Discordant Note | TBATE

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Aurora Asclepius

Our soul-merger broke.

As the Bloodtie fell away, the beautiful balance of our spirits became null and void. Toren fell to his knees, Soulplume retreating back into his core as the light of his eyes winked out. He heaved for breath, his lungs making ragged, wet sounds. Sweat ran down his skin.

That sweat dripped down, running into the intricate mosaic of Faircity Zhoroa beneath him. Each drop of sweat seemed to refract any light that reached that impossible carving, twisting and distorting it.

I didn't know how to feel. Didn't know what to feel. My spirit and essence both were weary and strained from the balance of Toren and I. I blinked, my vision choppy and slow as I looked up, searching for the help of our clan. My soul burned, and I needed… I needed a balm. Something to ease that pain.

And I found my family recoiling in dismay. All those eyes that had gazed down on us with awe and wonder and hope were now stained with ash and horror.

They saw it, too, I realized. They saw Soleil's Bloodtie.

"You preach and preach about how to help the humans," Soleil said, floating down to the platform. His eyes burned with old grief. "But you don't understand what it means. You can't save every ant from an exterminator when your very boots tear apart their lives!"

"Then you won't even try?!" another voice interrupted. Roa. "Sure, you tried to fight the dragon head on! But Toren said we don't need to battle! We can teach and assist! We know so much!"

"And what would that do?" Aluthar cut in, floating upward as well. One of Soleil's more fervent supporters. "They'd track us down eventually. We can try and try to support as we are, but it all ends the same! The Indraths or the Vritra… they'll make examples of all those who receive our assistance!"

"Then we do it better! Hide it better! I thought you more than a coward, Alu!" another cut in.

Aluthar's eyes flashed with his intent, his skin reddening. "You saw! You saw what happened when Soleil tried to help!"

"And you saw what J'ntarion said!" another echoed.

The noises and arguing built around us as my family rose from their perches, hovering and shouting and clenching their fists. The sound washed around and through my disoriented form as our collective broke into arguments and sharp gestures. Fire mana popped around us as the world twisted in response to their rage.

I blinked, then hazily looked down at Toren. The swells of mana around us… I couldn't feel it. Not really. But Toren–he was gasping for breath, clutching at his chest as his hair clung to his skin. His heartbeat stuttered as the weight of two hundred angry asura closed in on us.

No! I thought suddenly, drifting down and wrapping Toren in an embrace as I tried to bolster his mind against the pervading effects. No, they need to stop! They don't understand!

Toren's mouth gaped, opening and closing as he struggled to draw in air. He slowly drowned beneath the emotions of his own clan.

"Cease your arguing!" I yelled, trying to be heard as I desperately clung to Toren's trembling body. "Please! Stop it! You must!"

My head whipped around desperately, my feathered hair turning as I frantically tried to find someone who could listen. Roa looked about ready to fight with Soleil, but they stared not at me. Aliara and Lithen were so close that I could taste the bloodlust. Diella was rushing about the room, trying to separate who she could, before another pulled her into an argument.

They couldn't see me. Toren's tether had evaporated as his intent broke and now I was but a ghost again. Ignored. Separate. Dead.

They'll kill him, I realized with horrid certainty. They'll kill my son with their obliviousness! They turn their eyes from what is in front of them into their own little worlds!

That knowledge rested in my spirit for a moment, burning like an angry fire. And as the seconds stretched and my chick's heartbeat stuttered beneath me, I felt that flame rise. I opened my mouth, ready to scream and shout and admonish them for their foolishness. For hurting Toren with their folly.

"This is by far enough," a sorrowful voice spread across the Forumground. "This plea is over. Your arguing only hurts those you seek to protect."

My head snapped around. Mordain.

My brother looked at us with sad eyes as he stepped forward. The fire he bore was not one of rising rage and fury, as I felt in my gut. It was a cool, low burning thing that nonetheless drew the attention of all.

Mordain's warm aura encompassed Toren like a blanketing shield, blocking out the smothering waves of my clan's passion.

My son inhaled a ragged, wet breath from where he knelt, coughing as his body suddenly responded to him once more. I hugged him tightly, pressing on his back to better force him to breathe.

In and out, Toren, I thought, measuring his intake as my sole focus became the young bird in my arms. Careful. In and out.

His eyes stared up at me with incomprehension and dreary terror as they blinked, sweat pooling around us. His body was weak and limp in my phantasmal arms.

"You're safe, Toren," I said, trying to be comforting as I brushed his hair from his eyes. "You're safe, alright? It's fine."

He limply raised a hand, taking mine for a moment as he drew strength from it. "The plea," he said with weak, broken breaths. "The plea."

"That's not important right now," I said, hugging him close. "You're safe. That's what matters."

His drunken eyes lolled to the side, staring toward the balconies. Mine followed suit.

Where before the Hearth had been yelling and screaming and ready to hurl fists, now they were silent as a grave. Not even the crackling of fire could be heard as each member of our clan seemed to understand what exactly had just transpired.

Mordain still stood before us, his aura sheltering and warming. He stared up at the rest of our clan with a face that looked older than Geolus itself.

"This plea is over," he repeated. "We are a flock of doves, not vultures. Do not let your talons tear into those around us."

Roa stared down at Toren's body in mute horror. Soleil looked away.

