Chapter 29

Pyre was surprised to find the table in the common space empty the next morning.

The plates were set as they always were, the food untouched, the meats, cheeses, vegetables, and the delicacies from countless realms all arranged perfectly, some with steam coming off, all smelling great yet perfectly untouched. Bottles of wine stood upright, unopened, their glass catching the ambient light from the windows. No voices. No movement.

Did everyone take a sponsorship? Pyre wondered as he approached the table and ran a finger across it.

The idea settled uneasily in his chest. He stood there longer than he meant to, staring at the chairs as he thought of all that had happened since he died until Pyre shook his head, dismissing the spiral before it could take hold.

He heard muted, familiar voices downstairs, where he soon found Balefor and Kesh already waiting to get started for the day. Both looked alert, as if they had been there for some time.

“Morning, Pyre!” Kesh said cheerfully. The bard gestured from himself to Balefor and to Pyre. “And then there were three.”

“Urosh really joined the Radiant Fold?” Pyre asked.

Balefor shook his mane out and shrugged. “It appears so. The big idiot.”

“I figured I would find the two of you upstairs,” Pyre told them.

“Well, you and I both know the food here serves no purpose,” Balefor said. “Sadly. Most sadly. Because it does look good.”

“And the wine does nothing to calm the spirits or soothe the mind,” Kesh added. “Equally sad. But perhaps it is for the better. I had a breakthrough last night, you know.”

“You did?” Pyre asked.

“At the Font. I know you seem to be able to sit there for hours, lost in your Domain, but I meditated more than necessary in my previous life, so I decided, you know what? Let’s just get on with it. And so I did. And I reached that point, a good point.”

“He thinks he has unlocked something,” Balefor said with a low chuckle. “We shall see soon enough.”

Kesh turned to the lion-man. “Don’t I seem different today?”

“You seem cheery.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Kesh said, puffing his chest out a bit. “I wasn’t always a happy fellow, you know. At some point I learned that humor has a way of softening the edges.”

Before Pyre could respond, the door opened and Sister Halcyon entered, the woman sweeping her robes behind her. She had a glow about her today, and her hair, which was normally wrapped in a halo around her head, was down for once.

“Good, you are all here,” she said. “This way.”

She led them through the corridors, Pyre so used to the path by now that he barely paid attention until they arrived at the outdoor chamber.

Where there had once been multiple platforms, only a single one now stood at the center of the space. The attendants were still present, but fewer than before, positioned farther back, their attention sharpened.

Sister Halcyon placed her hands behind her back. “Today, you are going to continue pushing toward your Domain Trial. The three of you will face off against one another until one of your Sigils cracks. Then, the rest of the day will be yours to spend at the Font.”

“The three of us fighting each other?” Balefor said as he stepped on the platform. He summoned his greataxe and flourished the translucent weapon once. “This should be interesting.”

Pyre stepped across from him. His sword appeared in his hand, the familiar warmth flooding his palm. He heard the weapon’s faint whisper, the sound steadier now than it had been days ago.

He was just turning toward Kesh when the bard yawned. “Sorry, friends, I was just warming up.”

“With a yawn?” Balefor asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“Well, I was going to do a vocal warm-up, and it turned into a yawn,” Kesh said as his lute appeared, the strings with a strange sparkle to them this time. “Shall we?”

The three began without ceremony. Pyre found himself moving instinctively, falling into patterns he recognized from the previous day. He still didn’t know how to use Harmony against Kesh, not really, so he went for Balefor instead.

The lion-man pressed forward relentlessly, Conquest demanding space, demanding ground.

Pyre gave him none.

He stayed close, stepped inside the arcs of the greataxe, refused to anchor himself anywhere for more than a heartbeat. Balefor growled, the edge of playfulness already gone, replaced by focus.

Then the sound hit them.

It wasn’t a note so much as a force. A rolling pressure that slammed into Pyre’s chest and lifted him off his feet. He hit the stone hard, the breath driven from his lungs, vision flashing white.

Only after he landed did he hear Kesh strumming his lute.

Pyre rolled onto his side and looked up.

The bard stood at the center of the platform, calm, composed. The air around him rippled faintly, vibrating in sympathy. His posture was relaxed, but there was something different about him now, less performative and more anchored. The lute in his hands hummed softly even after the note had faded.

Pyre glanced at Balefor, who was already pushing himself to his feet.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Both turned toward Kesh at the same time and charged.

Pyre was struck by a horizontal blast of sound, a single note stretched into a razor-thin surge of power. It slammed into his face and snapped his head back.

He landed on the ground again, breath exploding from his lungs, copper flooding his mouth. Pyre spat blood, rolled, and was back up on his feet just as Balefor swiped at Kesh, the greataxe carving a heavy arc through the air.

Kesh sidestepped it with casual precision, throwing the lion-man off balance.

“Damn you!” Balefor shouted as he stumbled past.

The moment Pyre closed in on Kesh, the bard pivoted and brought the body of his lute down hard against Balefor’s shoulder.

The impact staggered Balefor, forcing him to take a few clumsy steps forward. “Bastard!” he yelled, his voice with a tinge of humor to it. “I can’t take this seriously.”

Pyre answered with fire.

He slashed forward, heat roaring off the broken blade. Kesh turned the neck of his instrument toward him and flicked a string with practiced ease. The fire twisted midair, redirected, swelling outward instead of forward, engulfing the space Pyre had just occupied.

Pyre ducked and rolled through it. He came up coughing, Sigil gone, slapping at the last embers clinging to his coat.

“Not yet,” Kesh said calmly.

