to run, building up mana-enhanced speed before leaping for all he was worth.
Just in case, I spun back toward him, swinging my sword and sending a gust of wind toward his back that further propelled him toward the distant estate. He landed with a stumble, laughing nervously.
A good jump, Lauden, I thought internally, my adrenaline calling a simple smile to my face. Too bad I'll have to outdo you.
Now it was just me and Taegan, facing off against the world. A few dozen men were crumpled against distant walls, nursing broken bones and moaning in pain. A few knelt in pools of their own blood from where they'd crashed into stones, but they'd live.
"You next, Lady Caera." The crimson-haired striker offered his hand.
I dismissed it, my breath only slightly out of tune. "Thanks, Taegan," I said, cracking my neck. "But I'm not going to let you throw me like a limp rabbit. We all have to maintain some level of pride."
I backed away from the ledge, just like Lauden had done a few moments before. I steadied my breathing, keeping my eyes on the prize. Spellfire and tumultuous rage thundered behind me, but as I started running forward, I tuned all of that out.
Then the ground started to tremble violently. I stumbled to the side, nearly falling on my face as the earth rippled like cloth. Cracks spread through the pavement, hissing and screaming their anger. Taegan cursed as part of the road started to separate from the cliffside under the aberrant seizure of the stones, taking him with it. My heart leapt up into my throat as I watched him disappear from view, his foundations giving way.
Damn it, no! I thought, forced to backpedal as more and more of the road tumbled into the crashing waves below. Damn it, Taegan—
My protector surged from the falling stone, covered entirely in plates of rock himself like armor. A living boulder, he slammed into the side of the opposite cliff, clinging like a snail's shell to seaside rocks.
I heaved for breath, looking at the new gap that yawned like an uncrossable chasm. Seventy feet across, taunting me. I swallowed. I could still do that, I was certain, but I'd need a running start. And as the auras of a dozen mages finally focused behind me, the shouts of angry citygoers quieting, I realized something terrible.
I turned around, tense as a bowstring as I faced my opponents. Spells swirled around drawn weapons of a dozen men and women as their spite guided them, their eyes alight with anger. The caster who'd conjured the ground-shattering spell glared at me with undisguised hate. Around them, more and more unadorned tumbled from the opposing streets, shuffling to stand by their firepower. And when they saw me, their expressions ranged from shock, to fear, and then very, very quickly to fury.
That hatred isn't the same as it was before, I thought warily, keeping my blood-red sword out in front of me in a warding posture. Why? What changed to make them pause like…
"Shit," I cursed under my breath, immediately realizing my mistake. I raised a hand, brushing against where my hood had finally fallen away, revealing the onyx crown of my horns. The strangely cold texture was even more chilling in the warmth of late spring.
They weren't staring at me. They stared at my horns, obvious against the setting sun.
Across the chasm, I sensed Taegan readying his mana, ready to leap back over in defense. Before he could do so, however, I thrust my free hand behind me in a warding gesture, never taking my eyes away from the crowd.
I felt like a shintcat penned in by a hundred rats, my back against the sea. I'd faced perils far more dangerous than this before in my numerous ascents. My life wasn't even truly in danger here; I could run if I wanted to. But I'd have to go through these people. And if Taegan charged here to help me, that would only set off the powderkeg.
Thankfully, Taegan seemed to get the message, but I could hear Lenora's cries even from here.
"Hello," I offered lamely to the increasing mass of rioters. I licked my lips, feeling a bit of my inner Naereni peak due to my stress. "I don't suppose you'd just… Let me get a running start to get across the gap?"
For the first time, I could take in more details from these citygoers than before. A surprising number of them had streaks of orange paint beneath their eyes, traced to look like… Feather-stems, I thought. It made me think of that strange power Toren had displayed when he first engaged with Mardeth so long ago, the way burning runes had appeared beneath his eyes.
It was the caster who'd caved in the street who spoke first, still kneeling with her hands splayed against the stone. "You're a Vritra," she whispered, a knot of emotion fighting for dominance in her voice.
They fear the Sovereigns still, I thought, making sure I kept as many of these eerily silent men and women in my sight. Just the sight of my horns halted their momentum, made them start to question…
"I don't want to hurt you," I said carefully, showing no ounce of fear. Sweat rolled down my temple slowly, my navy hair clinging to the back of my neck. "Just back away."
It was strange how this entire mob acted like one living, breathing thing. All together, thinking as one like a mass that would roll over me if I wasn't careful. As my words sifted through the crowd, people turned to look at their neighbors, considering. Then to those wounded on the ground. Not dead.
"I haven't killed anyone, despite how many of you wanted to bash my skull in," I said, catching on the momentum of this organism of a hundred cells. "I'll be out of your hair in a moment."
"You think it's just about killing us?" the earth caster said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife through paper. "Is that all you can understand?"
The earth trembled beneath my feet, accentuating her words. Her short, brown hair clung to her face as she sank her fingers deeper into the rock. "You took my father from me! Took my brothers, too. And when that wasn't enough, you took my husband! And when he was butchered at Slore, you know who you took next? You took our boy! Sent him off to die in that pointless war against gods! You took him from me, all I had left!"
The earth was shaking now, rising in tune with the anger of the crowd.
"And now you won't even tell us the truth! Always more lies, always our fault! Our fault for losing everyone!"
Spells hurtled toward me of every element. Lightning, fire, ice, earth, wind, and more. I hastily covered my blade in soulfire, preparing to meet the attacks as I realized I wouldn't be able to keep the collateral damage to a minimum any longer.
Damn it, I thought, trying to think of the best way to do this. The way that would leave the least amount of dead.
Before I could swing my blade, however, a presence vacuumed any sense of resistance from the crowd, oppressive and soul-numbing. A massive greatsword of deep black iron streaked from the sky like an arrow, before slamming into the stone path with a splintering crack.
The earthquakes immediately stopped alongside my heart, eaten alive by the gorging mana within that terrible blade. The spells in the air sizzled, then dissipated as a knight of deepest pitch slammed into the earth next, a vision in shadow.
Scythe Cylrit Vritra slowly unbent his knees, shadows leaking from the gaps in his armor like the sea water not far below. His hair—once short and close-cropped—looked like it hadn't been tended to in weeks, and a bristling stubble adorned his face. His eyes were dark and lined with barbs as they passed over the crowd.
I felt something like relief as I saw the familiar paladin of shadow, the person I'd come to meet at the start of this journey.
"Return to your homes now," Cylrit's smooth baritone echoed out, none of his haggard appearance showing in his iron-wrought voice. "And take your wounded with you: or submit to the hand of the Supervisory Office."