The Chronicles of a Scalebound Sage

WM [70] Guilt Slick with Blood

The corrupted mana in the air invoked a very different sensation that made it difficult to move through. The ground was hot and oppressive which somehow mingled simultaneously in the air with the frigid cold. It was a nightmare of boiling and freezing at the same time in a way that would be impossible anywhere else. Yet for Bjorn, the oppressive atmosphere was familiar—hauntingly so. The further they walked, the more a strange sense of déjà vu gripped him.

The frozen heat haze distorted his vision, and soon, the present began to slip away. Voices intermingled with the conversation between Tanisha and Aurelius. Once again, the veil between his current life and a past existence began to thin, and the familiar voices of Tanisha, Fuyumi and Aurelius faded, replaced by echoes from another time.

In a snap of realization the wind roared around him, carrying with it grains of sand that burned like fire and froze like shards of ice. The world was a swirling chaos of destruction. Shouts echoed through the storm, frantic and desperate. 

“Isin we need to go back.” A voice was nearly drowned out by the storm. “The chaos storm is going to get worse!”

The voice was desperate, barely audible over the howling winds. Isin stood defiant, his frame battered by the storm but unyielding. He was nearly blown off of his feet but instead forced himself forward to the ground. His hand trembled as he pulled out a combat knife, stabbing it into the cracked, boiling ground. With that he whispered a spell weaving aether around himself  as he had seen Nuriel do so many times. He spat blood as the corruption in the storm fought against the spell, but he pressed on. The aether coalesced into a shimmering barrier, a solid bubble that shielded him and his comrades from the storm’s wrath.

The men looked at him with shock as they marveled at the shield around them. Yet only Martin understood the true price Isin was paying. Here, in this cursed place, aether was not a tool—it was prey. The chaotic energy devoured it hungrily, tearing at its essence like ravenous beasts. It ripped at those that could use it as if they were fed into a grinder. Angels would be drained in mere moments and torn apart if they entered this place. 

And Isin? He was no Angel. Yet somehow, he stood.

He knew the shield would threaten to rip the soul from him. He had to concentrate but he wouldn’t be denied what they had come here for. He wouldn’t be a slave ever again. Martin helped him up to his feet, slinging an arm over his shoulder as Isin barely had the strength to stand on his own. Then, another arm looped under his other side. Isin turned, surprised to find Eliska standing beside him, her face resolute despite the storm's fury.

Her eyes locked onto his, fierce and unyielding. She nodded. “We’ve got you.”

“We-we move.” Isin said through the throbbing pain in his head. “We do not have a choice. We can not turn back.”

Martin’s grip tightened. “Isin, listen to me. Drop the shield. It’s killing you. We can make it without it.”

“He’s right.” Eliska added, “Drop the shield—we can push through without it.” 

Isin shook them off, staggering forward on his own. His eyes burned with an intensity that silenced any further argument. His body screamed in protest, his soul strained under the storm’s assault, but his will was unshaken. Isin pointed ahead, pulling himself away as he marched forward. 

“No,” he growled, his voice low but filled with unshakable conviction. “I will not stop.”

Through the pain, through the humiliation, through loss after loss after painful fucking loss he was not going to stop. He would never bow, not to angels, not to storms, not to the chaos that sought to crush him. He would carve a path to freedom with his bare hands if he had to. 

He would be free and he would drag humanity with him whether they wanted freedom or not. As he moved the dome of energy moved with him. Those that wanted to turn back couldn’t. They were trapped and they would follow even if he had to be the one that held the chains.

“We move,” Isin growled through gritted teeth.

***

They walked endlessly—minutes, hours, or days. Time had dissolved into the storm's unrelenting fury. Isin no longer knew how long they’d been moving. Darkness engulfed him, his vision having faded long ago. Sound was the next to abandon him, leaving him adrift in silence. Yet, as his physical senses failed, his magical ones sharpened. The storm that had once torn his aether apart now refined it, embedding it with chaos until something entirely new emerged.

