Chapter One of The Aether Unravels

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Below is the first chapter of my new book, The Aether Unravels, which is the second installment in my Bonds of Dissonance series. If you didn’t read the first book, The Aether Awakens, some of the content below might spoil it. You can find Chapter One of The Aether Awakens here on an older post. Otherwise, proceed with your own discretion! <3

Chapter One

Relinquish

“Lass, yer gonna drink me out of house and home,” Lotus said before snatching away the freshly drained stein.

Ophiera looked down at her now empty gauntlet, barely buzzed and mildly annoyed. She didn’t think they were nearing that time of the night yet when Lotus would start to get sassy; they were only five pints in…

As she rolled her eyes to the rafters above, she silently prayed he would at least have the decency to give her a refill before starting in on her.

“Tell me what’s got on ye nerves this time, lass.” “My hands are empty,” she muttered.

For a moment, she feared she had overstepped. But after a frozen minute, Lotus turned around to the keg, and the thick sound of trickling mead echoed through the bar. Her shoulders relaxed a bit before he slammed the worn stein in front of her. When the golden, frothy liquid threatened to spill over the edge, she nearly smiled.

Nearly.

Another splash of the honeyed libation fell across the bar as Ophiera brought the brimming stein to her lips. Briefly, she mourned lost ounce of oaken mead, now seeping into the aged wooden bar top. Another stain to the old collection, absorbed and soon to be forgotten in the grains—which was precisely the same fate she hoped to achieve this night.

“Can’t ye at least talk to me and drink? That’s what me regulars tend to do, ye know.”

Avoiding his dark gaze, Ophiera swallowed the entirety of the sweet, malty beverage before taking a breath. Her cold gauntlet grazed against her skin as she wiped the dribble from her chin and slid the empty stein back to the glowering barkeep—silently.

“Can’t serve ye if ye can’t speak,” Lotus said, crossing his

thick arms over his bulging belly. “Magistrate law, n’all.”

She chewed her lip a moment, absorbing the mention of law as if it were a curse. Her claymore shifted heavily against her back, reminding her what she was and why she was here.

“I don’t wish to speak,” she whispered, not breaking from his gaze, “And you know exactly why.”

“Aye, lass, I do,” Lotus sighed. “But yer in a strange way tonight…stranger than usual. And since it’s me house, and me rules, I ain’t giving ye another drop till ya tell me why yer so particularly sour tonight.”

For a moment, Ophiera imagined herself stepping behind his bar and filling her own stein with drink. It wasn’t as if he could stop her. He was sizable, for certain—a few fingers taller and nearly twice her own width—but so was her blade and her thirst to forget. Overpowering him would be much easier than what he was asking of her now.

“I’m not good at these things, Lotus,” she said.

“What things?”

“Talking.”

“No, no, yer not, lass,” he said with a gentle smile, “but ye get

better each time ye try. And thas all I’m askin’.”

Ophiera groaned, rolling her eyes again like some petulant child. They were only six drinks in and already he drew the line in the sand for a trade—another one of his interviews for more of his mead.

She hated this nonsense. She wasn’t asking for anything but a drink—well, several drinks, but certainly not counsel or advice or conversation. But she’d never met a more stubborn man, and truth be told, he always ended up dragging the words from her despite her kicking and screaming.

“I’m tired,” she said flatly.

He uncrossed his arms, gripping the edge of the bar tightly. As he leaned forward, his auburn beard dangled above the bar top.

“Of?”

Ophiera sighed. “Look, I answered your question, so pour me a drink.”

“Tired of what, lass?”

“I’m tired of…” she began, staring intently at the thick grains of wood in the bar. Maybe they would provide her with some answer instead of having to consider why she was so tired. The last time she sat at this bar was over a month ago…“Traveling.”

Lotus kept his dark eyes on her, eyebrows raised expectantly, as he took the empty stein from the bar.

“That’s all?”

She licked her lips to prevent herself from swearing. So damn close to having a drink.

“I’m tired of the weight of my armor.” “And?”

She heard the tap pour forth, gurgling gently into the stein.

“And of the Magistrate’s orders.”

“And?”

“What else do you want me to say, Lotus?” She growled, breaking with frustration. “I’m tired of being a paladin! I’m tired of being me!”

Lotus set the full mug in front of her as the words she spoke settled in. If anyone heard her speak such heresy, let alone knew she’d thought it, she could be charged with treason. How the hell did Lotus always make her say words she shouldn’t have even thought? Sliding her gilded fingers around the fresh stein that no longer seemed quite as appetizing, she damned Lotus and his interrogations.

