VoC: B1 — 48. Ashes of a Dream (Patreon)

1. Damon (Our Recovering MC!)

Veil Of Chaos Index

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Ink swirled beneath Damon’s skin as he sat in silence, concentrating on the divine script pulsing with a warmth that spread out through his whole body. It had been three days since he’d awoken, traveling through villages and forts.

The others were outside, Cassy and Copper helping Marta—their wagon driver—finish up with her latest delivery, while Aria charmed information from the local guards at the fort.

After several unpleasant looks, he’d opted to stay inside so as not to sour the merchant’s sales. It gave him time to acquaint himself with this new power. He managed to pull the ink out with a bit of effort, shaping it into a tiny spike, maybe. At least, that was what he was going with.

Unfortunately, that effort died like all his earlier attempts, and not gradually.

[Soul Ink Synthesis: Failed]

All at once, as if someone had severed the connection between his brain and his arm mid-thought, the ink collapsed with all sensation.

Damon let out a slow breath and lowered the dead limb to his lap, watching it lie there like a piece of unfamiliar meat attached to his shoulder as his little turtle retreated deeper into hibernation.

“Again?” Aria groaned, peeling back the tent flap, a bundle of books under her other arm.

“Again,” he confirmed, flexing his right hand instead just to feel something respond. “Little guy can’t keep my soul functional and answer my request at the same time. Or maybe it’s just me. Hard to say, really.”

“Probably all the above.” She settled in and turned a page with more force than necessary, crimson hair catching the afternoon light filtering through the wagon’s canvas. “I tried finding anything in the nearby village library about soul damage, but…yeah, it’s a small village.”

Her lips pushed to the side as she looked up to give him her signature Shego glare. “And you died eight days ago, Damon, and you’ve been conscious for half of that. Maybe give yourself more than a week before trying to manifest divine ink… Rest a little.”

“Fair.”

He saw the guilt still within her glowing blue eyes, searching his face for something—frustration, maybe, or the kind of reckless determination that had gotten him killed in the first place. Whatever she found made her lips thin even more before returning to the text.

“You wanted me to read to you, so we know what we’re getting into. Just relax a little. Chapter three?”

He waved his dead arm theatrically for her to continue, getting another sisterly note of disapproval that had him chuckling a little. “Sorry. Sorry. Go on.”

“You’re just doing that to annoy me… Ahem. Dungeon rules and classifications. Did you know that Dungeons can grow anywhere—even in a city, underwater, or in someone’s house?”

“Rather inconvenient things.” Damon yawned and leaned against the wall, and carefully set his useless arm into the sling Cassy made him; use would return in roughly an hour, if it followed the usual pattern. “They’re spread during the decade cycle of the Veil of Chaos, then remain dormant until…”

Aria’s tone lightened as she dove into the topic. “Well, that’s the interesting thing. It saps mana, the soul force of local creatures, and draws power from the very environment or sunlight. It’s the definition of a black hole, you could say, pulling in everything to its Core.”

“Where it conveniently makes a super powerful magical item?” Damon scoffed. “That’s a really weird mechanic to have. How does that make ecological or logical sense?”

 “Mmm. More than you think,” she mumbled, left eye creasing as she flipped to another page. “Its best prey is souls, and the best way to get that is to incentivise greedy or desperate people to go inside your…weird pocket spatial dimension. The reward needs to fit the risk.”

Damon leaned to the side and pulled back a flap to peer outside, seeing Cassy and Marta finishing up; they’d be on the move soon. He did a swift scan of the village, noting the standard of living was practically medieval, with some practical magic tools that reminded him they were in a fantasy world.

“…I guess class politics is the same everywhere. The wealthy live in a totally different world… We did at the royal villa. I can see why some people would throw their life away to strike it big as an Adventurer. And only the people who destroy the Core get the biggest prize.”

He let it slide back and caught her fingers tighten on the book’s edges, knuckles going pale against the leather binding. For a moment, he thought she might throw it at him. 

Tucking his bottom lip in, he decided to try a tactic Sophia often used to refocus his sister’s hyperactive mind.

“I know, Aria.” He closed his eyes and tried to remember how Sophia would do this—redirecting her anxiety into beautiful thoughts for her to analyze. “We’re caught in a wildfire, choking on the flames… Uh, something about ashes feeding fantasy…” He opened one eye. “I’m butchering it, aren’t I?”

Aira’s creasing face shifted. “You—huh? Okay, that’s from Soph’s poetry. Uh… You’re butchering it. It sounds like that one poem she made… You suck at it.”

Damon tilted his head to the side with a strained grin. “Yeah, well, I never said I was a poet. Just trying to put it into words.”

