~~
Maya baulked. Chain? She was facing Chain? It was easy to make a fool of Blind, take points from the Guardian and any number of other authority figures, but her best friend, the person she'd grown with and had betrayed... Could she belittle and battle her for freedom?
Well, she could. And she had to. But she didn't want to.
Once again, there was a burst of searing heat. Her eyes screwed close, and she arched her back as much as she could, but there was no escape. Her back burned. She could almost feel her skin melting together with the material of her robes. To cope, she bit her teeth together as hard as she could and remembered how Hydra and her companion had died: if they could cope with such pain for Nephilim then this was nothing.
The heat passed. And then Chain appeared, stiff and strong. She set her dead eyes on May, had only hate and disdain for her. That much was obvious without having to read her emotions. It was as she'd expected, but it still hurt seeing someone she loved hate her so.
Though she was loath to do so, Maya read Chain's Cyrus Force. It was dark and twisted, filled with the anger and bile her eyes had shown. All that kept her from killing Maya was a core desire, a duty of sorts. Chain had probably promised Sol she would bring Maya to justice and that meant convicting her as a Heretic.
But there was also a... a taste in her energy, a strange sweetness. Not knowing what it was, and having more pressing concerns, Maya discounted it.
“So,” Chain started, still staring, her voice flat, “Heretic, I would be interested in what you believe happened during the Battle for Aureu. Start by telling us where you were when you realised Aureu was under threat.”
“The Prime Woods.” Careful, Maya kept her answers terse. She shifted on the slab and felt fresh agony flare through her. She wished she could use some Cyrus Force to heal herself, but she couldn't risk people noticing she was using 'magic.'
“And you arrived at Aureu how?”
“Flight. I grew wings and flew.”
The atmosphere, already chaotic and charged, shifted again. She was winning people over, but her arguments had to be so subtle that they could be interpreted in all manner of ways. She had to carefully select and quickly word each response, to reference the Sol Lexic indirectly or apply to basic logic. It really was like a battle.
“'Sol and Lun fly above us, sewing pain and joy for all,'” Chain said mockingly. “But if you were referring to that passage then you consider yourself akin to Sol and Lun. Do you think that?”
Damn. A sloppy mistake, made because of Chain's proximity. Maya shook her head.
“That was a 'no,' for those of you behind the Heretic,” Chain said, turning to the audience. She was capturing them now, putting on a show to make her case. “Anyway, you flew from the Prime Woods. I will assume you would claim Sol told you Aureu was in danger and so shall instead ask about the second person who flew with you, this other 'Acolyte.' Who were they?”
Maya cursed silently. “I... I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
That guilt returned, strong and fresh like a still-bleeding wound. “I didn't need his name to work with him...” She tried to turn this into a positive point. “I was told that and took it on faith. He was introduced as my partner, and I acted on that basis, not questioning the logic.”
The entire audience seemed dubious. Even Chain seemed surprised by this. Her attempt had fallen flat, and she was losing ground. “Well, that seems very unlike you, Heretic.”
Her body was slowly roasting. The heat was almost unbearable. Maya took a slow breath, did her best to ignore the agony flaring throughout her back. “I've changed a lot, sire.”
“I don't think you've changed at all. I think you were always this person, Heretic.”
Now it was Chain's turn to make the mistakes. She was letting her emotions catch hold of her: baseless accusations had no place here. If Maya survived this grilling, surely the most difficult one, then she would be safe. So she pounced on this slip. “Was that a question, sire?”
“Don't get smart, Heretic. You arrived with a person you didn't know and engaged the Disciples, but not before a creature appeared above this very building. You did not perceive this creature as a threat, so you were aware of its existence before you arrived, correct?”
“Correct.”
“But it was protecting Aureu. Why then were you required if such a thing existed?”
“It was once sufficient.” Time to take a gamble, make a guess. “With the Disciples' recent changes, it was no longer enough.”
“Wait, Maya, have you spoken to anyone about the Disciple incursion?” the Guardian asked, breaking into the questioning. This looked promising.
“Just me, sire,” Councillor White replied, not allowing Maya to speak for herself, “and that was simply to explain how Aureu was saved after she fell.”
