I have officially outstripped the scenes I had a perhaps overly-detailed plan for. I do still have a plan for what's gonna happen, it's just more of an outline than a play-by-play synopsis. I kinda expect updates to slow, but then again, I have improvised stuff for this before, so we'll see what happens!
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Life could change so quickly. Ingressus had known that since he was ten years old, when a landslide had buried the camp his group had stayed in. Two Voltaris had died, Ageron had broken his leg, and the survivors were left with nothing but what they'd had on them when the landslide came. It was the earliest Ingressus could remember moving camps, though he knew it must've happened before in his lifetime.
It had been a very different kind of change this time, but it was still a change. Barely five days before, he had been a lone Voltaris, uprooted long ago from his home and family and clan and currently existing– hiding– away from the outside world that sought his head, unlikely to ever leave or see his people again. And now he was a full clan Master, entrusted with and accepted by Voltar, and the Nestoris Master was in league with him. His clan hadn't had allies in all their exile, except for the occasional mercenary band that they bought off with stolen money.
Everything had changed. And yet, at the same time, it felt like nothing had. Despite Aegus's agreement to help him, he was really no closer to actually ending his clan's exile. He was no closer to finding the solution to the resonances. Until he could figure that out, he still had nothing to present to the other three Masters that would make them listen to him. Despite Voltar, despite his new ally, he was in the same place he'd been a week ago: in Ataraxia, papers spread across his desk and stuck to the walls, wracking his brain daily for answers while people walked the paths outside, chatting to each other and going about their days as they always had.
Were it not for the presence of Voltar, Ingressus would've believed it was all a dream. Achillean and Aegus had left for Nestoria again, with an agreement between the three to keep in touch. And Galleous had left for the funeral a few days before. Ingressus was the only one in Ataraxia who knew of the events down by the shore. He still took out Voltar and his father's sword– in the safety and secrecy of his room, far from prying eyes– staring at them and reminding himself that yes, they were real, that Aegus and the Guardians hadn't been a dream.
But of course, the fact that it wasn't a dream meant that he had some decisions to remake. He had stayed in Ataraxia this long for lack of anywhere else to go, but now... surely his place was with his people, back in the Barrier Mountains, leading them from one place of shelter to the next and planning defenses and supply runs into the rest of Ardonia, just as generations of Masters had done before him.
But Ingressus knew the futility of repeating the old ways. It was why he had contacted Aegus, why he had been trying to fix the resonances in the first place. To return to the mountains, simply to reenact the same old roles as his predecessors... would he truly be doing them more good that way, than here? Here, he could keep researching the resonances, keep looking for the answer that had to be out there.
Ingressus lifted the axehead from the grindstone, inspecting its edge. His skills at actually forging tools were still nothing to be impressed by, but sharpening an axe or a sword was easy enough.
It all really came down to where he would be of the most use to his people. To stay in Ataraxia and continue to pursue the resonances would be uncertain and risky, but it would carry the ultimate reward if he succeeded. To return to the mountains and lead his clan there would be... well, he couldn't call it any more safe or certain, but it would be a simpler task. And he would know, for certain, that what he was doing was helping his clan. He would be kidding himself if he didn't at least acknowledge the possibility that he was wasting his time with the resonances. He might not find anything, and then where would his clan be?
He laid the axe against the grindstone again. He knew how long the Ardoni had been searching for an answer. That he hadn't found anything in his handful of years didn't mean failure was a given.
He sighed. Whatever he decided, he knew he wouldn't be leaving soon. He would be here when Galleous returned, at least; after all this time, he owed the Sendaris a proper goodbye. Ingressus had seen him off a few days ago with a hug and some parting words of comfort that he knew would only feel paltry in the face of Galleous's loss. Even if he did choose to leave, he wouldn't make Galleous come home from a funeral to nothing but an empty cave.
Over the noise of the grindstone, he didn't hear the running footsteps. So he was completely unprepared when a green blur burst into the cave.
"Songmaster!"
Saylor skidded to a stop, ears pinned back and his eyes frantic as he searched the cave. "Where's Galleous?"
Ingressus just managed to keep the axehead from falling on his leg. "He's not here. He left Ataraxia—"
"What?" Saylor gripped his hair in distress, but then let go again just as quickly. "Wait, you know a lot about Songs, right?"
He darted forward, grabbing Ingressus's arm in a panic and pulling him to his feet. "Please, you have to help, something's wrong with my brother!"
