Chapter 774: Souls

Stryg watched Titania and Wren engage in a private conversation, though he could hear nothing. The shimmering air surrounding the woman and child was preventing any noise from coming across. Stryg glanced at the mirrors lining the wall of the tent. They were more versatile than he had first believed. Not only were they hiding Wren from beings as powerful as a Calamity, but they also helped locate him, and now were dampening sound altogether. He had little doubt they could do so much more.

Titania grimaced and looked down at her necklace before glancing at Stryg, then back at Wren. Stryg tensed. Was something wrong? He wasn’t sure. Wren hadn’t moved. Perhaps she didn’t have to in order to cast a spell?

There was fear in Titania’s eyes, but she had no move to run away either. Stryg placed his hand on Krikolm, ready to strike down whatever magical barrier the mirrors had placed between him and his ward.

For the most part, Wren seemed calm as ever, though there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. Stryg waited to see how the situation would unfold. After a few minutes of silence, Titania no longer appeared afraid, though she kept wobbling back and forth, a habit Stryg had noticed she did when anxious.

Wren raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The shimmering bubble around them disappeared and sound returned.

“Titania, are you alright?” Stryg asked.

“Huh? Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine.” Titania gave a weak smile.

“What did she tell you?” Stryg glared at Wren.

“Simple questions, nothing to worry about,” Wren said.

“I don’t believe you,” Stryg said. “What did you say to her?”

“Stryg, it’s fine,” Titania hurried to reply.

“No, it’s not,” Stryg stood up and stepped between Titania and Wren.

The black mage eyed him up and down with a smirk. “Well, if you must know, we spoke about the intricacies of being a woman.”

“What?” Stryg frowned.

“Titania is a growing child. Girls her age begin to change. I wanted to know if she had bled yet and if so, if she needed any items or elixirs to help ease the experience and everything else that comes with womanhood. I asked her all of this because a journey with a man who clearly has not given any consideration to such things would no doubt be difficult for one her age, hm? I’d even wager she was too embarrassed to discuss such delicate matters with you. Not that I blame her. You don’t seem like the easy type to talk to.”

“Oh…” Stryg lowered his guard and sat back down. “I see.”

Titania breathed a silent sigh of relief, though Stryg did not notice.

“Kid.” Stryg looked her in the eye.

“Yes!?” Titania almost jumped in her seat.

“I’m… sorry. I should have been more considerate of your situation. If you ever need someone to talk to, even about something as—delicate, as this. I am here,” Stryg said.

“Thanks,” Titania blushed. “But, um, I’m fine, really.”

“Good,” Stryg nodded and looked, relieved to not wade any deeper into that line of conversation.

“You’ll make a good father someday,” Wren said with a playful tone.

“The Sylvan don’t raise their children. That task is left up to our tribe’s priestesses, the Sylvan Mothers,” Stryg said.

“Right, but you’re not only Sylvan. To my understanding, your birth mother helped raise you,” Wren said.

“That’s because she is a Sylvan Mother,” Stryg said.

“Is it? Did your grandmother not raise both Aurelia and Jahn? And did Stryga not raise Nalindra?”

“How do you know so much about my family?”

“I spoke with Maeve at length. We had interesting conversations.”

“You asked a lot of questions about me?” Stryg said, though it didn’t sound like a question.

“I was very curious about you.”

Stryg narrowed his eyes. “I’m curious about you as well.”

Wren took a puff from her pipe and blew the rose smoke above them. “Ask your inquiry.”

“What are you?” Stryg asked.

“I am Wren the Black, the greatest dragon mage alive.”

“I know you’re a true chromatic mage and I know your name. What I want to know is what manner of creature you are.”

“Oh, that.” Wren gave him a bittersweet smile. “I do not remember my original body.”

“What?” Stryg frowned.

“You’re confused. Understandable. You’re an immortal. The consequences of a long life are of no importance to you, for you will not suffer them. As for the rest of us, well, we’re not so lucky.”

“...How so?” Stryg asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Mortals were never meant to live forever. Our souls cannot weather eternity.”

“But aren’t souls immortal?” Titania asked curiously.

“It’s not quite so simple, child,” Wren said. “A mortal’s soul is very different from someone like Stryg’s. As time passes, the mortal soul begins to degrade. It’s small at first and it never has any bearing on a person’s life because they die long before any real cracks begin to show. When their soul enters the Soul Chasm, it is rejuvenated. By the time they swim down through the cavern and are reborn at the other end, the soul has recovered from any damage it suffered in their past life. And so on and on, the cycle continues.

“But,” Wren raised a finger. “What if the cycle is stopped? What if a mortal lives an unnaturally long life?”

“Like you?” Titania asked.

“Like me. The soul begins to suffer and with the soul goes the mind. Our minds degrade against the eternal well of time,” Wren said.

“That sounds terrible.” Titania shivered at the thought.

“It is nature. The way Aleirune forged us. After enough centuries the mind falls apart altogether and the mortal who sought immortality will lose all memories and sense of self. They go mad,” Wren said.

A cloak of guilt wrapped around Stryg and seeped into his body. He hadn’t known what would happen to a mortal who would not die. He hadn’t known the consequences of making Gale his Chosen. Would her soul degrade given enough time? Was there a way to stop it?

