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Toren Daen
Another figure of flame slowly coalesced across from the Ascender. The little figurine of fire affected a severe and calculated air, her chin turned up and a mask covering her face as well. The Sorceress stared imperiously at the Ascender as they faced each other.
"Now, those among you in the crowd probably think you know where this is going," I said, sparing a glance up at the watching audience, "it's a really, really basic story, I guess, as far as these sorts of things go. But I implore you to listen anyway."
The Ascender–formed of solid fire and burning brightly–went through a dozen familiar martial forms. Little figurines of flame popped into existence, mirroring aether beasts as they charged at the man of heat. The spectacle was something to behold.
Barth's control of his golems was supernatural, clearly honed over many decades to a precision point. When I watched him control them and make his little play, I wondered if he was a silver core mage from the level of skill.
But I? I was a white core mage. The world itself rushed to respond to my barest whims, and organic casting was beyond instinctual. This showed clearly in the great dance of the Ascender as they wielded a thin saber of plasma, striking out and felling aether beast after aether beast. Slowly, my little demonstration grew in size and scope, extending out past the little field Barth had conjured. The figures grew and grew as the awestruck crowd stepped away from the solid constructs, each nearly lifelike.
The earth rose a bit from the ground, creating a slight stage as someone else used their magic. I shot a thankful look at Barth. His grin was so wide you'd thought he'd just won the lottery as he watched me flex my skills.
He really does love stories, I thought, sensing his intent in a way I never had been able to before. I'll have to make this one worth remembering.
"The Ascender was a master of the blade and deadly with his magics," I finally said, allowing my voice to travel with a touch of sound magic. "There was no beast he could not kill; no monster that could bar his path. Up and up and up he went, as all ascenders do, through the Relictombs."
A tower of fire rose from the cobblestones, twisting and winding as I exerted my will over the forming energies. It rose like a spear to the heavens, drawing gasps of awe and surprise from all present. In tune, almost without having to ask me, Barth conjured his own tower within my fiery construct, giving it definition and detail I couldn't manage with my flames. We worked together, he and I, in this little display of showmanship.
"In Alacrya, we don't have dungeons," I said, stepping out from behind Barth's little stand and toward the stage. It was around three feet off the ground, and the tower on top stretched to nearly four times my height. "Instead, we grind our mettle against the unending challenges of the Relictombs. To fight and battle within brings glory to your Blood, and one hones their edge and prowess through countless trials."
I couldn't exactly model the Relictombs, seeing as how they were a nigh endless connection of pocket dimensions linked together: but a tower seemed fitting. And considering the awe-struck intent of the mages around me and the enthralled looks from the many people I was performing for, I assumed I was on the right track.
With the barest iota of will, the Ascender figure—just about as tall as my shins—stepped into the tower of earth and fire. Little applications of sound magic mimicked the roars of beasts and the clashing of steel inside as the conjured puppet rose and rose, the windows of the circular tower flickering with mimed spellfire. I absorbed the gasps of the crowd as I stood off to the side, sensing more and more people crowded around. Barth gave a throaty chuckle as he moved to stand beside me, two performers moving as one.
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Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE
Fanfiction(Part 2/3 of Discordant Note) (Part 1: https://www.wattpad.com/story/352240540-tbate-discordant-note) Toren Daen entered the Central Cathedral feeling hope, ready to challenge the High Vicar and prove his soul. He left it broken, his wings sun...