Kieran clutched his head with an expression of abject horror.
The potential shattering of the Anchor was an outcome Kieran had worked painstakingly to avoid, taking time to shore up his mental defenses by reinforcing the Furthered Scales of Balance, meticulously weaving his disparate soul back to its correct order and avoiding prolonged usages of the Flame's power.
If the Anchor shattered now, it would make all his efforts for naught, and that thought left him feeling incredibly bitter. But while he agonized over the current transgression, the Flame rejoiced.
'All my efforts… moot. This damned Flame, it ruins everything. All my plans, fucking ruined!'
As Kieran cursed the Flame in his mind, becoming incredibly hateful to the point terrifying emotions seeped out of his mind, along with the urge to destroy things, the Flame spoke to him.
It sounded unusual, though.
The Flame has always been the personification of cunning, deceit, and guile, but now it sounded far more demented when it spoke. Its mannerisms remained the same, but there was an alarming change in tone.
"My child, a pleasant time is upon us. I don't know what you did to break the Anchor, but I applaud your devotion to our cause. How did you know it'd hinder the last step?"
How did he know?
Kieran gulped with a wan grimace, staring at the fractures spreading across the Anchor like a cancerous affliction. The webs connected, forming an intricate pattern. The motif would be beautiful if not for the perilous meaning behind this plight.
'Come on. Are you serious?'
Distraught and at a loss for words, Kieran looked over to the Furthered Scales of Balance, studying its condition. Though it existed separate from the Anchor, it borrowed greatly from its presence, using the Anchor's support to accomplish its balancing effect.
It could still operate perfectly fine should the Anchor finish breaking, but the Scales would have far more space to stabilize. That meant its effects would be stretched thin… unless Kieran could devise a feasible solution.
However, Kieran's mind wasn't thinking too clearly in his current condition.
The prevalence of his despair was too overpowering and strangled his rationale. Had he been of sound mind, his first reaction would have been to connect with the Scales to attain equanimity of thought and gain a pragmatic outlook on this situation.
Unfortunately, he obsessed over what the removal of the Anchor could mean. No, not what it could mean… what it absolutely meant.
When it came to repelling the Flame, he was on his own.
And should the Flame lash out in another outrage… he would have no defense against its ruinous might. The thought of that outcome left Kieran feeling morose. To have his progress effectively be in vain, rendered useless by factors outside his control, was supremely depressing.
Kieran plopped to the floor inside his Realm in a rut, watching debris and sparkling deposits pour from the Anchor. He wanted to blame the Flame for all this, and he had, but that assumption was wrong. Though deceitful, the Flame had a particular pride it upheld.
It did not assume credit for things outside its handiwork. The fact the Flame pushed the triumph upon Kieran was thought-provoking.
From the Flame's words, it was clear it had no involvement in this matter. This was likely part of the Trial's design and why the voice he had contacted declined his plea to have everything returned.
Everything happened with due time and had its place. Though true, it left Kieran feeling doubtful and unsure. Was having his everything returned enough to power through this Trial? Could he confidently overcome the final battle without a crutch?
That was precisely the nature of the Anchor — a crutch. A unique crutch only afforded to him. And now, it was time for the handicap to be removed.
'But why did it break? Why now? There was no indication that it would happen soon. This is all too sudden!'
Kieran's intense reaction was the byproduct of an unforeseen issue being sprung upon him, which was understandable. He had always thought it would be his decision when the Anchor should be broken, and little dissuaded him from that belief.
What a beautiful lie that had been. A fairytale delusion on Kieran's part.
This quandary reminded him of the most important words spoken to all Inheritors — choice would be stolen. He had no choice in the Anchor's breaking, which was a direct manifestation of the warning.
Hatred boiled in Kieran's mind, making his teeth ache with fury.
But he grasped something strange as the virulent vitriol bubbled in his mind.
What had been the catalyst of the breaking? Before the Anchor started to fragment, a strange phenomenon had occurred.
The Call of the Anchor activated of its own accord, and there was information in that activation. If Kieran had focused just a smidgen more, he wouldn't have belatedly realized that although his choice had been stolen, it was only pilfered as a consequence of his decisions, albeit an inevitable one.
The Chains slamming together didn't happen for no apparent reason. In that ephemeral moment where they all touched, Kieran was fed an image — six images, to be precise.
Each image viewed the Ravaged Plains from a different angle, and each perspective naturally belonged to an Inheritor. They had converged at the rendezvous point, and the current situation was the outcome.
So, in a sense, Kieran was the culprit of this bind.
'I called all of us together, not knowing what it would do, how it would inadvertently help the Flame.'
Viewing the Anchor's final moments with that morbid understanding, Kieran watched it crack in half, a large fissure bifurcating its center.
Then, the Anchor released a torrent of intangible things. Most of it permeated the Realm, becoming free-floating energy to be utilized however Kieran saw fit. The rest flowed into Kieran's psyche, restoring his connection to everything he was.
Everything returned so potently that Kieran nearly fell back in his seated position, but he managed to remain upright until the surge petered out.
The return of all he was — Type, Blood, Titles, Aspect, and Soul Trait should have left Kieran ecstatic, but he was glum instead. As soon as the Anchor vanished, the Flame materialized beside Kieran, its voice dissonant and overlapping thousands of times.
It felt like he was sitting in an echo chamber while the Flame spoke to him.
"Your timing is simply fantastic, my child. There have been so many new additions to the battlefield, and all it has done is contribute to the ocean of blood flowing through the theater of war. What an amazing bloodbath!"
Death and destruction were happening in alarming volume. Kieran didn't know what it looked like or how long the Flame had kept him imprisoned down here, but he knew one thing.
Everyone was fighting without him, and that infuriated him and made him sick to his stomach.
Staring at the unclaimed Significance permeating his Realm, Kieran found a kernel of conviction to cling to. Then, he stood inside his Realm and commandeered it.
'I don't have the time to sulk, despair, or brood. I'm equipped to see this through, and I intend to.'
One… two… three… the Supreme Cipher coalesced around his arms faster than Kieran had ever mustered. This Trial supplied him with power beyond his station. It was time he wielded it like the Tier he was made to embody.
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