“Her deduction is not impressive, sire,” Chain said, waving a dismissive hand. “She studied the Disciples as a Contegon and so would have noticed that their Weakness was now covered. Also, with said knowledge, it would be simple for her to assume they had improved in intelligence: they would have had to in order to break through the Front.”
The Guardian sat back, and his face fell slightly. She hadn't gained the upper-hand she'd wanted, but had learned something useful. The Guardian wanted to be impressed. He wanted Maya to be proven innocent.
“Back to Aureu, you lost, were defeated by the Disciples,” Chain fired out. “There were ten of them, and they took you down, apparently killing you. How do you explain that? With all your abilities, such a fight should have been simple...”
Another chance for humility. This was almost too easy. “Hubris, sire.”
“Hubris?!”
“Yes, sire. I'm not perfect and nothing would ever make me so.”
Sol does not make man perfect, He gives them the tools to perfect themselves over a lifetime. The audience gasped. In delight. It wasn't just the Guardian who wanted to be impressed. They audience all wanted to believe that Sol was influencing their lives, that he had returned to Geos once more. Maya did her best not to smile. She was wearing Chain down, building her defence perfectly. Surely the Guardian would step in soon, close this part of the session and–
It seemed that gasp made Chain lose her temper. She punched Maya. In a wisp of a second, Maya had time to react. She let the blow land as it would look better. So Chain's fist struck her chin. Maya tried to roll with it but that was not easy, tied down as she was. Her jaw clicked, close to dislocation. Thanks to luck, or maybe Applekill's secret intervention, she did not lose a tooth.
But a realisation came with the attack, stronger than the blow could ever have been, hotter than the fire slowly roasting her: she understood what that taste in Chain's Cyrus Force had been. It seemed obvious as soon as Chain punched her, the contact somehow transferring knowledge.
Maya was, to say the least, surprised.
For her part, Chain was also stunned, but her shock stemmed from what she'd just done. She stepped back and shook her head. “I... No... I...” she murmured. Her hands twitched, particularly the one she'd used to strike Maya.
“Contegon Justicar!” the Guardian shouted, rising to his feet. “Stand down now and–”
“But sire!” Chain replied, fists raised, eyes wide. Shock then overcame her, shock at what she'd done: her mind had not been consulted by her rage it seemed.
“No, Contegon! Sit back down!”
Maya saw an opening. Here was her chance to attack Chain at her weakest, end this line of questioning. “Sire, do not be too harsh with her. After all...”
Hearing her list of 'crimes' gave her pause. She realised she had consistently shown an alarming lack of foresight: her plan to escape the Academy had been flawed from the start; she'd killed a man in Outer Aureu; on seeing her parents praying, she'd decided to kill herself; in a dark rage, she'd tried to destroy a village's faith; and then there was this 'Battle for Aureu', in which she'd almost died. So often, she
hadn't thought things through and made mistakes, made things worse.
She wouldn't do so again.
The ramifications of saying this would be great. It would make Chain her enemy for life, regardless of what the Hereticum decided, because it would bring her credibility into question, by showing she hadn't taken precautions, and suggesting that she was not in control of her mood. And it would do so in a horribly public way, embarrassing, and cruel.
But. But it would show the world Maya's powers. They wouldn't – no, couldn't – understand how she knows... so her knowledge will be linked to Sol. Her key to winning this fight and fulfilling Nephilim's duty is attacking Maya. The rest of the Hereticum would be simple after such a display of power.
But it would hurt, doing this to Chain. It would give Maya sleepless nights and a guilt she may never assuage. But that's the price she must pay. The Disciples cannot be allowed to win.
“You were saying?” the Guardian asked, impatient.
Maya took a deep breath. “After all, sire, Chain is with child. She's pregnant.”
It was a testament to the crowd's self-control, their commitment to the Hereticum process, that they did not jump to their feet and shout. Instead they whispered amongst themselves, which was still breaking the rule that no one, but those in the circle could speak but did so in a small, acceptable way.
The Guardian ignored them, eyed Maya nervously instead. “And you're sure of this?”
