8 Ash 121
Low-City, Kalzasi
The cooler winds of the changing season ghosted over Talon’s wings. He tucked them in closer, feeling the cold much more heavily than he normally would have. He could not place it but it hung about him more than usual. Perhaps it was a portent of things to come. Perhaps it was just his imagination. The cold was chased away easily enough as he felt another step closer into his orbit. The warmth of Aoren’s presence both mentally and physically helped to ease the tension in Talon’s shoulders. As his bondmate’s arm wrapped around his waist, he felt Aoren press his brow into the crook of his neck. He let the moment wash over him. He let the warmth of that gentle embrace course its way through his body. It helped to soothe some of the uncertainties that clung to his weary mind.
“You are afraid.” Talon did not answer. Not aloud. His bondmate continued to give voice to the thoughts swirling through his head. “You worry that they will see you differently. Do they hate you? Do they fear you? Most of all, do they believe in you?”
“Everything has changed.” Talon looked out over the people going about their daily lives. He looked upon the denizens of the Low City with apprehension. Searing, Talon had been summoned before the Council. He had stood to give testimony to the events that had transpired in Zaichaer and the failed diplomatic errand he had been sent on. It had not been a pleasant experience. It had not been completely painful either. It had simply been what it was and he had known it would be coming. What he had not anticipated was being forced to reveal the truth of everything that had happened to him but it had happened. He was now faced with the reality that people outside of his family circle and close friends knew what had become of him.
Before the Searing season, he had only heard his name invoked on the lips of those who bore the mark of his divinity. Now, he could hear prayers of truth faith being sent to him on the lips of more than just Dawnmartyrs in hiding or those he personally knew. He had heard his name on the lips of an Avialae Sky Guard as the man faced off against a creature from the Warrens. Talon could feel the warrior’s fear. In that moment he had felt as though there were a phantasmal hand reaching for him. He could almost see it. Thin and shaking. In his mind, Talon had reached out to take that hand in order to steady it. What he had witnessed as the warrior firming his stance and facing off against the creature.
When the moment had passed, Talon felt as though he had given something of himself to the man. It was not quite an Emblem, he knew what that felt like. This felt smaller but more significant somehow. He could not yet place it but afterwards he had felt himself grow a tad fatigued and at the same time he felt…
Talon searched for the right word in his thoughts.
Elevated.
It was an odd sensation but he recovered from it in a few breaths.
The following day the same thing happened with more of the Sky Guard that he could sense. It was not a large number of the warriors but it was a handful of them. The day after that, he had found his attention briefly drawn to a woman standing before the steps of the High Court. She had called to him and as before, Talon had felt what he could only describe was a hand reaching out to him. He had taken that hand as he had with the others and the woman had let out a breath then started taking the steps to the court.
Those small moments, lasting no more than a second or two, had been becoming more frequent. They were still not in large numbers but it was becoming often enough that he was gaining an awareness that people, even if just a handful of them, had taken what had transpired in Searing and chosen to believe it.
They believed in him.
But just as there were those who believed in him, there were those who were skeptical of him. Talon did not blame them. He did not judge them either. They were right to be skeptical.
“I do not even know what all of this means, Aoren.” He gestured to himself vaguely. “I had one conversation with a past incarnation of myself and then…”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I get glimpses. I get feelings. But I do not know what...what has truly become of me. What is to say that I truly became a demigod? What is to say that I did not simply awaken to strange powers after being exposed to the dark flow of the Warrens?” Talon shook his head. He felt as though he was a marionette being danced about on a string. The Dawnmartyrs believed him to be the reincarnation of Arcas, the mythical hero god of ages past and the patron of their order. Lyra and her Other Self, had acknowledged him as this ancient deity reborn. But what did all of that really mean? He had gained new powers and abilities but what was to say he had not just seen some evolution of the powers he already commanded? Talon was not ignorant to the fact that he was a prolific and powerful sorcerer. He spent many days of his life working with powerful manifestations of aether. He was just about to run his hands through his hair when Aoren caught his hands and brought them to his lap. He ran his thumbs of Talon’s palms soothing away some of the tension.
“If you are going to ask me what to do, you already know my answer.” Aoren smiled and the two of them shared a small moment of humor. Talon watched as Aoren brought his hands to his face. He ran his fingers over the line of Aoren’s jaw as the man kissed his palms.
“I am just a warrior. I am not a philosopher. I’m not even that good of a bodyguard.” Talon chuckled and shoved his beloved bondmate. Aoren responded with a playful flinch before tugging him into his arms. “I would fight every battle for you if I could but this is one battle that this soldier has not the skills to fight.”
Talon sighed. He stared out into the crowd of people going about their daily lives. It was almost overwhelming. Aoren grasped his chin, turning his face so that they were staring each other in the eyes.
“Hey,” He touched their brows together. “Iki tình thương.”
The words in Synskrit comforted him. It was not often that Aoren chose to speak in the Synnekar tongue. His Kathalan accent and dialect made forming some of the words difficult but when he did speak, it always made Talon smile. When they pulled back, he kissed his bondmate softly.
“You are getting better.” That made the raven winged warrior grin.
“I know.” Talon laughed with a shake of his head. He looked down to the people going about their lives below one more time. With a deep breath, he nodded to himself. On the edges of his awareness he could still feel the presence of the one who had invoked his name. It had been a moment of true faith, not merely spoken in conversation. He was finding that those were the moments sticking out to him, the things his awareness picked up on. People who truly needed him or something close to a confirmation of his acknowledgement. Instead of choosing to simply take the hand offered in his mind, Talon chose to visit this person in the flesh.
“Come.” Talon pushed himself off the ledge. He drifted down to the street and was soon joined by Aoren. Together, the two of them made their way toward the one who had called for him.
