The first bell should have rolled through the Abbey like warm bread scent—steady, generous, undeniable. Instead, the strike landed and went nowhere, as if sound had stepped to the door and decided not to come in.
The dispatch slate glowed before we even reached the counter.
DISPATCH LEDGER
Assignment: Dawnspire Belfry — Stolen Peal
Site: Abbey's east tower (First Bell)
Threat: Hush-spirits nesting in the bellframe; Peal-Eater coiled about the clapper
Hazards: Resonance lash (stuns), falling masonry, rope-burn hex (Backline clauses)
Objectives:
Free the clapper and restore the First Bell's voice.
Evacuate three stuck novices.
Purge hush-spirits without cracking the bronze.
Bonus: Bell integrity ≥ 98%; Oathbond ≥ 60% during engagement.
Note: Loud Nova bursts risk microfractures. Prefer edge-casts and parry chimes.
Aurelia's jaw firmed. "We take it."
"Status," I said, feeling Lysithea already humming for metal and timing.
┌──────────── PRE-ENGAGEMENT ───────────┐
│ HP: 13,180 / 13,180 │
│ MP: 21,100 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 0% (idle) │
│ Weapon: Lysithea — Bride's Oath │
│ Items: Lantern of Ten Safe Hours (1) │
│ Oathbond: Linked (decay −20%) │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
We climbed the east tower's corkscrew. Dust motes drifted like retired stars. Halfway up, a novice sat on a tread, white-knuckled to the rail; two more clung higher, eyes too big, mouths tight.
"Don't speak the word promise," Aurelia murmured behind me. "Rope-hexes like the back clause."
"Understood."
I set the Lantern of Ten Safe Hours on the landing; its dome of clean air eased the novices' panic-breath. Lumen Thread laced their scraped palms; Mend softened adrenaline into steadiness.
We stepped into the bell chamber.
The First Bell is a bronze lake turned inside out—old, beautiful, the Abbey's own heart. Tonight a dark coil slept around its clapper, scales matte and wrong, jaws hinged backward like a trap. Small, papery shapes perched along the ribs—hush-spirits, moth-thin, mouths like little closed fists. Every time one opened, it didn't make sound; it ate a little of what sound there was.
SYSTEM:
Hush-Spirit (Swarm) — Muzzle (silence patch), Nibble (chews at resonance).
Peal-Eater (Elite) — Attribute DARK.
Abilities: Gag-Clasp (locks around clapper), Backline Snare (rope clause on rear strikes), Toll-Steal (converts parry ring to stun).
A rope quivered by my calf—Clause: Backline sketched itself as a dotted line toward my greave.
Without comment, Aurelia slid a half-step closer—shield occupying my wake. The dotted line curved, touched her rim instead, and died on the light there.
"Eyes front," she told the room in general, and raised her shield.
"Aegis Hymn."
Tiles of dawn tessellated across us both; the bronze skin of the bell recognized the note and answered with a low, sympathetic hum.
Hush-spirits fluttered. Silence darkened, pooling like ink.
The Peal-Eater lifted its head.
It struck—Gag-Clasp snapping for the clapper to cinch it tight. Bellguard met the angle. For a breath the world hesitated on a hinge; the parry window opened where it shouldn't. Aegis drank—+12%—and the bell rang a little, a shy chime like a child trying a word.
The chamber quivered. I smiled. "There you are."
"Edge-casts," Aurelia warned, already stepping into the coil's follow-through.
"Tricant: Smite, Mend, Thread."
Smite rode Lysithea like a burnished seam, shaving the coil away from bronze without nicking it.
Mend ran into Aurelia's shoulder to ease the parry torque.
Thread latched to the clapper's yoke, suturing the Gag-Clasp's bind points for later Counter-Signature.
On-Hit Heal: +6% to Aurelia.
Aegis Hymn: 28% banked.
Harmony: 76%.
Hush-spirits opened their fist-mouths and ate the room. The bell's timid ring vanished; the parry tone dulled to felt.
I angled my blade to a rib of bronze and tapped a Radiant Nova—edge into the metal. The pulse traveled through the bell, not into the air, a bat-sense of light. The bronze replied with a clean D—low, handsome, our Abbey's key.