“As sure as I can be, yes. It's only recent but I... know,” she said.
“Contegon Justicar? What do you say to this?”
Chain did not reply. She began rubbing her stomach, looking down at her feet, instead. This was always going to be unexpected for her, but it also looked unwelcome. And not because of this Hereticum. Maya read Chain's emotions: disgust, shame, anger, and heartbreak. Were they aimed at herself, at Maya?
“Chain...?” Councillor White asked.
She got no reply. Chain was gone, the shock of breaking Sol's edict, given to her through the Guardian, and finding that she was pregnant in the space of a minute were too much. Glazed eyes stared at the floor and an unfeeling hand rubbed her stomach.
Poor Chain. She looked devastated, though not by the way she'd found out. A pregnancy would always have a story behind it, and Chain's was bathed in sadness. Maya's heart felt as though it would wrench from her chest, as the pain she'd caused Chain was greater than she'd thought.
But she would have found out eventually. And Maya had made her choice. Victory over the Disciples was what mattered. It was. Regardless of what her heart told her.
“You, Doctor Can, take her away,” the Guardian ordered, his voice tinged with kindness.
Instantly, a Doctor ran across, Servants in tow, and put an arm around Chain. Can whispered something and led her away. His new patient didn't seem to notice his attention or even being walked from the Space. She just kept rubbing her stomach.
The doors to the Space opened behind her; then slammed shut. Chain was gone. The crowd died down, and all eyes turned to the Guardian. Technically, Maya had defeated her current prosecutor and six more remained. There would be six more such sessions and six more lashings of fire. She did not relish the pain to come, but it would surely be lesser than the pain she felt at having betrayed her best friend. Again.
Unable to wipe her eyes, Maya shook her head, drying like a dog. Then she too watched the Guardian and hoped, hoped she had not failed, that she would be able to act in Geos as she needed to in order to save it.
“Okay,” the Guardian said. The world paused, dangling from that small word. “I've heard enough. Maya, you have a remarkable ability to do the wrong thing, it seems: you left the Academy a Heretic, you ran from your family in Forum, you allowed your partner in your fight to save Aureu to die, you destroyed the Planted Forest, you lost to the Disciples, and now you have wounded your former friend. Your last two months or so have been a slew of errors, wouldn't you agree?”
If this was how the Guardian opened his statement, then she had failed. “Sire, I agree,” she said, echoing her previous revelation.
“That... that being said,” The Guardian coughed, then thumped his chest, trying to clear whatever filled his lungs. “That being said, I remember someone else who had a propensity for failure quite early in their career, someone else who had power thrust on them before they were ready. And I don't think the First Servant ended up doing too badly.”
Maya's heart rose. She smiled. She had passed this test. The First Servant was the holy figure who Solarists claimed had carried Sol's word into Geos after the Cleansing, and he would not compare Maya to her unless she would be found innocent. She felt overjoyed, delirious almost, but had to suppress this: it would do her no good to cheer at the Guardian's proclamation.
“I have no choice, I feel, but to declare you Faithful and not a Heretic. However, you have a great deal to explain, to put into place, to teach and to learn. The Solaric Council will convene in one hour; be there in your new official Station of Acolyte.
He stood and faced the crowd. “My judgement is final and binding. The Heretic is not so, and none shall treat her as such. Geos and Sol accept her into our trust and our hearts. Everyone, please join me in acquiescing to a saviour of Geos. To the Acolyte, Maya!”
Everyone stood. They acquiesced to her. Hundreds of hands were raised in her honour, the first peel of many over the coming years. She had been accepted and would apparently even have a Station of her own, one she could use to influence and protect Geos with.
“Chain,” Maya thought, now forcing her smile, “I am so sorry you had to suffer for this. I wish you could understand what it was all for.”
With any luck, the emotion would go to her as Cyrus Force, and Chain would understand that it was for the good of Geos that Maya succeeded here. That wasn't how she believed Cyrus Force worked but Maya could hope she'd been wrong.
“Please, rise,” Maya said solemnly. “We have much to do.”
“Such as?” Councillor White asked.
