[The Twining] 34. Unsolicited Advice (Patreon)

[ Double chapter release as an apology for infrequent updates. I'll try to get a Menocht out soon. <3 ]

Shevenar had never been a huge town, though of its original ten thousand or so inhabitants, roughly four thousand congregated by the rear gate. More specifically, in a large crowd beyond the city wall.

Someone—almost certainly Allezin—had cut the serpent in half and moved its massive body to create a makeshift passage toward the exit. The cobblestones were bloody, but all bodies, elven and drayavin, had been pushed aside, leaving the way clear.

Isen watched the last stragglers herd children down the scaled passage, holding hands over their eyes. The youngest, who couldn’t be more than five, cried inconsolably, pressing stubby fingers to his nose to block out the stench of spilled blood and guts.

Isen stood behind Druinala. Lumina Eldrassin was on his right, the girl’s face expressionless. They followed behind the family, watching for any threats, mostly there for psychological support at this point.

The sun was little more than a line on the horizon when they reunited with the others from the caravan. The trio of tier ones who had braved the ruined town as part of the rescue effort had seemingly recovered four of the caravan wagons, though Isen didn’t see the horses. It suddenly made sense why they’d been willing to return to help despite having no obligation.

The members of the merchant caravan didn’t seem to know how to react upon seeing Druinala, Isen, and the possessed Mira approach. Isen could tell that they were uneasy. He wanted to think it was mostly because of Mira, but he suspected it might be, in part, because of him.

The possessed girl’s parents had none of the caginess of the others. They jolted forward upon seeing their daughter, but before they could get close, Lumina Eldrassin’s cold stare froze them in place. They bowed their heads, visibly wilting, and their eyes flitted to the tongue of flame over Druinala’s shoulder. They exchanged a few terse words with the possessed girl in elvish; the queen didn’t bother to translate.

Isen didn’t envy the parents—they’d watched their daughter get savaged by a drayavin, then turned into the vessel of the resurrected queen from a kingdom that wasn’t even their own. They didn’t know when—or if—they’d ever get their daughter back.

Talis suddenly appeared behind the couple. He gave each a compassionate look and spoke slowly and clearly, then placed a hand on each of their shoulders. His injury had been rebandaged, and it was clear he moved with less pain. Isen figured that he’d partaken of the serpent’s blood. Tier three blood was too potent for tier ones to stomach, but anyone present at tier two was allowed to cut into the serpent’s flesh and drink.

Despite Talis’s words, the parents’ expressions seemed to become even more frantic. Their eyes flitted to Druinala, then to Isen, before Talis guided them away.

He returned soon after and rattled something off to Druinala, who just shook her head. Noticing Isen’s questioning expression, Talis said, “I told her to grab some blood if she was injured. She said she wasn’t.”

“What about for her advancement?” Isen didn’t think the divine bear blood had dramatically sped up his ascension to the second tier, but he suspected it made him more powerful than those of his stage normally would be.

“Mages absorb knowledge to learn skills and create enchantments,” Talis said. “Monster blood doesn’t help.”

Not being able to utilize the corpses of powerful monsters sounded like a serious handicap. It did make sense why mages might spend significant amounts of time poring over texts, though. Not that Druinala is doing much reading. He consulted the queen through their mental link. “Is it really as simple as he says?”

“It’s a sufficient enough explanation for your purposes.”

“I think I’m going to take a walk around the perimeter,” Talis announced. “Isen, care to join me?” He gestured for the teen to follow as he walked away, skirting the edge of the crowd. Isen wasn’t sure what the half elf intended, but he followed.

They walked for several minutes. The crowd was thick, impeding their progress. Isen noticed Allezin on a raised platform—little more than a collection of crates—addressing several guards. They were ringed by a gaggle of agitated townsfolk, many of whom were raising their voices and gesticulating at the gates.

They continued walking until the sounds of the refugees became a background murmur. That was when Talis broke the quiet, asking, “How are you doing?”

“I’m uninjured,” Isen said. At least, he was after drinking the tier three blood. “I saw your hand. How about you?”

Talis grimaced. “I’ll live. The snake monster nearly cut off my fingers.” He tugged at one of the bandages, revealing his index finger. A wide, smooth pink scar hugged the digit like a ring. “Mostly healed now, just a bit sensitive.”