She closed the book, mouth bunching to the side as she hummed softly. “You’ve been thinking about her a lot, hmm? Umm. I…think it went more like this:

“We’re caught in a wildfire, choking on the flames of a strange pyre… The ashes of a dream feed our fantasy, locked inside, tangled in chains, and the crazy lies terrify and tame our hearts in the silence of our escape. Kiss my heart awake, we’re so far away…”

His sister fell quiet, glancing his way for half a second before her eyes fell to her lap. “That was a poem for you. So…why bring up that poem?” she whispered, hugging her book close to her chest and looking down at his arm. “Her poems are always pretty, but I don’t get them all the time. I think that’s sort of the point, though.”

Damon followed her gaze to his arm and rubbed the non-existent appendage that felt like a stranger’s. “…Come back to me, stop whispering. Have we fallen far too deep? I’m sleeping with a stranger… She told me that stranger was herself. Soph had so many layers. It always felt like a victory when I managed to decode one of those poems. Life’s interesting, huh?”

She looked up, voice softening. “You know, I came home once from school and saw you two dancing in the kitchen to this slow song… We weren’t perfect. But we were happy, right? Why did this happen to us, Damon? What did we do to deserve all of this? Everything’s…wrong.”

Damon was quiet for a long moment, his working hand resting over where Scribe slumbered beneath the skin of his dead arm. Outside, he heard Marta calling to her horses, preparing to move.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice rougher than intended. “We were happy. Not every day. Not perfectly. But…yeah. We all struggle with things, Aria. I know you’re mad at me. I know I can be a really hard big brother to deal with. But I’m doing the best I can. And I know you’re doing your best, too. Our story isn’t done yet.”

Aria’s smile returned, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah… Maybe just stop hiding the tough stuff from me? We’re in a new, dangerous, and insane world. I don’t want to be left in the dark…because I feel really far away from you right now.”

Damon let out a long breath and moved to sit beside her as she sniffed back tears, trying to be strong. He positioned to pull her against his chest with his good hand, kissing the top of her head.

“We’ll get through this. I can’t promise anything. You know I can’t…but you know I’ll try to do better by you. You’re my ground. Sophia’s my gravity. I can’t go without either.”

“So sappy…”

“A heart of mush.”

She managed a weak laugh.

Cassy entered shortly after, her dull, unimpressed gaze not expressing her true emotion as she curtsied as best one could in the back of a wagon and silently took her position. Damon gave her a reassuring smile, sending her a private message through [Hive Mind].

How are you doing? Get enough to eat? I don’t want to find out you’re in pain because you feel like you’re high maintenance. We have more than enough money, thanks to you.

The shark girl’s fingers drifted toward her stomach before she caught herself, clasping them in her lap. “I can always snack on something, but my needs are met at the moment, Master. Thank you for your concern. It should be acceptable until we get to the next checkpoint or fort.”

He nodded slowly, pulling his sister closer as she just breathed and wandered through her own chaotic mind against his chest.

My single order is to make sure you take care of yourself, no matter the price. You can have as much privacy as you want, so long as you treat yourself how you’d treat your master.

“…A very tall order, Master.” She showed a faint smile, still refusing to show her sharp teeth. “You ask much of me, but I live to serve.”

The wagon lurched into motion, and Aria swiped at her eyes quickly, hair hiding her cheeks from their maid. Oscillating between her usual two modes, this time she was ignoring Cassy rather than glaring at her.

His sister also spoke privately to him through [Hive Mind], which made him realize that, despite its ease of use, it could be used to isolate them more than was healthy.

“Maybe you’ll dance with her again when we find her. Still, I don’t know how to feel about my 10-year-old brother being with a monster girl. Everything has gotten a little weird.”

Damon sucked his left cheek in to chew on it lightly, hearing the clatter of cobblestone beneath the wagon wheels.

That’s something I need to discuss with Soph, Sis. Honestly, I’m fine with entering a more dating phase and waiting a few years as we grow closer together again in our new bodies, in this new world. But that’s a topic for another day, and not one I’m having with you.

“So, you’re not going to make a move on our vulnerable shark maid that will do ‘anything’ you ask her to?”

Aria… Damon’s voice turned firm as he pulled away slightly to give her a more stern stare. You know exactly why I want Cassy here, so don’t try to put your deviant mind on me.

“Okay. Okay. Fair,” she mirrored with an almost disarming smile that reversed her earlier emotional tone. “Just don’t expect me to be best friends with some posh, sarcastic shark girl the first month. She’s so…uptight. Also…I might want to date handsome nobles, you know.”

