Chương 29: Omnimancer 24: The Owl

Taren Stormcrow stood behind his superior as the meeting dragged on, his hands clasped behind his back. Not out of any sense of duty, of course. He just wanted to hide the trembling. Why a mere captain—a squad captain, after his demotion following the debacle at Treewater—had been summoned to the depths of Takora's most secret chambers for an emergency summons of the city's leaders, he hadn't a clue. Various leaders' bodyguards and assistants stood all around the perimeter of the room. Taren was neither, of course.

He could practically feel them judging him, deeming him unworthy. They weren't wrong, either… Taren only ever interacted with the Bear a handful of times, and they'd been some of the most nerve-wracking experiences of his life. The chamber itself was as oppressive as the meeting itself, with its dark stone walls curving into a dome. Like it was some beast closing in around them. His insecurities speaking, he knew.

The leaders had all gathered around a large circular wooden table, illuminated from above by a single enchanted light that somehow only made the darkness worse. A bowl on the table burned sagebrush and thyme, meant to ward off any evil spirits, though Taren suspected the real evil was right here in this very room. What ought to have made the place smell nice instead felt like it choked him, like he was suffocating with every breath.

It combined with the Soulfire bleeding off the assembled powers to make his skin crawl. Some of these Mancers could level buildings with a single chant. Which was likely the whole point. There could be no mistake that this was punishment, pure and simple. He might not know how, exactly, but nothing good could come of this. Bidzi the Bear didn't summon people to meetings like these on a whim, that was for certain.

"It is my belief that we should test them," said Nakai Galeheart, Firekeeper and leader of Takora's Shamanic Conclave, his low voice somehow audible even across the chamber. Where Bidzi was a raging storm, Nakai was the eye of the hurricane. Entirely different in manner, yet no less terrifying.

"To ascertain whether this newcomer truly is who they claim to be."

"Oh?" boomed Bidzi Swiftwind, Commander of Takora's Hearthguard Brotherhood.

"And if you're wrong?" He slammed a fist the size of a bear's paw onto the table. The wood didn't crack, but Taren definitely saw it flex from the impact.

"One tiny little mistake, and you've got the wrath of the Moonfire Circle. I don't think I need to tell any of you the absolute disaster that would be. Our peace is a fragile thing and hard-earned. I can't think of a better way to lose it." As a Trimancer of the Second Tier, Bidzi—or "The Bear," as he was called—had more than earned his position.

Not only was he a Biomancer, not only had he summited a Twenty-one thousand foot peak on his own, earning him a [Rare] Gift, he possessed the Second Tier Lightning and First Tier Fire Schools as well. Taren had heard stories of Bidzi single-handedly taking down entire cartels in his younger days, destroying them and claiming their territory as his own. Most stories tended to grow with each retelling, but when it came to Bidzi, Taren didn't doubt for a moment he deserved every bit of his reputation, and then some.

The room went silent at Bidzi's words, though whether in fear or contemplation, Taren couldn't say. Moonfire Circle, huh? They were the nightmare that kept many a soul looking over their shoulders. A force that had broken a kingdom, leaving cities burning in their wake without a second thought.

"Careful, Breeze," Bidzi said. Taren wasn't the only one who winced at the Bear's insult. Using Nakai's old gang name was a deliberate provocation. A not-so-subtle reminder that the holy man hadn't always been so holy.

"Hakan wouldn't have been caught so flat-footed. He might've been a snake, but the network he built is nothing to scoff at, you all know that." Taren thought the Bear was trying to hint at something, but what, Taren didn't have a clue.

"Hakan was the definition of mediocrity," Nakai replied with a sneer, though Taren couldn't help but notice how his knuckles were white from gripping his chair.

"Mediocrity Takora is well served to be rid of."

"Regardless," Bidzi growled.

"I fail to see what we lose by waiting."

"Everything!" Nakai blurted, sending spittle flying onto the table.

"Don't you see? Every day we wait, this new power consolidates. Every day we do nothing, we look weak! Other factions are watching, Bidzi. Watching and waiting. If we don't move, someone else will."

"I'm afraid I must concur with Bidzi," the Chieftain said, crossing his arms. Yotu Ironbrow was a smaller man than the Bear, though substantially wider around the middle. His calculating eyes, though, never seemed to stop moving.

"Patience has served Takora well in the past." While only a Duomancer of the First Tier, his strength was political, with more people owing him favors than anyone. There was a reason he'd climbed to his position despite having only ever summited a modest Sixteener, and it was no secret he'd had help.

"Patience?" Nakai scoffed.

"Is that what we're calling cowardice now? So what if they are Moonfire? They have already attacked us! All the more reason to strike now, lest they sense our weakness. Yotu is one thing, but I must say I expected more spine from you, Bidzi. I'm starting to wonder if you've lost the ambition that earned you your moniker."

