Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 218: Genesis

​Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Arthur Leywin

When my mind finally clawed itself from the slog of unconsciousness, the first thing I noticed was how much I could feel.

Not in my body–though that felt absurdly heightened, too–but in the world around me. I blinked weary eyes as the sensation of it all–fire, water, earth air, and something even more–pressed against the back of my skull. It was as if I was trying to taste a hundred different flavors at once while simultaneously able to perfectly distinguish them all.

On instinct, I checked my core and...

No longer was the center of my strength a bright silver lined with cracks. No, it was a brilliant, burning white.

The white core–the greatest peak a mage could reach. The highest power possible for a human being.

And I'd done it.

I opened my eyes as I groggily pulled myself to my feet, and had to blink as I took in the doors to the Triunion Council room. Because not only could I feel the mana all around me, each particle like an all-consuming rush of energy, but I could see them too.

Like Realmheart, I realized, still trying to understand what exactly had happened. But not exactly like Realmheart, either–I could see how the red motes of fire mana swirled around the torchlight, eddies of green wind mana carrying blue water mana about in gentle waves as yellow earth mana clung to the ground. But I didn't feel that overwhelming rush of power; of insight. This was simply visualization.

But between the blues and reds and yellows and greens, there was another color, just barely visible. I thought I caught flashes of purple between them all.

Aether, I thought, watching those flickers of purple with wide eyes. Yet I shouldn't be able to–

"You know, I've waited a very long time for this moment," a smooth, feminine voice said from behind me. "And now that we're finally here, you won't even give me the time of day. I'm hurt, Arthur."

I stood ramrod straight, a tingling sensation like innumerable insects crawling down my spine clutching at my bones. I felt a horrid state of wrongness overtake me as those words caressed my ears; so smooth. So confident.

I turned robotically, the room spinning as every single ornament, decoration, and flux of mana seemed to converge on a single being.

A girl watched me from on high, lounging in the centremost chair on the massive table. She appeared to be in her mid-teens, just a bit younger than me–but the aura she projected belied her youthful appearance. Her choppy, wheat blonde hair seemed to shimmer in the light like gold, and the onyx horns stretching from her head drank in every iota of reflected yellow. Any glow that managed to escape the trap of her horns was cast further into oblivion by the deep shades of her dress. The windows far beyond outlined her in the light of the setting sun, making her seem like a dark blot eclipsing a star.

And her eyes–they were red. As red as blood left to dry and pool around a long-dead body.

I knew immediately this was Sylvie. This should be Sylvie. But the way those eyes–each the color of curdled blood–sparkled with quiet mockery was not Sylvie. The way the barest edge of her lips curled up in a knowing smirk showed none of the compassion I knew permeated every ounce of my bond's expressions.

This was not my bond.

And in their hands was a pure, ripe apple, as deeply crimson as a beating heart.