[Severed Divinity] 91. Blood Song

Isen barely had time to blink before Stelia tugged his arm down as she knelt. Isen’s leg pressed uncomfortably against the ice, which was freezing even through the leather plates protecting the knees of his pants. It was an unnatural cold, bone-deep, resisting his tempered body’s defenses. Isen stole a glance at Stelia and noticed she seemed fine, probably courtesy of her fire affinity.

His mind worked to process the revelations of the past second. He was kneeling before the sovereign of Dray.

And Welco was here, meeting with it.

Welco had clearly lied about sending his main body back to escort his clan out. But what was his angle? The shadow mage had clear incentive to safeguard the queen and facilitate her recovery, so Isen didn’t think this was a betrayal. Moreover, the shadow puppet had tried to steer them away.

More likely, Welco was tying up loose ends.

Isen studied the northern beast, its body long and limber like a cross between a snake and a fox, or maybe even a weasel. It was breathtaking in its size and splendor—it truly felt like a god in a way that the violet-eyed woman and Erasmus hadn’t.

Isen had no doubt it could kill him with a thought. Its aura was all around him, the cold numbing his skin. He realized with alarm that it even made it hard to cycle—everything was sluggish, even the energy within him, passing through his hollow rings and circulating through his meridians.

Would the aura worsen Lumina Eldrassin’s condition? It seemed likely. So why did the sixth sense bring me here?

Isen didn’t speak. None of them did, not Stelia, Welco, nor Allezin. They waited, as though the moment were frozen, and speaking would cause it to crack.

“They wish to pass through the Lowerdeep out of Eldrassin, taking the way you’ve already cleared,” Welco said, finally breaking the silence. 

The beast didn’t show any reaction. It just stared, unblinking. “None shall pass. The way is sealed.”

That wasn’t encouraging. Welco stood like a statue. “Surely, unsealing it is within the Anarch’s means.”

“They are your allies and servants, not mine. It is a courtesy I have not killed them for intruding, and killed you for being presumptuous.”

As they spoke, Isen’s brain put more of the puzzle together. Monsters cannot be mages, as far as I know, he recalled. He wasn’t sure when it came to drayavin, but their physical strength and low intellect predisposed them for cultivation. The tier threes Isen had encountered—the winged drayavin in Shevenar and Celavee—seemed intelligent enough, but both were cultivators.

Welco appeared to be the only Eldrassin tier three to ally with Dray. He had immense utility as a shadow mage, bringing abilities to the table that no cultivator could boast, like shadow puppets. He might be the Anarch’s best shot at coordinating with its subordinates and accomplishing its goals.

Isen’s mind raced through what he knew about the tier four’s objectives. There was really only one: like everyone else, the Anarch wanted Lumina Eldrassin’s prototypes. It didn’t actually want to kill other tier fours like Devon Aran, did it?

The divine beast definitely couldn’t know that Allezin had the prototypes. If it did... it would kill all of them and seize the queen’s creations for itself. No—Welco must have covered his ass by selling the divine beast on a lie. Isen guessed he’d blamed everything on the Aranites. It was plausible—the agents who had killed Celavee could have taken the cosmovault and obtained access to the queen’s palace, absconding with the prototypes.

Regardless, they were walking on the edge of a knife by being in the Dray Anarch’s presence. It was a monster and wouldn’t normally think twice before killing them.

Maybe the sixth sense bringing him here was a mistake. Maybe the divine beast would let them go because of Welco.

But it can’t be a mistake, Isen thought. What are we missing here? The cold continued to seep into his body... and into Mira’s fragile form. He could feel warmth radiating from Stelia, protecting the queen, but it felt inadequate, like a candle in a blizzard. Uncertainty and fear rose in his chest.

Why wasn’t Allezin saying anything, or Welco? Several beats of painful silence had already passed.

“You,” the Anarch suddenly said. Its body shifted, fur rippling as though combed by the wind. A massive tail darted Isen’s way. A stinger of ice extended from the soft fur and thrust up under Isen’s chin, forcing him to meet the beast’s massive, glowing eyes.