Technique (Inferred): Peal Weave — Edge-cast Nova into bell bronze to route light as tone. Heals allies in contact with the frame; stuns hush-spirits perched on it.
Hush-spirits stiffened, little paper silhouettes pinned to the ribs by sound they couldn't eat. Reprise bolts hopped off my overheal and nipped them down in neat, silent pops.
The Peal-Eater reared, rope tail lashing—Backline Snare—for the stairs behind us where the novices huddled.
"Suture Screen!" I snapped Lumen Thread in a broad fan; the glowing mesh caught rope fibers, turned the lash into a tired swing.
Aurelia waded in at the clapper, workmanlike. "Your coil is void," she told the beast, voice flat iron, and levered her rim between bronze and scale like a craftsman freeing a stuck hinge.
The Peal-Eater snapped, Toll-Steal shimmering along its jaw—if it made us parry, it would take the ring and turn it to a stun.
"Give it nothing noisy," I warned, and set my parries as kisses, not blows—Bellguard as the lightest tap required to open the window, then White Mercy (partial) poured down the fuller into its hinge rather than ringing the bell itself.
Aegis: 51% banked.
Bell Integrity: 100% (microfractures 0).
The rope tail tried again, cleverer—dotted clause-line nibbling for my rear hand this time. Aurelia stepped into it, let the clause strike her shield. "Eyes on me," she told the rope, absurdly, and then cut it like an argument she'd already won.
We needed the clapper free.
"Counter-signer?" Aurelia asked, braced under the yoke.
"On your count." I drew a tight circle Sunline around the clapper's bind, bright Counter-Signature ready to trap the next hostile term.
The Peal-Eater, obliging and furious, cinched Gag-Clasp to rebind.
"Now," Aurelia said.
I slashed the circle; the hostile clause completed to me instead. The bind popped neatly, like a bad knot waking to a better idea.
"Again," Aurelia grunted, straining the yoke an inch.
"Again," I echoed, and wrote the helm of the second bind into our ownership, then cut it. Thread darted, stitching micro-scores in the bronze where the scales had worried it smooth.
Resisted: Backline Snare (2).
Counter-Signatures: 2 (clean).
Clapper freedom: 70%… 90%…
The coil thrashed. Hush-spirits rained like ash. The bell wanted badly to speak.
"Let it," Aurelia said, reading my look without looking.
I tapped Peal Weave into the bronze again—D rolled out, keen and good, ran the seams of the chamber and came back whole. Mend piggybacked that tone into the novices' bones; their panic unhooked and walked out of them like a tired tenant.
The Peal-Eater lunged for my throat.
Bellguard met the exact hinge. For a heartbeat we shared timing; Aegis surged—+24%—and I opened White Mercy—Release: Peal of Kindness—not an explosion, just a press. The mercy went down Lysithea, into its jaw. Shadow flesh softened. Hinges relaxed. The coil lost its mechanical bite and became merely a tired wrong thing wrapped where it shouldn't be.
"Finish," Aurelia said calmly, beneath a bell that was almost itself.
"Together."
She levered. I cut a seam a hair's breadth from bronze. The Gag-Clasp slipped. The clapper swung free the space of a breath—enough.
Aurelia stepped clear, planted, and gave the clapper one honest strike with her knuckles.
The First Bell rang.
It wasn't loud. It was correct. The note laid a hand on every living shoulder in the Abbey and said, Up, then. We have work. Hush-spirits folded like bad opinions. The coil flinched as if memory had returned to the metal and found it wanting.
"Status," I breathed, riding the tone.
┌──────────── BELLFIGHT OVERLAY ───────────┐
│ Oathbond Harmony: 88% │
│ Aegis Hymn: 73% (surge ready) │
│ Bell Integrity: 99.6% (no new cracks) │
│ Novices: 3 stabilized (evac path clear) │
└──────────────────────────────────────────┘
The Peal-Eater tried one last bite—Toll-Steal blossoming as it snapped toward the clapper to drink the bell's next word.
"Not yours," Aurelia and I said together.
Her sword drew Sunlit Verdict down its spine. My seam rode a finger's width aside. I tapped Prism Mercy off a small inspection mirror; the silent sub-lines kissed the joints I couldn't safely reach. Reprise bolts popped the last hush-spirits like seeds.