“So, there’s the real reason yer tired,” Lotus said, watching her slowly drag the mug to her lips. “Now, what do ye want to do about it?”

Ophiera nearly spat her drink but somehow managed to swallow instead. The sweetness of the mead was beginning to churn her empty stomach, unhelped by another pointless question.

“I am what I am. There is nothing that can change that. ”

“Doesn’t mean ye can’t do nothing.”

Again, she nearly choked. After all these years of frequenting the Lonely Iris, Lotus knew more about her than anyone else. He knew what she was…he knew what she did…and he knew damn well which lines not to cross. And yet, he chose to ignore them all tonight.

Ophiera lowered her drink without breaking the barkeep’s sad stare. She removed the golden gauntlet from her arm, revealing the swirls of blistered scars marring her skin from fingertips to elbow. The subtle pain in Lotus’s eyes as they fell upon the marks of her Oath satisfied her annoyance. To the unacquainted, her disfigurement might look like a tragic accident with a hot iron or boiling oil. But those who recognized the runic symbols within the welts knew precisely why there was nothing to be done about being a paladin. And Lotus knew better than anyone.

“This mead is all I can do about it,” she said, flexing her scarred fingers before wrapping them around the stein. “At least this quiets the pain in my heart. At least this allows me to sleep, knowing what I must do in the days to come.”

She brought the stein to her lips and began to drink, confident that the conversation would end here. There was nothing left to say.

“Do ye really have no choice?” Lotus said, his voice graveled and low.

This time, Ophiera actually choked on her drink, spitting a good amount out onto the bar.

“Lotus, you know the consequences of breaking my Oath! The fact that you’re even asking—”

“Aye, lass, but I’m not suggestin’ ye break it—I’m suggestin’ ye avoid it.”

She cocked her head, causing the room to wobble alongside her sanity. Perhaps she was nearing her required quota of mead to sleep peacefully. But Lotus continued to stare at her with expectation, and she knew his words weren’t a dream.

“I’m not in the mood for your games.”

“Lass, this isn’t a riddle,” Lotus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with thick fingers. “Haven’t ye ever heard of a ‘loophole’?”

“No,” she said flatly.

“What if ye were un-conscripted from the Magistrate?”

“Un-conscripted?”

“Yer Chaplain o’ the Cloister served the Magistrate before as a Hand of Retribution, didn’t he? He was conscripted at one point. Then he went back to the Cloister to do whatever it is he does as Chaplain. Ye think he still answers to the Magistrate’s calls for Retribution? Ye think he gets many opportunities to enact his Oath surrounded by priests and clerics, locked away in the Cloister?” Ophiera straightened her spine, feeling the ache of her eyebrows as she listened. She hadn’t ever thought of the Chaplain’s Oath before, nor what it meant after his service was complete to the Magistrate. While she and Uzziel were the only two kindled to bear the Oath of Retribution, she was only conscripted to the Magistrate after he’d been made Chaplain of the Cloister. Meaning…were there ways in which someone could be released from duty to Tanvik? And if so, what did it mean for his Oath?

But these were heretical questions. She should have known better than to bother having them.

“I don’t understand your point, Lotus.”

“Me point is the Aether hasn’t claimed him yet, has it? Even though he ain’t fulfilling his Oath? So, that must mean his Oath wasn’t broken by leaving the Magistrate’s conscription. So…what if the Magistrate could release ye too? Like a…I don’t know, like a retirement.”

A horrible feeling bloomed in her gut. A feeling she hadn’t felt in years and, truthfully, never wished to again. Questions and curiosities were one temptation, but the emotion she felt now welling inside her could only come with a promise of punishment, disappointment and pain. She had sworn her own oath to herself to never give in again to the temptation of hope. And yet here Lotus was, dangling it in front of her like a freshly filled stein, knowing what it would do to her to even dream of it.

“You don’t know,” she growled, standing with such force that her seat crashed to the ground. “You never knew a damned thing

if this is what you suggest to me now!”

Ophiera didn’t wait to hear any of Lotus’s protests before storming off, leaving the stool rocking on the floor. She knew how much he hated it when her temper flew off like this, but tonight, he'd been the one who overstepped. Tonight, she had every right to be furious. After everything he’d witnessed, after everything she had told him of the Cloister! Of the souls she’d claimed for the Aether, of her life and her Oath…how dare he even suggest this retirement nonsense.

How dare he speak such blasphemy?

How dare he dangle such a lure before her.