Despite Saylor's disjointed, breathless explanation as they ran at top speed through the town, Ingressus thought he knew what was happening as they neared the shrine island. Saylor's brother was young, not even twenty. Songs were powerful magic. If you tried to use one before you were old enough...
Ingressus skidded to a stop on the grass of the shrine island. Yeah, that was his suspicions confirmed. Saylor's youngest sibling was sitting propped against one of the shrine pillars, swirls of blue light circling around him like phantoms. Saylor's sister was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest at the edge of the shrine, staring at her brother with wide, pale eyes. Their father was crouched next to his Song-entranced son, while their mother, Nereis, paced in distress. But then her gaze fell on Ingressus, and she stopped cold.
"What is he doing here?"
"He can help," Saylor said, out of breath. He glanced at Ingressus. "You can help, right?"
Saylor's father looked up as well. "Galleous is the Songmaster here."
There was a reason Ingressus didn't interact much with the rest of Saylor's family. The kids were better, but traces of their parents' distrust would still color their dealings with him.
"Galleous isn't here," Ingressus told them. "It's me or no one."
He nodded at the entranced child. "I know exactly what's happening to him. But if you'd prefer I leave, you're welcome to try and figure this out on your own."
Nereis made a noise of indignation, but Saylor shook his head in near-panic. "No. Help him, please."
Ingressus turned away from Nereis, beckoning behind him. "Saylor, I'll need your help."
He crouched beside the younger boy. Saylor's father hesitated, but then moved aside for his eldest son. Well, he at least had his priorities straight.
"What do I need to do?" Saylor asked.
"You'll just need to talk to him," Ingressus said. "What Song is this?"
"Protisium," Nereis said, with the air of one talking to an idiot.
"Specifically."
"We don't know," Saylor said, scanning his brother's still form as though for a clue.
"Fine." Protiseum was the best-case scenario for something like this– even if the Song fully activated, it would be unlikely to pose a danger, either to its wielder or to the rest of them.
Ingressus looked over the young Kaltaris. Blue Protisium shards were shimmering into existence around him and disappearing again like the flickering glow of embers, turning his markings to shades of teal. His off-color eyes were lidded and unfocused, as empty as if he were deeply asleep, his face slackened and his ears drooped. His fingers twitched listlessly under the Song's influence, tapping out a silent beat on the air. Someone had done their best to prop him up as though he were simply reclining against the stone, but they hadn't been able to conceal the limp sprawl to his limbs, the way his head lolled on his neck like a poorly-balanced stone.
Yeah, this was just as creepy as Ingressus remembered.
"This is a Song-trance," he said.
Saylor showed no recognition. Ingressus knew that his clan began training their kids with Songs sooner than the others did; it was no surprise that such a thing would be less common among the four clans. And clearly, like the Prime corruption, what was common knowledge for the Voltaris wasn't common knowledge for the rest of the Ardoni.
"He's too young for a Song," Ingressus explained. "Its tune is louder than his own, so his consciousness is drowned out entirely."
"We didn't give this to him," Nereis said offendedly. "It was supposed to be for his sister. He must've snuck it up here himself."
"How he got it is your concern, not mine."
"How bad is this?" Saylor pleaded.
"He'll be fine, once the Song is gone," Ingressus said.
He looked at Saylor, choosing his words carefully. He didn't trust the two adults with his clan's secrets.
"Only he can release the Song," he said. "But right now, his mind is asleep under it. I can loosen its hold, but you'll have to wake him up and get him to reject the Song."
Saylor nodded, his fear lessening now that there was a plan. "Okay. Just talk to him?"
"Anything that'll get his attention," Ingressus confirmed.
He studied the child, thinking. He could feel the Song pulsing steadily, its aura glinting with shards of energy. He remembered watching from a distance many years ago as Ritanil worked to free a twenty-five-year-old Mirzam from a Song-trance. The Song that ensnared Mirzam had been Mobilium, but according to Ritanil's explanation, the idea was the same for a Song from any order.
"Have you ever done this before?" Saylor whispered, low enough that his parents wouldn't hear.
"No," Ingressus admitted. He knew the theory behind it: shape your own inner song in a way that was discordant to the Song's aura, and you could disrupt the magic. Basically the opposite of what you would do to use your own Song. But he hadn't been old enough to attempt it himself before the raid.
"You've got this."
The faith in Saylor's voice was as nerve-wracking as it was encouraging. It was different from having each other's backs when they were facing a crowd of zombies. Saylor could handle himself with such a thing; here, Ingressus was the only one who could solve this.
Saylor trusted Ingressus with his little brother's fate. He could do this; he just had to listen, to feel, and figure this out.