"Watch your tongue, Breeze," Bidzi growled, slamming both hands on the table now, standing to his full, imposing height. The temperature in the room spiked, and that was no metaphorical thing. Taren felt sweat bead on his forehead as the Bear began muttering a chant, heat radiating from his armor like a sun. The two stared each other down for several tense seconds until Nakai let out a long breath.

"We will get nowhere like this," the Conclave leader said, admitting defeat.

"Let us return to the topic at hand." For a long moment, Taren thought Bidzi would explode on him, but it was Chieftan Ironbrow, of all people, who came to the rescue.

"He is not worth the effort, Bidzi," he said quietly. With obvious effort, the Bear sat down, glaring at Nakai the entire time. Their arguments dragged on as the shaman stood firm in pushing for an attack. Yotu suggested diplomatic channels while Bidzi wanted to gather information first, and Chayton—leader of Takora's Magpie intelligence group—recommended acknowledging the Circle's new domain, making any conflict irrelevant. In truth, Taren had to agree with the Bear.

What use was there prodding the sleeping serpent? If they prematurely attacked and were wrong, Takora as they knew it might cease to exist. Everyone knew the Moonfire Circle didn't negotiate, and they weren't overly much into mercy, either. Yet as was usually the case, each faction dug in their heels, each accusing each other in turn until their arguments became full-on shouting matches, each unleashing their Soulfire until the already heavy air became downright dangerous to Taren.

"How dare you speak to the Conclave in such a manner?" Nakai snarled, rising to his feet, his own power manifesting as a swirling breeze that set the herbs burning in the bowl to dancing wildly. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Which of course prompted Bidzi to rise as well, causing the others' bodyguards to step out of the shadows. Weapons were drawn and chants filled the room. Even with Bidzi's other guards, Taren gave it even odds he survived this.

Taren's hand went to his sword, nevertheless. Even if it would be about as useful as a bucket of water against a forest blaze. There wasn't a single person in the room who lacked a quick temper, and Taren had to wonder if it was that very quality that had propelled them into positions of power in the first place. Power attracted the ambitious and the aggressive, after all. No, he thought. Not everyone. There was one among them who had the patience of a saint.

A figure who had remained seated the whole time, serenely gazing at the congregation. Who hadn't spoken a single word, even as chaos erupted around him.

"Quiet." A single word from the hooded elder silenced every voice and drew every eye in the room, the magical pressure vanishing in an instant. The man appeared absolutely unremarkable. His robes were simple wool that looked like they could have belonged to a monk or a scholar and he carried no weapons of any kind. Because, of course, he didn't need them. Taren swallowed involuntarily, his throat suddenly dry. They called him the Owl, and there was a reason that the circular table had a single side that was flat.

There was a reason it was the Owl who occupied that particular seat, at the head of a table that ought to have no head. Officially, the Owl held no titles, commanded no armies, and controlled no territory. But everyone in the chamber knew that couldn't be farther from the truth. The Owl boasted more than personal strength or political connections, and he wasn't lacking in those, either. The man simply knew things. Secrets of the universe he should not know. Could not know. Taren had heard the whispers, of course.

That the Owl could peer into the unknowable abyss that was the future. That he could see beyond walls, accumulating knowledge that no mortal should possess.

"We will abstain from any rash decisions, my friends," the Owl said, his soft voice nonetheless bearing a weight Taren hadn't thought possible.

"I can think of no reason to rush this." He rested his elbows upon the table and steepled his fingers, and just like the rumors said, the man's eyes were completely black. Like staring into a bottomless well.

"Should it be confirmed that the usurpation of the Dead Hands was the act of some lesser cartel, then they will be dealt with. Swiftly and without mercy. Until such time, there will be no moves on this new entity. Not until we've received word from Moonfire."

"But sir," Nakai said, his earlier bluster nowhere to be found, "how long might that be?"

"As long as it takes," the Owl replied.

"Understood," the Firekeeper muttered, deflating like a punctured waterskin. The Owl swept his gaze across the assembled leaders, and when it passed over Taren, he shivered uncontrollably. As though his soul had been laid bare and judged.

"Patience, my friends," the Owl said, sounding almost paternal.

"This may seem like a setback, but I assure you, it is nothing of the sort." He rose slowly, pushing back his chair. Despite his unassuming appearance, every eye in the room followed his movement.

"You know," he continued, pacing slowly around the table, his hands clasped behind his back, "I am reminded of a city I once visited. Years ago, now. Or was it decades?" He chuckled softly, much to the terror of everyone present.

"Time becomes difficult to track at my age, you see." No one dared to comment.

