All Chapters of Beast Tamer's Damned Regression: Chapter 21
- Chapter 30
33 chapters
Chapter 21: The Silence of the Archivist
Varek went back to the library the next morning. The chain was still wrapped around the front doors. The sign still hung from the iron links. CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE MAGISTRATE. NO ENTRY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. But Varek was not looking for the front doors. He circled around to the back entrance near the old archives, the same narrow wooden door Orin Fen had led him through two nights ago. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open slowly and stepped inside. The air was thick with dust and silence. The shelves stretched back into the darkness like the ribs of a sleeping beast. The candle on the table had burned down to a stub of cold wax. The stool where Orin had sat was overturned on the floor. Varek righted the stool and looked around. There were signs of a struggle. Books pulled from the shelves and scattered across the floor. A dark stain on the stone that might have been ink or might have been something else like blood but there was no body and no Orin. "Maybe he escaped," V
Chapter 22: The Memory of Blood
Chapter 22: The Memory of Blood Varek did not sleep. He lay on his narrow bed with the journal open on his chest and the Gnarl curled beside him, watching the moon crawl across the sky through his window. Orin's words echoed in his mind over and over again. But fear was already an old companion. Fear had walked beside him since the morning he woke up screaming with the memory of the cold table still burning behind his eyes. Fear of Vespera's steady hands. Fear of Aurelius's gentle smile. Fear of the death that was rushing toward him faster with every borrowed vision. He was not afraid of being afraid. He was afraid of being ignorant. "Orin said speaking his name draws his attention," Varek said quietly. "If I borrow a memory from the past, will he feel it?" The Gnarl opened its red eye. [Borrowing from the past is different. The Lightbringer cannot feel ripples in what has already happened. The past is fixed. He can only track you when you reach into the future, because that is w
Chapter 23: The Erased
Chapter 23: The Erased The next morning, Varek went to the library. He did not sleep nor did he eat, nothing could pass through his throat. He pulled on his coat and walked through the cold grey streets with the journal pressed against his chest and the image of the elders crumbling into ash still burning behind his eyes. The Gnarl was a small shadow at his heels, its red eye dimmed to a faint glow. [You should rest]it said through the bond. "I cannot rest. I need to know if anyone remembers them." The library doors were chained, but Varek circled to the back entrance Orin had shown him. The narrow wooden door was still unlocked. He slipped inside and stood in the dusty silence. The shelves rose around him like the ribs of a beast, and the air was thick with the smell of old paper and forgotten secrets. He walked to the archive section. The shelves here were packed with records. Census ledgers. Academy rosters. Council meeting notes. If the elders had existed, their names would
Chapter 24: The Forgotten Name
Chapter 24: The Forgotten Name Varek could not let it go. He sat in the training yard the next morning with the letter from Elder Marcus Venn folded inside his coat. The words were burned into his mind. Remember us. Please. Remember us. He watched the other students drill with their beasts and thought about the twelve elders who had vanished from history. Not just killed. Removed. As if they had never drawn breath. He had to test it. He had to see how deep the erasure went. When the training master dismissed them for midday rest, Varek walked to the dining hall. Students crowded the long wooden tables, laughing and shoveling food into their mouths. Their beasts lounged at their feet or perched on the rafters. Draven sat at the center table with his friends, holding court like a prince. Varek did not sit with them. He found a quiet corner near a group of older students who were deep in conversation about Academy history. One of them, a tall boy with a Storm Finch on his shoulder,
Chapter 25: The Announcement
The training master's horn blew at dawn. Varek stood in the main yard with the other first-year students, their breath misting in the cold air. The sky was a pale, washed-out grey, and the stone walls of the Academy rose around them like the sides of a deep pit. Beasts shuffled and stamped in the cold. A wolf growled softly. A hawk ruffled its feathers. Draven Valerius stood at the front of the assembled students, his Thunder Roc chick perched on his shoulder, its feathers crackling with faint sparks. He looked like a prince surveying his kingdom. The training master climbed onto the wooden platform in the center of the yard. He was a broad, scarred man named Master Kell, and his voice carried like a hammer on iron. "Quiet! All of you." he shouted. The murmuring died almost instantly. Beasts settled. Master Kell unrolled a scroll with the Academy seal stamped in gold wax. "The Freshman Tournament will begin in one week. All first-year students are required to compete. The winner