The coil fell, not with drama but with relief, unspooling into a rope that realized it was only rope and then into nothing at all.
We stood under the bell. The tower breathed. Outside, light stepped over the fen like a careful dancer.
Aurelia rolled her knuckles once. "Good strike," I said.
"Good writing," she answered.
We walked the novices down the stairs, little sunlines stitched along the deeper treads so no one's heel would slip. On the last landing they found their laughter again and startled themselves with it. One hugged the Lantern before remembering herself; I pretended not to notice and let her keep it for the walk to breakfast.
The System chimed, pleased and precise.
┌───────────────────────────────────┐
│ POSTING COMPLETE │
├───────────────────────────────────┤
│ Dawnspire Belfry — Stolen Peal │
│ Objectives: 1–3 COMPLETE │
│ Bonus: Bell integrity ≥ 98% — PASS│
│ Oathbond ≥ 60% — PASS │
├───────────────────────────────────┤
│ Rewards: │
│ ▸ EXP +28,000 │
│ ▸ Abbey Favor +1 (Liturgical) │
│ ▸ Relic: Cracked Clapper (craft) │
│ ▸ Skill: **Peal Weave** (Rank 1) │
│ ▸ Mastery: Suture Screen +1 │
└───────────────────────────────────┘
"Status."
┌──────────── POST-ENGAGEMENT ───────────┐
│ HP: 13,180 / 13,180 │
│ MP: 18,460 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 31% residual │
│ Oathbond (peak): 89% │
│ New: Peal Weave unlocked │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Down below, the Abbey breathed in time with its bell again. People moved the way people move when morning is morning and not an argument. The dispatch scribe lifted a hand as we crossed the hall; the slate map inked a small gold ring over the east tower.
Aurelia drifted half a step behind me out of habit. I glanced back. "Still guarding my six?"
"In a bell tower?" she said, deadpan. "Especially."
We stepped into day. The First Bell rolled a second time—bolder now, finding its full throat. The note laid itself along the lines we'd stitched through the fen these last days and went farther than sound has any right to go, carrying a little of our light where our feet hadn't reached yet.
"Next posting after breakfast," Aurelia said.
"Breakfast," I agreed, and the bell behind my eyes answered with a contented, practical chime.
We ate simple—fen-cakes and honey, hot tea that smelled like clean rain. First bell rang true. By the second, the dispatch slate brightened.
DISPATCH LEDGER
Assignment: Heronfield Windbreak — Sorrowwind Harrower
Site: Grain hamlet north-east ridge (windbreak & silo line)
Threat: Lacerant wind-wraiths shredding wards; Harrower nest in main silo
Hazards: Slicing gusts (Bleed), loose shingles (projectiles), resonance lash (stun)
Objectives:
Re-anchor 4 guide vanes and restore the windbreak lattice.
Dispel/defeat the Harrower without collapsing the silo.
Evacuate injured millhands.
Bonus: Facility damage ≤10%. Maintain Oathbond ≥ 70% in combat.
Note: Prefer edge-casts; diffuse bursts amplify shrapnel.
Aurelia clipped her cloak tight. "We take it."
"Status."
┌──────────── PRE-DEPLOY ─────────────┐
│ HP: 13,180 / 13,180 │
│ MP: 21,100 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 0% │
│ Weapon: Lysithea (Legendary) │
│ Skills: Tricant, Sunline, Suture Screen, │
│ Annotation, Counter-Signature, │
│ Prism Mercy, Peal Weave │
│ Oathbond: Linked (decay −20%) │
└─────────────────────────────────────┘
Heronfield crouched under sky the color of tin. Wind ran its hands the wrong way through the wheat. The windbreak's guide vanes—big cedar fins on iron spindles—slewed and rasped, their anchoring wards peeled like old paint.
"Vanes first," Aurelia said. "Then the nest."
We split the line.
Anchor One — North Vane
Gusts sliced the path into ribbons. Sorrowwights—thin, ribbony shapes with scythe-elbows—skimmed the hedges, carving leaf to confetti.
"Aegis Hymn."