Maya looked at her evenly and let her Cyrus Force flare, filling the Space with her power. Flame reached up to the ceiling, a clear green conflagration. It was no coincidence that Warmth had changed her Element to fire. People gasped and bowed down in prayer, fire being akin to Sol himself. Their sickly hope filled her mind as they no longer believed she was human, so she channelled it into the display, making it even more spectacular.
The Hereticum melted beneath her power. She stepped away from it and healed herself, undid the burning damage done to her. Everyone watched her. Everyone waited on her word.
“Councillor,” she said. “We've got a war to plan.”
50
Snow stood alone in the refugees' building, their home. Normally – well, as normal as you could get in such a short space of time – there would be people bustling about and children playing. Normally it felt much more like a home than his real one ever had.
But it was empty now. Everyone had left at his request, which was something he'd had to ask at the Acolyte's request. He couldn't begin to understand why the she wanted to meet him now that he was a civilian, but he couldn't refuse: she almost had the same power as the Guardian.
He waited for her in their building's large hallway, a strange room wide enough to receive dozens of people. Their new home used to be a hostel back when people without Station could stay in Sol's Haven for free, and this hall had been the reception area. Thanks to this former function, there were enough rooms for everyone, a kitchen which had only needed a good cleaning to work and antique furniture in every corner, like the polished long desk he rested on.
Branch sometimes talked about cleaning the place up and throwing it open to all the Stationless and poor now coming back into Aureu, but Snow didn't think that was a battle they wanted yet. The Bureau was already struggling to cope with that influx, with the loss of thousands of skilled and Stationed people, and wouldn't want to add more work to its load by registering the poor for ent
ry to Sol's Haven.
Snow grimaced. Whilst losing half the Shields and Contegons, and most of Aureu's men, was a tragedy, the Bureau could cope with it well enough. No, it was the cultural changes of post-war Aureu that they struggled with: the Clerics and Lords had almost liked being separated, sitting in the Cathedral and keeping Geos at a distance. But with empty streets and vacant Stations to fill, there would be more poor and destitute working within the Cathedral. More women. The Bureau, and thus the Solaric Council, now had to rely on those they'd disdained of. And how they must hate that.
Oddly, then, the war had brought some good to Geos. No, the Acolyte had brought some good. She was apparently driving the speedy replenishment of the lost Stations and must have had constant fights with Lords and Clerics in doing so. That would be a battle that would rage for years to come.
So why then was she coming to see him?
Snow's heart froze. Was she here to punish him? He had helped a Heretic, even if that Heretic had turned out to be the Acolyte, and it would be typical of the Bureau to demand justice.
He rubbed his arms and swallowed, waited.
After some time, there was a knock on the door. Snow took a deep breath. “It's unlocked, sire.”
Bright daylight spilled in as she opened the door, contrasting with the darkness of the reception. Seeing this difference, Snow made a note to clean the windows. Standing in the light, only her silhouette visible, was a former Contegon, an Acolyte, the girl who had pretended to seduce Snow in order to steal Wire's Identity Papers. It was Maya.
His eyes adjusted and he saw her properly: her customised white and gold Contegon's robes and the necklace that swung from her neck on a thick chain. Her sword, blessed by Sol, rested against her hip. She entered the reception and closed the door behind her, taking great care. Then she looked round, took the room in. Maybe she was just letting her eyes adjust to the relative gloom.
Soon she held Snow's gaze with her own. Bright eyes, clever eyes, pierced him. “Snow, thank you for seeing me,” she said.
He looked away, his lip curling and his fists balling. Until that moment, Snow hadn't realised how angry he was with her. It had taken hearing that voice again, that lying mocking voice, to bring that resentment out. Deep breaths did nothing. He could not lift the fury from his heart.
“I had no choice. Saying no to you right now would be tantamount to Heresy.”
“No, I suppose you didn't have a choice. I... I didn't consider that. I'm sorry for forcing myself on you, again tricking my way into your home. I seem to have a knack for that, don't I?”
He didn't reply.
“So... you're staying here with the other refugees?”
His fingers dug into his palms as though desperate to tear at his flesh. He said nothing.
