“It’s not what you know that changes you; it’s what you do.”
—Troika
Ten
As the crowd surges in the right direction, thanks to Biscuit, people bump into me, driving me farther away from Lina. Her ominous warning echoes in my head.
The darkness has to be chased away, Ten. We will all do what we must or we will all fall down. Forever bound to Ambrosine.
The Grid hums with agreement, and my thoughts whirl. Okay, let’s break this down. Darkness has to be chased away. By Light, only Light. Light was always the answer. Killian is bound to Ambrosine, the ultimate darkness. I’m bound to Killian, and my friends are bound to me. Other people are bound to them. Therefore, we’re all bound to Ambrosine.
The bond must be broken.
Ambrosine must die. I was right about that, too. Upon his death, his people will be freed from their need for darkness. They can remain in Myriad if they wish, living their Everlife on their terms, no longer forced to stay here because of an allergy to Light.
Flaws: Only Eron is strong enough to kill Ambrosine. Will he?
Do I want him to? I just cautioned my friends against killing.
Let’s be honest. There’s a big difference between Ambrosine and other citizens. Huge! Even if Ambrosine is defeated, he cannot be contained. He’s too powerful. Also, he’ll never abide by a truce. His words are never the same as his actions.
His end means a new beginning for millions. And really, his death won’t be in cold blood, but an action born of this war. Because he is the war.
So, yes. Despite my speech to Clay, I am willing to help Eron kill Ambrosine. I doubt I’ll walk away from the encounter, or even crawl. Ambrosine is evil incarnate, and his reign of terror must end. I’ll gladly give my life to get it done.
Second issue. How deep is my bond to my friends? Strong enough to get them inside Myriad, but when I was injured, they were not. If I’m killed, will my friends die, too? Surely not. If I die, will I go to the Rest or Many Ends? Where will Killian go? Where will our friends go?
There are too many unanswered questions. Too many things that can go wrong. But then, there are tons of things that can go right.
Pounding footsteps echo in the distance, catching my attention. The sound of marching? Yes, oh, yes. Multiple men and women in multiple rows. An army is on the way.
We’re being hunted.
I surge toward Clay and Raanan. We need to be at the head of the throng.
Pop, pop, pop.
The series of gunshots assails my ears just as I reach the others, and in unison, we duck. Chaos erupts. Panicked screams create a discordant chorus. However, one voice— Victor’s—rises above all the others. Someone must have fed him ambrosia.
“Move to the walls and kneel. Those who refuse will be shot.”
In unison, everyone stills. But it isn’t long before one person after another is lining up against the wall and kneeling, as ordered.
I share a look with the boys, a moment of silent communion. We can’t line up and kneel, and we can’t not line up and kneel. But if we remain standing, we’ll be easy targets.
We have to act.
Raanan takes the lead and throws a punch, nailing the Myriadian next to him. Clay pushes a group of guys, knocking them into each other.
“I’m sorry,” I say, then trip the girl to my right. She falls into another girl.
Just. Like. That. A fight breaks out among the masses.
No, these people weren’t being controlled. They were simply afraid of the speaker.
Fists fly. Legs kick. Obscenities darken the air, blending with grunts and growls. No one lines up, and no one kneels.
This is child’s play, really, and proof that giving in to emotion isn’t always wise.
Biscuit continues to urge the crowd onward…through a Stairwell, then another Stairwell, and there’s nothing the army can do to stop us. We leave them in our dust.
Anytime the fight begins to dissipate, my group ensures tempers are roused all over again.
I duck, avoiding punches thrown my way. I jump over the legs kicked at me, until finally I reach the front of the throng, Clay and Raanan right behind me. There’s no sign of Archer, Dior or Lina.
Biscuit leads us through another Stairwell and into a maze of twisting hallways. There are no patterns on the ceiling, walls or floor to help us navigate. Everything is the same. I don’t know if we’re going in circles or making progress. And I don’t think Biscuit knows, either. His tongue is hanging out as he pants, his gaze darting from left to right, little whimpering sounds leaving him.
Our drunken followers begin to laugh, thinking this is a fun game.
I purposely cut my finger on the end of my sword, and wipe a bead of Lifeblood on the wall. A few minutes later, we pass the smear of Lifeblood, and I know. We are going in circles.