I watched on as Mordain held out a hand to either side. Like the scales of justice, his hands opened in an almost benevolent way. "Burn your feathers now," my brother ordered, a rare note of… anger rising in his chest. "Cast your votes."

The ground around the stage shifted, and two pillars rose. Atop them, two nests of woven silver vines and autumn leaves grew as if from thin air. Each glistened as if held in the palm of a god. My brother stepped aside as he let the options show to our clan.

On the right was salvation. On the left, destruction. One for, one against.

Toren coughed weakly, the sound echoing and reverberating through the stadium. His trembling body shook as he tried to stand, but it gave out on him before he even managed to get his feet out under him.

"Need to stand," he said, his eyes widening. "If I can't stand, then they'll… they'll let it fall."

I understood what he meant. I understood deeply his intent, the knowledge that if Toren could not stand, then our plea would fail. If a lesser could not stand beneath the weight of the Asclepius aura, then there would be no hope for intervention.

The phoenixes of our clan slowly drifted down, feathers appearing in their hands. I could see in their eyes that many wanted to rush forward, to tend to my son. But shame held them back. Fear held their tongues.

Soleil was the first to cast his vote. He stared down at Toren's kneeling form, his brow scrunching and his bearded face twisting with his unique brand of cowardly sorrow.

He placed his feather into the nest to the left. The one that denied us. Though all the other phoenixes of the Hearth could not see me, I knew the old warrior could if he tried. Yet as he laid the first brick in a monument of despair, he acted as if he could not. His eyes roamed past me as he masked his guilt. And he walked to the left, standing in defiance of all that I was.

And that fire in my gut reignited. That ember that had been extinguished since my capture in Taegrin Caelum. That fury and drive and power that saw me sing began to rage against the confines of my spirit, fueled by the very cowardice of those I called my flock.

"We will see you stand," I said, half a vow and half a curse. "You will stand before them, my son."

My hands snaked under his arms, holding his sides tightly. His robes were drenched entirely through with sweat as another stepped forward.

Diella. Toren stared into her eyes as he gritted his teeth, struggling to move. He shifted, moving painfully slowly.

She saw his resolve, saw the clench of his teeth. And she placed her feather in the nest to our right, her coal-dark hair seeming to brighten as she did so. She stepped to the right, placing herself in silent support.

More came as Toren finally raised a single foot. His will and drive screamed across our bond as I supported him, gave him a source of power and drive.

One for. One against. Two for. Three against. One for.

The numbers continued, racing like stallions to the finish line. Feathers lined the nests in glistening orange waves as time pushed on.

This is just like with that wretched vicar, I thought to Toren as he planted his feet. More and more of our family streamed by, solemn eyes staring at his struggle. Some saw its worth. Others saw futility. We will stand despite what they think, Toren. We will stand!

One foot planted. Toren's boot burned itself into the marble of the Forumground. His consciousness winked in and out, threatening to fade. But the light of my soul kept him present.

Sundren and Lithen voted true. Aluthar did not. More and more continued on.

Toren began to rise, his knees trembling and shaking beneath the strain of lingering intent.

And it was almost over. Ninety-nine for. Ninety-nine against. Our lives balanced on the brink as the final voter stepped forward.

Aurora of the Vine, named in my honor. Roa's face was wrought in a mask of guilt and sorrow as she stood between the paths, her feather clutched close to her chest. On either side, near a hundred asura watched in grim silence. Her will would decide the fate of our clan. The fate of our world.

"You can stand up, Toren," she whispered, clutching that feather close to her chest. Tears blurred the edges of her vision. "Please."

Toren's jaw clenched so hard that his teeth cracked. The pain of it sent startling clarity through his soul, pushing away his fatigue. The trembling of his leg ceased as the attention of our clan focused on this final gambit.

Toren's mana pulsed around him, thrumming through his body in strengthening waves. And with my arms at his back, he began to slowly rise.

It was a slow thing. Something in Toren's spirit had been strained by the weight of my clan's intent, but it was not enough to keep him down.

That is right, Toren, I thought as I felt the burning of his muscles. The ache in his core. You are Asclepius. Even with the physique of a human, you can stand beneath the gods. Show them all.

He rose, pulling his shoulders back as he stumbled, nearly toppling. But he looked Roa in the eye, his hazy consciousness solidifying as he faced this hurdle.

Roa's trembling lips began to shift into a relieved smile as Toren finally stood, his intent proud and defiant. She moved her feather to the side, ready to place it in the rightmost nest. Because men could live beneath the auras of the gods. Because there was a path forward. Because–

Toren's mana finally winked out. I felt it first in his soul, the exhaustion he carried deep in his essence traveling down his spirit and into his Vessel. His core gave one, final heave.

And he fell forward, his mind abandoning him as he succumbed. Blackness overrode his mind like shadow.

I failed to catch him. I moved forward, trying to slow his fall. But the sound of his body crashing against the stone platform was louder than any sound spell he had ever created as it reverberated through the Forumground.

My phantom eyes slowly traced up to the woman who was named after me, hoping against hope.

And I found my hope extinguished as she stared mutely down at my son's body, a mirrored despair in her soul. Those tears finally streaked from the edges of her eyes.

Never taking her eyes from Toren, she placed that final feather in the leftmost nest.