Ingressus was well familiar with the aura of the Songs. He had studied all of Galleous's time and again, in the hopes that they would reveal something to him. Protisium had a steady, pulsing tune, like a heartbeat or ripples on a still pond. He heard Saylor talking to his brother (Aireus, apparently), something about going down to swim in the inlet in the summer. But he blocked that out, gazing at the shimmering Protisium shards, listening to its hum, feeling the pulsing magic. He reached out to the Song in his mind, attuning himself with its aura. Then, experimentally, he sent out a note of his own.
The Song didn't react. Ingressus did his best to remember what Ritanil had told them, what the older warriors had said about using this skill. It was harder than just throwing in random noise; you needed to make a tune that went against the Song's, high where the Song's pitch was low, loud in a place where the Song was quiet.
He listened to the pulsing of the Song, watched the fractured shards of light shimmering in and out of existence. He pushed back against the rippling magic curiously, feeling his notes slide off to the side of the Song's peaks. It was like feeling your pulse with one hand and trying to tap the fingers of your other hand to its rhythm.
There! He did it. The Song faltered, the blue glow flickering unsteadily. He saw Aireus stir, just for a moment, before the Song recovered itself and resumed its steady rhythm. Sayor broke off whatever he was saying, glancing at Ingressus. "Whatever you just did, do it again."
Emboldened, Ingressus set out again. He pushed back against the Song's ripples, sent a swelling tune into its troughs, swept a smooth sheet over the shards of light. He saw the light fade, the arcs of blue and shimmering fragments become fewer and far between. The Song's aura became duller, its tune becoming fragmented under his interference. Wisps of Saylor's words seeped through his concentration as the Kaltaris repeated the refrain of "Come on Aireus, I know you can hear me, come on..."
Void, keeping up this interference was hard. But he understood now why the other clans would be so afraid of such an ability. Even a moment's advantage in battle could tip the scales completely; fracturing a shield so a sword could slip through, dissipating an energy blast– that would be terrifying for a raider.
"S-Saylor?"
Aireus's voice was small and confused as he looked around, his eyes unfocused but once more a pale green. "What..."
"Aireus," Saylor said, slumping in relief. "Listen, you need to let go of the Song. Just picture a wall between you and it, and imagine pushing it away. It'll want to stay, but you gotta not listen to it."
"Song?" Aireus said nervously. "I didn't– I didn't take it—"
"It's okay," Saylor said gently. "We're not mad. But it's not good for you to have one yet. You need to release it. Here, I'll do mine with you, okay?"
Any time now, Ingressus thought, a blue spark jumping from Aireus's arm as he mistimed his countertune. His respect for Ritanil had just shot up all the more, Songs were persistent.
He could feel the moment the Song was freed. The tune became louder and brighter, its call ringing to the whole world instead of being bound to Aireus. Ingressus sat back as Saylor pulled his brother into a hug, Mobilium and Protisium humming serenely on the ground beside them as sounds of relief echoed from the other Kaltaris. Nereis had collapsed to a seat on the ground, her breathing deep as the worry left her. Saylor's father rushed over and crouched beside his sons, resting a hand on Aireus's shoulder as he bowed his head in relief.
Ingressus stood to leave. "He may be a little out of it for a few days, but he'll recover."
In truth, Mirzam had been back to normal in only a single day, but he had been older than Aireus was. Better to overestimate it than underestimate; that way he wouldn't be called a liar.
He turned away, but someone caught his arm. He looked back to see Saylor's father looking up at him, whispering a quiet "thank you."
The cemetery was quiet in the gathering twilight. The sky outside was still awash with yellow and orange, but the arching ceilings of the graveyard cast the interior into shadow. Gravestones glowed in all colors across the grassy floor, faintly illuminating the stones piled around their base. Galleous sat in front of the most recent one, His chin resting on his knees as he gazed at the markings that mirrored his own. His father's markings glowed back at him, a rich sky-blue with the faintest hint of turquoise around the edges. Galleous felt as if those same markings had been carved out of his own heart, leaving the memories they intersected raw and tender. His father teaching him to swim, to cook, listening intently as Galleous talked about forging, barely understanding any of it but happy just to listen to his son's enthusiasm. His excitement on becoming a grandfather, the way he would whisper stories to the newborns as he held them in his arms– even the embarrassing ones that would leave Galleous hiding his face in his hands and doing his best to pretend he didn't exist. Songs, he'd give anything to be that embarrassed now.
