Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 119: The Song of the Storm

Beta Read by Infinity21

Toren Daen

I walked up onto the stage. A harsh wind whipped at my hair, the cool end-of-winter draft biting at my skin like a savage beast. You don't get to have this, the air seemed to say. You are helpless before the tides of nature. Nothing. A speck.

Thunder rumbled overhead, a sign of the sky's anger as it preluded a storm. I glanced at the deep, dark clouds far above. They still mocked me. But the sky was the domain of the phoenix. The rumbles of the world would not cow me.

I looked over the small stadium in front of me. Two hundred feet of seats thrust up from the earth were like statues awaiting a declaration of war. My eyes scanned over the viewers, scattered across the even layout of the fields. Some were getting up to leave.

Most of those people were of noble houses, and I could recognize a few of the house symbols. They nervously watched the sky, tension rippling through the air. They feared the rain. And why wouldn't they?

A few mages turned as I stepped onto the stage. A slight glance told me that they were among the stronger men present, but they hadn't seemed to notice me. They were too intent on leaving. On escaping the coming downpour.

Along the farthest sides, several East Fiachrans shivered in their clothes, watching nervously.

This isn't just for me, I thought, spotting Greahd in the crowd. It's for these people as well. So they won't be shunned.

I couldn't let them leave without a show.

I pressed outward with a flex of my will into the ambient mana, the wind stilling itself as I imposed myself into the air. For an instant, the storm clouds overhead seemed to hesitate in their predilection of doom. The world knew. It knew that the sky above was mine.

The milling mages stalled, their heads turning as one to regard me. A few reached hands to their weapons, clearly feeling threatened by my display. A few looked affronted that I'd drawn them from their escape. Some watched me with calculating gleams in their eyes. Their gazes brushed past me as I held myself firm.

Look to me, my intent conveyed. I am a blot of white on a canvas of black. You can't ignore me. The contrast will not allow you.

My aura was not that of violence. It was more akin to an explosion of paint in a room full of well-dressed men. Bright colors, ringing bells, drawing attention and standing out. No matter how hard one tried, they wouldn't be able to ignore it.

That aura. I took it, molded it in my hands, and imposed it onto the world itself.

Aurora's clockwork form expanded its wings, screeching into the air. Its echo reverberated through the dark sky, voices and demands stilling as the cry cut through it all.

Everything was still. The calm before the storm; the instant between a lightning flash and a sonic boom. I took a deep breath, feeling my nerves clash inside. All eyes were on me.

"You don't know me," I said, my voice spreading through the stadium. "But I am Toren of Named Blood Daen," I said, allowing my reborn sigil to stand proudly on my chest. "And today was supposed to be a day of music."

"What are you thinking," a voice called out, "trying to stop us from leaving when a storm is coming? And we know you, Daen. Why else would we be here?"

My attention, along with the majority of the crowd, shifted to the man who had made the outburst. His clothing was impeccable, his short, dark hair slicked back. A familiar symbol was plastered onto his coat. A Jasper.