Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 152: A Symbol

Toren Daen

Seris considered me for a moment, seeming genuinely surprised by my even response. "These people need a symbol, Toren Daen," she eventually said. "A solid foundation from which to rebuild. And there is none better than you."

I looked at the milling people as they nervously went about their tasks. Smoke still seemed to linger in the air, and at every loud sound, more than a few heads snapped to the source in fear. I found myself clenching the horn tighter.

Did I want to be that kind of symbol? Could I even be that kind of symbol?

I understood what the Scythe meant. When in the darkness, there was a power in rallying around a single light. That was what she was trying to create. That was what she would try to make Arthur.

I remembered my speech to Mardeth as I flung him from the sky. The grand proclamations I'd made of where I stood and who I was as I tore him apart. Of how I was the voice of the voiceless; the song for the unsung.

But was I truly? As I stared across the broken ruins of my home, I wondered. I'd failed these people. Perhaps I'd slain Mardeth, but I hadn't stopped the plague. I hadn't been everything I claimed myself to be.

My thoughts snagged on that train of thought. Karsien, Hofal, Naereni... If this city needed a symbol, they were better suited.

"What of the Rats?" I asked numbly. "Naereni, Karsien, Hofal and Wade? They've fought for this city for longer than I ever have. Why are we–"

A single look at Seris' stony expression told me all I needed to know. It was carefully blank, but not in the usual way. There was an almost... reluctant, pitiful cast to her elegant features.

"Oh, no," I said, feeling my face go pale. I stumbled to the side, bracing myself against the window frame. "Are they– are they all–"

"The Rat and his close ascending partner sacrificed themselves to give the Young Rat and your friend, Lord Denoir, a chance at the source of Mardeth's power," Seris said with a solemn note to her voice. "Those lucky few survived, but not unscathed. There have been... complications regarding the Young Rat. Ones that even I did not anticipate."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath shuddering. For the first time during this conversation, I felt Aurora's distinctive touch against my mind. A measuring, comforting warmth that sought to cushion me against the welling grief.

I'd made very few friends in this world by necessity. But the ones I had made were closer than any others.

Images replayed in my mind as if on tape. Hofal's contemplative face as he puffed at a pipe, musing about some old fact of architecture surfaced in my mind. Nearby, Karsien smirked wryly, quietly mocking his friend for his unique tendencies. Yet even the Rat himself listened intently as Hofal told his stories, even adding his own unique flair with his mist and theatric mask.

They're dead, I thought, feeling my heart constrict like a vice. If I were faster, if I had fought Mardeth sooner–

Then you would have been dead, Aurora's stern yet empathetic voice cut across my thoughts like a knife. Without the assistance of your Second Phase, you would have fallen regardless. And the first entrance into that well of power is always the most dangerous. If our purpose had not been united at that moment in the street, it is likely your mind would have been consumed.

So there was nothing else I could have done? I quietly seethed, the ambient mana warping as I struggled to maintain a grip on myself.

Perhaps there was, Aurora allowed. Perhaps there was not. You can never truly know; not without a sure grasp of Fate. And because we do not, we will only drive ourselves to madness questioning our actions.