He thought about Ingressus's words as he left Ataraxia, as the Voltaris gave him a rare embrace that held Galleous together even as he was reminded of how close he was to falling apart.
I can't tell you it'll be all right, Ingressus had said. It'll hurt so much, it'll feel like it'll never be all right again. But... you will heal. It will stop hurting so much, in time.
Ingressus was right. It certainly didn't feel like it would ever stop hurting. Galleous hoped he was right about the rest, too.
Footsteps behind him. Galleous didn't turn around as he heard the person come to a stop beside him, gazing down at the gravestone.
"Sareia took the kids and Mom back to the inn," Thalleous said, his voice low. "She'll be staying with them for a while, until... until they're ready. Lassaros's family are staying with a friend of his in Clearstream. I don't know where Reneias is staying."
"Probably Clearstream, too," Galleous said dully. "She said something about the falls there."
"Oh, yeah."
There was silence for a while. The shadows deepened as the sun sank towards the horizon outside. Thalleous knelt, resting a hand on the gravestone and bowing his head.
Galleous told himself that at least his mother would be looked after. She had never played favorites with her grandchildren, but she had always been the closest with Sareia's family simply by virtue of living the closest to them. They would be the best ones to help her now.
"Who do you think met him there?" he asked, when the silence became too much.
"He said he'd bet it would be Narros," Thalleous said, glancing at the grave as though their father's spirit would appear to brag about being right. "He said she wouldn't consider herself much of a best friend if she let death stop her from being there for his funeral."
Galleous gave a dull laugh. "I'd have guessed it would be Teanil. Remember they had that bet about who would outlive the other?"
Thalleous's mouth twitched, a shard of a smile breaking through the sorrow. "Well, Dad won. I wonder what he'll claim as payment."
"Oh, he'll think of something."
"Heh. I'm sure he will."
Silence fell again. The breeze rustled the shrubs around the cemetery as though in compensation for the Ardoni who had ceased to breathe. Galleous figured there was probably some species out there that had such a belief.
In the corner of his eye he saw Thalleous look behind them, then stand, casting one last look at the gravestone. "The monsters will be coming out soon."
He started to leave but then paused. He turned back and held out a hand to Galleous.
Galleous looked up at his brother, unmoving. Thalleous's hand twitched, uncertainty coloring his gaze.
A week ago in Ataraxia was the first time they'd spoken in nearly twenty years. The time before that had begun with the cold shoulder and ended in arguments, bitterness and severe chastising from Sairea for the example they'd set for the children. The time before that had been similar. Civility– much less offering aid– had been nonexistent between them for so long.
But, curse it, Galleous was in no mood to care. He took Thalleous's hand, letting his brother pull him to his feet. He wobbled as he stood, his legs numb, but Thalleous steadied him. Galleous gave a wordless nod of thanks as he got his footing and the two walked to the exit.
The sun was already below the horizon, the yellows and oranges of the sunset fading to dusky blue. The colors had faded from the land, replaced by the darkening monochrome of night. The distant trees were little more than dark silhouettes and Galleous lit a torch. Falling from the arch of stone and earth that led into the cemetery would not be pleasant. Nor would being eaten by zombies because they smelled your blood and you couldn't run on your broken limbs.
The pair walked in silence, the same burden weighing on both of them. The dimness felt like a shroud around their little sphere of light, hiding the rest of the world away.
"Where are you going to go after this?" Thalleous asked at length.
"Back home," Galleous shrugged. "You?"
"I had a tip-off about an incursion near the Felora border," Thalleous said. "The trail is probably cold by now, but it may be worth a look."
Galleous's hand twitched, the flame of the torch swaying with the motion. There was only one kind of "incursion" Thalleous could be talking about.
He should at least try to talk him out of it, surely. But he'd tried before and ended up taking a fist to the face for his trouble. He doubted his odds would be any better now. But for Ingressus's sake– curse it, how could he look him in the eye if he didn't even try?
But Thalleous had noticed his reaction, and it was he who spoke first, shaking his head. "I know you don't approve, you've made that clear. But it has to be done."
"Why, Thalleous?"
Galleous stopped walking, causing Thalleous to stop and turn back to him. "Why do you have to do this? When will it be enough for you?"
His frustration and despair leaked through into his voice, frustration at having the same argument again, at having to have it now, at the futility it would almost certainly be anyway. What was the point?
"Someone has to defend our lands from them," Thalleous retorted. "It might as well be me."
Galleous growled. "Are you really going to give me that again? Is that really what it's about for you?"
