Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 159: Mourning

Toren Daen

I'd moved into a nearby building, keeping the light now as I laid Greahd's body on a sturdy wooden table. I kept the blanket over her face, unable to bear seeing her still-breathing corpse.

Wade was the first to enter the cold home. Apple the skaunter was perched on his shoulder, its tail wrapped around his neck in a steadying way. When his eyes found the dark blanket, he moved to the side, seeming to sense the seriousness. He slumped into a chair, his lanky arms devoid of strength.

Naereni wasn't far behind. She forced her way through the door, a frantic energy to her steps. "Toren," she started, her voice a bit too fast. "I... I went around. Told everyone that was a part of this place to gather at the old cookfire meetup; that you had some sort of announcement to make. But I–I couldn't find Auntie Greahd. When I asked around, I was told she was called away by some important-looking men a few hours back," she said, her voice cracking slightly as her eyes darted to the covered body. She seemed terrified of that dark cloth, her eyes begging for any other possibility. "Where is she, Toren?" the Young Rat asked with a small voice.

I walked over numbly, looking down at the blanket Seris had provided. The cloth was detailed with deep, purple patterns, creating a beautiful array of color and comfort. I imagined the loving Mother of Fiachra wrapped snugly in this blanket as she passed out her soups to those who could not feed themselves.

My knuckles clenched white over the rim. For a long beat, I hesitated. If I didn't pull back this cover, it didn't need to be real. It was just my imagination. Anyone could be under this dark cloth.

I wrenched it back, like ripping a bandage from a wound. I felt something inside of me tear once more as I bore witness to Agrona's casual victim, her chest rising and falling solemnly as her eyes were closed in what could approach peaceful sleep. Her buzzing, flatlined heartfire scraped my mind.

Naereni shoved me aside as she bolted forward, her hands shaking as they darted for Greahd's neck, checking for a pulse. She slumped in relief as she found one, but Wade gasped, digging himself deeper into his chair. His glasses slipped down his face, revealing unnerved brown pupils that sharpened to points.

Naereni turned to Wade, her body locking up again. Her eyes snapped to me, then back to Wade. "She's asleep, right? Toren, you can heal her of whatever caused this. You did it all the time these past few days. If it's a coma, then that should be simple for you!"

I looked away, unable to meet Naereni's pleading eyes.

"My... my emblem. It allows me to sense... minds. To connect to. But Greahd's..." Wade stuttered, seeming shellshocked.

Naereni oriented on him, her mana flaring as she bored daggers into him. "What?!" she snapped. "What's wrong with her?"

"There's nothing there," he muttered. "I can sense people while they're sleeping. When they were down in the depths of the rubble. My rats could–" he shook his head, his shoulders shaking. "But there's just... nothing," he said weakly.

Naereni turned to me stiffly, as if each of her limbs were made of ice and she had to force them to move. She silently begged me for an answer.

"Her body is perfectly healthy," I said in a low whisper. "She'll breathe just fine. Eat whatever you may try and feed her. But Wade is right. Her mind was... erased."

If there was even a smidge of thought left, a bit of perception I could latch onto, maybe I could've healed Greahd. After all, I'd managed a cursory healing of J'ntarion's bedraggled mind long before this.

But in Greahd's mute, monotone heartfire, there was no anchor. No beat I could sympathize with; no rhythm to attune.

I could not heal her.