Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 291: Wretched

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Nico Sever

The early nighttime air was crisp as I stalked through the camp. The stars gleamed balefully down from the heavens, and the thin sliver of visible moon mocked me like a hooded eye.

The soldiers I marched past shied away from me in fear as my aura trailed me like a dread cloak, but I didn't pay them any attention.

Draneeve had come to me a few minutes ago, the mockery of a Retainer throwing himself to his knees as he informed me of Spellsong's most recent actions.

Can't he understand that this is my only chance? I thought angrily, my fingers clenching so hard that my nails dug into my palms and drew blood.

I looked across the massive river fork, my mana churning in my core. The mists swirled and danced with mockery, just like the stars and moon far overhead.

Grey thinks everything is so safe in his little kingdom, I thought with an angry sneer. He's even flaunting Tessia about as if she's some sort of trophy. Those damned Lance tethers are making him cocky and arrogant. But he'll learn soon.

I scoffed, then turned back to my march as I moved through the sand.

It wasn't hard to find Spellsong and Cylrit. Both of them were just outside their tents, gearing up for a long flight. The Retainer, it appeared, had finally woken up from whatever had put him down. He was clothed in light leather armor, appearing far more dignified than his last wretched state. His horns caught the light beneath his ruffled hair. He was stretching and rolling his back as he kept his red eyes turned east, utterly dismissing me. It was as if I didn't exist to Cylrit, even though I was a Scythe.

But Spellsong? Spellsong turned to look at me with those arrogant, assuming eyes of his.

"Scythe Nico," he said, nodding his head slightly. "We were just–"

"Leaving?" I accused, my brows furrowing. "When this chance is right in front of me?!"

Toren sighed. "Yes, we were leaving," he said, his tone straining. "We aren't under your authority, but that of Seris. If you want our assistance with Lance Silverthorn, then you need to talk with her, not us."

My intent billowed out around me as I stopped keeping my power in check. "Talking with Seris will take time; time I don't have. So now that you've recovered, you will follow me across that river to capture Tessia. You don't have a choice, Toren Daen."

"I don't have a choice..." the arrogant mage said, his brow twitching as my power washed around him. "Are you threatening me, Nico?"

I laughed, deep and mirthful. "If that's what it takes for progress, then that's what I'm doing. Agrona gave me the position of Scythe. Not you."

Memories of training with Scythe Melzri stabbed through my psyche like hot needles, surrounded by the fog of the High Sovereign's promises. I'd spent nearly two decades in this purgatory, slowly working towards my final goal to give Cecilia and me a new life, one that wasn't tainted by Grey's shadow. And it could be done soon. Tessia was across that river, and Spellsong could break her tether.

Spellsong. Toren Daen. The phoenix experiment. Agrona had spoken of him a few times, mainly in passing and with a smirk of wry amusement. The High Sovereign had mused on how his aetheric arts and progression of power were unseen amongst lesser mages. Those eyes had sparkled with each word.

But now that I was close to him, I couldn't sense what was so special about him that made Agrona so amused. He was weaker than me, I could tell. Unlike all the Scythes of Taegrin Caelum, his aura didn't wash over me like a tide and stamp the difference of power into my psyche like a brand.