How dare he try to make even an ounce of sense…

Didn’t he see that even without conscription to the Magistrate, her Oath would still demand Retribution? The only reason the Chaplain hadn’t claimed a soul for the Aether since assuming his position was that there were no anathemas in the Cloister. But if he had crossed a soul who sinned, someone who’d murdered another, his Oath would demand their own in recompense. The same rule applied to her…Magistrate or not, she was bound to comply with her Oath. If she crossed the path of an anathema…

As Ophiera reached the bottom of the steps, she stopped in her tracks. Is that what Lotus’s point had been? If she never encountered another tainted soul…But no matter what, she could never return to the Cloister. Her memories of that place were distorted by pain, little more than brief flashes of a reality she wished never to recall. Where else could she go? There was nowhere she belonged. Not even here, in his vacant inn.

Even her scars agreed, itching with a furious burn. But as she eyed the raised runes against her skin, she realized she had foolishly left her gauntlet behind. The precious armor she couldn’t allow to leave her sight, let alone possession, was sitting back on the stained bartop.

Damn him!

Ophiera turned back to the bar, ready to shout one last curse before gathering her armor and ascending the stairs for good this time. But as the room wobbled, churning her gut, both Lotus and the gauntlet were gone.

“Lotus?” She called, taking a clunking step back towards the bar.

He didn’t answer.

Their steins remained on the bar top, and her stool still rocked back and forth gently across the floor. But neither barkeep nor gauntlet was in sight.

“Lotus! Give me back my gauntlet!”

Again, her calls were met with silence. He must have gone back into the kitchen, she thought, but even there, he should hear her. “Don’t make me come back into the kitchen!” The quiet deafened her now.

No clang of armor as she walked.

No knocking as the stool rocked back and forth.

Even her own voice sounded as if she spoke while submerged beneath water.

Perhaps she really had drunk too much.

She reached her scarred hand to pick up the stool when a sudden pain bloomed across her brands. Blinded by the flash of light, she stared in horror as white flames erupted from the bubbled blisters. Without chant, the holy flames poured from her searing skin in an agony she hadn’t felt since the day she was kindled. Panic matched pain as the bright fire flowed up her arm beneath her armor.

Desperate, she shook her arm as if to snuff out the flames, but she should have known better. Unlike true fire, the Aether couldn’t be snuffed or stopped.

A whimper escaped her trembling lips as the blaze continued to spread, burning beneath her armor as it reached her massive pauldron. In horror, she watched the golden plate warp, distorting and discoloring before melting to slag against her burning skin. The remnants dripped into molten pools on the ground beneath her feet.

“Lass?”

Pain held her voice hostage as the flames spread across her torso, her skin erupting in fire as the armor continued sloughing off. She dropped to her hands and knees, her entire body engulfed in agony. The moment her enflamed hands touched the floor, it burned beneath her until she fell through ash and onto the cool soil of Erum itself.

Power and rage roared through her as the Aether below awakened.

“Lass!” Lotus cried. “Stop!”

Screaming, Ophiera dragged her eyes up, only to see the flames spread across the floor like a spidering river.

She tried to stop them from flowing out to the walls of the tavern.

She tried to stop them from burning the tables and chairs to ash.

She tried to stop them from erupting beneath Lotus’s boots.

His dark eyes widened as the flames crawled up his legs, burning his clothes to ash.

Burning his flesh to ash.

With one last tear-stained stare, she watched as Lotus’s face disintegrated into a cloud of gray ash.

***

You destroyed it.

Screaming, Ophiera awoke to the dreadful whisper in her ear. She only stopped when a metallic gurgle wetted her tongue, spitting crimson on the dirty floor. At least it wasn’t mead, she thought, gasping for breath and resisting the urge to gag.

The taste of blood nauseated her as much as the silhouette of Lotus, crumbling to ash, still lingering in the shadows of the dim room she awoke within. To the soul, the difference between dreams and reality meant little. Despite the lack of ash and flame, she had a difficult time convincing herself she wasn’t still at the

Lonely Iris.

Destroying the Lonely Iris, rather.

Ignoring the voice in her head, she focused on the crashing waves nearby. The constant rhythm brought her frantic thoughts back down to reality.

She never burned like that in the Lonely Iris. Hell, she wasn’t even traveling in the Sloughmire. But most importantly, she had never killed Lotus. Stupid, pointless dreams…At least her mind had the sense to wake before his imagined vesper rose from the ashes of his body. If only it had allowed her the peace to sleep without murdering her oldest friend.

Still caught in the dregs of her nightmare, she focused her thoughts and eyes on her trembling hands. There were no signs of white flames, only golden gauntlets shining in the moonslight. Following the path of the light, she peered through the hole in the damaged roof. Pale, eerie starlight trickled in through a damaged roof, only barely illuminating a place she barely recalled.

