Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 117: Leads

He turned away from me, seemingly putting me out of his thoughts. I felt a primal urge to lash out at his back; to carve it away and reap my vengeance.

"You might still be able to save the mages in that cave," he said, his voice sounding tired. "Don't let them die. Like Mardeth would."

Shame crept up on me like some sort of plague, cloying at my chest like a ragged claw.

"Wait," I called out, trying to push myself to my feet. I stumbled, my gut trembling as bones shifted. "Wait!"

The mage paused but didn't look back.

"You said you fought Mardeth," I said. "How– how powerful was he? How strong do I need to be to kill him?"

The man looked back, those burning orange eyes staring straight into my soul. "Let me tell you something, Mawar," he said, his voice low. "You might think you have a claim on that man. That he owes you his life. But make no mistake. He is mine to kill. That vicar hurt people very, very close to me. And for that, I'm going to break him before the effigies of his gods. So they can watch and sneer. Do you understand?"

I swallowed, the killing intent wafting off the man making my already weakened body tremble. "You won't get to kill him," I hissed. "His life belongs to me!" I said, my voice raw.

The man scoffed, then hopped off the roof.

I stumbled over to where he'd leapt, trying to find a trace of him, but he was gone. The only remaining proof of our fight was the lingering footprints and creaking timbers of the massive temple.

As I numbly stared at the bare evidence of our clash, I belatedly realized I had never demanded his name.

—

I carefully let myself down back into the temple, each movement jostling my ribs. A few were definitely broken, and they'd take a week or so to heal with my level of core refinement. I groaned as I reached the ground, falling to my knees.

My hands clenched around the dust on the ground, anger surging through me. That strange, red-haired mage had ruined everything. Maybe he was opposed to Mardeth, but all he'd done was spring the trap I'd laid months in advance.

Why couldn't he have just let himself die? I thought, a weak whine in my internal voice.

Again, Melzri's advice echoed back. They'll all try and fight you; those stupid peasants. They don't understand what they face. You're part of our family now, daughter. And that means you're above them. They need to understand that.

My Scythe had a strange habit of treating every person in the upper echelons of Alacryan society as if they were part of a giant family. At first, it had unnerved me. Scared me. But the woman tried, in her own strange way, to actually treat me like a mother. Or what she thought a mother should be. She peppered me with gifts. Tried to teach me what she knew. Tried to spend time with me; doing things as simple as eating breakfast together.

But I had a feeling she was wrong about us, now. I'd never heard of the man who'd pummeled me so thoroughly. How was I above him?

And if he is weaker than Mardeth, a traitorous voice whispered, What would that mean about your chances? How can you ever prove yourself worthy to be Melzri's retainer? She calls you daughter. But you aren't. Not really.

I staggered toward the collapsed stairwell. With an effort of will, I engaged my regalia, Dread Siren's Grasp. A few tendrils of solidified void wind stretched from my body, wrapping themselves around the massive chunks of rock and withering them away or tossing them to the side. The monotony of the work helped bury those traitorous thoughts even deeper in my skull.