New plan. “Let’s have a contest, guys. Sounds fun, right? Everyone stays where I put them. The person who stays put the longest, wins.” The prize? My gratitude. But I keep that little gem to myself.
Cheers. Every time we turn a corner, I direct two people to stay in each hallway. That way, we know our next turn needs to lead to a hallway without people. It works! Finally—thank the Firstking, finally—we exit the maze and enter the Kennels.
My relief is short-lived, replaced by horror. I remember the first time I saw this room. I’d wanted to vomit. This is my second sighting, and I still want to vomit. Bone torches light the cavernous room—flames dance at the ends of human remains. The floor is covered by pulled teeth and something akin to cat litter.
This is a nightmare come to life.
The scent of unwashed bodies, urine and filth pervades the air, stinging my nostrils. The walls are made up of cages, one cage stacked upon another. Inside every cage is a single person. Male, female. Young, oldish. Each captive has been stripped to their undergarments, just like I was. Whatever their crime, they are pallid, dirty and clearly starving, flesh hanging on bone. Their eyes are without hope. My heart utterly breaks for them and their plight.
Before my father bought and killed her, my mother spent time here. Killian has spent time here, too. His former Flanker, Erica, the one who tattooed him, is here still.
Behind us, gun blasts erupt. Screams of pain cut through the air. Bodies fall. Soldiers are mowing down their own people. Men and women, teen boys and girls, run in every direction, fear saturating the atmosphere.
Where is Archer?
Determined, I unsheathe my swords and work my way through the throng once again, this time in the opposite direction.
There. The moment I catch a glimpse of him, I’m stunned into immobility. He and Dior are holding hands, bright Light surrounding them both as he attempts to cleanse her of Penumbra. On his own. Without the princess’s help.
First, he’s turned himself into a beacon for Victor’s crew. They haven’t yet found us, but they will and soon. They weren’t too far behind.
Second, if Archer isn’t careful, he’ll drain himself to death. Hit the point of no return, when an infusion of Light can’t help him.
I don’t have much Light to offer, but I’m willing to give the pair everything I’ve got. Except, with the shadows writhing inside me, I might do more harm than good.
No time to debate the pros and cons. Someone rams into me, knocking me down. Stars wink through my vision. Blinking, I jump to my feet—or try to. A stampede rushes over me, and all I can do is curl into a ball until the worst is over, using all of my strength to maintain my hold on my swords. They are special to me, and I won’t give them up, not even to save my arms from the worst of the damage.
Ha! Every part of me sustains the worst amount of damage. No part of me is spared. Agony sears me. As my head swims with dizziness, a brutal roar blasts. The rampage stops, but it’s too late. My bones are broken, my muscles frozen in protest. I can’t move.
“Drink.” Sweet liquid is poured down my throat.
Bones snap into place, and torn flesh weaves together. The pain is excruciating, but at least it’s quick. I cough out a shredded piece of lung as I sit up.
Thank the Firstking, my swords are unharmed. Clay is crouched beside me, Biscuit in front of us, standing guard, forcing people to move around us.
“You good?” Biscuit asks, then snarls at a guy who stumbles too close. “I gots to know. Tell me!”
“I’m good, I promise. Thank you.” Without my friends, I would have died in this realm.
Together we stand, or one by one we fall.
Beyond Biscuit, Raanan is fighting off a horde of guards, protecting…Killian! He’s out of Victor’s Shell and now in spirit form, but he’s splayed on the ground, turning my relief to dismay. My injuries must have weakened him. However, my healing ensures his, and he lumbers to his feet.
He and Raanan work in tandem, guarding each other’s backs while striking at the enemy. Their motions are fluid, graceful—and despite the violence meted against them, they are as gentle as possible with the opposition.
As I watch Killian safeguard my friends, the block around my heart begins to crumble. He meant what he said. He’s fighting for me, and for us. He’s putting our relationship first.
As soon as the last brick crumbles, the mortar nothing but ash, the bridge between us opens up. Killian’s thoughts and emotions flood me. Love. Determination. Anger directed at his people, who have turned against him. Concern for my well-being. But beneath it all…there is Light, stronger and brighter than ever before.