Really? Who is the posh one living up her dream as an Otome game elf princess with the world hanging on her every word? Other than that hypocrisy, we can table it for another time.

“Boo…”

Despite everything, Damon smiled as things settled into silence.

The wagon rocked over a rut in the road, and somewhere ahead, Marta called out something to her horses. Aria returned to her book with that desperate focus that said she was using it as a shield against thinking about everything else.

Like the fact that they were a day out from Tiristal now. Like the fact that Sophia was somewhere near there, trapped in a form that was eating away at her humanity with every passing hour. Like the fact that Cassy sat on the opposite bench, silent as stone, with her hands folded in her lap and her tail wrapped so tight around her ankle it had to hurt.

The tension between them was thick enough to choke on.

Damon had tried addressing it on the first day he awoke. Then the next. By now, he’d accepted that teenage girls were a mystery beyond even a goddess’ ability to untangle, and he’d just have to wait it out.

Through the bond—thin and carefully walled on both sides—he felt Copper’s anxiety like a constant low hum. The cub had taken to walking alongside the wagon rather than riding in it, too agitated by the silent war happening inside to settle. He was a smart bear, and Damon would join him for some hours to leave the girls alone inside to make something happen.

After an hour and once clear of the village, he decided to stretch his legs again. Winking at Aria on his way out, he got a scowl in return as he hopped out. The cub was growing quickly now and was the size of a Great Dane. He sent a low whine up to him as he walked beside him, matching the brisk pace of the wagon.

I know you don’t like them fighting, bud, he sighed, smiling down at the bear’s bristling fur. Girls can be weird in their own way, especially the teenage kind. They’re not fighting ‘exactly’ but aren’t not fighting, either. They’re just…being moody. I could take a guess, but I’d probably be wrong.

Copper huffed in a way that said there was only fighting and not fighting.

That’s a rather simple view… I envy it, he laughed.

He picked up his pace to walk beside the driver’s seat, Copper jogging after him to fall in line. “You doing okay, Ms. Marta?”

The middle-aged woman shot him a strained smile from her high position; there were racist roots in her, but not enough that some coin and a friendly smile didn’t override it. Still, sometimes, she’d jump or get nervous when they were alone.

“Doing just fine, Damon. Cassy has been more helpful than any servant I have had under contract. I’m kind of jealous of Lady Aria. Though the price of food is…a tad staggering, to say the least. I suppose sharkfolk store food in their tail, because I don’t know where that skinny girl puts it.”

Damon bypassed the awkward points. He wasn’t going to change anyone’s behavior by lecturing. All he could do was show her a different perspective in practice.

“Cassy is worth every iron to Lady Aria. You should see her smile.”

“I thought she was incapable,” the woman returned with a stressed laugh. “She seems like such a serious and dutiful girl. Hmm… I’ll look for it.”

Damon caught her playing with her graying brown hair as the conversation died there. They’d been traveling with her for well over a week now, and in the three days he’d talked with her, Damon had learned to read the cadence of her voice. Every village they went to, they heard some form of racist comment, whether aimed at him, Cassy, or both of them. Aria’s privilege opened every door, though.

His gaze shifted forward, spotting wagons going the opposite direction on the hilly road. In the distance, he saw what was possibly making Marta nervous.

They were coming upon a Paladin fort. A checkpoint to log travelers. Damon returned inside, not to draw attention before it was absolutely necessary. He was sure by this point that word would have spread that he’d left.

No ambush yet. No assassins materializing from the roadside. The count kept his mouth shut, apparently—or Aria’s judgment of character is better than I gave her credit for.

That wouldn’t last forever, though. All it would take would be someone going the opposite way to spread the rumor about a sun elf on the road.

Riverbend Fort came into view as the sun started its descent toward the western hills. It was a squat stone structure that straddled the road like a sleeping giant with wolf banners hanging along its posts, the local lord’s symbol hanging limp in the still air.

“Lady Aria, I know you asked for discretion. Though that may be challenging at this checkpoint,” Marta called back. “The Guards will want to see faces.”

Aria straightened, smoothing out the dress their mother had given her and checking that the jewelry in her hair sat properly. Every chance she’d gotten, they’d taken baths and washed clothes.

Well, Cassy had done the bulk of that since neither of them knew a thing about handwashing clothes. Aria had tried the first day and somehow made her dress dirtier; she’d never admit it, but the maid managed to reverse the damage. He was sure her practical skills were also contributing to her moody attitude toward the shark girl.

