Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 112: The Relic

Toren was quiet. "This isn't about the fire, is it?" he said. "It's about what the djinn said. About your work on aether. How your methods were flawed and inconclusive."

I hissed, jumping to my feet. "And how would you know that?" I snapped. Fire surged in my gut, so much more real than on that godforsaken box. "You've been content to bounce around in your little smidge of a town, fighting a losing battle. For years, I've been in the wider world, trying to find something to change my situation! What do you know about my work on aether?"

Toren looked up at me, something sorrowful in his face. He scanned the room as I stood tense, something inscrutable flashing beneath. "I know what it's like to have dreams and goals that will never come true," he said solemnly. "And your forays into aether haven't been pointless, Sevren. You found me. You found a djinn; the last to live in these Tombs. Perhaps one route is closed. But you do have another, don't you?"

I deflated slightly, thinking of the strange, purple rune the djinn had emblazoned on my chest. I hadn't had a chance to test it out, but part of me didn't want to. One of the ancient mages themselves had told me my entire methodology was wrong. How could I even change that?

I'd relied for so long on my regalia, Scouring Purpose, to give me hints on how to affect aether. And while I'd never outright manipulated the underlying fabric of the universe, I'd found workarounds. I utilized what was already naturally occurring, finding new and interesting ways to reapply those functions. And I'd come so far. I'd even managed to track someone through the Relictombs.

It couldn't be all for nothing. The djinn had been wrong, somehow. Somewhere.

I prodded at the rune on my chest with mana. I felt a reaction, but couldn't tell what it was doing. Besides, the action was halfhearted at best. I didn't have the energy to actually push through.

Toren spoke up next. "The djinn also said the relic you carry would help us both," he said, obviously trying to keep me from thinking too long. "Maybe that will give you a clue on where to start?"

I sighed, rifling through my dimension ring. Inquirers–the artifacts used to detect relics on ascenders when they left the Tombs–were only able to sense their aether for a short time afterward. I'd learned from testing that whatever signature they honed in on diminished once the artifact was outside of the Relictombs for a longer period of time. Thus, I felt a lot less anxiety in hauling it around.

A familiar weight settled into my hand. A small, stylized brooch stared back. It was a tarnished bronze color, the tufts made of intricately sculpted metal. It looked like a single feather. The metalwork was so realistic, the only giveaway that it wasn't a true plume was the off color.

Out of habit, I tried to prod at the strange metal with my mana. There was no visible reaction, of course. There never had been. I wouldn't have even realized this artifact was special without my aether-detecting compass.

Which was also destroyed, now.

Toren perked up immediately when I withdrew the relic, his eyes focused intently on it. There was a strange scrunch to his brows that he sometimes had, as if his mind were elsewhere but simultaneously not.

"That relic," he said slowly. "It has a pulse. I can hear it faintly." My strange friend seemed to be visibly restraining himself from reaching for the relic.

"What do you mean you can hear it?" I asked.

"Every person has a mote of aether within themselves that anchors their soul to their body," Toren said. "That's what your little compass was able to track in me. And I have a unique way of sensing that aether: through sound."