Chapter 6 – Ascendant

Pillars the width of three men upheld the vaulted ceiling of the hidden chamber, so vast that the distant torches seemed like constellations lost in a sky of stone. The floor shimmered beneath intricate mosaics—gold, lapis lazuli, jade—and the marble yielded only the faintest whisper as Ranann’s boots brushed across it.

Advancing a few paces, he caught sight of a display case: no visible traps, no crouching men in wait. The black velvet draped over it devoured the torchlight, opening a dark void in the middle of the hall.

Ranann approached with measured steps, regarded it for a moment, and tore the cloth away in a single pull. Within rested the Magnus Stone, no larger than his hand. He leaned close enough to mist the glass with his breath.

He smiled—a cold line that was born and died before the next heartbeat.

A dagger flashed beside his neck, but Ranann’s hand moved first, catching the blade between forefinger and thumb, halting it mere inches from his jugular. The metal trembled, betraying the force of its throw.

Footsteps approached, accompanied by a woman’s voice.

“I’m sorry, but the tower is not receiving visitors at this time.”

It was familiar. Too familiar. The steps halted. Ranann did not answer. He did not move. His mind mapped escape routes: the pillar to his left, the display case as shield, three strides to the door.

“Raise your hands and turn around slowly. If you attempt anything unusual, I won’t hesitate to use my bond to end you.”

Ranann obeyed, the dagger still trapped between his fingers. As he turned, his suspicions were confirmed: it was her—the same guard from the gatehouse.

“I knew it the moment you appeared at the gates,” Seryth continued, drawing nearer. “I knew you were hiding something. But I never imagined your charade reached such heights.”

“Curious,” said Ranann. “Of all my deceptions, this one deserves honors. I must admit, I did not expect to cross paths with you again so soon.” He inclined his head slightly. “Unfortunately, our reunion will be brief. I have urgent matters to attend to. Don’t take it personally.”

The next movement was not a step but a blur—his form unraveling into a dark streak. Seryth turned. Too late. The blade already grazed her throat, just enough to raise gooseflesh, enough to remind her that her next breath might spill through an opened artery.

“Will you surrender now,” Ranann whispered, steel caressing her skin, “or shall we make this interesting?”

Before the edge could bite flesh, a crust of frost burst from the cracks in the floor and climbed Ranann’s legs, sealing his joints; within a heartbeat it reached his waist, and his body ceased to obey. No matter how he strained, the ice would not yield.

“I don’t know what tricks you used to get here,” Seryth said, circling the nearest pillar. “Nor how you dealt with the guards. But you will not leave alive.”

Her fingers brushed the hilt of a blade at her waist—slender, too fine for an ordinary sword. Energy condensed around her, something Ranann had not sensed before. Not through oversight—she had chosen this moment to reveal it.

Only they know how to hide so well.

Ranann exhaled sharply and clenched his trapped hand, drawing the aether inward. The ice vibrated, fractured, and exploded into hundreds of shards that shot outward. Seryth raised her forearm to shield her face; splinters rattled against her armor. When she lowered her arm, Ranann was gone.

Meltwater dripped upon the stone. Seryth swept her gaze across the hall. A whistle of steel split the air; she ducked, something grazing her chin, opening a fine cut. Blood descended in slow drops before she wiped it away.

“I have never seen aether wielded in such a manner,” she said, unable to conceal her astonishment, though the step she took backward betrayed caution. “To what school does your style belong?”

“School? I am not like you—humans.”

“Humans?”

Ranann stepped between the puddles; his boots made no splash, yet the water trembled in his wake. His outline blurred. The woman channeled cold along her forearm and released it outward; frost climbed to her elbow, hardening her strike before it landed. Ranann twisted his wrist and unleashed a torrent of aether that coursed along her arm, slipping beneath her skin like poison.

Seryth shattered the ice encasing her limb before it could rupture from within; crystals fell as pain tore a groan from her throat when Ranann’s fist struck her jaw. She gathered strength in her free hand, and another icy gust burst from her fingertips. The air froze in a heartbeat, a barrier forming before her. Ranann hurled himself against it, disintegrating the surface with the touch of his palm. Seryth sprang aside, pivoted to take his back, and forged a blade of ice along her right arm, narrowing it to a keen edge. She swung in a diagonal cut toward his flank.

Ranann was no longer there.

The ice struck the column; marble burst into shards that scattered across the floor. Only the drip of melting frost remained.

“Too slow.”

His voice came from behind her. Ranann touched her shoulder; she answered with a burst of frost from her chest outward. He withdrew, yet ice bit into his arm, stalling him for a breath.

“You have tried my patience,” Seryth declared.

The aura enveloping her took the shape of an eagle; ice crystals plated its wings and breast. She crouched and whispered words Ranann could not hear. The bird took flight and shot through the doorway like a bolt of frost. Ranann considered pursuit, but a strange energy prickled his skin. He turned toward the woman now drawing the sword at her waist. She raised it before her face, fingers interlaced upon the guard, and the metal answered with a low hum.

Ranann lunged. An invisible pressure drove him back, forcing his heel into the marble; every step forward cost twice the strength.

The metal seemed to ripple, unraveling into an emerald glow. The sword lengthened, taking the form of a segmented whip; fine barbs sprouted along its length. Seryth’s hair fanned out like grass in wind, green overtaking every strand from root to tip. The same verdant light filled her pupils. Her ears lengthened to sharp points reminiscent of elves. Her armor reshaped to fit a body no longer wholly human.

