[Severed Divinity] 95. Questions of Allegiance

Isen’s body was stiff as he jumped from Sumana Laius’s body, his cloak crinkling as he attempted to smooth its jagged folds out. The sixth sense was practically assaulting him with undulations of danger and opportunity, like the aroma of fresh-cut flowers warring with the sharp scent of cold iron, each threatening to overwhelm the other.

Wherever Sumana Laius had brought them, it wasn’t random. Isen felt wound up like a spring, his gaze probing the darkness and finding nothing immediately noteworthy. It was hard to see anything beyond the divine beast’s body, which barely fit in the space. Its flexibility was put to the test, its spine zigzagging like a serpent’s through the passage they’d come from.

Welco landed beside him, the mage garbed in deep shadows. Where the shadows began and his dark robes ended was impossible to tell. His hood covered the upper half of his face, leaving only his nose and mouth visible, revealing a thin, relaxed smile.

Isen had a feeling the patriarch was feeling anything but calm, though. From the one-sided conversation he’d heard on the way over—he could only hear Sumana Laius’s end—it sounded like the beast had caught Welco off-guard with its destination.

It had certainly come as a surprise to know the Anarch’s people—or more accurately, monsters—had been aware of the elven tier four, and had even kept vigil around the woman’s location. Isen had assumed Welco and Sumana Laius were close enough allies that they’d share information like that, but apparently not.

It was good information to tuck away.

Isen didn’t know where they were, but it definitely seemed to be a deserted part of the underground tunnels that stretched beneath the city. The more Isen traveled through them, the more he wondered at their origin—and the origin of the maze-like halls within Lumina Eldrassin’s palace. When the queen had founded Eldrassin City all those thousands of years ago, what had this place been like?

The beast padded silently to the end of the area. Isen could only see glimpses of what appeared to be the top of a dingy staircase behind the monster’s massive form. It peered into the gloom, its spines flexing as it breathed and contemplated its next move. It continued to manifest its aura tight to its body. The resulting chill turned the room into a freezer but didn’t extend further out.

“What are we supposed to do?” Isen whispered.

“For now, nothing,” the shadow mage murmured hastily, his voice tinged with tension. “There’s no way Yvonne has missed our arrival. I cannot sense her presence, but she must be deeper underground.”

From context, Isen figured Yvonne was the violet-eyed tier four from the palace. The memories of the woman’s aura and the jaws of disintegrating electricity that had closed in like an inescapable cage were seared into his mind.

That was when the great beast finally spoke again, its voice shaking the air with a thunderous rumble. “Yvonne Lehal of Shor Mei, I come to you with an offer of temporary alliance. Will you hear me out?”

Isen and Welco shared a look of astonishment, apparent even with only half of Welco’s face showing.

Then, softly, barely audible from where they stood: “I was wondering when you’d make a move, Anarch.” Without any other warning, violet-eyes was at the top of the stairs, her face scarcely a foot away from the beast’s own massive jaws, which filled much of the threshold. There was no fear in her glowing eyes. Black bandages covered her, hiding any lingering damage from the day before.

If the tier fours couldn’t reach a peaceful arrangement and came to blows, Isen and Welco would be hard-pressed to make it out with their lives. Welco’s instincts probably yelled at him to depart, but Isen knew he couldn’t, especially not with the divine beast’s earlier threat. If Welco did anything that could be perceived as a betrayal, Isen reckoned the fallout would be devastating, if not for the patriarch directly, then for his clan. Sumana Laius’s monsters could tear them apart mercilessly if commanded to do so.

Isen figured the violet-eyed elf would recognize them if she saw them, but so far, she hadn’t paid them any mind. Perhaps she couldn’t see them from where she stood, the beast’s form blocking them from sight.

“Arrogant of you to come to me when you’re responsible for me being in this state. I’ve sensed your ilk watching since yesterday, when you stole my bait.” She spoke coldly, and the air began to shimmer around her, striated by black.

Isen sucked in a breath, his heart hammering.

“Your accusations confuse me. You know where Eldrassin’s legacy is.”

Their auras surged, crackling shards raking against stalwart ice in a barely visible storm. Neither tier four moved an inch. Isen sank into the fur of Sumana Laius, rousing his own aura in a feeble attempt to protect himself. The beast’s fur rippled against him, searing cold against his skin. Still, it was better than being subjected to the aura clash in the open.

They’re not even serious, Isen thought. The Sumana Laius’s aura was stronger back in the Lowerdeep. This is nothing more than posturing.

“How curious that neither of us knows where Eldrassin’s legacy is,” Yvonne mused. “I would swear an oath of honesty, if you doubt me.” Her eyes found Isen and Welco then. Her face was obscured by the bandages, so Isen couldn’t read her expression, but he felt a sensation of doom—that Yvonne would reveal that they had seized the prototypes from the queen’s palace.

How could the Dray Anarch consider Welco anything but a traitor if such a truth came to light?

Isen looked at Welco. The elf’s jaw was set, unsmiling. A moment passed—and the Femera patriarch didn’t interject. Isen could empathize—what were they supposed to say in this situation? But they didn’t have a choice. Someone needed to control the narrative, and if it wasn’t going to be Welco, it would need to be Isen.