“It nabbed me as well,” Isen admitted, his hand moving to his hip.

Talis chuckled. “I know—it launched you across the city.” His laughter fell. “Seriously, though, Isen—who are you?”

Isen felt a buzzing nervousness in his chest. He’d already told Talis that he’d escaped from a lightless place filled with monsters, and that was the only part of his past that felt remotely relevant. He didn’t want to tell him about Legacy, and he definitely didn’t plan to expound upon the sixth sense, not after what he’d learned from Ros about seekers.

“I’m just… me.”

Talis studied him, then sighed. “Allezin has been asking about you. He came to Druinala and me while we helped evacuate everyone.” His expression darkened. “We… didn’t tell him about your little speech at the inn, or how you navigated us through the streets, or how you… I don’t even know what you did by the funeral pyre.” He gave Isen a piercing look. “I don’t know if Allezin, or even the queen, will ask the other elves you helped for more specifics. Probably not, because they underestimate you.”

Isen just stared at him.

“Has the queen asked how you resurrected her from the dead?”

Isen almost fell for the trap. “I never claimed that I resurrected her, and no, she hasn’t asked about anything whatsoever.”

Talis crossed his arms. “You know what I think?”

Isen sighed. “What?”

“She thinks that she’s come back because of her own doing. From her perspective, the thought of a tier two resurrecting a tier four is beyond ludicrous.”

Isen had suspected that Eldrassin had been a tier four before she died, but hearing it confirmed gave him another useful data point on how Legacy’s blessing functioned.

Talis cocked his head. “That’s why she’s confused why there’s a connection between you.”

Isen tried to keep his expression even. “What are you talking about?”

Talis gave him a lopsided grin. “You were speaking to yourself when Mira became possessed, and there have been several instances since then when you and the queen seemed to communicate without exchanging words. I don’t have more concrete proof, but I personally think there’s a connection; you don’t have to confirm or deny it.

“What I do know, unless things have changed since you’ve been evacuating people, is that the queen doesn’t understand what you can do. When we ran through the streets to the rear gate and she took the lead, slaying drayavin, it didn’t feel particularly strange, get it? And your confidence in facing the tier three was noteworthy and exceptionally brave, but…” He trailed off. “Not too abnormal.”

Isen swallowed. They’d already been talking quietly, but he pitched his voice as low as possible. “Talis. What are you implying?”

The caravan guard flicked Isen’s helmet, which was hanging from his belt. “That whatever you may or may not be, you need to be careful.” His gaze became stony. “Do you know what separates an elf from a half elf?”

Isen figured that Talis wasn’t interested in the minor cosmetic differences. “Lifespan.”

“Yes. Half elves live longer than humans but will die unless they advance far enough. But elves… they are blessed with nearly unending lifespans from birth. Elves plan their lives with immortality in mind.” He fixed his gaze on the sun, which was now a hazy circle surrounded by dark purple clouds. “A tier four elf is an existence that never expects to die. One of them did under dubious circumstances. And now… she’s back. Do you think she’ll just let herself slip back into death’s embrace?”

When Isen looked at Talis now, he no longer saw the simple leader of the caravan guards guiding merchants across the elven lands for twenty silver a month. Talis was tier two, same as him, but Isen had only just started his cultivation journey. Talis wasn’t even that old, thirty-one, but that was already double Isen’s age. The guard had seen far more of the world than Isen had.

“The queen might not have a choice,” Isen finally murmured. He thought of the chain mail dress and the possessed girl’s parents. He thought of the flames stolen from the funeral pyre imbued with her spirit.

Disembodied, she watches in agony as the flames come for everything she loved.

Isen had assumed the subject of her love was her kingdom, Eldrassin. Talis’s words implied a darker truth: that the devouring flames that punished her for reaching too far now clamored for the one thing she truly loved—her immortality, and more fundamentally, herself.

Isen rejected that interpretation. Upon resurrecting, the queen had immediately intervened to stop the drayavin. She had faced off against a tier three threat. If all she cared about was herself, she could have taken Druinala captive and left the town for somewhere without danger where she could consolidate her strength uninterrupted.

As with most things, Isen thought the truth probably lay somewhere in the middle.