I stiffened, but Syrin didn’t wake, just shifted slightly. I squeezed his hand. Instead of waking, he let out a soft murmur, and my heart kicked hard against my ribs.
The footsteps paused, then resumed, then paused again.
I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t have anything. And Syrin was so exhausted he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. If it wasn’t Mom, then what was I—
The lock on the door jangled, and it finally swung open.
It wasn’t Mom.
The man standing there was a distinguished-looking older gentleman. My heart sped up. Was he one of the lords? One of the ones who’d sent the nightbound?
He frowned, staring for a moment before letting out a long breath. “What’d the boy do?”
I blinked up at him. “What?”
He stepped into the room, carefully leaving the door ajar, and came to where we sat against the wall. I stiffened with every step. He just nudged Syrin with his foot, and Syrin groaned.
The man looked sharply at me. “He had to have been channeling copious amounts of Light. Last time I saw his father asleep like that, he’d just taken out three regiments engaged in combat. Advanced fire control.”
I blinked. Who was this man? He clearly knew Syrin. I went bright red as I realized Syrin was practically draped over me. “He, uh… He healed me.”
“Ah,” the man was silent for a moment. “That must have been some infection.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “He’s been fighting it for hours.”
The man nodded, thoughtful. “And then he fell asleep against you.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it again. I had no idea what to say to that.
“I’m going to assume that you are Trina,” the man said. “I’m Syrinthinor’s uncle, Ivorin. Your mother sent me.” His lips quirked up. “Though I don’t think she anticipated that I’d find this.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You spoke to my mother?”
“Yes. She’s waiting for us at the base of the tower.” Ivorin grimaced. “Unfortunately, as much as I would love to welcome Syrinthinor home at the moment, he isn’t safe here.”
My arm tightened around Syrin. It was the expected answer. I still hated hearing it.
Ivorin sighed. “We can’t wait for him to recover. Would you like to wake him or should I?”
“Syrin,” I said softly, squeezing his shoulder. His breath hitched, but he didn’t wake. “Syrin.”
For a second, nothing happened. Then his brow furrowed. His arm tightened reflexively around my waist, not pulling me closer so much as anchoring himself. His golden glow flickered faintly, threading with silver.
“Mmm,” he murmured, the sound barely more than breath.
“Syrin,” I tried again, a little firmer this time. “We have to move.”
That did it.
He inhaled sharply, like he’d surfaced too fast from deep water. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, then snapped to awareness all at once. His body went rigid.
“Oh—Lights, I—” He jerked upright too quickly, immediately swaying. His glow flared bright silver, then sputtered, cheeks flushing as he realized where he was—how close to me, how tangled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
I caught his arm before he could pull away entirely. “Hey,” I said quietly. “It’s okay.”
His gaze flicked past me, finally registering Ivorin, and the silver flared again.
“Uncle,” he said, too formal, too fast.
“Nephew,” Ivorin said with a slight twitch of his lips.
Syrin straightened again, clearly trying to reassemble himself through sheer will. “I didn’t realize—”
“I know,” Ivorin said calmly. “You were asleep.”
Syrin winced. “That was irresponsible.”
“No,” Ivorin replied, measured. “That was inevitable.”
Syrin froze.
I felt the tension ripple through him, like he didn’t quite know how to process that. His shoulders slumped a fraction, exhaustion bleeding back in now that he wasn’t actively holding himself together.
“I’d order you back to sleep,” Ivorin continued. “But unfortunately, now we need you awake.”
Syrin swallowed and nodded once. “Yes. Of course.” He glanced at me, hesitating, then added more quietly, “No numbness?”
“For now,” I said. “Thanks to you.”
His glow threaded back through with gold, softening.
“Good,” he murmured. Then, after a beat, very softly: “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”
I couldn’t help it. My mouth quirked into a smile. “You’re forgiven.”
That earned me the faintest huff of a laugh, more breath than sound. He looked back at Ivorin, his expression shifting. Then suddenly, he sucked in a quick breath, and I felt the coldness inside me writhe like it was under attack.
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“Syrin,” I said sharply.
“Can’t—Can’t have it listening,” he got out between jagged breaths as the coldness settled, feeling almost… contained.