"What does it matter?" Thalleous demanded. "The clans are at war. There are innocents who are—"
He broke off, his eyes darting past Galleous. He shook his head with a sigh. "I don't want to have this fight with you now."
Galleous flinched, glancing back in the direction Thalleous had looked. Back towards the graveyard. Towards their father's grave.
He bowed his head. "Neither do I."
Their father had hated seeing them fight. Time and again, at strained family gatherings or when he had found one of them sulking after an argument, he would try to get them to reconcile, to make up with each other, to talk the problem out. He's your brother, he would say, Do you want whatever this was to define the rest of your lives?
Galleous had told him a number of times that he would try to make up with Thalleous. And yet, so often that promise had been a lie. He had told his father what he wanted to hear and then had simply... done nothing.
I tried to help him and he broke my creeper-blasted nose, his mind would say. I'm done with that zombie-spawn. He can get himself killed for all I care.
Gallous had never said those words aloud. He didn't doubt that doing so would have gotten his ear twisted to within an inch of its life. But despite the vehemence with which those words had so often sounded in his head, he couldn't summon them now. He was in no state to be wishing mortality on his own brother.
"I didn't hate you," he said, his voice hollow. "I was angry, and frustrated with you, but I didn't... I never really wanted you dead. But you were slipping so far and it was like you weren't even yourself anymore. I hated to see what it was doing to you."
Thalleous's gaze flickered to the side. "War changes everyone."
Galleous held back a groan. Thalleous wasn't wrong in that, but did he truly not see how far he'd fallen? He claimed to be fighting for defense of their clan, but did he even see how he had neglected the very family he claimed to protect?
"You were with Dad," Galleous said. "And I'm glad you were. I'm glad he had the chance to say goodbye to you. But I never would've guessed that you would be."
It was Thalleous's turn to flinch. "I... I wasn't that– I would've... I..."
He trailed off, slumping back against a tree and holding his face in his hands.
"I might not have come," he said, his voice so muffled that Galleous had to prick his ears up to hear. "My own father, and I knew he was sick, and I might've... what is wrong with me..."
Galleous had a suspicion. "Do you have the Prime Songs?"
In retrospect, that was a pretty abrupt topic shift. Thalleous looked up at him in an almost double-take fashion, undoubtedly wondering whether Galleous had entirely forgotten the conversation so far. He stared at his brother, one ear raised in confusion.
"What?"
"Do you have the Primes?" Galleous repeated. "It is potentially relevant, I promise."
"No..." Thalleous said slowly, still staring at him. "It's months until the next tournament."
Hmm. Well, it would've been nice if he could blame everything that had happened on the Prime corruption. But according to Ingressus, the Primes only worsened what was already there. The corruption wouldn't exonerate Thalleous, but perhaps it could explain the lengths he went to.
"I have heard a rumor that the Primes can corrupt their users," he said. "That their tunes can drive you to obsession to the point that that's all you can think about, making the darker parts of you even worse and drowning out the rest of you– even to the point of denying your family."
Thalleous's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He stared at Galleous, taking in the information.
Galleous wondered what he would do. Would he deny it, and claim that he was fine, that he wasn't being influenced? Would he start questioning himself, his motives, his actions? What if the corruption had too much of a lasting hold on him for this knowledge to make a difference? Or worst of all, what if he said that he had known the whole time?
"Where did you hear this rumor?" Thalleous asked finally.
From a Voltaris who knows more about the Songs than anyone in our clans, Galleous thought. It's not a rumor, I trust him to be right.
"A traveling enchanter," he said instead. "I normally wouldn't put much stock in rumors but... it makes sense, with what I have seen."
Thalleous looked away, his gaze turned inward. He was considering this, that was good. "But if that were true... then why hasn't anyone noticed before now?"
They'd have to be as dense as bedrock was Ingressus's theory. Galleous decided not to say that. "I don't know, but maybe it has to do with what they've been used for."
Thalleous cocked his head. Galleous went on. "If someone is going to the tournament, then they know what the Primes will be used for. If they wanted to back out, they could do so– or they can even throw the duels and lose on purpose. So really, anyone who gets the Prime Songs are those who want to use them– and use them for war.
"You wanted revenge for Lairen from the moment his markings went dark, even before you first went to the tournaments. Maybe you do want to defend our clans, maybe you do think this is the best way you can do it. But I think we both know what really sent you this way."
Thalleous looked away, his arms folded but saying nothing.
"If there was something acting on you that made you hate the Voltaris more, that made you go to greater lengths on the raids, that kept you going on them... Do you really think you would've questioned it? Or would you have just thought it was your own mind?"