“And this will happen to you? Your mind will break?” Stryg asked.

“Someday, yes, I suppose so. Though I would have already lost my mind thousands of years ago, if it hadn’t been for my magic,” Wren said.

“You can stop the degradation?” A glimmer of hope surged in Stryg’s heart.

“No. No one can do that, not even the gods. But I am the greatest master of soul magic to have ever walked these realms. I’ve managed to slow down the degradation and repair certain parts of my soul. But I’ve lost so much of who I was. I cannot remember any of my earlier lives. To me, I have always been Wren the Black. I do not remember what I was or where I came from. I am simply me. The eternal mortal, for now. Someday I won’t even remember this.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?” Titania asked in the curious manner only a child could.

“I have learned to live with the inevitable, though that does not mean I have stopped fighting against it. I will always fight, child. Until Death himself takes me,” Wren winked at her.

“You’re very brave,” Stryg said solemnly.

“I don’t know about that. There are many who would disagree with you. Sarai would definitely disagree,” Wren gestured at her own body.

“Sarai was the original host of your body?” Stryg asked.

“Yes. A talented black mage,” Wren said.

“You require the body of a black mage?” Stryg asked.

“The soul is what casts magic, but the body is what stores mana. So long as the body possesses black mana—ideally a lot of it—it is enough for me,” Wren said.

“What happened to Sarai?” Titania asked nervously.

“I needed a body. My old one had grown—old,” Wren said.

“And Sarai?” Titania whispered.

“A soul cannot live without a body. Sarai is in the Soul Chasm now, ready to make the journey to reincarnation. Though, truth be told, no soul has been reborn ever since The Schism,” Wren said.

“Oh…” Titania stared down at her hands.

“Could you take an immortal’s body? One with chromatic black mana, like me?” Stryg stared at Wren warily.

Wren laughed, the first true sign of mirth Stryg had seen in her. “You don’t have to be afraid, I told you before, the two of you are safe here. Besides, only a fool would try to possess a titan’s body, especially that of a son of Death. If I tried, your soul would consume mine in an instant. Even if I possessed a different immortal, it would not bode well. A mortal soul degrades quite rapidly in an immortal’s body.”

“I see. I think I’ve heard enough for one evening,” Stryg got up. “Titania, come along.”

“Oh, okay.” Titania scrambled to her feet and grabbed Stryg’s hand, much to his surprise, though he did not pull away.

“My servants have already set up a tent for you both next to mine. I’ll let you get settled before having someone bring you dinner,” Wren said.

“Thanks,” Stryg gave her a nod. “Oh, by the way. A dragon has been seeking you for your help.”

“A dragon?” Wren cocked an eyebrow.

“Reldros, the Amaranth Fury. He is the son of Kaleidrog, the—”

“I have heard of him. Why would Reldros seek my help? Dragons possess dragon magic, what you call true magic,” Wren said.

“Yeah, but even a dragon does not possess your mastery of soul magic, or so the stories say. I suppose it’s because you are a Spark of Drakith,” Stryg said.

“Hm. What would a dragon require my magic for that they cannot do themselves?” Wren asked.

“Reldros’ sister, Zavinti. Her soul was damaged by Caligo.”

“Damaged how?”

“I don’t really know what it means, but Reldros said Caligo forced some kind of soul bond with her?” Stryg said.

“Ah… I see. Are you aware of the Sigte bond? My question is rhetorical, I can see you possess one on your hand. A dragon’s soul bond is a lot like that. Forcing one on a dragon would be quite harmful. Is Caligo still bonded to her?” Wren asked.

“No. I don’t think he ever truly was. I think he used the bond like a shackle of some sort. He was controlling her with it,” Stryg said.

“That’s much worse, for Zavinti, I mean.”

“Can you help her?”

Wren shook her head. “Apologies, but I make it a rule not to help dragons. Well, except for one, but that conversation is for another day.”

The amethyst dragon Syleth came to Stryg’s mind. The old man had been a friend to Stryg and had even taken him flying a couple of times. He had not deserved the death Caligo had given him. “Not all dragons are bad.”

“On that we can agree, but forgive me if I am not inclined to help the daughter of Kaleidrog, a dragon lord who quite literally served Drakith during the War of Unildyr,” Wren said.

“Fair enough.” Stryg turned to leave the tent but paused. “Wren?”

“Hm?”

“You said Parathyan created designs for an artifact that could save Aleirune, but he was killed before he could forge it. Were any of the designs ever recovered? Anything at all?” Stryg asked.

“I’m afraid not. Even if they had been, Parathyan was the only man capable of forging such an artifact, and Hope is the only one who could have made it work. They are both gone now.”

“I see,” Stryg said quietly.

“You know dragons?” Titania asked him as the two left the tent.

“I’ve met a few,” Stryg said.

“What were they like?”

“Strong.”

“Do you like dragons?”

“Depends on the dragon,” Stryg’s voice faded into the distance.

Wren waited until both of them were truly well and gone before she sighed heavily and slumped in her bed of pillows. She glanced at the mirrors, each one reflecting a different angle of her. “Was it enough? Did I set them on the right path?” She sighed, “We’re betting it all on your gambit. Let us hope it works, Parathyan.”