Balefor closed in again, boots cracking against stone. Kesh played a quick succession of notes, sharp, staccato, almost playful, causing Balefor’s legs to shake mid-stride. His momentum faltered, muscles betraying him.

“What are you doing to me?” Balefor demanded.

“Loosening you up,” Kesh told him. “I believe I can make you dance.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Kesh asked.

He began playing a single-picked tune on his lute, slow and deliberate. Balefor hunkered down, teeth clenched, refusing to move. His shoulders twitched and his knees started trembling, the effort to remain still showing in every line of his body.

“Help me, Pyre!” he roared. “Don’t just stand there watching me make a fool of myself!”

Pyre’s Sigil appeared in his hand, and he rushed toward Kesh. The bard turned his lute toward him and struck a chord. The sound rippled outward, catching Pyre mid-step. He lumbered past Kesh, momentum betraying him.

“What has bloody gotten into you?” Balefor asked Kesh.

“I really don’t know,” Kesh replied. “But it’s working. Impressive, yes?”

Balefor staggered, going in again and again until it became clear that neither Balefor nor Pyre would be able to land a clean strike. Every attempt was redirected, diffused, or turned into something else entirely.

Soon, Pyre stopped focusing on how to break Harmony and instead focused on landing anything at all. His movements grew sharper, more erratic. Frustration crept in, hot and unhelpful.

“You two can fight each other, you know,” Kesh said. “And I can provide the battle music.”

Balefor grunted and swung toward the bard. He pressed hard, sweat darkening his mane, every strike driven by stubborn refusal as he missed once, twice, his greataxe wobbling.

The Sigil wobbled.

“Let me!” Pyre said, moving back in.

He was struck by a blast of sound yet managed to push through it. Another hit him harder. Pyre gritted his teeth and kept moving, only for Balefor to swing overhead, the axe passing so close Pyre felt the wind of it.

Balefor finally landed a blow on Kesh’s lute.

The sound that followed was wrong, both Sigils cracking in the same instant.

Silence rushed in, broken only by Pyre’s breath and the low hiss of dying flames around his sword. He stood there alone, weapon still burning in his hand.

“That is enough for today,” Sister Halcyon said after a brief exchange with the attendants. “A surprise, truly. Something to reflect on at the Font. I will lead you there now.”

She did not wait for agreement.

Halcyon turned and moved off at once, the attendants parting as she passed, the exercise dissolving behind them without ceremony. The Unclaimed fell in line, conversation subdued, the earlier tension giving way to quiet thought as they followed her back through the corridors and down toward the city.

Once they reached the streets, Balefor and Kesh took their places beside Pyre, Aevum opening around them in tiers of light and shadow.

“I don’t know what has come over you,” Balefor called over to Kesh. “But you were right earlier.”

“Yes?”

“Something about you has changed.”

“Good,” Kesh said.

“And it’s about time. I’m not one to complain about getting to spend the rest of the day recovering Anima; I only wish our match could have lasted longer. Speaking of recovering Anima,” Balefor said, turning to Pyre, “you seem to be getting along at the Font. You’re always so deeply focused when we leave that we decide not to bother you.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Pyre said as they passed through one of the squares, the Font visible beyond, its glow spilling between structures like a held breath.

“More to meditation?” Kesh asked. “Yes, posture, concentration, the ability to sleep sitting up—”

“No,” Pyre said. “Something I haven’t told you two about.” He waited until Sister Halcyon was out of earshot before turning to him. “I met someone at the Font—”

Balefor laughed, cutting him off. “Ha! Love in the afterlife for our troubled friend from Farreach.”

“What? No.” Pyre shook his head, briefly recalling Sura’s crush on the Shepherd. “I met someone who runs a faction that he doesn’t want to be considered a faction.”

“Ah,” Kesh said. “The rebellious type, then.”

“Sort of. Actually, that would be accurate. They call themselves the Unmoored. And they have a mansion on the outskirts of town. I’ve visited three times now.”

“You never told us that,” Balefor told Pyre as they continued toward the Font, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“I wasn’t sure what to make of them, not until last night.”

“But you haven’t pledged to them, right?” Kesh asked. “No sponsorship?”

“They don’t really do that. It seems like more of a come-and-go sort of faction. But… Marrow was there.”

“Was she?” Kesh asked. “Our Marrowsven?”

“She was a strange one,” Balefor said. “And her Sigil was worrying.”

“She ended her sponsorship with the Butcher’s Court,” Pyre explained.

“And somehow wound up there, huh?” Kesh pursed his lips. “Interesting…”

“If you want,” Pyre offered, “I can bring both of you there. I’m allowed to bring guests.”

“You’re allowed to bring guests, is it?” Balefor said. “Strange way to put it, for a place you don’t belong to.” He glanced ahead, then back at Pyre. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll join you sometime.”

If Sister Halcyon heard any of it, which Pyre doubted, she didn’t say anything, not until they reached the Font and took their places once more.

“You are all improving,” she said, stepping before them once they were seated. “Just as we would have hoped. We will continue with combat tomorrow and return here afterward.”

“Gladly,” Kesh said. “A musician does love a pattern.”

Sister Halcyon turned and looked up at the countless realms, glimmering like stars overhead. “It will not always be this way. And I should say now, if any of you feel differently, physically or otherwise, you must tell us immediately. An attendant will be available to you at all hours.” Her gaze returned to them. “For now, continue your Domain Attunement.”

Once she left, Pyre closed his eyes and began to breathe.

The Font’s warmth settled around him as it always did. Beside him, Kesh remained still, his presence quiet in a way Pyre did not remember noticing before. And then there was Balefor, less restless than before, finally focused.