“Okay. I'll just get down to why I'm here. Snow, I want to apologise, to make things right.”
It took a while for him to feel able to speak, for the shaking fury to calm down so he could comfortably form his words. “Make things right?” he managed.
“Please. I took advantage of you, and I feel terrible. Look, no one knows what happened between us and no one need know. I've–”
He turned back to the Acolyte. “Do you even know what you did to me? Truly?”
She blinked. Sol, she didn't know! That just made him angrier, so much so that he could barely see through his rage.
“I didn't think so,” Snow continued. “You are the reason I was at the Front. My parents dragged me out there to avoid the scandal of what you did to me. I almost went mad there. Worse, my parents died there, Maya. You killed my parents.”
Her expression didn't change. She put her hand on her hip. “If you weren't at the Front, what would have happened, Snow?”
His anger withdrew as an intellectual challenge presented itself. He hadn't considered that. “I... Scar would have died anyway. I don't blame you for that. And the refugees would have escaped and come to warn Aureu. If you're trying to say I–”
“You're being unkind to yourself, Snow. The reports I've read state that you convinced the Mariners not to launch boats with all the refugees in because the Disciples would have just sunk them. In my opinion, with Scar and his best men dead, any Shield sent with Scar's final order would not have had your education or intelligence, and none of the refugees – Element, Branch, any of them – would have left Call.
“Not only that, but Aureu would not have been warned and would not have had time to scramble a Militia. Contegon Justicar would not have had the support she needed and could not have fended off the Disciples. In that case, Aureu would have been destroyed and thousands would have died protecting their city. Your parents, would they have fled or would they have fought as the Disciples marched across our streets?”
Snow took a breath. He hadn't thought of himself as that important, but maybe he had been destined to be at the Front, maybe it was all part of some plan... Sol's plan... but... “If your point is that they would have died anyway, then you're probably right: Dad would have died to protect me and Wire... I just can't imagine her giving in. But that doesn't forgive what you did to me, Maya.”
“No, it doesn't. That's why I'm here. Please, hear me.” She sounded pleading, sounded her age again. What she said now, what she felt, was genuine.
Snow crossed his arms. He tried not to scowl at her. “Go on then.”
“What?”
“Apologise.”
Maya, the Acolyte, one of the most important people in Geos, spread her robes and acquiesced to him. “Snow, grandson of Scar, I am deeply sorry. Though I've made amends with Sol, I need to make them with you too. Please accept my apology.”
The apology didn't mean as much to Snow as he had hoped, so he disregarded it. Instead, he asked, “You've met Sol?”
“In... a manner of speaking, yes.”
Snow laughed. “You Contegons all give the same answers... Contegon Justicar said the same sort of thing when I asked her about Sol.”
“You met Contegon Justicar?” the Acolyte asked, surprised.
“She was there when our ship landed in Aureu. She led me straight to the Chamber to give my report. Why?”
Still acquiescing, she shook her head. “I'm... No, no reason. You were asking about Sol?”
“Do you think it was his plan to do this to me? Was I to be tested for some purpose?”
Maya nodded, still looking at the floor. “I believe so, yes, which is why I'm here. Part of the purpose Sol gave me was to train others to use his blessings, what I call 'the Gift.' He will give them to anyone with the conviction to use them and the permission to receive my education... and I want you to be the first person I train.”
“What blessings?” Snow asked.
“The ones I used to protect Aureu with,” she told the floor.
He sneered. “That's how you'll repay me? With Sol's blessing?”
“There's more,” Maya continued. “The Western Front needs protecting. It needs a new Shield-General, one who knows how to wield the Gift. I think it would be fitting, only right, if that Shield-General was you. You will be supported during your first five years by a senior Shield, but, once you've proven yourself beyond all doubt, the Western Front shall be yours. Just as it had once belonged to Scar.”
Snow blinked. His head span, and his mouth fell open. The whole purpose of his life, what Wire had pushed him towards and Scar had probably wanted him to choose for himself, was there for the taking. To spite Wire, he almost said no... but she would be part of Sol now, part of him who was offering him this destiny...
