Prologue: The Symphony of the Night

Gret was a rare specimen among the Awakened: he was fat. His appetite made the common
noble look anorexic while chairs strained underneath the sudden weight applied upon his descent. He
wore a scruffy beard filled with his past meals to cover the folds that blended his chin into his neck. A
well-bred stallion, with a special set of stairs to mount it of course, was required to move him at a slow
trot. Gret took pride in his weight, he was known for it after all, and it’d be a shame to let appearances
slide when they’re oh so easy to maintain. Appearances gave him an advantage he was happy to take,
when people met him, they encountered a jovial, middle-aged man happy to share a beer and a laugh
with a new friend as he recounted his misadventures with sedans and the occasional noble whose
hospitality he’d embarrassed. And really, Gret was a happy middle-aged man happy to play the part of
the odd but loveable goofball and go from minor house to minor house as guest entertainment. Unless,
of course, you happened to be on his list, in which case you’d soon realize that the fat man was a façade
to one of the deadliest warriors in the northern provinces of Aeria.

Gret was Dedicated, loyal to the kinetic arts of Coalescence. He wasn’t a novice who leaned on
the title to cover up their lack of understanding, but a well-trained fighter who knew his preferences.
Sure, he knew how to draw in heat from his surroundings and guide a fire, the latter his friend Leka was
still trying to figure out despite claiming he wanted to be a Dedicated thermal user. He could even toss
out the occasional jolt of electricity, though it often failed to do more than distract someone who
thought they did their research on him. Resonance didn’t fit him, so he ignored it, and while he’d heard
rumors of a fifth Attachment, it went against the laws of Life and was a fanciful rumor at best. It was
truly in the realm of getting close and personal that he found his passion for the craft and why he
worked so hard on his illusion; a 350-pound man moving at the speed of a sprinter with fists ready to
punch through whatever armor stood in his way was a useful surprise to keep at the ready. Why no one
considered storing so much energy in body weight was always a mystery to him, but he could tap into
his internal energy faster than anyone else and could rely on it longer than any other as they desperately
tried to absorb energy from his blows to gain enough energy and attempt a counterattack. Perhaps they
also burned too much in training to pack anything extra. Sure, Gret lost weight when he fought, the
energy to move his mass required a lot of calories, but if the conflict was finished quickly, no one could
tell how much weight he’d lost. His sonorous laugh broke the night’s vigil as he remembered draining
almost all his fat in a particularly difficult fight and was left standing in clothes four sizes too large as he
strolled passed those hunting a fat man, hunting him. His laugh dissipated quickly and Gret’s eyes
snapped to attention as the log supporting him groaned to the slight adjustment before it too faded.

“So that’s why they sent me to chaperone this miserable caravan” he snarled and absent-
mindedly stepped on one of the dead branches surrounding his watch post. Their crack split the air as
the echoes faded across the clearing, shortly followed by the oath of one of the merchants whose
delicate sleep he’d interrupted. That oath held its normal duration. He reclined nonchalantly and
returned to his thoughts, finally understanding his target. Seconds turned to minutes as Gret waited for
his adversary to finally reveal themselves. The rocky campsite huddled in the ethereal shadows of the
trees was as ideal for a nighttime ambush for a skilled Awakened and enough open space to be a death
sentence if Gret knew to expect it. So, he waited.
 The shadows of the branches twisted upon each other in a macabre dance, following the rhythm
of the wind and its tuneless whistle. The ruffling of shrubbery added a much-needed counterpoint as the
insects joined in the forest’s symphony with their wordless communications and the occasional cry from
the roaming birds of prey punctuated the refrains of the night. And Gret listened, listened for the near-
silent shuffle of boots disguised under an eagle’s cry, listened for the offbeat shrubbery, and watched
the trees dance out of time until he marked a general spot. Just beyond the circle of wagons filled with
Lestra’s much-needed grain after flooding from the Aidres Mountains took much of the current harvest
and stores, leaving the capital of Aeria starving despite the plenty almost everywhere else. Gret had
done his damnedest to avoid getting near the city. But he finally had a target, in the shrubbery just
beyond the forest clearing, and whether they knew the trouble they were in; he was inclined to make
sure they found out.

He centered his mind, reached into the void in his torso, between his heart and his gut, and
found his stored energy. The void burned as it always had, ready to draw his life energy in exchange for
the glory of the moment, he doubted he’d need to tap directly from himself very long to keep it burning
tonight. He opened himself to it, feeling the familiar jolt flow through his veins as his body revved up,
drawing from the energy stored in his weight, demanding his rest to end. Gret’s limbs burned for action,
and he was more than happy to oblige.

