24. Tairyn

twenty-four

Tairyn

Days after our little chess match, I still find myself smiling at her triumph. Yet as she sits before me now, unshielded and channeling Chroma, there's nothing but tension running through me. As much as the game helped distract me, Malicryn's words are a heavy cloak draped over my shoulders, weighing me down with its somber burden. It presses against my thoughts and settles like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything.

"Like this?" she asks me, her voice strained from the effort of holding the threads of Chroma with such a delicate hand. I pinch my fingers over the bridge of my nose and let out a sigh. It's actually impressive how quickly she's picked up my teaching, but this frustration isn't about her. Not really.

"Take the red thread in your mind. Now imagine that you are wrapping a noose of fate around me. Go ahead. Give me bad luck. Maybe it will work in your favor, yes?"

It's a temptation and a challenge. I know she'll be motivated to see my demise, but her power won't be strong enough to truly affect me, if she can even get it around me.

"Bad luck, huh?" She grins, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Her lips curl into a wicked grin. "Be careful what you wish for."

She closes her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. The threads of Chroma shimmer around her form, flowing like a red river of blood. It gives me pause, considering the Great River and the part she'll be forced to play. A twist of something unfamiliar settles inside me. Something much too close to guilt.

My thoughts refocus, far away as I feel the chords of her power wrap around me.

Eyes wide in surprise, I'm yanked back to her. To Mira. A triumphant grin, much like the one she wore during our chess game.

"Caught you." The threads around me pulsate and glow brighter with her excitement. I can't stop the grin sneaking onto my lips. Her smugness is both infuriating and, dare I admit, endearing. She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's not like I was running from you. This is a very controlled environment. Besides, a touch of bad luck isn't going to see you released, nin anto anna."

Her eyes narrow at the nickname, unsure if it's an insult but obviously too stubborn to ask. "I might surprise you," she retorts, her defiance burning bright as the sunset streaming through the windows behind us.

"You constantly surprise me." The words are out before I realize it, and I barely stop myself from clamping my mouth shut. The admiration in my tone is plain. Too close. Too personal. Too real. Refusing to make eye contact, I slide into distant nonchalance. "That's all for today, Vessel."

As always when I'm near her, the pink tinted magic swirls in my peripheral, disappearing just as I stand to leave. With a flick of my wrist, I wrap her in a renewed Dampening Shield to block her access to the source. But as I take a step towards the door, Mira's fingers grab my hand.

"Tairyn?"

I almost gasp from the shock, as her warm hand seeks comfort in mine. "What is rule number four, Vessel?" I growl, turning on her with a snarl as I rip my hand away from hers. "Never touch me."

But it's too late. I can feel it coming on as I stumble back, barely missing my chair as I fall onto the ground. I hear her voice, but it's far away. I blink, squint, anything to keep the oncoming vision at bay. She touched me just as the vision begged for my attention. This is not good.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice is more frantic now. I hear fabric rustling. She's moving. But it's too late. The vision hits hard and fast, slamming against all of my senses, the world around me fading away.

As always, it's like looking into a spiderweb of possible futures, each twist and turn a unique outcome. Yet each strand glistens with Mira, a chain of destiny linking us both. I feel her before I see her, tainting every thread.

Now that I'm here, I have to watch. I have to see. The vision won't release me until I do. No more running.

So one by one, I sort through them.

My attention is directed towards the one directly in front of me first. Although it has been incorrect just as many times as it has been correct – no, that's not accurate. It's never been wrong; rather, I have misinterpreted its message or failed to follow the necessary steps to make that future a reality. Reality itself is a tangled mess, with lives overlapping and twisting until it's nearly impossible to make sense of anything. Despite this chaos, I know that these outcomes are both true and possible.

I just have to make the right choices to get to them.

My mind traverses down the first thread until a scene comes into focus. I'm standing in this very room, older with gray at my temples. The lines of my eyes show fatigue more than age though. Though the light inside me is there. The light of a man who is whole again. Soul intact. A smile creeps across my face. I did it. I can do it. The fire flickers with Malicryn's voice throwing an order out as if I'm her hound, and-

I just take it?

I nod and write notes like a compliant school child taking orders from the teacher. No arguments. No taunting. I can't make out the words, it's muffled like I'm listening to a cup pressed against a closed door, but the acceptance in my slumped figure tells me enough. I'm broken even with a complete soul. No more than a tool to be wielded by others.

But what of the terms of our bargain? Is it possible that I'm never released? That can't be…

I sneer at the image, pulling back to traverse a different line of choices. A different future, equally true.

This vision isn't me at all. It's Dan'thiel, holding Mira's hand while they walk along the riverbanks in Valenfall. Cor'than's banner still hangs over the keep, though. Curious.