Such an offer could only have come from Sol, so it had to have been made with love, consideration, and care. It was proof of Sol's plan, of the trials he had put Snow through so he could fulfil his destiny and continue Scar's legacy. There was only one answer he could give.
However, he could seek more of an advantage from this first. “I have some requests.”
Maya rose, dusting off the knees of her robes. “Absolutely,” she said
, smiling.
“One of the refugees is prime Contegon material. I want her assessed for the Academy. Her name is Element.”
Maya nodded. “Not a problem. I'll arrange it for next month to give her time to prepare.”
“Also, Branch wants to make this building available to everyone. I want her to be able to do so. And I want her and the other refugees to have funds enough to look after themselves and seek Stations if they wish.”
Her eyes darkened at this. “I accept. It will be done. Trust me when I say that the Bureau will not shirk their responsibility to the refugees or the people of Outer Aureu. Any more requests?”
He wasn't sure about this last point, but decided to press it home, show her what she was in for if she was going to train him to use the Gift. “Yes. You must never ask me to call you the Acolyte. You are Maya, the girl who tricked me. That is your final act of penance.”
Maya grinned. She actually grinned. “That is fair enough. I would never want to repeat such a mistake, so you will keep me honest.”
Snow couldn't bring himself to smile back, the anger was too fresh, perhaps would be for years. But he did say “Thank you.”
The Acolyte walked across and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, thank you for accepting my apology, Shield-General Snow.”
Snow breathed in, shaking. That sounded good. “When does my training start?”
“Right away. Have you got an item you'd want to be blessed? It'd be best if it were something important to you, something that meant a lot.”
Snow laughed and looked down at his shirt. Beneath it was a chain, warm and familiar, and the disc that meant the world to him. Given to him as a means of saving people, now it would become a tool for protecting Geos. He thought of Scar, of his father, and tears welled in his eyes. He hoped they would be proud of him, staring down as part of Sol, watching his every action. He hoped so much that they would be proud.
“Sire,” he said. “I have just the thing...”
Epilogue
It took days for the First Thought known as Peace to settle back into the Cathedral, to finally retreat to her hiding place deep at its core. Damaged as she was, she'd had to return to what Maya thought of as 'the Spirit Ocean' to collect owed energy from the other First Thoughts. It was sad, eating all those smaller Spirits that had sprung up in her absence, but it had to be done to keep Aureu safe.
She'd also had a good conversation with Warmth and Regret... so she understood much more of what had happened and what the situation was. If she weren't Peace then she might have been a little scared by the news.
When she was secure, hidden, she returned to her favourite and only pastime: watching Geos. Tied to the Cathedral, there was little else she could do. But Peace had volunteered for this architectural confinement so she didn't mind. First she looked in on Wasp, one of many people she watched. He had a sharp mind, a forceful personality, but since Chain had left him all that acuity had turned in on itself. He sat, looking at his hands, crying like a musician who was suddenly struck deaf. A Mentalist observed him, trying to figure out how to get through to this hurting shell consumed by self-loathing and black depression.
Peace felt sorry for Wasp. He had been so close to breaking his father's grip, but he just wasn't strong enough. Being within a whisker of success, happiness, then falling so spectacularly had been too much for him. The Mentalist would have quite a job on to restore his sanity. She had faith in the man though: Pane was his name and he was the best Wasp's vast wealth could buy.
Later, she checked on Nephilim. Oh, he thought he was safe, that she couldn't see through those wards and barriers, but he was wrong. Peace could quell almost anything. She slipped through, and into the Arboretum. Nothing there. So she went into the chamber her sister Warmth had appeared in. There, Nephilim leant against the wall, his arms wrapped round his body to comfort himself. Even he couldn't escape basic human needs and responses.
And he needed the comfort because of the company he kept.
“That's an interesting proposition, Nephilim,” the thing said with a voice that sounded like burning flesh. Peace examined it, was certain that she recognised it, then realisation dawned on her. How curious. “Don't you trust your little protégé? She'd be so, so hurt if she knew what you were planning...”
“Are you saying you aren't interested?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then shut up about Maya.”