The sun elf mask slid into place with practiced ease, ready to charm their path forward, like usual. Cassy didn’t move beyond a slight tensing of her shoulders. She’d been growing more and more anxious by the day, and he was beginning to suspect it wasn’t due to his sister.

The wagon slowed, and Damon used his working hand to push aside the canvas flap, taking in their surroundings with the kind of assessment that had become second nature. Stone walls. Four visible guards. Merchant traffic backed up about six deep. And there, near the water trough where horses were being watered, were two men.

Not guards, they were too well-dressed for soldiers, and too watchful for merchants.

One was tall and lean with the kind of stillness that spoke of professional patience. The other was shorter, broader, with a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. Both were pretending to check their horses’ hooves while their attention tracked every wagon that passed.

When Marta’s wagon rolled into view, the tall one’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned over. whispering to his partner.

Copper, Damon sent quietly. Two men. East side, by the water trough. What do you sense?

The cub’s response was immediate—a growl building in his chest that Damon felt through the bond before he heard it outside.

Ah, they are trained on us. Easy. They’re just watching. It seems one information network has caught up to us. The question is, who is it? But whoever they are, they’re not moving yet. Just keep alert, bud. They won’t try anything here. It’s too public.

Through the bond, he felt Copper’s reluctant acceptance mixed with frustrated protectiveness.

“What is it?” Aria asked, her sun elf composure not quite hiding the tension in her voice.

Company, Damon shrugged, letting the canvas fall closed and trying to remain calm. He had to curl his fingers as he recalled the sensation of sliding a spike into assassin hearts. Probably from Bluerise by the side of the road they’re on. Someone’s caught up. Here’s hoping it’s Ashcroft, and not anyone who wants us dead.

Cassy’s tail twitched once, her red eyes lifted to meet his, question and worry mixing in equal measure. “Master, I’ve tried to be careful not to show our funds. Perhaps someone knows how much we are traveling with? And…”

Damon’s mind shifted gears at her hesitant tone. You look like you want something. I can’t read your mind. Or can I? He chuckled. No, but really, what’s on your mind? 

She pulled in her lips, and the complexity of emotions on her face mirrored the scene in the arena. “Might…I get a cloak. I know you had me do many of the interactions up to this point. Though…I fear it may cause you trouble if…I am noticed, with us being so close to Tiristal.”

Aria lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Okay, spit it out. What’s the deal, Cass? You’re acting like you’re a wanted criminal in this—Damon?”

He shook his head and held up a hand to stop her as Cassy’s jaw set; she was showing more emotion than she typically did, and all stress.

Absolutely. We can get you a cloak here, and I think it’s getting to the point that I don’t think hiding anymore will help. Besides, Copper would probably give us away if anyone knew I bonded with a bear. It was just a temporary thing.

His sister made a clipped note in her throat that said she knew he was covering for her, and she didn’t approve. He ignored it and gave them a thumbs-up, moving on.

They aren’t reckless or stupid. They won’t make a move in broad daylight, and we’re getting close to the city. They won’t move until we’re inside it and they’ve finished scoping us out. They’ll wait until we drop our guard inside the walls. Think we’re safe, at least for now.

“So, with Ms. Criminal here needing a disguise, what do we do?” Aria’s fingers had curled into the fabric of her dress. “I could just…do a little curse in passing.”

Aria, stop it, he chided, glancing at Cassy as she took that comment with more needles than his sister intended. You know her well enough now. She’s washing your underwear, Sis.

“Okay, details,” the redhead winced. “No girl wants to hear her brother talk about her underwear. Yikes. Uh, right. Whatever. So…what do we do? I think they’re coming!”

We finish this checkpoint—no stress—buy Cassy a cloak, and keep moving. He looked at the maid directly. Let me guess, you started your Adventurer journey in Tiristal?

She nodded slowly, something like gratitude flickering across her usually impassive expression. “Thank you, Master. I…do not have fond memories of this city,” she mumbled, a tremor running down her tail as she gripped her forearm.

Her mental tone held far more emotion than her vocal voice did, causing even his annoyed little sister to falter. Sadly, he wasn’t able to capitalize on that rare moment of shared teenage vulnerability because a knock sounded at the back after the guards had a short interaction with their driver.

“…Lady Aria, is it? May we check inside?”

It was hesitant and curious at once.

Aria threw back her shoulders and put on her best beaming smile.

“I will allow it. I am trying to travel without making a fuss, if you understand.”

The flap parted, and the stunned guards lost their tongue for a few seconds as her radiance stole their attention. After a quick prompt, they’re jaws closed, and they became far more amiable.

