Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 208: Of Lost Souls and Anchor Points

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Tessia Eralith

Arthur always seemed so far away. From the moment I'd met him, I'd struggled–clawed and scraped and heaved my way forward, just for the chance to stand beside him. Yet for every step forward I took, he leapt five, leaving me behind; never granting me the chance to reach his level. To say that I had made it.

And as I cradled his body in my arms–breathing once more, as if blessed by an angel–he felt so small. Not the broad, impossibly strong warrior-mage. Not the Lance, the general, or the quadra-elemental. He was so painfully human. Not the larger-than-life shadow he cast.

He was just... just Art. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his skin as I held on. I was afraid. Afraid to let go. That if I let his body shift, he'd just... vanish. Disappear again, leaving me alone. Leaving me cold.

I stared mutely at Spellsong's back as he limped away, the mage appearing as if he was being carried by someone. And beside me, the words he'd uttered–the strange, nonsensical words–had made Sylvie stumble backward in shock and horror.

"By my grandfather," she cursed. "By all the dragons of the Indrath. Oh, no," she said, curling inward on herself as whatever Spellsong had said rattled her so, so deeply. She sounded scared. I hadn't even known she could speak until recently, but the tremble in her voice sounded so wrong.

"What... What was he talking about?" I asked, my mouth feeling as stuffed with cotton as I clutched Arthur's body. He felt so heavy. I was used to him hugging me, holding me in a way that made me feel safe. But his arms were limp. His smile–which lit up the world and banished the darkness in my life–was a simple pinched line. "What... reincarnation? Second lives? And who is King Grey?"

It had all happened so fast. I couldn't even begin to process it all. After my fight with Spellsong, I'd taken Caria, Darvus, and Stannard up one of the many branching pathways that led up toward the surface from the boss room. Captain Drogo had managed to carve away a small hole through the rubble that had blocked their forward path, and I'd given him a hurried report before using a transmission scroll I kept in reserve to send an emergency message to the Council.

But then I'd felt the explosion of power that seemed to grip the entire dungeon in its icy claws. It had felt like my heart was being seared; that despite my distance, I was standing right next to a star.

And I'd turned back. Against Drogo's protests, against all rational thought, I'd surged back toward where Spellsong and Art battled. I didn't know why: some inborn instinct, part of me knowing that Art needed me. Maybe the foolish, stupid thoughts of a teenage girl. But I couldn't leave Art down below to face that power without me.

And when I'd lowered myself down through the expansive hole in the bottom of the decimated boss room and slowed my fall with wind magic, I'd seen Arthur facing off against that Asclepius hybrid. The levels of power being thrown around had sucked the breath from my lungs, robbing me of any sort of sense. I'd felt doubt, then. As both combatants radiated power fit for the asura themselves, I'd recognized what I was. A foolish, foolish girl trying to make herself seem more important. Bigger; stronger, worthy.

But what was I except a speck compared to such power? How could I ever hope to catch up to Arthur, to stand by his side, when this was the extent of his strength?

And then Arthur had fallen, and every self-deprecating thought in my mind had washed away. I knew it from looking at him, from pulling him to my chest. He was dying, and... and nothing Sylvie or I could do had helped. Those brilliant cerulean eyes of his would go dull and lifeless, like all the soldiers I'd failed to protect.