Isen’s breath hitched. Icy cold emanated from the spike, and he could swear it was freezing the blood in his neck. He felt lightheaded. And a distinct sense of déjà vu.

“A beast has accepted you,” it continued. “Its blood sings in you, muted but potent—I hear its song. So soft...” Its voice thrummed through the ice. “Familiar.”

Isen only had eyes for the beast, who had come in close, one large eye facing him less than five feet away. Fur encompassed him and Mira. He heard Stelia’s cry as the elf was pushed away, leaving him alone with the queen fixed to his back. He didn’t know how long she would last without Stelia’s warming magic.

Despite the heightened danger, the sense of opportunity surged, overshadowing Isen’s doubts and fear. His hand rose to his chest, over his heart. Each heartbeat was slow, powerful, but full of struggle, fighting the freezing aura.

“You share a bond with Rosophilus?”

Isen fought to control his expression as shock coursed through him. “Yes.” The word felt so small, so insufficient, but it was all he could say with the tier four’s pressure weighing on him. The divine beast knew Ros. Surprise warred with sardonicism. Is it really so surprising? Ros must have come from somewhere before descending into the Depths. Other powerful monsters might know its name.

But this was more than just name recognition. The Dray Anarch had recognized Ros from the all-but-undetectable blood bond.

“What is Ros to you?”

He almost said master, but the sixth sense stilled his tongue. It wasn’t really true. Ros wasn’t his master. What once had been a bond born of mutual benefit was now one of affection and loyalty.

Nothing felt adequate to convey the complexity of their relationship.

“Kin,” Isen finally said.

The divine beast’s eyes flashed. Isen felt a burning sensation in his torso, like a fire so hot it was cold. His heart stopped. Tears beaded at his eyes, immediately freezing. They hung like gems on his eyelashes.

The cold fire spread from his core into his meridians. Isen wanted to scream, but couldn’t, his body unresponsive.

But somehow, it felt beneficial. Like tempering.

“Listen, child,” the Anarch said. “Listen to the song inside you.”

Isen tried, but he couldn’t hear anything. It must’ve been a metaphysical song, one that Isen had no idea how to perceive.

“Close your eyes.”

Isen did. His flowing tears froze his eyelids together. He suddenly remembered the last time he saw Ros, when they’d formed the bond. Ros had said those exact same words—close your eyes. Clear your vision completely. Cycle. Sense the blood in your veins. See if you can sense mine.

Cycle.

It felt like forcing shards of glass through withered lungs, but Isen forced the ambient energy into his frozen core. The pain of the beast’s aura was compounded by the soreness of his meridians, still damaged from the previous night’s battle.

Sense the blood...

His blood felt like it was both on fire and freezing, his every artery and vein stark in his perception. He didn’t think that was what Ros had meant, though. The Anarch said to listen to a song within... a song of blood, circulating in his body.

He let everything fall away, into that cold stillness of the divine beast’s freezing domain, into the darkness of the Lowerdeep.

And within the stillness, he sensed it. The thinnest ribbon of elseness inside. It refused to bow to the cold, moving stubbornly through his veins, keeping a constant rhythm.

The stifling cold receded. Isen gasped, finally able to breathe, his heart pumping rapidly. He could sense something new—not quite a song, like the divine beast described it, but a steady rhythm, like a drum beating far in the distance, faint but present.

He knew without being told that it was Ros. Ros’s heart, or perhaps its consolidated core. He shifted his head and the thrumming still sounded from the same direction.

So this is why Ros was so confident it could always find me if we became separated, Isen realized. The blood bond functioned like a compass.

At some point, he’d collapsed to palms. His breath came ragged, misting. The Anarch had retracted its tail, allowing Stelia to lay hands on the queen. She wasn’t the only one to approach—Allezin and Welco’s shadow puppet appeared next to him in a swirling disturbance of the ambient energy.

Isen raised his eyes to the tier four reposing in the same spot as before.

“You hear it.”

Isen nodded. “Will you let me go to Ros?”

The Dray sovereign snorted. “You shall remain with me until this undertaking is over. Then, you shall lead me to Rosophilus.”