Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 124: Veins

"I can change the destination of the ascension portals before we enter to somewhere familiar if you don't think you can fight at your regular ability," Sevren said quietly. "Or we can do this again another day."

I let my shoulders slump. "No. I need something to keep my mind occupied right now. If there's a time for me to test this strange connection you have with the portals, it's now."

The Denoir heir looked unsure, but he nodded. "I understand."

And from the expression on his face, I realized I believed him. I didn't know much of the white-haired striker, but I had the feeling we were more alike than either of us realized.

—

The town zone, for the first time I'd entered it, was unchanged from my last visit. Rows of suburban homes sat contentedly aside Alacryan apartments, all looking serenely into the endless expanse of rolling hills.

Sevren had covertly activated his spellform before we'd entered the Relictombs, changing our destination and avoiding fighting through any sort of zone.

I traced the asphalt road in front of me, watching as it wound far into the distance. Sevren Denoir stepped up beside me, looking at that same endless black line.

"I won't let myself become what you were," I'd told the Rat. "I won't let my principles break under the weight of this world."

"What you told the djinn about your tutor," I said blankly, remembering what Sevren had said while kneeling at the last ancient Watcher's feet, "about her being taken away for the Vritra's experiments? How did you discover that was why she was taken?"

The white-haired striker was quiet for a long time. "Her name was Abigale. A wizened, cranky old woman who refused to budge on even the barest of things. It was she who taught me about Alacryan history. About politics. And about the Relictombs." The man was quiet for another second. A soft breeze blew through the area, carrying the deep green scents of freshly cut grass and morning-after dew. "When I was little, I rarely saw my parents. It was only Abigale and a small room where I was grilled on everything."

Sevren clenched and unclenched his hands. "Then they came for her one day. I remember it. The sun overhead might be fake, but it shone all the same. Not a cloud in the sky. A dozen of Taegrin Caelum's researchers knocked on our door. My mother, Lenora, brought them in for tea. As was my duty as heir, I watched. I was supposed to observe and learn. The talk was simple at first. They asked how our finances were doing. What we aimed for in the future. And through it all, my mother was a master politician. She deflected their questions. Buried their avenues of attack under layers of subterfuge, all with a kindly smile on her face. The researchers were left thinking they'd won each and every exchange, only for my mother to have swindled them out of what I knew was far more valuable information."

The Denoir heir ran a hand through his brilliant white hair. It was an unkempt, wind-swept mop, and though he wore it well, I could tell it wasn't cared for in the same manner as other highbloods I'd seen. For the first time, I noticed the bags under his eyes. The stubble along his jaw seemed a bit more untamed than usual. "But then the researchers asked for a single thing. A person."

"Abigale," I exhaled. "They wanted your tutor."

"I don't even know what they wanted her for," Sevren said sorrowfully. "But you know what the kicker was? Where before my mother had fought tooth and nail with her wordplay; when the researchers asked for my tutor, who was practically a member of the family? My mother gave her up without a beat of hesitation."

I felt Sevren's emotion through the ambient mana. His intent leaked in slow, undulating waves. The effects of long-held scars imposed themselves on the world. I felt my own emotions rise in tandem; an inverse to the effect of my magical music. Someone had been taken from me unjustly too, hadn't they? A brother.