Thalleous shook his head, not meeting his brother's gaze. "You say that like you expect me to have an answer. I don't know. I've never even heard a breath of a rumor like this. I've never even considered—"
He shook his head again, this time more vigorously. "No. No, it can't be. We'd have noticed by now if they corrupted people. I– I am not—"
He pressed a fist to his chest, glaring fiercely at nothing. "I am in control of myself. Not the Prime Songs. I am a Champion. I use the Primes, not the other way around. My actions are my own."
Galleous didn't know which he would prefer. On the one hand, if the corruption did truly have a significant hold on his brother, then maybe there was a chance that this darker side of him could fade one day. He wanted to believe that Thalleous would never have done all he had done of his own accord. But the idea of Thalleous laboring under some greater force... being twisted beyond recognition without even being aware of what was happening to him...
"Maybe there's a way you could find out," Galleous suggested. "Don't go to the tournament. Not even on the raids. Distance yourself from the Primes for a while, and just see what happens. See if it clears your head of anything."
Thalleous folded his arms again, staring at the ground. Galleous heard a rustling and spun to look, but it was just a fox darting through the bushes at the edge of the torch's glow.
The middle of a dark forest probably wasn't the best place to have had this conversation. There could be undead around, creepers or territorial spiders that were roaming the woods with the onset of night. But with his brother's conscience and sanity potentially hanging in the balance, Galleous feared that moving on or breaking stride would break the ice and send Thalleous back down to the depths. So he waited, ears pricked for the sound of monsters while Thalleous weighed his options for preserving his very self.
He was the older brother of the two. Not by much; just by a few minutes. But when they were growing up he had always been the protector– calm and cautious where Thalleous was bold and daring, a thinker and a planner where Thalleous was more impulsive. More than once he had had to talk Thalleous out of doing something that could have gotten him very injured, like sneaking off to a dungeon that held a skeleton spawner. He had forged Thalleous's first sword of his own, laboring over it more carefully than he had anything else before to ensure it was balanced perfectly, with no flaws that could cost his brother his life. It had taken years of falling apart, of arguments and stubbornness and finally a vicious, full-on brawl before he threw up his hands and declared to himself that he would no longer bother himself with his brother's quest for vengeance. It had taken several more years of determinedly avoiding Thalleous before he stopped wanting to reach out to him again, to try just one more time to drag him back from the edge.
"The Primes are... hypnotizing," Thalleous said, breaking the silence. "When Master Atanal first showed me the Mobilium Prime... I barely even remember what she said to me. It was like the Song was the most important thing in the room."
Galleous nodded. He had felt something similar at the tournament he'd attended.
"When you have the Primes, you feel like you can do anything you want. Like you'll never lack the means to change what needs to be changed."
That was exactly how Galleous might have thought the Primes– or any kind of power– could corrupt someone. You have power, you're given license to use it, and you begin to feel like it's the key to solving your problems.
"Do you think it was actively affecting you?" he asked. "Making you go further than you might have otherwise?"
Thalleous sighed. "The Prime Songs want to be used. The energy, the power in them– it wants to be released. And they're angry. They're more alive than normal Songs. I suppose... that having that kind of tune in your head... is encouraging on the raids."
It was Galleous's turn to be confused now. "Angry? Angry at who?"
Thalleous looked away. "You'll say I'm projecting."
"The Voltaris?"
Thalleous huffed. "Yeah. I thought you would."
"But that doesn't make sense," Galleous said aloud. "The Voltaris discovered the Primes. Why would they be angry at them, of all people?"
"I don't know," Thalleous snapped. "Fine, maybe I am projecting. But what does any of this matter?"
"What–" Galleous burst out. "Thalleous, we're talking about your sanity! Why wouldn't it matter?"
Thalleous shook his head. "I don't mean to me. We're at war. We have to use what we have at our disposal. We've lasted this long without corruption destroying us, I doubt it'll kill us anytime soon."
Galleous barely kept himself from screaming. Had everything he said been pointless? Had Thalleous heard one word of any of it? Did he even give a flaming ghast fart about the fact that his conscience had been stunted for years under the corruption of the Primes? Was he so determined to hold onto his hate that he would expose himself to them again, even knowing what he did now?
Stay calm. Do not shout, do not argue, do not get him angry again, because he'll stop listening if you do. Stay calm. Stay. Calm.
Galleous took a deep breath, willing the frustration to subside and unclenching his teeth before speaking. "That sounds a lot like what you just said, that the Primes want to be used. That they make you feel like they're the answer to everything."
