[Severed Divinity] 67. The Aranites

She was unmistakably a drayavin—and given her calm, deadly demeanor and obvious intelligence, Isen guessed she was a tier three.

Isen couldn’t hear from so far away. He hesitated for a moment, then proceeded closer. He considered invoking shadow cloak, but wasn’t sure if it would actually shield him. Maybe the monster woman could perceive energy like the monsters of the depths.

“Isen,” a voice suddenly sounded in his head, as familiar as it was unexpected. “What are you doing?”

At the queen’s voice, Isen felt a sense of relief. He still didn’t fully understand why he’d followed Welco’s people to the drayavin woman. Maybe Lumina could shed light on what was happening.

“I’m here to help.”

Lumina was silent for a second. “I’ve been tracking Celavee—the drayavin woman—since yesterday. I presume these two are agents of Welco’s.”

“Yes.”

“You tracked them here from Clan Femera?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “Can you hear their conversation?”

“I can.” Suddenly, Isen heard the distant exchange, though it was all in Lumina Eldrassin’s mental voice.

“—found another way inside, but your patriarch must assist personally for us to have a chance at success.”

“He’s already helped enough,” another voice responded, delivered with a different inflection. “He smuggled your brood inside, not to mention his efforts on your behalf beyond the city’s walls.”

Isen saw the serpentine woman’s lips crack into a too-wide smile, a blue forked tongue curling over her teeth. “What does he want in return for his... more direct involvement?”

“If any prototypes that work for mages, rather than cultivators, are found, he wants first choice to pick two of them.” For them to have an answer ready meant that Welco had predicted this turn of events.

“Hmm... He shows restraint. Wise. I accept those terms on behalf of the Divine Beast.” The drayavin flinched, then hissed. “We aren’t alone.”

Isen’s entire body tensed, his stomach rising to his throat. How—?

“Not you, or me,” Lumina replied, her thoughts rushed. “Aranites. Run! Do not let yourself be discovered.”

Isen watched wide-eyed as four people sprung from the surroundings. Isen hadn’t seen them at all—they’d cloaked themselves, but in a way that either didn’t use magic or didn’t leave a visible trace of energy. Their clothes were odd, shimmering and shifting in the light, making it difficult to see their forms. Their heads were fully covered, not even allowing for eyeholes.

“Allezin was supposed to be tracking the Aranites—these people are formidable to have evaded him.”

“Do you need help?” Isen asked as he stalked back over the rocks. “Can you escape on your own?”

“I’m not in danger where I am.”

He stole a glance at the fight. The drayavin was all tail and claws, her fangs bared in a rapturous grin that hinted at insanity. She fought two of the newcomers, their blows powerful enough to push her back.

Were the assailants both tier threes?

Welco’s agents each engaged with their own threat. The woman withdrew a one-handed saber from her back, slashing it at her opponent. When he dodged, she swerved her fingers toward his face, the tips pitch black with potent energy. He responded with a strike of his own, his arm glowing with dark green aspected energy.

The other shadow cultivator sent out a blast of shadows and spun around his opponent, a slight cultivator who dual wielded daggers. Her clothes made her a specter in the dark, slipping through the moonlit environment and the mist alike without leaving much trace. Just when her daggers came in close to the shadow cultivator’s throat and chest, shadow energy erupted around him, empowering a barrage of thin needles.

Welco’s agents fought to kill, not to flee.

Isen was seriously questioning why the sixth sense had brought him here in the first place if Lumina Eldrassin had already been spying on the meeting.

Suddenly, the world shook as the drayavin woman roared. The earth fractured around them as her tail split rock and the two tier threes’ blades followed up on the damage, sending dense furrows of green, corrosive energy into the night.

Isen lost his balance as the ground shifted. He landed gracefully, but watched in horror as a large chunk of rock cracked and fell from the cliff leading into the gorge. That was only the beginning—more energy rocked the night as the tier threes engaged in a primal dance of martial might.

“Isen,” Lumina said, “go.”

He bit his lip. The sixth sense was telling him the opposite. Stay. Not even to fight—just to observe. To wait.

“I’m surprised you care so much for me,” Isen mused. “Tier twos aren’t rare. I’m not deluded enough to believe I’m special.” He didn’t fully believe those words—he was at least a little bit special—but still, compared to a tier three, he was just unrealized potential. Sometimes she seemed warm and personable around him, like when they’d made their makeshift armor together. Other times, like when they’d discussed Isen’s master... she felt exactly like she was. An imperious, aloof high-tier.

“I prefer to prevent deaths where I can,” Lumina replied.

Isen ducked into the gap between the fallen boulder and the cliff leading toward the populated part of the lower level and returned his focus to the fight. A nervous flutter remained in his stomach and his hands itched to act. He palmed the Shard of Erasmus.

“What do the Aranites want, ambushing them here?”

“To assassinate Celavee. Dray’s tier threes are all strong and inclined to violence. Sending two tier threes to deal with Celavee is a statement.”

