Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 162: Alkali

Circe Milview

I walked in a daze, each footstep seeming to echo a hundred times in my mind. Questions upon questions seeped through my mind as water rises through cracks in a river. Who was the strange mage that was following behind me, a cool poise to their every step that seemed to push away the dark aura surrounding the Central Cathedral? Why did they offer to heal my brother?

And why was the only stipulation keeping out of the Dicathian war?

I turned down a street, feeling a nervous energy coursing along my veins. While I had many questions, one of the many things the Doctrination enforced was to trust your unanswered thoughts to the Sovereigns. Things may not make sense at the moment, but there was a grand plan the leader of Alacrya was laying. I had a part to play in it, too. I just needed to let that part play out.

He's wearing an ancient vicar's mask, I thought, chancing a glance back at the strange mage with orange eyes. Is he from the Doctrination? Rewarding faithful servants of the Vritra in the aftermath of the Central Cathedral's destruction?

I'd known that the Doctrination's official place within Alacrya was... unstable after Scythe Seris executed Varadoth. But if they were rewarding those who had always believed–

The man seemed to sense my gaze, his calm eyes shifting to meet mine. I looked away quickly, my throat constricting as we finally reached my home.

Unlike the many upper-class homes near Khaernian Academy, my own home was a small house that had been passed down through my Blood for over a century. Though it had once been far more accommodating, now the small cottage–lawn included–looked overgrown and shabby. Tall grass belied its lack of care, and a few roots spread over the path leading toward the door.

I felt shame as the mage behind me observed the dilapidated state of my home.

"I–I don't ever get enough time to clean or make it look nice," I said quickly, making excuses as I scurried for the door. "I'll get around to making it nice again."

The strange hooded mage shrugged. "One day, you'll have the time you need," he said, seemingly nonchalant.

The man followed me all the way up the stairs as I beelined for Seth's room. I felt a strange sort of anticipation as the floorboards creaked under our weight. Seth can be healed, I thought, energy running along my body. Though my core ached and I still felt the effects of using True Sense, I felt more alive than I ever had been.

But then I paused at the top of the stairs, just outside of Seth's room. As I thought of my use of True Sense, the reality of it all started constricting me from all sides. This man had been watching Khaernian Academy. At the time, my muddled mind simply assumed he was a spy from Central Academy, or perhaps another power in Cardigan.

But he seemed to be after me. He claimed his only stipulation was that I not enter the Dicathian war, but what if that was a lie? He could ask me to spy on my academy. Or he could hurt Seth. I couldn't explain why I trusted the man so easily earlier, but as I stared at Seth's old, oaken door, I recognized the folly of my actions.

I felt my breathing accelerate nervously. The man waited patiently a few stairs down, clearly just fine with letting me sort through my internal turmoil.

"I'm sorry," I finally forced out, pushing myself up higher. "I can't–"

"Circe?" Seth's voice said from his room, calling out weakly. He was barely ten years old, and it showed in his high-pitched tone. "Are you home already?"

From how the man tilted his head, I knew he heard my brother's words. I felt a pit open in my stomach.

"I promise I won't hurt you or your brother," the masked man said quietly, taking the next few steps up. I instinctually moved backward as he ascended, a dark shadow slowly being covered in light. Once he was near the door, he paused. "I had a brother, once," he said quietly. "I know what you feel."