It wasn’t long after that that the guards waved them through after a cursory inspection that could hardly be called such. Aria’s sun elf status did an ungodly amount of work. One of their gaze lingered on Damon, but stopped on Cassy for just as long as Aria, recognition crossing his face. He seemed to shrug it off with a shake of his head upon seeing Aria’s [System Tricky] manipulated system sheet, though.

Marta guided the wagon into Riverbend’s small market district with the ease of someone who’d made this trip a hundred times.

“…I hear you wanted new clothes, Lady Aria. There’s a tailor two streets over,” she called back. “Good prices and not the type that ask questions when I visit.”

“Perfect,” Aria chimed. “You’ve been most accommodating.”

Damon rolled his eyes. Have you been taking your conversation lessons from your Otome games?

“Shut up! It works, so don’t bash it.”

Twenty minutes later, Cassy had a new cloak—deep gray, hood large enough to hide her features completely—and Damon was forty iron pieces lighter. He wanted it to be quality so it would last, so the extra price was worth it, even with sun elf discounts. Cassy tried to argue about the cost, but he’d shut that down with a look.

The assassins were still visible when they left Riverbend, hanging back just far enough to maintain plausible deniability. He spotted one with what looked to be a book he would occasionally write, acting as if he were ticking off a shopping list. He wasn’t fooling Damon.

Copper confirmed the tail, even when they disappeared from view.

With a little extra financial incentive, he managed to get Marta to ride through the night, swapping horses with a new rental set that she’d return with on her path back to the capital.

Sure enough, the pair were on their six the entire night.

By the time the city of Tiristal revealed itself, Marta was sleep-deprived but happy with a fatter purse. They gradually crested the final hill on the ninth day since leaving Bluerise.

It sprawled along both banks of the Mirn River like a jewel split in two, bridges arching across the water in elegant stone spans that caught the morning light. The eastern bank was all merchant quarters and warehouse districts, practical and prosperous. The western bank rose in terraced levels, white stone buildings climbing toward a central plateau where a lord’s manor sat crowned in red tile.

And everywhere—everywhere—were the telltale scars of Dungeon breaks.

Collapsed sections of wall that had been rebuilt in a different stone style. Entire districts that looked newer than their surroundings, too clean and planned. Memorial gardens in odd places, marking sites where monsters had erupted from below and been put down at great cost.

“How…many dungeons are there in this place?” Damon mumbled, the realization settling into his gut like a hot stone. “It practically looks like a war zone.”

Aria flipped through her notes, but it was Cassy who answered from under her hood.

“This area gets quite a few F and D-tier Seeds since the destruction of the Chaos Tree further south from here. Typically, there can be four to seven active ones. There are bounties on discovering new ones to incentivise investigations, but sometimes…they can go undiscovered long enough for a break to happen.”

Damon collapsed against the wagon wall, eyes staring into open space. “As much as seven? And some aren’t even discovered before they break? Shit. I was only thinking about one…but Soph could be in any one of them.”

Aria tucked in her bottom lip as Cassy’s shoulders curled in, no doubt feeling as if she’d just delivered hard news. Yet, his little sister was the surprise hero, nudging him with her side.

“Hey,” she whispered with an encouraging grin, “we’re here. Soph is nearby—100%. Titania told you she was near here…so why not ask her for more direction now that we’re here?”

Damon took a deep breath and then leaned over to return a shoulder bump with a short chuckle. “Thanks for being my ground, Aria… Yeah, that’s logical. One step at a time. Thanks, Sis.”

“What are annoying little sisters for?” she softly gloated. “More than just stealing all the toothpaste.”

“Toothpaste?” he chuckled, relaxing a little and looking out the flap again as they wound closer toward the front gates. “Try toilet paper. At one point, I thought you ate the stuff when you were twelve. I had to budget, like $50 a month just for that.”

Aria’s face went beet red as she actually slugged him. “You asshole. You have no idea—idiot! Don’t talk about that! Geez. loser…”

He rubbed the sore spot with a short chuckle, noticing Cassy’s confused head tilt at the unusual detail—they used cloth here that had to be washed.

“My bad… Girls don’t even need to use toilet paper. They fart rainbows, right?”

“So stupid…”

Damon couldn’t help but smile, feeling an unusual melancholy pull in his heart. “Caught in a wildfire, choking on the flames of a strange pyre… The ashes of a dream feed our fantasy. So kiss my heart awake, we’re so far away… I’m sleeping with a stranger.”

“What?” Aria mumbled, still pouting at him. “You’re acting so weird lately.”

“I’m feeling a little weird lately, honestly,” he muttered. “But she’s out there, Aria… Soph is out there. We’re here.”

Next PoV: Cassy

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