Healer (sustain):
"Aegis thalán, hyménne arhael;
Serin valín, sirae velyn;
Lirë solánne— aërion keep."
Twin Paladin (antiphon, optional):
"Osthár an rhael— kyrn valára."
Stand for the light— our hearts together.
Tiles of dawn plated us. Aurelia set her shield and walked the lane like someone carrying a door through a bar fight. I laid a short Sunline along the vane base and stitched the ward back into cedar with Lumen Thread while Reprise bolts fluttered off my overheal to peck at the scythe-shapes.
Anchor 1: Restored (int. 104%).
Aegis: 18% banked. Harmony: 76%.
Anchor Two — East Vane (Injury One)
The gusts learned us. A sorrowwight dove low, edge tucked under my guard, and laid a long, clean cut across my left flank. It wasn't deep—but wind cuts don't know how to quit. Bleed began in a neat, disciplined line.
A split-second later a blown shutter ripped free and slammed into Aurelia's thigh like a battering ram. She went to one knee, breath clipping.
Pain arrived with opinions.
"Hold," she said, flat.
"Tricant!"
Mend poured into her thigh first, plugging the internal bleed and easing the muscle's panic.
Smite rode Lysithea in a hair-seam to shave the wight's elbow clean off its spite.
Thread crossed my own wound—Lumen sutures in a tidy ladder—then overwrapped with a short Sunline so each breath fed warmth into the knit.
I set Suture Screen between us and the oncoming gust; slivers of slate and straw hit the glowing mesh and dropped harmless.
Overlay:
Eirion — HP: 9,420 / 13,180 (Bleed→0.0s)
Aurelia — HP: 8,905 / 12,460 (impact stabilized)
Aegis: 44% banked | Harmony: 79%
We anchored the vane while the world tried to unspool our edges. The line held.
Anchor Three — South Vane (Injury Two)
Shingles ripped free in a flock. I angled a Prism Mercy edge-tap off a leaning window; the pulse split into three silent lines, trimming the storm without feeding shrapnel. It wasn't enough. A downdraft pancaked us; Aurelia's shield took most—her shoulder popped—and the rest bounced into me, ringing ribs like little bells.
I tasted metal; the world tunneled.
Aurelia swore once, soft and devout, and Bellguard-parried a sorrowwight off my throat without looking. "With me."
"I'm here," I said, voice thinner than I liked. "White Mercy—partial, shared."
I poured the bank as a wide, low pressure—not an explosion; a front. The ache in my ribs unwound; Aurelia's shoulder seated with a warm thunk as fibers remembered alignment.
Overlay:
Eirion — HP: 11,860 / 13,180
Aurelia — HP: 11,402 / 12,460
Aegis: 17% residual | Harmony: 82%
Anchor 3: Restored (101%)
Anchor Four — West Vane & Silo Nest
The last vane shared a wall with the main silo. Inside, the Harrower stitched itself tall: a figure of storm-cloth pinned with sowing needles, face a blur of threshing grain. Its breath was a cyclone that wanted to be law.
SYSTEM: Sorrowwind Harrower (Elite) — Dark/Air
Abilities: Scythe-Gale (cone Bleed), Harvest Call (summons wights), Backline Clause: Tailwind (adds shove to rear actions), Wail of Chaff (resonance lash)
"Contain," Aurelia said.
I traced a Counter-Signature Sunline circle around the silo's central pillar—any Tailwind clause that tried to hook our backs would complete to me instead. The Harrower obliged; the dotted push-line touched my circle, turned mine, and I cut it clean.
We advanced into scissors.
Bellguard became math; Aurelia turned scythe-gusts with rim angles measured in heartbeats. I Tricant-layered over each beat: Smite to shave storm like cloth, Mend to plug the hundred petty cuts that make courage leak, Thread to lash the silo braces so our work didn't cave our work.
The Harrower inhaled to Wail.
"Quiet," Aurelia said, and set her shield. I slid Lysithea to the silo's inspection pane and tapped a Prism Mercy; three silent lines met the Wail's invisible edges and cancelled them into harmless wind.
We got greedy then—half a step too far. Scythe-Gale slashed low; I misread one hinge and the gust took me off my feet. Timber met my back; the world whitened. At the same instant, a rebounding brace clipped Aurelia's helm; she staggered blind for half a breath.