Thalleous hesitated before speaking. "So it does." He shook his head. "But this war has been going on for generations, and will go on for generations more. Either we fight, or we are destroyed. Any chance of an alternative is long gone by now."
What if it didn't have to be? Galleous thought. What if I could tell you how hard the Voltaris Master is striving for the chance to make peace? What if I could tell you about the Nestoris Master's partnership with him? What if I could tell you that the raids might be over soon? That someday you may never need to take the Primes again?
Would it even make a difference if I could?
A moan interrupted Galleous's solemn thoughts. He spun, brandishing the torch like a shield at the sight of the zombie shambling towards them, arms outstretched as it grasped for its prey. He heard the sound of diamond as Thalleous summoned his sword but Galleous didn't wait. He darted forward, slamming the torch into the zombie's arms to knock them aside, then pivoted to slam his fist into the side of the zombie's neck. The deteriorated bone broke under the blow with a dull crunch and the undead monster crumpled to the ground, its neck broken. Galleous shook the zombie ooze off his fist, glancing around for more monsters.
Thalleous was still standing there, sword drawn as he stared at the dead mob. "Impressive."
"I beat the living Nether out of metal all day."
Thalleous glanced around the woods, searching the shadows of trees for more monsters. "We should go. Others will scent this one and come looking."
"Good plan."
They set a fast pace the rest of the way, rushing along the path and through the trees until they came to town. Thalleous cut down a creeper before it even had the chance to sizzle at them, and Galleous banged on the town gate as he watched their backs. They had definitely lingered too long.
The watchman opened the door in the gate, staring at them. "What are you still doing out this late?"
"Yeah, yeah," Galleous muttered, dragging Thalleous in behind him.The watchman closed the door with a bang, muttering about not checking the sky and making her job harder.
Thalleous sheathed his sword as Galleous leaned against a lightpole to catch his breath. Ataraxia was largely monster-proof; it had been a while since he'd had to run from them.
"Well," Thalleous said. "If we don't talk again... know that I wish you well."
"Hey," Galleous looked up at him. "At least think about what I said, would you? I don't... I don't want to see you fall further."
Ingressus watched his students sparring. Volerik and Percy were doing well, taking turns performing the latest pattern he had taught them against each other and helping each other when they got the motions mixed up. By contrast, Marina and Madaris's pairing had devolved into a good-natured but full-on duel, each trying more to win than to learn. At least they were performing the motions properly.
Ingressus caught Madaris's arm as the Sendaris prepared to swing at his friend. "And what does this have to do with what I told you to practice?"
Madaris tugged at his wrist, trying unsuccessfully to free himself. Marina poked him with her sword, but backed off when Ingressus shot her a look.
"You said that in a real fight, to do or use whatever you have," Madaris pointed out.
"I did say that," Ingressus agreed. "But this isn't a real fight. The point is for you to practice, so you have a chance at winning a real fight."
Madaris slumped, hanging from his arm. "Okay."
Ingressus let go. Madaris caught himself, steadied, then lifted his wooden sword again. Ingressus left them to their training and turned to the last pair of children. Keperin was sparring with Luciren, but he wasn't doing well. He kept faltering in the middle of a parry, shuffling his feet and muttering to himself before every bout. His motions were hesitant, his every action singing of uncertainty as he and Luciren sparred– or, more accurately, tried to.
Ingressus sighed inwardly, thinking. Keperin had started training more recently than the rest, but it had still been nearly a month since he had begun. Ingressus knew he took the lessons seriously, and had spotted him practicing on his own against a makeshift armor stand. He'd done rather well in the past, but now it seemed all his confidence had fled him.
Ingressus watched Keperin stop in the middle of a strike, muttering to himself. Luciren stopped, lowering her sword as Keperin rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"I'm trying," Keperin said as Ingressus neared. "I am, I just—" he made a noise of frustration. "I can't get this."
"I've seen you practicing before," Ingressus observed. "I know you're trying. You just lack confidence."
Keperin sighed, glancing down at his sword. "Maybe I just shouldn't be fighting."
"Did Selarin tell you that?"
It was largely a guess, but Keperin's reaction confirmed it. Self-doubt had always been Keperin's enemy, and Ingressus didn't doubt that having Selarin as a brother did him any favors.
"Selarin wants you to fail," Ingressus said. "He wants you to doubt yourself, that's why he's telling you this. But you know these moves, I've seen you practicing them. You're just thinking yourself out of them."
Keperin frowned. "How do I stop myself thinking?"