A strange energy began to fill him—not the destructive chaos nor the familiar flow of aether, but something different, something primal. His body and mind disconnected, and Isin found himself drawn inward, deeper than he had ever ventured. He didn’t understand what he was seeing at first. Then like an epiphany understood this was the core of his being, a swirling mass of golden light which flared out uncontained. The sight unnerved him—it was raw, unformed and spilling energy in chaotic bursts. Yet one path stood apart, a single golden thread flowing steadily. He decided to follow this golden thread, understanding somehow that it was connected to his eyes. This was the only place the power was uniform and flowed at a steady rate.

Then, he saw it: the new energy, calm and blue, coursing alongside the golden light. It clashed with his core, and his body trembled in response. The golden light resisted, tearing parts of itself away to remain untainted. He examined the blue energy closer and saw that it was not chaotic or malevolent. It was pure potential, waiting for a wielder.

 He reached out with his mind and the energy bent to his will freely.  As he interacted with the power it started to change from blue to silver. This new silver string of power latched on to his core and he screamed himself awake as his body forced him back into the real world. He lurched forward retching blood and bile onto the scorched ground. Power surged around him as the shield that surrounded them took on a far more stable appearance. The chaotic energy no longer tried to rip it apart, instead it fed into it.

His vision cleared, and he saw his comrades rushing toward him. Their lips moved, but their words were drowned in the void of his hearing. His mind slipped back into his inner world, where he saw the silver energy encircling the golden core and after a time both energies were spinning. He reached out with his will and it spun faster and faster, absorbing more power with each revolution. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The more they mixed the more he could control the energies. Soon he saw more paths in his body that before only got the energy in random bursts. Now they all had streams of power surge through them. It felt right—as though this was how it was always meant to be.

“Bjorn, wake up!” Eliska’s voice pierced through the veil of his inner world.

No that wasn’t Eliska’s voice, but Isin didn’t know whose it could be. The more it spoke the more the world seemed to fade away. The vision shattered like glass, and Bjorn’s eyes snapped open. Limbs thrashed as he struggled to adjust to the body of a hydra. For a disorienting moment, he forgot who he was—Isin, Bjorn, Aki’al? Then, reality surged back. He was Bjorn, the hydra.

Tanisha was atop him, holding him down, body and arms were bleeding from where his claws had raked her. His heart raced in his chest, hammering like a war drum. Her blood soaked into his scales, sticky and warm, but she didn’t seem to care.

Her voice broke through his daze, urgent and raw. “Bjorn! It’s okay—I’m here! Stay with me, Bjorn.”

“Failsafe. Failsafe!” Bjorn said mentally. “What was that? You had to see it didn’t you?”

“I was about to ask you what happened.” Failsafe sounded panicked. “One second we are talking about using chaotic energy to increase speed then everything shuts down and your mind goes blank. I thought you just dropped dead, but your heart was still pumping.”

“You didn’t see that vision?” Bjorn asked.

“No, and that worries me. This chaotic mana is doing something to you,” Failsafe said, his tone grim. “We need to stop and figure this out. If this happens in battle, we’re dead. You almost stopped breathing multiple times.”

Bjorn shifted his focus to Tanisha. He’d stopped thrashing, but she still clung to him, her eyes scanning his eight. Through their bond, he sent a wave of reassurance. Slowly, her grip loosened, and she exhaled heavily. Blood loss forced her to sit, hands trembling as she downed a health potion.

Aurelius appeared at her side, lifting her into a princess carry as she began to fade. Bjorn pushed himself onto his feet, his form steadying. His claws, slick with her blood, clung to his guilt. One of the few people he cared for in this world was hurt because of him. He wanted to apologize the moment they stopped and he could write on the ground. For now he tried to send his sincerity through the bond. Aurelius spoke softly to Tanisha in Muaian, his tone soothing, but Bjorn couldn’t understand. 

“Failsafe,” Bjorn said mentally, his resolve hardening. “You’re right. We need answers. I have to figure out these visions, and soon.”