Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 171: A Coincidental Gift

Toren Daen

The large blood iron doors rumbled shut behind me. As they finally closed, all the burgeoning thoughts and emotions and fears I'd been containing throughout that meeting threatened to break free.

I closed my eyes, then took a deep breath. Aurora may not have been here to help center my thoughts, but I needed to manage them anyway.

Agrona's nauseating presence was gone. Though I was still within the jaws of the beast–while within Taegrin Caelum, I would never truly be safe–the High Sovereign's discordant heartfire didn't rattle my bones and disrupt my equilibrium anymore.

My mind jumped through all the events of the meeting room, settling deeply on Nico Sever. He pressed a near-constant aura of discontent and malice into his intent, each pulse showing me exactly what he felt.

And he was powerful. Perhaps the other Scythes dwarfed him in strength, thus exemplifying their distaste for him and his position amongst them. Compared to the others, he was weak.

But strength was relative.

As I'd stared at Nico, sensing the depths of his power, I'd realized something. At that moment, if I threw everything away–my reservations on life, my body, core, and mind–I might be able to defeat the newest Scythe. If I let everything burn in an inferno, there was a chance. Right then and there, I could stop the reincarnation of the Legacy.

I could almost imagine it. Were my blade to free Nico's head from his shoulders, the initial goal I'd set for myself would be completed. The original bindings for my contract with Lady Dawn would see itself complete.

But I'd sobered quickly. No longer was my only goal killing Nico. I wanted to change this world for the better with what strength I could manage. And if I threw everything I had at this Scythe, I would out myself fully and utterly as an enemy of Agrona and his system. And with Cadell by his side while I stepped in the very heart of the serpent's den, there would be no possibility for me to even strike him down.

So I watched, and I waited.

The hallway outside the meeting room was lined with paintings, each depicting scenes of war. Unlike Seris' office in the Bloodstone Elixirs' headquarters, these artistic renditions didn't show the brutality of battle.

No, they showed glory. Glimmering armor and resplendent horns adorned the bodies of the fighters in frame. Black fires, deep shadows, and caustic mists highlighted each of their victorious positions. Sometimes it was over many enemies. Sometimes it was over a single one.

But each and every painting depicted a victor and a loser.

My eyes settled on the two paintings closest to the meeting room. In one, a Vritra-blooded man in thick, leather armor the color of midnight scales hefted a war axe that dripped with blood. His horns stretched forward from his head like those of a ram, long black hair accentuating his snarling visage. He radiated pride and power as dark fire flowed from every orifice, another mage broken beneath his boot. The loser's horns were chipped and shattered, their face a mask of despair.

The inscription read, Scythe Kelagon of Vechor defeats his predecessor, Scythe Neghal, in single combat.

I pulled my eyes away from the menacing red eyes in the painting, bloodlust and battle frenzy portrayed perfectly on the still canvas. The next image sent a chill through my bones.

I recognized Seris' features in the painting. Her sharp, attractive face with hair of liquid pearl. The same horns stretched from her forehead like an impala's, but the demented sneer plastered on her face and condescending cast to her onyx eyes sent shivers down my spine. Black blood sprayed across her elegant face, tainting it with darkness. Her arms were bare in this one, too, revealing a network of serpentine tattoos that vanished beneath dark robes at her shoulders.