The Harrower surged to harvest.
Aurelia, half-sighted, still moved right. Her sword caught the exact hinge. My hand found the floor, then the fuller, then the note.
"White Mercy—Release: White Mercy!"
I opened everything we had banked. Mercy didn't blast; it filled. Cuts sealed. Lungs remembered their size. The Harrower's gale lost bite; our overheal snapped into a flock of Reprise bolts that pecked the wight-swarm out of the air with tidy, bright pips.
"Now," Aurelia said.
"Together."
Release call:
"Virá sirae— White Mercy!"
Plain sense: "Release the mercy."
Optional antiphon (Paladin):
"Osthár an rhael— valára." (Stand for the light— our hearts together.)
Her Sunlit Verdict drew a clean diagonal through the storm-cloth; my seam rode a hair beside. I cut two quick Sunline Sutures crossing behind its knees—Suture Bridge thickening the air—Aurelia stepped through; the lines healed us, then detonated in the Harrower's joints like precise summer thunder.
The storm-cloth came apart into ordinary wind.
Silence returned—the good kind, shaped like grain settling in a full bin.
"Status."
┌──────────── ENGAGEMENT REPORT ───────────┐
│ Threat: Sorrowwind Harrower — defeated │
│ Sorrowwights dispersed (17) │
│ Anchors: 4/4 restored; windbreak intact │
│ Evac: 6 millhands stabilized & cleared │
│ HP — Eirion: 12,940 / 13,180 │
│ HP — Aurelia: 11,980 / 12,460 │
│ MP: 13,770 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 12% residual │
│ Oathbond Harmony (peak): 88% │
│ Facility damage: 3% (PASS) │
└──────────────────────────────────────────┘
We walked the line once more, sealing the last vane with a neat Sunline bow. The wind changed its mind about being cruel. Wheat lay back down like a congregation sitting in unison.
The hamlet's forewoman—cheek nicked, apron dusty—squeezed my forearm, then, catching Aurelia's eye, did it again politely. "Couldn't breathe for the edges," she said. "Then—" she gestured at the air that was only air again "—this."
"Keep the vanes oiled," Aurelia said. "Praise them when they hold."
The System chimed.
┌───────────────────────────────────┐
│ POSTING COMPLETE │
├───────────────────────────────────┤
│ Heronfield — Sorrowwind Harrower │
│ Objectives: 1–3 COMPLETE │
│ Bonus: Damage ≤10% — PASS │
│ Oathbond ≥70% — PASS │
├───────────────────────────────────┤
│ Rewards: │
│ ▸ EXP +27,500 │
│ ▸ Fen Scrip +160 │
│ ▸ Relic Shard: Wind-Vane Heart │
│ ▸ Skill Mastery: White Mercy +1 │
│ ▸ Title (Local): Gale-Mender │
└───────────────────────────────────┘
Outside the silo, sun pushed through the tin sky, finding gold in cut wheat. I rolled my sore shoulder; Aurelia flexed her hand, testing the line where the brace had kissed.
"You good?" she asked, eyes raking me for hairline cracks.
"Good," I said truthfully. "You?"
"Good." A beat. "Don't get greedy on a hinge."
"Copy," I said, chastened and warmed in equal measure.
We took the road back in steady step. Lysithea hummed low and practical; my Sunlines stitched the path every twenty paces, small habits laid like breadcrumbs for a world learning morning again.
"Next posting when the slate rings," Aurelia said.
"Dawn willing," I answered, and the bell behind my eyes gave one clean, satisfied note that felt, for once, like a rest as much as a promise.
Evening washed the causeway in rose and pewter. The ward-bells were steady; wheat hissed like a tired choir finding its breath. We were an hour from the Abbey when a knot of adventurers unpeeled from a mile-stone alcove—five bodies, three egos, one problem.
The problem swaggered—a man with a wolfish lean to his grin and the tired shine of someone who mistakes courage for nerve. His eyes walked my lines without permission.
"Look at you," he drawled, stepping in too close. "Quite pleasing to the eye you look like you can handle alote . Why don't we party up?"
Aurelia shifted a half step, that precise inch of shield at my back. "Eyes front," she said to the air; her voice made the stones remember their load-bearing purpose.