Syrin’s grip tightened on my hand, but he looked up at Ivorin. “Where is my father?” Syrin whispered.
Ivorin flinched, and Syrin let out an almost broken sound. His glow went absolutely wild, flashing between white and gray at a frightening brightness.
“Syrinthinor.” Ivorin’s voice was hard. The flashing stopped, and Ivorin softened. “He’s not dead. Not yet, but I can’t wake him. I can’t even get to him.” Ivorin’s face darkened. “It’s not the natural sort of sleep.”
Syrin’s breathing seemed to settle against me. “He’s here?”
“Yes,” Ivorin said curtly. “In one of the chambers near the flame. One of the priests hoped proximity might help.”
“I can’t feel him,” Syrin said, voice breaking. He looked up at Ivorin like he was desperately seeking some sort of reassurance.
Ivorin let out a shaky breath. “I thought that might be the case. Serelyn can’t feel him, though I’d hoped…”
Syrin curled slightly, face pressing into my shoulder. “You hoped I could,” Syrin murmured.
Cold seeped in from the stones as the sound of the wind echoed through the room.
“And the Tower?” Syrin asked quietly. “The Light?”
Ivorin shook his head. “Not the time, Nephew. You can’t be seen here, and I’ll be missed soon. I already spoke with Nina, and I’ll send someone to find you. Now we need to get out.”
Syrin flinched. “I can’t stay.”
“No.”
He trembled briefly against me before bracing himself and readying to stand. His hand pressed against the floor, his jaw set like determination alone might make his body cooperate.
It didn’t.
He barely got halfway up before his arm trembled and gave out. He pitched forward with a sharp inhale, catching himself on his knee instead of his feet.
“Syrin,” I said quickly, sliding closer again.
“I’m fine,” he insisted automatically, even as his glow sputtered, almost like it was annoyed with him. He tried again, and this time barely made it up before his balance wavered. I surged forward, wrapping an arm around his waist and bracing my shoulder against his chest as he trembled. He was heavier on his feet, and for a terrifying second I wasn’t sure I could hold him.
He froze the moment he realized what was happening, but the shift put slightly less weight on me.
“I—Trina, you don’t—” His voice faltered as his legs shook beneath him. “I can manage.”
“You can’t,” I said, not unkindly. “And that’s okay.”
His breath hitched. He didn’t argue again.
Slowly, carefully, he let his weight settle against me. His arm slid around my shoulders, hesitant at first, then tightening when his knees threatened to buckle again. I adjusted my stance, feet planted, doing my best impression of someone who hadn’t nearly become a shadow monster earlier.
“There,” I muttered. “Got you.”
His forehead dipped briefly against my temple, just for a second, and his glow steadied into a thin silver.
I snorted softly. “Syrin.”
He looked at me.
“I can see you beating yourself up. It’s not doing any of us any good. You just fought an impossible infection for hours. It’d be weird if you didn’t need help. Inhuman.”
Syrin shot a guilty glance at Ivorin, who was watching us with an unreadable expression. “Lean on her,” Ivorin said simply. “You’re no use to anyone on the floor.”
Syrin swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
He shifted again, this time more carefully, letting me take more of his weight. We stumbled towards the door together. His steps were short and uneven, like he was walking through water, but he stayed upright.
Barely.
Ivorin shut the door behind us, and I was faced with the hallway of locked doors. I shivered. Most of those thoughts had been the shadow, but still…
I tried to ignore them, to focus on anything else. It was a long walk. I tightened my grip on Syrin as we came to a small step in the hallway. “I’m so glad that you live in a building full of stairs,” I joked.
“It has many other features too,” Syrin murmured. “Unfortunately…”
Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get to see them.
I looked at the very tired, very well-known Keeper now clinging to me. “We sort of stand out,” I muttered. “How exactly are we going to get out?”
Ivorin’s mouth quirked. “Just stay behind me.”
Syrin leaned closer to whisper, “Illusionist. Light mage. Have a lot of them here.”
I stiffened. “Wait, like the Crithlinor Light?”
Ivorin let out a chuckle. “No. Syrinthinor’s mother was my sister, but light mages are often drawn to this place. My sister was, and I just ended up following her.”
I blinked, looking at Syrin. “Wait. Could you always do light magic, even before bonding the Light?”