They laugh at something he says, and she turns to swipe a fallen piece of his hair behind his ear. Something in me stirs with the subtle familiarity between them, and I slam my back into the top of the chain of events.

Is this my choice? To be whole yet a shell of who I am today or to be part of someone else? Those aren't choices at all. Maybe I should let Yurghen break open the Great River. Save me from two deaths of self.

Another thread, another ending. More and more images flash, each more outlandish than the last. Times of war, times of peace.

All the Shards holding hands in a peasant's kitchen, willingly merging back into Dan'thiel as Cor'than looks on with adoration. I almost laugh at the absurdity of that one.

Satisfied with what I've seen, I attempt to back out of the vision, but something is blocking me. I turn to see the pulsing pink dot down a particularly thick spread of a webbing. My eyes narrow at the demand.

With pursed lips, I comply, sending my mind down the long line of alternating choices. Moments from different lives I'll never live.

A flash of an image. Mira is on top of me, riding me. Bonding me. The swirl of our mixing purples and red hues. We're in a tall building, overlooking a city below which bustles with commoners, but it's not a city I recognize. It's human.

Another image flies by. The first Shard shakes my hand while I clap him on the back, congratulating him for a job well done.

Callum blows out candles on a birthday cake while the other Shards and Mira stand around and clap for him. Makes no sense, but okay.

Another image.

Mira's gentle touch caressing my cheek, her eyes gazing at me with admiration, as if I am the most incredible person in existence. Her fingers trace the contours of my face, marveling at every inch. As I meet her gaze, I feel a warm rush of love and appreciation for this moment between us. In that instant, nothing else in the world exists except for our connection.

I turn away, reaching for a different branch.

I'm laughing with the other Shards. Sparring with them for fun. Joyful.

Sneering at the image, I find another way down the complex web of truths. Then time slows and I'm at the final destination of this vision. I can feel it in my bones, the pink Chroma finally rolling into a low hum. This is what it wanted to show me.

A ritual performed at dawn, fire all around while lightning cracks in a city of fresh ruins. The Vessel is being sacrificed by Yurghen. She shrieks in pain, reaching for me. Crying my name. For my fractured soul. I howl in frustration, tears leaking down my cheeks as I fall to my knees, begging Malicryn to intervene. Begging Yurghen to choose someone else.

But I can't help her.

I watch as her soul leaves her body. Above, The Great River splits the sky in half as it pours lost souls into the city streets. The demons of the underworld lurk and prowl, feasting on them. Just as the Vessel's soul finds its way to one such monster, another soul latches onto her body.

I can't tear my eyes away as the demon gnashes its teeth, ripping apart her life force.

And something inside of me breaks.

New life finds Mira's body, but her voice and even her demeanor are different. Lofty and cruel, a permanent sneer across her face. This is someone else using her body to come back to this world.

My study comes back into focus. The scent of mulled wine fills my nose. Mira's eyes are large and concerned. I'm sprawled on the floor, heavy breaths rising frantically in my chest. I scramble out of her touch, pulling back as I knock over furniture.

"Tairyn?" she pleads.

"Leave me!" I roar, but she doesn't budge.

"What's wrong?"

"I said leave me." My Chroma flies out of my hands before I know what's happening, blinking back the fading visions. Purple magic swirls around her, shoving her roughly towards the hallway.

"Stop this. What happened?" She screams just as she disappears through the door. When she's finally gone, I collapse, clutching at my panting chest. The images of a discarded Mira, her soul lost and her body commandeered, are a horrendous nightmare that plays on repeat in my mind. It's a fate worse than death. It's an existence stripped away.

Similar to the one I'm promised, it seems. It's a stark realization that leaves me torn between acceptance and rebellion. Do I succumb to my fate as a mindless follower, or do I fight against it and risk losing myself even further?

I have no future as the person I am now, that much is clear.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to stand up from the cold floor, running my hands through my hair. My mind is a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts and images. Mira's body possessed by another brings a bitter taste to my mouth.

The smell of Mira lingers. The scent of spiced mulled wine that I've grown to associate with comfort and teasing banter now feels like an unwelcome invader in the room. Like the presence of a ghost, it hovers, clinging to the air.

"Shit," I hiss, pacing around the room nervously, the vicious cycle of ‘what ifs' gnawing away at my sanity. The tapping rhythm of my fingers against the wooden table echoes throughout the silent room. I try to focus on that sound, let it ground me back into reality.

This is exactly why I ignored the vision, why I refused it. If she hadn't touched me at that moment…

I sigh at my own stupidity. At my bad luck.