It held its hands up, great ham-fisted masses of talons, claws and dark gelatine, in something close to a placating gesture. “Easy, son. I'm just doing what comes naturally. You know what position I'm in. I'll only say no out of spite if you tried to rein me in.”
Nephilim closed his eyes. “Will you accept? He has already agreed, seeing as he's too young to say no. All that remains is your accepting the offer.”
“Oh, I accept,” it replied, its one dark eye flashing under a chitin-plated brow, “but only if you tell me why you don't trust little Maya. Why are you taking this extra precaution?”
“There are others I could use, you know...” Nephilim warned.
“I know, I know... But none of them would be as good as I. You know that, it's why you chose me.”
Nephilim stood away from the wall and uncrossed his hands. He walked towards the Thought. Tall, taller than Warmth, it had crammed its enormous bulk into the chamber and only a small cavity remained for Nephilim to walk in. It's good, Peace reflected, that Spirits don't feel physical pain. Two more steps and Nephilim stood eyes to enormous eye with his guest. He held its gaze and they stood, sizing one another up.
The creature blinked first. All who know of him fear Nephilim.
“I suppose,” Nephilim conceded, “I am asking a lot, so I'll grant you the small favour of an answer. The reason is simple: I gave a Spirit to my other pupil, knowing he would die in the fight and suspecting Maya would resurrect it. When she did this, I had the chance to read her mind.”
It recovered its cruel poise. “And you found she wasn't prepared for Brya's retaliation?”
“Exactly. She and everyone else in Geos think that their enemies have run out of steam, that they just need to rebuild and fortify until their numbers have increased through breeding. That won't be enough. I know it won't, not if Brya chooses to truly enter the fray. Geos is still in grave danger. Hence my contacting you.”
“So you failed to make the dangers clear to little Maya, then?”
“Yes, I failed,” Nephilim replied, keeping every part of him blank.
The creature roared laughter, spittle from its ever-shifting mouth spraying across the room. “What a failure indeed, Nephilim. All right, I accept. You've made yourself a deal with the devil, my boy.”
Peace left the room, pleased to have something else to think about. She continued her rounds, examining people. Mostly, she mourned those who had died: artists and Artificers, zeroes and the Zoners who filled their bodies with every substance they could find. Many of them had been in the Militia and all deserved remembering.
She mourned by passing portions of her energy to the families and friends the dead have left behind, smoothing those lives in small waves. Such widespread death and mourning was horrible to witness, and she felt a little better each time she granted someone stability, hope. After all, she was in the unique position of being able to do so.
After days of doing this, a shock went through the world, tiny and brilliant, like a new star in the sky. Peace ceased her rounds and looked for the cause, searched across Geos. She could see nothing, so she followed the echoes back to their location.
It had happened in Aureu, so close. Whatever it was half-blinded Peace just by being. But she could just make it out by viewing where it wasn't. There was a form there, something she knew.
Creeping, cautious, she approached the disturbance. When she saw it up close, despondency came over her, the worst emotion she had ever experienced. The disturbance was terrible and powerful, destructive and alien... it wrenched the very reality ar
ound it out of place then pushed it back, a never-ending cycle of cataclysm and creation.
Peace knew the thing at its centre was watching her, but only in the same way a soldier watches a tiny fly. The person, and the disturbance was a person, had more important things to do and that... that involved talking to one of those Peace watched! She settled, her despondency growing until she felt genuine terror for the first time in her millennia-long existence.
It was Brya.
Peace almost wailed: there Brya pulsed, her arms crossed around her waist, evil matter flowing through her. This was who they all feared, the woman who represented the greatest risk to Spirits, Thoughts, and humans everywhere. Her poly-filament shoes pointed downwards as though empty. Tubes appeared from every part of her body, propelling dark liquids through her being, and her eyes blazed in sharp focus, more powerful and wicked than anything had any right to be. She was hairless, lacking eyebrows, eyelashes or even tiny hairs on her arm.
“Wake up,” she whispered to the person she had come to see in a soft, pleasant voice. “My name is Brya and I have a proposal for you.”
The End
Why not contact the author at @SeanPWallace or www.darkmess.com?
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