If zero is my curse word, infinity must be my exclamation of joy. So…sweet infinity! His shadows are gone and—
Like a river, his Light showers and floods me, and drowns my darkness. That part of me is dying. Killed by Light. Love. All the cruelties, all the insecurities, all the hatred, fury and paranoia. There’s nothing left for them to feed on.
He and I…we are together, wholly, nothing held back.
—There you are. I’ve been so worried.—
His voice drifts along the Grid, and another upsurge of strength hits me, as if I’ve just ingested another vial of manna.
Love is Light, Light is love.
—I’m rememberin’— He goes quiet. Then a gasp flows over the Grid. —I’m remembering every precious second with you. Before our bond and after. Meetin’ you in Prynne. Bein’ fascinated by your strength, courage and loyalty. Cravin’ you more than air to breathe. Oh, Ten. I’m so sorry. I wish I could go back and change the things I’ve done.—
He remembers. Because he did his part—trusted me— and I did my part, letting him back into my heart?
My eyes widen. Of course. His memories were never dependent on him. Not totally. We were joined. Two had become one. I had to trust him, too. I had to let my love for him overcome…everything. Just like he had to let his love for me overcome everything.
We are two halves of a whole. Complete together.
Joyous, I push my voice to him. —If you could go back and change anything, we might not be where we are now, and we are right where we need to be.—
With one hand, he thrusts and parries a sword; with the other, he fires a gun. Around him, soldiers fall. —You want me tae stop fightin’, lass?—
In the past, I told him not to put down his weapons. Today? —Don’t you dare.— These people will go to Many Ends. I believe it more surely than ever. Troikans go to the Rest. Myriadians must go to Many Ends.
If spirits who experienced Second-death can leave the Rest, spirits who experienced Second-death can leave Many Ends.
Soon, I’ll be in Many Ends, too. I’ll guide everyone to the exit. Like Reed and Kayla, they will be free to choose their path. Stay in Myriad, or pledge allegiance to Troika. No need for court.
Hello, beautiful loophole.
While Trokian covenants are eternal, Myriadian covenants last only until Second-death. Ambrosine’s choice. I wonder why. To sustain his lie about Fusion? Maybe shadows die at Second-death. Or maybe they move from the dead to the living. No matter the reason, if a person is not a channel of darkness any longer, they are no longer of use to him.
My mind is worked into a frenzy of questions and answers, probabilities and possibilities. Can the spirits inside the Rest be freed, as well? Not just one a year, but all of them? If they want to leave, that is. My guess? Yes. Eron could open a door… Would he?
As Clay helps me to my feet, I catch a glimpse of Lina, whose gaze is locked on Killian. She’s fighting her way toward him. I stiffen.
“Guard Killian from my aunt,” I tell Biscuit. “Without actually hurting her. If possible.” He can zip across the distance in a blink. When he opens his mouth to protest, I add, “Keeping Killian safe keeps me safe.”
My sweet, protective dog offers no arguments and bounds over. The number of soldiers fighting against us has dwindled, but I can hear a new thunder of footsteps in the distance.
“What next?” Clay asks me. “How do we get into Many Ends from here?”
When last I exited, I’d dived into a lake in Many Ends and fallen through the Veil overhead. Now I glance up, up, up. Zero! How are we supposed to climb into the sky?
—We’ll find a way.— Again Killian’s voice fills my head. He’s reading my emotions, the impending sense of defeat.
“Look out!” Clay shouts.
A contingent of soldiers has slipped around Killian and Raanan, and is heading for Archer and Dior. I rush to meet them, swinging my swords together, creating a staff. As the metal arcs through the air, bolts of Light spray. The contingent falls, one by one. The group of men and women behind them simply steps over the bodies and fires different weapons at me.
I use the staff to deflect the bullets, but it isn’t long before I’m clipped in the shoulder. Lifeblood leaks from the wound, and my motions slow. Zero! How much longer can we hold off this new army?
Once again, I need help. Scanning…scanning… My aunt has given up her quest to reach Killian. She comes up behind the next set of soldiers and pelts the group with a spray of automatic fire. More bodies fall. Or perhaps Lina never meant to hurt Killian? She could have shot him and Biscuit in a single swoop.
“The next round of soldiers will be the end of us,” she calls, her gaze locked on mine. “Not because they’ll kill us, but because they’ll lock us away. If we’re locked away, we’ll lose.”