I kept my hands light on Lysithea. "We're on duty. Roads stay clean when mouths do. Take your pitch somewhere a ward won't have to hear it."
He laughed, sharp with elbows. "Can't he answer for himself?"
"He just did," Aurelia replied, not raising her voice.
He leaned another inch, as if the line between us were a suggestion rather than a rule. It wasn't.
I drew a low, knee-high arc across the cobbles—Sunline Suture—then a second parallel stroke. The air between thickened into a soft, orderly Civility Zone.
TECHNIQUE: Civility Zone — First improper breach causes Daze (2s) and Shame (–10% Accuracy, 30s).
Note: Strength scales with Oathbond.
He stepped over anyway, hungry grin widening.
The Zone touched him with a crisp bell-click. He froze mid-reach, eyes blinking stupidly, then found his hand politely back on his side of the light. Laughter flickered among his own crew before they shoved it down.
His jaw tightened. "Cute trick. Try that without the pretty lines."
He took another half-step—
—and Aurelia stopped being polite.
She did not swing. She did not shout. She exhaled.
The air acquired weight.
AURELIA — ACTIVE: Knight's Mandate (Divine Aura)
Radius: 18 m | Effect (hostile/indecent intent): Weight +30 kg, Kneel Check, Shame (–15% Accuracy), Silence (2s) on repeat offense.
Allies: Immune; Oathbond hardens aura edge.
The man's knees hit the stone. His palms slapped second, then his pride. His friends flinched, hands flying off hilts they suddenly remembered didn't belong in this conversation.
Aurelia's eyes were flat gold. "You dare—in front of me?"
Silence landed like a verdict. Even the insects arranged themselves.
I kept the Zone up and my tone mild. "You crossed a boundary. I set a rule. My sister enforced it. Here's the easy path: you step back, keep your mouth, and the road stays kind."
He swallowed. The weight in the air measured his intent; it found nothing worth lifting. "We… meant no offense."
"You meant to see if you could," Aurelia said, voice ironed smooth. "Now you know."
He tried to stand too quickly; the Shame debuff made his boots inaccurate. He settled for kneeling better.
The braided woman from his party—eyes sharper than his—raised both hands a little. "Our fault," she said. "He talks fast, thinks slow. We'll be on."
"Good," I said, and let one of the Sunlines soak back into the stone. "Take this with you."
I flicked Lysithea; a thin, harmless Sunline bow hung in the air for a breath and vanished—Reminder of Courtesy, nothing binding, only a habit of morning shaped like light.
SOCIAL ENCOUNTER OVERLAY
Oathbond Harmony: 83% (steady) | Civility Zone: Active
Knight's Mandate: Suppressed (hostile intent cleared)
Aegis Hymn: 12% (idle)
The man finally found his feet. He did not meet Aurelia's eyes—wisdom at last—but he made himself look at me. "Won't happen again."
"It better not," Aurelia said, not as threat but as weather.
They peeled away quieter than they'd come, the braided woman tipping two fingers in a rueful salute. I breathed out and eased the Zone, the air resuming its usual, forgiving weight.
I glanced back. Aurelia's shield was still exactly where it always is—an inch and a world at my spine.
"Thank you," I said. "For… drawing the line they refused to see."
"You drew it," she corrected. "I made it legible."
"Fair." I rolled my shoulder once, tension unthreading. "Status."
┌──────────── POST-INCIDENT ───────────┐
│ HP: 13,180 / 13,180 │
│ MP: 13,420 / 21,100 │
│ Aegis Hymn: 12% residual │
│ Oathbond (peak): 85% │
│ New (noted): Knight's Mandate synergy│
└──────────────────────────────────────┘
We walked on. The causeway took the habit of our steps; the fen's ward purred like a cat on a warm sill. Behind us, conversation resumed at a human volume—no elbows, no edges.
Aurelia drifted that half-step behind again. I tilted a smile over my shoulder. "Still guarding my six?"
She considered, then moved up beside me, shoulder to shoulder. "Edges managed," she said. A beat. "For now."
We stitched another thin Sunline every twenty paces, little commas of morning in the long sentence of the road, and let the day close gently around us without argument.