Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 303: Dust to Dust

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Seris Vritra

Battles had a rhythm to them.

It mattered not what sort of battle it was. Be it one of the mind across a Sovereign's Quarrel board, one of the heart as two grew to love each other, or one of steel as blades parted flesh, there was a rhythm, a tempo that followed each and every movement of the players, moving them inexorably toward a distant conclusion.

When I was young, deep within the confines of Taegrin Caelum's vaults, I had seen this with the inquisitive eyes of a basilisk. I had sensed the puzzle pieces as instruments in a grand production, each one becoming more than the sum of its parts.

And deep within those white testing labs—so sterile to be nearly pungent and offensive in their glaring lack of contrast—I had desired to be the conductor of the grand symphonies. I had seen Orlaeth and Agrona push and pull on those around them with the precision of masters in their craft, and I had seen myself in their place.

I remembered my ambition, decades ago. Not understanding that I was just as much another player on the board, I had wanted to be the one above it all. And once I had become a Scythe, my first steps had been to align the game in my favor.

The symphony of oncoming destruction whirled about me like the eye of a storm as Chul Asclepius stood between me and certain death. The young phoenix kept his offhand extended to the sky, his fingers outstretched, but he did not move as he faced the basilisk. Dozens of soldiers finally remembered their mortality. The stronger ones screamed, fleeing for their lives.

The weaker ones trembled as Chul's aura struggled to protect them from the encroaching shadows.

My remaining hand clenched around the stump of my left arm as I calculated my options. Chul was powerful, absurdly so. But compared to a full-fledged warrior of Epheotus, who would never slow and never tire...

My eyes narrowed as I refined my fledgling plan, realigning and refactoring possibilities. Chul would fight, true... but would he win? And if he didn't...

If he didn't, I would be ready.

Ayana Kothan's visage was one of utter disgust as she adjusted her dislocated jaw, before snapping it back into place. She spat out a tooth, ignoring the blood that streamed from the edge of her lips where Chul's fist had struck her.

"Another half-breed," she hissed, her form rippling. Scales red as blood glimmered beneath her flesh, her features turning slightly more angular. The sunlight glinted strangely off her as something tried to tear its way free from beneath her fleshy exterior, like a miner emerging from the dark. "I will take my time tearing you—"

Chul was already moving, a gale of wind trailing him like a cloak. He bellowed, fire coating his fists. Ayana growled, her fingers elongating into claws as the warrior of the Hearth took the initiative.

Collision.

Fire danced with shadow, and force tore from them that would sunder the greatest of mankind's creations. I didn't see anything more as the eruption of mana threw me from my feet.

I rolled through the haphazard camp again, my senses overwhelmed by pain. I thought I struck my head across a stone, but I couldn't be sure. All I knew was agony. White-hot fire scalded my nerves as dust and heat blanketed my vision, turning my surroundings into a kaleidoscope of movement and dying men. My thoughts—which had been so clear at the moment—scattered again as I was once again imbued with my mortality.

A trailing arc of shadow passed through nearly a score of men before it dissipated. Fire roared in tune with someone's battlecry, and the sound of tearing metal and cacophonous thunder was all I could perceive.