“Why now? Why her?” Isen wondered, not necessarily expecting an answer. There was a reason he was here... He just needed to find out what it was.

Lumina couldn’t answer him.

“Do we want Celavee to die?” he asked. He didn’t ask about Welco’s people. “Will her death further your plans, or hinder them?”

“Her death will help the Aranites, who are proving to be a larger concern.” He heard her mental sneer. “If I were at my full strength, I’d end them all with a wave of my hand. Little rats invading my city.”

“... Is what they’re trying to find... real? Your legacy?”

“Hmph. To an extent.”

While conversing with the queen, Isen’s mind had raced through possible motives on the part of the Aran Empire. Why had they attacked now?

He suspected the reason was twofold. First, Celavee usually didn’t reveal herself. They wanted to kill her. Second, it wasn’t just that they wanted her dead—the drayavin woman had something they needed. Perhaps a physical object... or a key.

After all, unless the tier fours had arrived, a tier three like Celavee was as powerful an existence as any.

The explanation also explained Lumina Eldrassin’s presence. She’d been watching the drayavin woman, not Welco’s people. It was because the drayavin had something even Lumina needed to access the locked down workshop, or wherever it was that held her legacy.

“If the Aran Empire cultivators kill Celavee, what happens then?”

“I kill Allezin,” she said darkly. “That... was a joke. Mostly.” She paused. “It would be unfortunate. We would need to think through the best course of action.”

Isen was leaning towards his theory being correct. Celavee had something Lumina needed.

Isen continued to watch the shoreside battle. The tier three fight was terrifying—they all moved so quickly, and their strikes lashed the earth and sent up geysers of water. He had to admit, it was the perfect place for a fight. The roaring falls drowned out most of the conflict, even if the collapsing rock had momentarily overwhelmed all else. And the distance between the base of the falls and the residences near the cliff was significant—probably because nobody wanted to live so close to the constant noise.

Thirty seconds into the fight, there was a qualitative shift when the female shadow cultivator dealt her opponent a mortal blow. She joined her partner, and the other tier two Aranite fled. The action struck Isen as cowardly, but he understood it.

“The Haunt must have sent his best,” Lumina’s mental voice murmured. “I wonder where he is now...”

Rather than fleeing back to the clan, the two shadow cultivators turned their gazes on the raging conflict between Celavee and the Aranite tier threes. By now, Celavee’s body was covered in corrosive wounds and there was a grotesque, weeping gash over her chest that had almost severed her breast.

The Aranite tier threes were in better shape overall, though one looked much worse off. The drayavin’s claws had scored a ferocious blow on his head, tearing the all-encompassing mask. For the first time, Isen wished the shadow sight technique worked for him—energy perception allowed him to perceive the world without expending energy, so it was a far superior ability overall, but it was a picture based on the flow of mist. It wasn’t good for distinguishing facial features.

Still, under the hazy moonlight, Isen could see the Aranite was a youthful human with dusky skin, youthful, with a hawk-like nose and caustic, glowing green eyes. He seemed unbothered by the unhealing gashes, even as they bled profusely, flooding his eyes and mouth.

Isen’s hands tightened into white knuckle fists as the shadow cultivators approached the tier three engagement. Did they have a death wish?

Before they could get closer, a palpable weight emanated around the drayavin woman. It felt like... blood, water and blood. Thirst. Power.

Even at a distance, Isen recognized it as the same kind of aura that Allezin and the winged drayavin woman had released near the end of their fight in Shevenar.

“What kind of power is that?” Isen asked, entranced. The Aranites matched the drayavin woman’s aura with ones of their own. Isen could swear that they overlapped, synergizing to produce an even more potent aura, one of venom and acid, and the dissolution of reality.

It wasn’t looking good for the Anarchate’s tier three.

“Aura intent,” Lumina said. “Sometimes called killing intent, when used for violence.”

“Can tier twos learn it?”

A second passed before she replied. “It isn’t impossible.”

“What about mages?”

Her mental chuckle resounded. “Of course. I have an intent, but Mira’s body is unable to handle it.”

With the auras unleashed, the shadow cultivators were forced to brace themselves under the weight of the three killing intents. They were utterly beneath the tier threes’ notice.

Suddenly, Isen noticed two other figures sneaking through the rocks close by, clad in the same shifting material as the other Aranites. They pulled out bows and smoothly nocked arrows, aiming them at the shadow cultivators.

Isen’s nails bit into his palms. Too sharp for their own good, they drew blood.

You said you wouldn’t get attached, he told himself. You’re a hostage. You’re not part of Clan Femera. You’re going to learn what you can, then you’re going to leave. You owe them nothing. You don’t care.

You can’t afford to.

“Isen, what are you doing?” Lumina’s voice asked, alarmed, as he stripped off his boots, then his socks. Now all that was visible of his sect uniform was his pants, but they appeared truly generic, without any identifying features.

He hadn’t come here to watch a tragedy.

The sixth sense redoubled in intensity as he darted from the rocks and activated shadow step.