“It’s a good thing, then, that I know where the legacy is,” Isen said.

Welco pulled his hood back ever so slightly, sending Isen the most intense “what the fuck are you doing” stare the teen had ever seen. It was a great question, since Isen had no idea. Doing what you should be, he thought ruefully.

The Dray Anarch’s only visible eye swiveled back, focusing on Isen. Yvonne peeked over the beast’s body, angling her chin up to get a better look. Her gaze sent a chill down his spine, promising death.

“What do you know?” the Anarch questioned.

Isen moved to speak, only for Yvonne to interrupt. “The boy and the shadow mage there were the ones who stole Eldrassin’s legacy yesterday. Thirteen spherical prototypes stored in the queen’s palace.”

Except there were only twelve, now, since Isen had used one.

The Anarch didn’t react, its great big eye still fixed on Isen. Danger was thick about the room.

Welco finally moved to speak. “August Anarch—”

“I asked Isen.” The statement was absolute. Out of the corner of his eyes, Isen saw Welco flinch. The mage maintained his composure with his head bowed, the hood casting all but his chin in shadow.

Isen breathed in, trying to not show his fear and uncertainty. He locked eyes with Yvonne, then shifted to stare at Sumana Laius. All the while, he felt Welco’s stare on the back of his head. Maybe even a sliver of the mage’s grasping shadowy aura around his jaw. Isen wasn’t sure if it was supposed to mean be careful what you say, which was self-evident, or shut up, which was unhelpful.

Of the two divine existences in the room, the Dray Anarch was the only one who might be neutral toward Isen. Moreover, the Anarch needed Isen to find Ros. Even if Isen spoke wrongly, the monster would probably spare him. Welco… perhaps not. And if it turned on Welco, that likely spelled the end of Clan Femera.

The thought of the clan’s extermination weighed heavier on him than the concept of Eldrassin’s destruction. He'd only been with Clan Femera a short time, but he cared for them. Saving Eldrassin was more a good deed in the abstract. With the clan, I see Jorin, Kelsina, Freyan, Arthum, Lona, Julra, Teacher Conrin… I can imagine them torn to pieces, like the people in Shevenar and that other ruined town on the way.

So it was, staring down Sumana Laius with the future of Clan Femera potentially in his hands, that Isen sank deep into the sixth sense, if he could describe it in physical terms. The fear of misstep drowned him, and the battering waves of opportunity and danger—overwhelming and distracting—faded. A sense of calm came over him and he placed a hand on his chest.

“I wanted to prevent a battle between tier fours in the city,” he said candidly. “To ensure that outcome, I helped send the legacy away, beyond the Eldrassin basin. Beyond the city.”

Silence. Then: “Where is it now?” Its resonant voice carried no trace of emotion.

“North,” Isen replied.

The Anarch released a low rumble that might have been a growl or a laugh. “It was with the tier three you sent away, was it not?”

Isen didn’t rise to its question.

“You’re believing a human child?” Yvonne said. “When I saw him yesterday, he claimed to be an Aranite. It could have been a lie; I cannot say. Which is all the more remarkable given his age and tier.” Her lip curled. “He is a talented liar.”

“If he is an Aranite, then so is Welco Femera,” the beast said. “Welco is slippery, and treacherous… But would he sell out to Devon Aran?” Its pupil shifted, its back spines flexing. “Mm… perhaps.” Welco didn’t show any sign of reaction while the beast returned its gaze to Yvonne Lehal. “But tell me, Yvonne—Welco was not the one who defeated you. There was another with power enough to contest a tier four, and it was not Devon Aran. So who?”

She hesitated. “I am unsure of their identity. Their first strike tore apart my head and ruined my vision. Some kind of light or fire aspect. I suspect them to be a half step divinity.”

Isen had never heard the term before, but it grabbed the beast’s attention. “A bold claim—such individuals are rarer than tier fours.”

“A humbling one,” she replied. “The assailant attacked before I could manifest my aspect.” She paused. “You came to offer a temporary alliance. But given the recent revelations, let’s keep things simple. I’ll assist you in securing the legacy. In exchange, I want peace between the Anarchate and the Elven Lands for the next thousand years.”

“One hundred,” it replied.

“Seven-hundred and fifty.”

“One hundred.”

Yvonne laughed. “Beast, that isn’t how haggling works. Five hundred. That’s the lowest I’ll go.”

They stared at each other. “No provisions for me to save the city from the Aranite?”

“Unnecessary,” Yvonne said, her voice impassive. “Besides, Aran won’t destroy the city. He’ll just… rough it up a bit.”

Just as she said that, the tunnel shook, followed by a powerful, far-off crash.

“What happened?” Sumana Laius asked, its stinger-tipped tail brushing up against Welco’s neck.

“Will you believe anything I say?” Welco asked, voice tense.

“Your fate has yet to be decided,” the beast replied. “Remain useful to us, and perhaps you can earn clemency for your past dishonesty.”

“Us—does that mean you agree?” Yvonne cut in.

“I agree to peace for five hundred years, contingent on me retrieving at least part of the legacy.”

“Deal.”

“Welco—tell us of Aran’s movements.”

“He left the wall,” Welco replied. “He went to the upper level—to the sect plateau.”