Aftermath

Chapter 1: But Do the Tides Turn?

Author's note: first of all, thank you to everyone who spurred me on to get this written and thank you to my two writing partners; Alli and Joe for helping me write this and bounce ideas with me. I love our late-night epiphanies. Thank you to Kat who helped me name this piece - we really dodged a bullet there XD

any art featured in this fic has been drawn by myself, unless stated otherwise

this may take some chapters to get going, but it'll be worth it, I promise. if you don't think so, feel free to stab me XD

[EDIT: 05/02/22] in light of the sequel development, this book is being reformatted because between the three of us who wrote it, as we refer back to it for consistency, we've found that our writing styles have shifted dramatically over the course of a year. the plot and all its details will remain the same, but we're just making the paragraphs clearer because they've started bugging us XD

also to note, a number of these illustrations have actually been redrawn, but I am fighting the urge to update them in the book because I quite like the development benchmark XD

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The fires raged as they danced between the sparks that they spat into the air, the smoke encasing the atmosphere around the mountain. The moon shone bright that night, but no-one would ever know. The deep crackling of the fires against the cold stone gave warning to anyone who stepped too close. Too close to trouble. Too close to danger. Too close to the raw nerve.

When the portal opened and swayed in watery motion, Achillean knew that there was more to this war than a battle for the Prime Songs – that there was more to this war than winning it. He knew that Ingressus was more than one step ahead. He fought for answers. He fought Ingressus for those answers, hoping he could best him into answering his desperate question – why?

Even after everything...

"What are you doing here, Ingressus? What sort of magic are you attempting to unleash?" He paused for breath, careful of his next words, knowing the value that they carried. "You have already lost..."

To his surprise, Ingressus didn't react. His stance wasn't even firm as he stared at Achillean almost empty. It was his sigh that tipped him off.

"You are right."

You are right...

Never had words so pleasing been so painful.

Ingressus knew all too well that his plan had failed, and it was his desperate ploy that had led them to Mt Velgrin that night – his attempt to recover what he had lost, trying so hard to gain. But those words echoed inside Achillean's mind like needles, poking at his every thought, telling him that something was amiss – telling him that this war wasn't all that was ongoing. They yelled through his ears, bouncing around his head. He knew, then, that Ingressus' plans were going to get far more dangerous than he would comprehend. The Tidesinger would have to put a stop to them before he lost everything.

Before they lost everything.

But Ingressus poked him even more and it sent his mind spiralling into a twisting knot, forever tangled in 'what ifs.'

"Do you remember..."

No...

"...who it was..."

Don't do it...

"...who suggested that I enter the tournament in the first place?"

It was his glare that struck Achillean the hardest – like a bolt of lightning from the raging storm above. The look in his eyes showed betrayal. Ingressus was hurt. He had been hurt by so much – by so many people – that he had been left to become this... Deathsinger. Achillean felt like he'd let it happen. He could have done so much more to prevent this.