“So here you were,” Ranann murmured.

The sword-whip lashed. Segments unfolded; a barb snapped around Ranann’s wrist before he could evade. Smaller spines drove into his flesh, one after another, pain climbing his forearm with each bite. The chain flared with light, and his strength began to drain with it. He forced more aether into the anchor to reverse the flow, but the whip answered, absorbing twice what he tried to reclaim.

Before the extraction crossed the point of no return, Ranann formed a blade along his other arm and severed the connection in a single stroke. The woman still stood there, suspended in a form that stirred bitter memories.

“How far you have fallen. To think you must now rely on others.”

“What are you talking about?” Seryth demanded, brow arched.

“I was not speaking to you.”

Ranann vanished.

Seryth did not retreat. When he reappeared to strike, her gaze was already fixed upon the precise point. One whip coiled around his leg; she yanked hard, dragging him across the dust-strewn floor. Ranann rose, breath ragged.

“I do not understand how you do it, but you can break bonds,” Seryth said, unfurling the whips. “Every power bears a flaw. Yours works only if you touch me. And even if you shatter my whips, they will regenerate before you can close the distance.”

“Be grateful you met me now,” Ranann spat.

She cracked the chain and wound it around her forearms, turn by turn.

“Hiding will avail you nothing. My barbs will always find you.”

Ranann clicked his tongue and forced himself upright.

“I had forgotten how repulsive your power was, Sylvaria.”

The whips froze mid-motion.

“How do you know that na—?”

He seized her hesitation, casting a thread of aether that slipped behind the creeping vines. The vines sensed it instantly, snapped the thread, and lunged for his legs. Ranann leapt aside, but the tendrils stretched, barbs piercing his forearm when he blocked one. A hiss of pain escaped him.

“Try what you will. You will not escape.”

The chime of metal carried with her voice.

The drain was beginning to weigh upon him. For every vine he cut, two more grew to take its place. Blood streaked the marble as he withdrew.

“You underestimate me,” Ranann muttered, tilting his head as he measured Seryth’s stance and the semicircle of vines hemming him in. “I have defeated you before. Even lacking strength, I can do so again.”

“I have never faced you.”

“I told you. I was not speaking to you.”

She lashed again, faster than he anticipated. He gathered his aether, conjured a flicker about himself to distract her, and bent his knees. The strike grazed his side, tearing part of his cloak.

“Speak! Who are you?” she demanded, her voice sharpened with strain.

She pressed her palm to the ground. New thorned vines burst forth, rising in a green wall around him. He clenched his teeth and leapt aside. They surged through the marble’s cracks, forming a living prison. Three barred his only path.

“Answer me!”

Vines slid beneath his feet. A thorn pierced his right foot; another coiled for his shoulder. He deflected a third, but they persisted, winding about his leg and reaching for his left wrist. He shrank inward, concentrating the last of his aether into a barrier against his skin.

“You will not escape!” Seryth roared.

She drew back the whip to snare his neck and finish him. He hurled himself diagonally forward; vines bit into his calf, but he did not yield. Closing the distance, he shaped another blade along his arm.

Shorter than before.

I must end this now.

Seryth retreated, anticipating the blow. The blade he meant to strike her with dissolved like smoke. Ranann seized a vine; barbs tore into him, yet he did not stop. Seryth, still airborne, reached to trap his arm. He leaned, letting the trap close distance—and in that narrow space, his hand was free.

He thrust it toward her face.

Bluish light flared from his palm. Reddish veins spread beneath Seryth’s skin like branching paths. The vines convulsed to wrench them apart; several coiled around Ranann, lashing his back and shoulders, but they did not dislodge him. The green in her hair flickered. One by one the vines began to fall in rhythm with her screams as she struggled.

“Let me go!” she hissed. “Let me go!”

She screamed again. Her armor began to melt; droplets of green metal struck the floor. The vines recoiled toward the sword still clenched in her hand.

Ranann withdrew his hand. He could not maintain it longer. Seryth fell to the ground. His right shoulder refused him; he dropped to one knee, watching the vines wither around him. His eyes trembled, fighting to remain open. He cursed, barely able to raise his voice.

Forcing himself upright on his legs rather than pride, he formed a blade with what aether remained in his left arm. The glow was faint; the edge extended only a few inches.

Seryth rose unsteadily. The sword dragged at her wrist, heavy now; her arm trembled. Strands of green still gleamed in her hair, though the rest darkened again; her ears shrank, losing their points.

Ranann advanced with shaking steps.

“Do not come closer!” she cried.

From her back sprouted new whips, thinner this time, trembling as her legs did. Ranann cut them cleanly, one after another. The blade along his arm dissolved.

Even he could be emptied.

“Who… are… you…?” she asked, her voice a thread.

Ranann did not answer. He brought his arm to her chest; a blade was born and pierced her heart. Blood rose to her lips and fell in dark threads. When the light faded from her eyes, the edge extinguished.

This will leave its mark on me.

He moved toward Seryth’s fallen body. The weapon she had wielded recoiled into a polished orb, its green core pulsing like a small heart. Ranann extended his hand toward that core.

The chamber shifted around him. Sound dissolved. Air and time froze. He held his breath and recognized, with bitter familiarity, the source of that energy.

“It has been a long time, Syl…

… "

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