The abandoned hut had seemed like a safe place to rest for the evening when she had stumbled upon it earlier. But Ophiera should have known she would never find peace in a place like Neno. Another village, destroyed and forgotten. While the blood may have washed from the sands, the remnants of the once-inhabited abodes stood. By the look of the place, it would be easy to assume a storm took the village by surprise. But to anyone of the Southern Coastlands, it was obvious the village had been taken by quite an unnatural disaster.

As the first village to fall to the Gray Marauders, Neno had become the example of what happened to those who resisted Aud. Back then, when Ophiera had stopped the pirates from taking Iluka, she had no idea the actual threat she faced. As she claimed their vespers for the Aether and Iluka, she had no idea the souls she claimed were the predecessors of the Vespula Brotherhood—the followers of Aud.

How had Lotus described them again? More cultists than bandits, they worshipped the supposed god they called Aud by stealing the souls from the Aether and sacrificing them to the Abyss Mother. Ophiera still hadn’t entirely wrapped her mind around the threat of Aud, an intangible being she had never faced. But the Brotherhood—those unfortunate souls were tangible, and there was one which would burn within her grasp soon enough.

She grimaced at her thoughts, causing blood to dribble from the corner of her mouth. She brought a shaking hand up to wipe the trickle, but the sight of her reflection, distorted by the bloody streak on pale gold, reminded her of a more pressing problem. If her screams had been enough to draw blood, then she may have drawn the Aether as well.

Despite her earlier confidence that she had not burned in her sleep, a sudden doubt drove her to search around the hut. Unlike true fire, the holy flames left no blackened char or dark soot behind as evidence; rather, only the pale ash of whatever or whoever they consumed. Like Lotus…Like Iluka…shaking her head, she focused on the waking moment, finding a sliver of relief in her unburned rucksack beside her. She couldn’t find a trace of ash anywhere the moonslight illuminated.

Perhaps the abandoned hut was the best choice of shelter, after all.

Like most homes of the Southern Coastlands, the abode Ophiera chose to occupy was built on stilts, standing nearly half her height above the sands. This far off the ground, she had no chance of connecting with the Aether and, thus, no chance of burning down the remnants of Neno. Yet, even from this distance, she could still sense the Aether below, like hearing the water beneath a dock in the dark. The whispers of power from below seemed to grow louder the farther she traveled. Ever since leaving

Myronor…

Clang.

She clenched a hand over her breastplate as if it would stop the pain from catching her breath now. It felt as if a fishing net had snagged her heart and dragged it through the choppy seas. Every time she thought of him, the pain of her soul, connected and yet afar, drove her to misery. The lump forming in her throat was worse than the lingering taste of blood on her tongue. She swallowed hard, settling her sadness beneath the large, rounded scar on her chest—the scar that bound their souls in the first place.

After departing the Mistral, she noticed the way her soul dragged, as if she carried an anchor in tow. She knew it must be the ekath, the bond between souls, that drew tighter and tighter as she distanced herself from the soul bound to hers. She couldn’t stop her thoughts from lingering on ice-blue eyes and flowing blonde hair, only serving to exacerbate the ache. Every breath stalled in her chest as every fiber of her being drew back to him. And yet, despite the pain, all she had to do was remember the aftermath of Iluka to resist the urge to return to him.

Every step of her departure from the Mistral had held doubt of her decision until her eyes fell on the ruins of Iluka. The village she once protected had been swallowed whole by white fires and shaking sands. Whatever had awakened inside her, she couldn’t control it, and with it, she had leveled a village…her village. When her eyes fell on the crater she once called home, she knew she must leave Myronor’s side. She had sworn to protect him, even if it meant from herself.

The Brotherhood is to blame, not you.

Her armor clanged as she started, unsure if the voice was her own cracked sanity or a whispering of the Aether. Ever since the voice of the Aether had bestowed her with the adamantrium armor she wore, she’d yet to converse with it again. But that seemingly hadn’t stopped the intruding whispers, real or imagined. Regardless, they did have a point. She had only destroyed the body of Iluka with the holy flames; the Brotherhood and Aud had murdered its soul.

The Aether was not the only one that demanded Retribution.

She had vowed to the flames to seek out Marvena, Reverend of Aud, along with every last member of the Brotherhood, and had every intention to fulfill it. Her Oath to Myronor and his late mother would still be fulfilled in due time. But for now, the churning of her gut told her that the path of Retribution was the only one worth following. No matter how much her heart protested what she left behind.

If you liked what you read, you can find more here!

<3 C.G.