Chapter 26: The Borrowed Duel
The night before the tournament bracket was posted, Varek sat on the edge of his bed with the Gnarl uncoiled beside him and the cold weight pressing against his lungs like a stone lodged behind his ribs. The candle on his table had burned down to a stub. The window was dark. The house was silent. "I need to see it," he said. The Gnarl opened its red eye. [You want to borrow a vision of the tournament?] "Just a small one. Just Draven's first match. I need to know how he fights. I need to see his strategy before I face him." [Tou have to tone it down with the borrowing. The cold weight in your chest is already heavy. If you borrow too much, it will grow heavier.] "I know the cost." [Do you? You have borrowed eight visions now, weeks of your life are gone, maybe more. Each time, the end comes faster. Are you sure you want to add to that burden?] Varek looked at his hands. The silver scar on his left palm gleamed in the candlelight. He thought about the tournament. The Royal Acad
Chapter 27: The Shadow in the Sewers
The night before the tournament, Varek slipped through the streets of Ironhold City and descended into the dark. The sewer entrance was a rusted grate set into the stone wall near the eastern gate. He pried it open with bleeding fingers and dropped into the wet darkness below. The Gnarl followed, growing from its small hidden shape into its full wolf-sized form as soon as they were out of sight. Its red eye blazed in the blackness like a lone ember. The air was thick with the smell of damp stone and old rot. Water dripped somewhere in the dark. A distant torch guttered in an iron bracket, casting long, trembling shadows across the curved walls. The sewer tunnel stretched ahead of them, wide enough for two men to walk abreast, the stone floor slick with slime. "We have one night," Varek said. His voice echoed. "One night to get this right." [Then we should not waste time talking,] Azrath-Kai said. Varek walked to the center of the tunnel where the torchlight was brightest. He tur
Chapter 28: The Lightning Trade
Varek stood in the Beast Graveyard under a thin moon and knew that fire was not enough. The night before the tournament had given him time to think, and the more he thought, the clearer it became. Draven's Thunder Roc was lightning-aligned. Its speed was blinding. Fire was too slow to catch it. If Varek wanted to win without revealing Azrath-Kai, he needed something that could match the Roc in the air. He needed lightning of his own. The Gnarl sat beside him in the cold grass, its red eye steady. [You have been quiet all day. I know what you are considering.] "Then tell me if I am wrong." [You are not wrong. Fire will not catch a Thunder Roc. You need lightning. But lightning is a greater magic. The System will demand a greater trade.] Varek looked at his hands. The silver scar on his left palm gleamed in the moonlight. He had already traded the memory of his mother's bread and the memory of meeting Vespera. He had gotten them back through the loophole, but the trades had still
Chapter 29: The Locked Grief
The morning before the tournament, Varek woke and could not remember his mother's laugh. He lay on his narrow bed with the grey light creeping through the window and the Gnarl curled beside him, and he reached for the sound the way a tongue probes a missing tooth. He could remember her face. He could remember her voice singing the lullaby. He could remember the way she smelled of flour and lavender. But her laugh, that bright, bubbling sound she used to make when he did something silly, was gone. A blank space sat in his mind where the sound should have been. He pressed his palms against his eyes and tried to force it back. He pictured her smiling. He pictured her throwing her head back. He pictured the way her shoulders used to shake. Nothing came. The memory of the laugh was there, but the laugh itself had been scraped out, leaving only the shape of its absence. [You are hurting yourself,] Azrath-Kai said through the bond. The Gnarl's red eye was open, watching him. "I cannot f
Chapter 30: The First Round
The morning of the tournament dawned cold and bright. Varek stood at the edge of the arena with the other first-year students, the Gnarl a tiny, pathetic weight on his shoulder. Banners snapped in the wind overhead. The stands were packed with students, masters, and visiting nobles wrapped in furs against the chill. The smell of roasted meat drifted from the vendor stalls outside the gates. A festival atmosphere hummed through the air, but Varek felt none of it. The arena was a wide circle of packed dirt ringed by low stone walls. Wooden practice weapons lined the racks. The rules were simple. No killing blows. No maiming. A match ended when one fighter yielded or was pinned for five seconds. Beasts could assist but only within the boundaries of the ring. Magistrate Corvus Valerius sat in the VIP box with his cold, watchful eyes. Draven stood at the front of the competitors' area, his Thunder Roc crackling on his shoulder. He was already wearing his fighting leathers, and his grin