"That city was beautiful. Magnificent, truly. Marble towers reaching toward the Goddess herself and gardens that bloomed year-round. Arts and magic beyond compare." His fingers ran along the back of Nakai's chair as he passed, and the shaman went as still as a statue.

"But beneath that beauty?" the Owl continued.

"Rot. Corruption so deep it seeped into every brick of its foundation." The Owl staring up at the ceiling, seemingly gazing at some far-away world.

"The leaders of that city were good people, for the most part. They saw the problems and tried to fix them. They enacted reforms. Signed new laws. But you cannot cure gangrene with a bandage, can you?" He turned his gaze to the leaders, his pitch-black eyes threatening to swallow the minds of anyone who looked into them.

"Sometimes a thing must be destroyed before it can be made better. Torn down to its foundations. Burned away until only clean earth remains. Only then can you build something truly lasting. Truly pure." The air in the room had gone deathly still. Even Bidzi looked unsettled.

"That city I spoke of? It resisted. Oh, how it resisted. The people clung to their corruption. They fought and schemed trying to preserve the corpse, not realizing it was already dead." The Owl smiled fondly, as though he were some parent teaching a child a lesson.

"And so the city fell. Not to an enemy army or natural disaster, of course. It simply collapsed under the weight of its own decay." He returned to his seat but remained standing, placing his hands on the table.

"And yet, from those very ashes emerged something stronger. Superior. Those that remained rebuilt their civilization, applying every lesson earned in blood to its creation. The result was a society that endured for generations, free from the weaknesses that shackled their predecessors." The Owl sat down and steepled his fingers.

"Now, why does this old creature ramble on about some city? Takora is not that city, you say? No, not yet. But Takora is… ill. We all know this. The question is not whether change must come. Change is inevitable. As certain as the coming of the tide. But will it be us at its helm, shepherding that change? Or are we to be swept away by its currents like the denizens of poor Atoka?" Atoka? Taren thought, trying to dredge up the familiar-sounding name.

"What are you saying?" Yotu asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"That city is ancient. You mean to say you were there?" Taren's eyes bulged. The fall of Atoka was centuries ago…

"I am saying that every disruption and every apparent setback are opportunities in disguise," the Owl said, smiling.

"This unknown entity that has taken the Dead Hands' compound—what if they are not our enemy? What if they are but the fire that burns away what is weak and rotten in Takora, leaving space for something better to grow?"

"You can't mean those baseless rumors?" Chayton asked, speaking to the Owl for the first time.

"Baseless?" the Owl chuckled.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But let us speak of it in the open and not in hushed voices that give rumors their power. The Fallen Emissary." Taren's blood froze as he thought back to that terror in the sky. To the hell he'd endured making that report. Thank the Goddess there had been villagers to corroborate his account. Had it only been him and his men… a demotion would've been the least of his worries. Quite literally—one needed their head to worry, after all. Taren gulped.

That the Owl had referenced the Fallen Emissary could only mean the others were worried too.

"Yes, that Emissary," the Owl chuckled.

"Is our dear Captain's account to be believed? He certainly seems to believe it." It took a full second for Taren to realize it was him the ancient being was talking about. When he did, the fear he'd felt before seemed almost quaint in comparison. Taren barely managed to keep from soiling his pants.

"All the more reason to tread cautiously, yes?" the Owl asked.

"To lay our foundations and gauge the true measure of our foe's weakness, that we might exploit it at our leisure? If it is indeed the Fallen Emissary, many questions abound. How are they still alive? Does the Goddess know? What is their aim?"

"While I am doubtful of this theory," Chayton said, clearing his throat, "to stand idly by as they upset the balance we've worked so hard to maintain seems… imprudent."

"Balance?" The Owl chuckled.

"My dear Chayton, what you call balance is merely a temporary equilibrium between competing corruptions. True balance requires a foundation of strength. Of purity! Indeed, of purpose!" The Owl placed his palms upon the table.

"I do not ask you to do nothing. Merely that you trust in the greater pattern. Trust that what seems like chaos now is merely the first stage of renewal. We shall watch. We shall learn. And when the time is right, we will act." Taren nodded along with the others, though mostly out of fright. He was all but certain there was something hidden in those words. Some secret meaning beyond his capacity to understand.

"The world is changing, my friends," the Owl continued.

"We can either guide Takora through this transformation to shape it into something greater than it has ever been, or we can cling to the past and fall into irrelevance." When his deep, black eyes met Taren's gaze, he felt as though he were peering into the very depths of something utterly inhuman. Like darkness itself.

"I choose the former," the Owl said.

"I choose to serve the greater good, no matter the sacrifice. Because I know that what emerges from this crucible will be worth any price." The silence that followed nearly crushed Taren.