Ingressus held out his hand to Luciren, and she handed him her sword. Ingressus gestured to Keperin. "Attack me. However you want."
Keperin hesitated, but then lifted his sword. "Don't think."
He stepped forward, giving a simple strike. Ingressus parried and made a thrust at Keperin's ribs. The Mendoris danced back, glancing up at Ingressus questioningly.
"You know what to do," Ingressus said.
He repeated the move and Keperin swept his sword to the side, knocking Ingressus's weapon off its target. Ingressus struck again and Keperin deflected, bringing his sword around for a strike of his own.
Ingressus sparred with Keperin a minute longer, keeping at the younger boy's skill level but not giving his mind time to get the better of him. Keperin stumbled a few times but Ingressus didn't give him time to get caught up in his missteps. Keperin had enough muscle memory to help him, as long as he didn't have time to overthink.
After letting Keperin have a last parry, Ingressus lowered his sword and stepped back. Keperin stood there, gripping his sword and looking surprised at himself.
"You know these moves," Ingressus said. "Your brother can't decide that you don't. Just keep practicing, and you'll come to believe that, too."
He flipped the sword in his grip and handed it back to Luciren. She took it, nodding towards the bridge. "I think someone's here for you."
Saylor and his little sister were lingering at the edge of the training grounds, under the shade of the tree that Selarin had damaged with his Song. Saylor waved at Ingressus while his sister (Kareinos, Ingressus thought?) was fidgeting anxiously.
Ingressus went over to them. "How's your brother doing?"
"He's doing great, thanks to you," Saylor said. "He slept a lot yesterday, but he's back to normal now."
Ingressus nodded. "Glad to hear it."
Saylor glanced at his sister. "Actually, we wanted to ask you more about what happened to him."
Ingressus looked at Kareinos. The younger Kaltaris was rubbing at her arm as though it were injured, her nervousness clear in her stance.
"Go ahead."
"That Song was supposed to be mine," she said. "But I don't think I want it anymore. I don't want it to do that to me, too."
"It's not the Song that's to blame," Ingressus said. "Aireus just wasn't old enough, so the Song was louder than his own mind."
"But how do I know it won't be louder than me, too?" Kareinos said. "I don't want to... that looked scary."
Ingressus studied her. "How old are you?"
Kareinos shifted. "Twenty-nine."
"You'll be fine," Ingressus declared. "I've never known of it happening to anyone your age."
Kareinos looked only barely reassured.
"How did you do it?" Saylor said. "How do you make someone else's Song stop working?"
"I didn't," Ingressus said. "I just loosened its hold on him."
"Okay, but how?" Saylor pressed. "I've never even heard of a Song-trance, neither have my parents. Could you show me how you did it?"
"No."
Saylor blinked at his abrupt refusal. Ingressus shook his head, his arms folded. "My clan has very few advantages in this war. If this knowledge makes its way to the raiders, then even more of my people will die. I will not share this skill."
Saylor had opened his mouth to negotiate, but he closed it again, giving a nod of acknowledgement. "Okay."
"But what if it happens again?" Kareinos asked. "If you won't tell us how to do it, then how can we save someone if it happens to them?"
"Do you know why you've never heard of something like this before?" Ingressus asked. "It's because your clans can afford to wait longer to begin their training. You don't need to start as early as possible– perhaps even earlier than is wise– to ensure your clanmates have had enough practice to hopefully hold their own in the inevitable battle." He nodded at his students. "I was half their age when I first picked up a sword. Be glad your clans are safe enough that a Song-trance is a freak accident. I will not deprive my people of one of our few means of defending ourselves."
Kareinos glanced over at Ingressus's trainees, the nearest of whom were making a pale attempt to pretend they weren't listening in. He could see her doing the math in her head, could see the moment her calculations were done.
"If this happens to someone else, I'll pull them out of it, too," Ingressus said. "I hold no grievance against most Ardoni here. But I won't aid attacks against my clan."
Saylor rested a hand on Kareinos's shoulder. "Would you be willing to be there when she claims her Song? Just in case it does happen?"
The worry was still clear in his voice. Ingressus supposed he had been spared the worst of the fear of a Song-trance by the fact that such a thing was common knowledge among his people. All Saylor must've seen was his brother looking half-dead, overwhelmed by magic Saylor had always taken for granted.
Ingressus relented. "It won't, but fine. Though I don't know when Galleous will be ready to train her."
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(7484 words)
Approximate total word count: 87,901. (I've done a bit of editing to old chapters.)
Canon Ingressus and Thalleous could've made really interesting character foils, change my mind.