Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 285: A Lantern in the Deep

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Toren Daen

The djinni medallion felt heavy in my dimension ring, strangely enough. As I blew through the dungeons like a living shadow, I contemplated the last gift Rinia Darcassan had given to me.

I knew what it was, after all. It was a key to the faraway djinni sanctuary somewhere in the depths of Darv. If I imbued mana into it like those I knew did from The Beginning After the End, I'd see myself teleported there.

But I didn't have the time for questions now. The stones above my head dripped with condensation, each drop of water that struck the black stone ground echoing like a thunderclap. The heartbeats of a dozen prisoners along the upper levels reached my ears in various tempos of despair.

Some part of me wondered how those faceless beings behind bars of iron had landed in their current positions. Had they wronged King Arthur? Were they destitute nobles who had taken the wrong steps in their life, becoming penniless? Or perhaps they were Alacryans like myself, condemned as spies to a life where they would never see the light.

Seris had told me that Arthur had rather methodically cut off her spy network within the castle. I wondered if I would recognize anyone in these cells.

I ignored them. The target of my mission wasn't far away, and now more than ever I needed to keep my entire focus directly on the rescue. Sonar Pulse, my sense for intent and heartfire, the instincts engrained into me from millennia of condensed insight from my phoenix Will kept me sharp as a razor's edge.

The deeper I trekked into the dungeons, the worse the smell became. The upper levels—where I'd left Rinia Darcassan behind—were sanitary and clean. Most of the cells were bright and clear of mold and taint. But the further down I went, the more it began to degrade. A mishmash of unwashed bodies, urine, and fecal matter plagued the air like rot. No longer were the prisoners in any form of health. Just from their heartfires alone, I could sense the tortures and depravities they'd been subjected to.

That slow, gradual change reminded me of the transition between the districts in Fiachra.

Every bit of Alacrya was a prison, of course. But North Fiachra at least dusted and shined their bars, while the further south and east you went, the true rot and rust began to show.

A few guards patrolled the corridors, but they were easier to avoid and drift past. Despite bearing the mantle of dawn, I blended in perfectly with the shadows as I moved like the darkness itself. With Seris' cloaking artifact and my own control of sound and mana, I was practically a Wraith.

I paused at the very end of one corridor, sensing a heartbeat at the furthest reaches. Another guard. And from what I could sense of their mana, he was a silver core, too.

Sonar Pulse told me that he was standing right before a door that led down to the very deepest cells. And I wouldn't be able to pull the same trick with the guard that let me sneak into the castle in the first place.

Right, wasn't there a man that was supposed to guard the dungeons? What was his name again? I asked myself, trying to recall the man who was... The torturer's assistant, wasn't he? What was he called?

I couldn't remember, but I didn't recall Arthur mentioning in that otherworld novel that he was this powerful. It made sense, though, that someone of the low silver core at least would be guarding the single entrance to the deepest pits of the dungeons.

It only took a moment for me to decide on my next course of action.

I blurred forward, rushing toward the mage before he even had time to react. He was big and muscled, and his face looked like it had been crafted from an ill-fitted mold filled with poorly-made cement. I didn't pay the slow rising of his brows any mind, however. Just enveloped us both in a sound barrier, before smoothly sweeping behind his guard and wrapping my arm around his throat.