Nausea churns in my stomach. “Clay, can you contact Clementine and transport back to Troika?”
“I don’t know. She and Kayla are supposed to be waiting at the Eye, but since my arrival in Myriad, they haven’t responded to any of my messages.”
The Eye sees into the Land of the Harvest but not Myriad. Through it, Headhunters are able to monitor humans and Laborers, and pull Laborers out of dangerous situations whenever necessary—and no Bucklers have been engaged, of course.
“Get home however you can, then,” I tell him, blocking the parry of another soldier. “You and the others. Gather the other Conduits. Make more. As many as you can. Guard the Veil of Wings in case the Myriadians bound to Killian think to risk—”
“Ten,” Lina snaps. “It’s time.”
I hurry to finish my sentence. “The goal is Ambrosine’s death.” Everything hinges on that.
“Ten,” Lina repeats.
I meet her determined stare. “How do we get into Many Ends?” I yank my staff apart to spray a new crop of soldiers with shards of Light, stopping their approach, buying us a few more minutes—seconds? “Do you know?”
“You are the key,” she says, stepping toward me. “You have always been the key. You know what needs to be done, Ten. You know.”
Suddenly I…do. The answer clicks. My number is up. I have to die.
I want to vomit. Linked to Killian, I’ll kill him, too, but we’ll appear in Many Ends, as planned. Because I’ll hide my Light and let the shadows go free.
I reel, and there’s no blunting the sharp edges of my shock, dismay and certainty. This. This is one of the reasons Eron supported my bond with Killian. This is the way inside Many Ends. Self-sacrifice. I give up everything—but I gain so much more.
The shadows will overrun me, but they’ll lead me straight to Many Ends.
“If I do this…” I begin as sweat beads on my forehead.
“You will. Find the doorway, save the day. If the hills have eyes, everyone dies. To win the fight, you’ll need Light.”
Another rhyme. One that bolsters me. To win the fight, she said—that means winning is possible. I can do this.
I stop, my heart racing, and meet my aunt’s gaze. “What will happen to the others? My friends?”
Torment darkens her features. “I don’t know. Don’t see. You just do you. Let them do them. All right? My husband and I will take care of the Secondking.”
Someone. My Secondking. Take care…as in kill? “If you hurt Eron—”
“Who said anything about Eron?”
Oh, thank the Firstking. She’s going after Ambrosine.
Grunting from exertion, Clay slays a male trying to sneak up behind us. “I won’t leave until I know you’re safe. So, let’s get you to safety.”
He has no idea what I’m planning with Lina.
A roar blasts through the sky. Gasping, I look up. Dragons. Ten of them. They fly overhead, their wings outstretched. More roars sound, loud enough to shake the ground. Then—fire rains.
People run for cover. Screams erupt. Streams of fire spray over buildings and Myriadians alike. Like the soldiers, the dragons are willing to sacrifice their people in order to kill me and mine.
Lina and I stay put. The rest of my team, as well.
—Lass.— Killian’s voice rushes through my head. —I’m with you. I’ll always be with you. Even in this. Do what you must.—
My gaze zooms to him across the distance. He’s standing as still as a statue as people run all around him. Biscuit keeps him from being trampled, taking out everyone who attempts to get near him.
“Together,” I say, even though he can’t hear me.
“Together,” he mouths.
Behind him, about three hundred yards away, are Victor and Javier. Other dragons unleash streams of fire to clear their path.
Almost too late…
Before I change my mind, I look to Lina. Tremors threaten to topple me, but I remain on my feet.
How far will I go for my realm?
All the way.
“Do it,” I croak, and shove every ounce of Light into rooms in the Grid. My mind goes dark, but I remain aware. Shadows overrun me, as expected. They laugh with glee as ice crystallizes in my veins and wave after wave of evil bathes me.
I’m strong, there’s no one stronger. Must prove my power.
Will take…everything! What’s theirs is mine, and what’s mine is mine.
Allow myself to be killed in order to save others? Never!
Does she laugh inside, thinking she’s bested me? I’ll turn her amusement to sobs.
“Do it now,” I manage to push past clenched teeth. Before the shadows change my mind for good.
A moment later, a shot rings out and fire burns between my eyes.