And So We Lift Our Voices

Abruptly, all eyes turned to him as he stumbled into the room.

Winds’ hazy attention snapped back, not fast enough to snatch at his back as he took a step further in. |Why can’t you see you’re making a mistake? This is our last chance— we have barely a few weeks until the end. Can you not see you’re dooming us all?|

Feyrim’s eyes flicked towards the Hand, sharp, calculating. |Who’s this?|

He opened his mouth—

|Silence!| Elka’s eyes blazed as she stood, the rest of the Hand with her. |How dare you break into this meeting. You have no authority to be here—|

|I am a Domini of the Ripple! I have a right to represent my people! People who will die if you have your narrow-minded ways.|

|You have no such right—|

|This discussion is over.| Kuryllan snapped his fingers, his eyes cold, and abruptly the room vanished, Feyrim’s intensely intrigued gaze and the abruptly-alert members of his following dissipating with it.

He found himself abruptly ejected from Soulspace and planted back in his own body, jerking back before he could topple off the bench.

For a moment he huffed for breath, every muscle tight as a stretched cord, his teeth grinding hard enough to send pain spiking through his disoriented skull. He’d hoped— But they’d rather eject him than listen, than even let him speak his piece. They spoke for the people of Firemount as if they represented every facet—

Damn all of this. Damn it to the Dark void.

“Master Seih?”

He stepped past Voice as the Divination reached for him, his stride lengthening, Domini falling silent as he passed through them like a boat parting water until every footstep nearly echoed off the towering walls.

His hands clenched into fists so tightly they shook as he approached the rim of the Ripple, his voice rising to fill the space beneath the glass skylight like thunder cracking off the stone. “I call for a vote of the people! I declare no confidence in the Hand’s ability to judge for Firemount whether they wish to join the fight against Darkness or not!”

For an eternally long moment, the Hand stared up at him, absolute silence descending as the echoes of his declaration died away.

“Ah, I see he’s finally lost every last faculty he possessed.” A voice he should have expected came from behind him, footsteps sauntering across the polished floor.

He turned to see Hafest, the simmer in his veins rising to bitter bile at the back of his tongue. “I am perfectly sane. And I am perfectly serious.”

Hafest shook his head in false pity as he stepped up to stand in Seih’s space, using his half a head of extra height to loom over him. “You don’t understand, and you never have, Seih. This sort of attitude is what is destined to tear us apart, and you are the one at its head, spreading it like poison through our people— heightening their anxiety, eroding their trust.”

He spoke through clenched teeth, knuckles white as he stared back, unblinking. “And what of yours? Parties at the end of the world? Doing your best to drag everyone with you into a false sense of safety?”

“I look out for our people’s happiness, encouraging their confidence in the Light, unlike your own tactics. Spreading fear and dissent....” Hafest radiated paternal disapproval, staring down at him. “One would almost think you had been seduced by Darkness, placed as an agent in our midst to create these rifts.”

That’s it.

Cruhk!

His fist connected with a hard, stubbled jaw, throwing the other man stumbling back.

I’ve had it with your self-absorbed drivel.

The hush fell even greater than before, the other Domini’s hiss and the click of his jaw as he worked it with a wince the only sound besides Seih’s own breaths as he tightened his jaw, eyes blazing. Shaking out his hand, he gritted, “Don’t insult me, and don’t insult those who are tired of Domini like you.”

In an instant, an uproar crashed over the atrium and Hafest’s gaze snapped towards him, a hand flashing out to grab the collar of his tunic, bared teeth a hair away from his face. “You little rutch—”

“Hk!” His fingers reflexively dug into an iron wrist, Hafest’s words lost under the shouts, a fist flashing towards his face only to miss by moments as a blur deflected it. Abruptly, a crackle sparked to life under the conflicting cries, heat dancing next to his face with a flame-flicker rising off a steady hand, a blade glinting up by his ear.

It took him a moment to trace the gleaming metal down to Winds’ wrist, the other Divination staring past him, unblinking, all of them frozen.

“Cease!”

The Hand’s collective voice cut through the noise like a sword, the shouts dying down and Hafest’s fingers only tightening on his fistful of fabric. Seih glared at him, tightening his own grip, aware of both Divinations ready to fight each other and their opposing masters, anger still tight in his throat. If the other Domini wanted a fight—

“Domini Hafest, Domini Seih, you will stand down immediately, or you will both be thrown out!”

Hafest dropped him with a harsh “kk!”, stepping back with a glare Seih met heat for heat.

“Domini Seih, you have made accusations against the Hand and demanded proceedings you have no right to call.”

He turned to find the Ripple reconfiguring, the central block on which the Hand sat rising to the middle of the floor, the other tiers flattening until the whole thing was level with the rest of the room. All of them gazed at him with ice-cold eyes.

And he stood firm, turning to face them with the full force of his glare. “You refuse to—”

“Domini Seih, you are not permitted to speak.

“From this moment forth, you are hereby banned from the Ripple and all its decisions until such time as you are either replaced, or the council decides you may rejoin our ranks.”

(1:0:7)

“Firemount will not go to war against the Dark-kind with the Unity’s forces. We will continue to offer constructs to aid their efforts, but our people will never be subject to slaughter. We are assured that the Shield of Light will protect our lands....”

The words rang through his head again as if it were the first time hearing them, the gist of it blazed into his memory, burned into his mind.

“They can’t do this. They can’t—” Brei struggled for words as she paced, throwing her hands out in wordless frustration. “Are they even aware? Do they have any idea what they’re doing?”

Seih watched her from the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, only able to feel a tired acceptance at this point.

“There’s not much they can do,” Winds said, also watching her carve a furrow in the rug. “Their reasoning for choosing to trust in the shield instead of mobilising has merit. None of the people of Firemount have any experience with battle or fighting. Our nation is peaceful, our land free of predators or Dark-kind as others have.”

“What about Divinations? What about constructs or... or anything?”

“There aren’t enough of us,” Winds said simply. “We may we able to match with Arachnids, but they will be able to defeat us simply by targeting our ranks. We have no chance.”

Seih closed his eyes, rubbing his hands slowly over his face, feeling the smooth bumps of his soulbind crown. If only he could have managed to get through sooner. Pushed for them to create more Divinations impressed with combat experience from the beginning, been more aggressive....

“...Winds, what does Amotas mean?”

Both of them turned at the sound of his tired voice, Brei blinking, Winds tilting his head. “Hope. Loyalty. Steadfastness.”

“Hope,” he repeated dully.

“Yes. Its literal meaning is a wind. ‘Winds that carry hope on their currents’ in the sense of a force that cannot be dismayed.”

He looked up, meeting both sets of eyes. “Do you still think we have hope?”

Winds stayed silent, Brei’s hands clenching around her arms as she folded them, brows furrowed. She was the one who met his eyes, her own fierce.

“We choose to have hope.”