He disguised his intentions with a wide stretch, standing to fully loosen the back, and launched
himself towards the shrubbery his adversary was hiding in with the speed and grace to make a sprinter
blush. Crashing into the shrubbery, he was blinded by a brilliant flash of white before his head snapped
forwards from a wide arcing kick. He stumbled blindly into a tree as a punch caught his kidney, but this
time he was ready. He drew in some of its energy, using it to power a response of his own, sending his
adversary flailing back into the clearing, leaving him sprawling on the ground. Gret launched his massive
frame forwards again, ignoring the expected flash of light, narrowly missing as his opponent desperately
rolled under his diving frame. As Gret rounded, he finally got a glimpse of his assailant as they rose from
their roll. The slender frame garbed in black pulled a knife from their belt, adopting a lithe stance
waiting for him to attack and suddenly it dawned on him.

“They sent a girl to deal with me, and a first Expansion resonance novice at that! Did the
mangled mess of the last person I fought make you think I was the sentimental type?” The girl
responded with only a small shrug. At least she has the balls to not be embarrassed.

Gret approached once again, this time more controlled, even a moron could get in a lucky swing
with a knife and end their duel prematurely. Together they danced, unwilling to commit and open
themselves up to a mistake. Knife feints were countered with quick punches as he began to move
forwards while she went back. They crossed the clearing slowly, steps locked together following the
Night’s refrain, eyes never wavering, until hers went straight up as her heel caught a tangle of vines.
Gret took his opportunity to advance, adding extra force behind him he lunged forward, disarming her in
one smooth motion. Grabbing her by the neck of her shirt, he slammed her into the nearest tree
available, forearm at her throat.

“What did I tell you girl?” he snarled as he pinned her “I told you this wouldn’t end well, and you
just shrugged, shrugged! What was the point of attacking someone out of your league? There’s nothing
here of worth unless you want to see my countrymen continue to starve to death. Well, you chose the
wrong caravan.” He drew deeply from the Void, the least he could do was make it quick. He took a deep
breath and collapsed to his knees with a scream as a shrieking pitch burrowed into his ears.

Head convulsing in pain, he threw his hands to his ears to block out the awful sound as the
singular sin wave continued to get louder and louder. His teeth clenched, splitting his tongue as blood
started to fill his mouth, parching him. His ears filled with the viscous liquid as well, but its sound was
still buried beneath the skin. He writhed on the ground, kicking up loam and rock in the wake, his
begging now a dull whimper as the pain settled into his eardrums.

He felt a hand on the back of his neck and suddenly he couldn’t move. His muscles jolted as
electricity stiffened his entire nervous system into paralysis. Each muscle screamed in pain as it
desperately tried to relax or send some of this electricity into the void, but more kept pouring in. His
nerve endings frayed as his body forced itself to deal with the pain it never expected to bear. It took all
his strength to lift his head enough to not eat dirt as he saw her approach his spasming body on the
ground.

“It’s all for good reason,” she whispered, kneeling at his side, her light alto cut clearly through
the shrieking in his ear “And the pain will lessen if you stop trying to resist.”

Adra left him there. Eventually, her electricity would run its course and he’d be fine, but it took
almost everything out of her to pull that stunt off and she’d pushed too much energy through her wrist
while desperately trying to overload Gret’s unexpected absorption, leading to it starting to shear. As the
adrenaline started to fade, her right wrist began to cry out in pain. She dropped to one knee, cradling
her right arm. I didn’t realize I’d used that much energy, now my wrist is screaming, and I don’t have the
energy to walk, much less dull the pain or start to heal it. Once again thankful that she is a Resonant, she
finally had a chance to open her ears to everything, from the now deafening snores from the caravan
workers unaware of what had happened to the shuffle of an ant, she felt the energy from the sound
waves flow through her entire being, waking her up from her stupor and providing relief to her hand.
She waited a second before cutting herself off from the energy, it was a danger to take in too much and
she’d wasted precious seconds that were not readily available. She had a mission to complete and there
was a very angry, very powerful Awakened still behind her.

Getting quickly back to her feet, she dropped the sound bubble and jogged over to the caravan,
grabbing the abandoned torch from Gret’s watch log. She dropped it onto the grain wagon and watched
the slow burn rise into the heavens as she wrapped the shadows of the trees over her. She stood
watching the immolation as the groggy caravan workers desperately tried to quench the fires while Gret
lay idly by, eyes burning with anger that put the newly minted bonfire to shame before turning to run
and rejoin her team.