Syrin let out a tired, affirmative hum.
“Seriously?”
His lips flickered into a smile. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!” I bit my lip. “Or, I guess not, but it feels like a big deal.”
“Sort of like your name?” he said.
I blinked. Had he… had he just teased me? “I’d shove you right now,” I muttered. “But you’d fall.”
“Very kind of you.”
Ivorin let out a chuckle from ahead of us, and Syrin stiffened.
“Better to keep quiet now,” Ivorin said as we came to the end of the hallway and our first staircase.
Syrin stared at them, biting his lip. Then let out a very slow breath.
“Syrinthinor, I’d recommend a brace if you can manage it.”
Syrin’s breath caught. He obviously didn’t think that was in the cards right now. He put a hand on the railing, and tested a step down. I went with him. It was slow, but we made it down the first staircase. After another walk around the tower perimeter, we came to another staircase.
“You don’t have like a magic lift or something?” I muttered.
“Do,” Syrin said between breaths. “More people. More monitored.”
We started down the second set. This time someone was coming up. “Councilor,” Ivorin said with a nod.
The man just nodded back.
Crap. With how we were standing— I shoved Syrin against the wall as silently as possible, and the man passed by a hair’s breadth from us. Syrin let out a little whimper once the man finally disappeared. His glow was white and gray, eyes squeezed shut.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “You can do this. We’ll make it.”
He just gave me a sharp nod, eyes squeezed shut. That… that wasn’t just some annoyance with the stairs.
“Syrin?” I said softly.
He let out another whimper.
“Ivorin,” I said, trying to whisper even as panic sharpened my voice.
Suddenly, Ivorin was on Syrin’s other side.
“What’s wrong?” Ivorin asked sharply.
“Light,” Syrin whispered. “Trying… Someone trying to force a new bond. It… it hurts. Be okay, just—just—”
Ivorin’s breath caught. “They’re moving faster than I anticipated.”
They?
He glanced back down the stairs. “We need to move now.”
My heart sped up. Threats. Threats that I didn’t understand or know about and now, I had to get Syrin down the stairs—
A hand fell on my shoulder. Ivorin nodded at Syrin. “He’s going to be in a lot of pain for the next few minutes. The Light is essentially under cognitive siege. I’ll take one side, you take the other. We can’t stay on this staircase. We’ll just have to hope most of the attention in this tower is on the flame at the moment.”
Wait. All the attention? Was this like an event?
Ivorin began hauling Syrin down the steps while I struggled to keep my footing on the other side.
Syrin let out a sob. “So many.” His voice cracked. “Why?”
Ivorin paused, for a brief moment before pushing on. “Many?”
“Trying for the Light,” Syrin whispered.
“Syrinthinor, are they succeeding?” Ivorin barked.
Syrin let out another gasping breath. “No. It’s fighting back, but… angry. I’m trying… trying to hold it back.”
“Perhaps they deserve the Light’s wrath,” Ivorin muttered.
Syrin’s breath caught. “Civilians. Innocents. Observers. Petitioners. They knew. Hoped I’d hold it back. Waited until I was here to try.”
Ivorin stopped suddenly, and I almost toppled down the stairs with Syrin. “They know you’re in the tower?” Ivorin asked, voice tight.
Syrin gasped again. “No. Just… on Kirath. Light… Light stabilized when I got here.”
There was silence.
“But they suspect,” Syrin said, voice shaking.
Ivorin cursed. “We can’t move him. Not like this. He loses concentration, and everyone in that room dies.”
Syrin let out a whimper.
Ivorin stared at the ground. “We hide,” he said tightly.
I nodded. Getting caught would be bad, but if Syrin lost control, if someone died… That would destroy him too.
“And if they find us?” I asked.
Ivorin didn’t answer right away, just tugged Syrin forward.
“Ivorin?”
“I don’t know.” His jaw clenched. “But if they find Syrinthinor like this, that’s their best opportunity to kill him.”
[LitRPG] [Cultivation] [Crafting] [Smart MC]
Synopsis (Click to Expand)
To transcend the heavens, one must first forge the ladder.
He is a Cultivator who values volume over speed.
He is a Chronicler who will not stop at the sky.