Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 207: Threading Hearts

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Toren Daen

Arthur plummeted from the sky like a fallen angel, an almost perfect picture of the Dragon from Revelation streaking toward the underworld as they were cast from heaven. As the Lance dared to bend the world to his whims, he was rejected for trying to usurp the true order of the cosmos.

My power retreated as I watched the graceless fall. Resonant Flow slowed as my heart squeezed painfully, the light streaming from my chest simmering away. My hair shifted back to its normal colors as the Unseen World vanished from my view, Soulplume retreating into my core.

I stumbled, almost falling immediately as backlash began to assault my body. Yet familiar hands wrapped under my arms, supporting me and refusing to let me collapse here. Aurora's steady limbs kept me aloft even as my vision doubled and tripled, red tinting everything within my sight. I felt as if my brain had been removed from my skull, stuffed into a blender and mixed with fire, then meticulously poured back into my head.

Arthur's body hit the ground. There was no grand crash; no resonant boom of impact. Just a dull thump as the earth welcomed him into its heartless embrace.

Sylvie's mournful bellow resonated through the cavern as she pulled herself on weak limbs toward her bond's dying form. I felt a strange sense of detachment as my own bond supported me, my fingers twitching limply in an attempt to form a fist.

"Art!" another voice cried out desperately, just as filled with pain. With how weak I currently was, I couldn't dissect intent in the ambient mana. But from the wrenching grief laden in that tone, I was suddenly grateful I couldn't. "Art, no! Please!"

It took my mind a minute to register what it was seeing. Tessia Eralith–her face streaked with tears and horror–was running toward Arthur's body, throwing herself at his bleeding form.

How... How did I miss her? I thought headily, wavering on my feet. Each second seemed to stretch like tar, the pain coursing through my body taking my perception of time and beating it over the head. Whenever I let myself waver, double and triple images of the world overlapped my sight. How is she here? She should've left by now!

"Toren," Aurora said sadly, "we should leave while we can."

My eyes stayed locked on Sylvie as she desperately breathed aether over Arthur's body, attempting to heal him with her dragon's arts. Nothing happened. His dwindling heartfire didn't even react as her energy spread across his body.

"Toren," Aurora implored again, her tone softer. "There's nothing you can do."

"No," I whispered, my lungs feeling like they would collapse inward from simply uttering the word. "No. I'm going to see my consequences through to the end."

I took a shaky step forward. The phoenix shade reluctantly complied as she helped me walk on trembling limbs toward the trio. Sylvie no doubt knew I was approaching, but she didn't turn away from her fruitless task, her tear-laden yellow eyes entirely focused on the body of her bond.

Tessia Eralith, however, turned eyes filled with rage and grief my way as she cradled her limp childhood friend's body in her arms. Yet when she opened her mouth to speak–to berate me, or hurl accusations, or demand I fall on my sword–only a ragged sob tore its way from her throat.

I stared down at Arthur's body, and I knew somehow. Knew it instinctively.

In that otherworld novel, Arthur entered the Third Phase of Sylvia's Will far later in time–and it had nearly killed him, tearing his body apart from the inside. In a bid to save her bond, Sylvie had sacrificed her own body–her physical form–to remake Arthur anew, allowing him to survive.