by T. A. White
“People can change. You more than anyone should realize that,” Tate said, her eyes sharpening at his last two words. He did know something. “After all, Keel said you were a shining light. Someone who believed in the Saviors more than anyone. Yet now you seem to hate them.”
“Don’t you? You know what they did to you. They left you to clean up their mess. Don’t you hate them for it?”
Tate remained silent as she contemplated her answer. Lying would be a waste. Christopher would only see through her, and it would destroy any progress she’d made.
The problem was that she wasn’t sure any answer she gave would be the truth. Her feelings toward the Saviors and Jax were a lot more complicated than they once were. Reality had a way of destroying the pedestals people placed others on.
The mistakes and the wrongs her friends had committed against Tate were many.
Yet Tate couldn’t summon the level of anger she should feel for having her life stolen from her. It felt like history that happened to someone else. There was a wall between her and that knowledge that left her feeling detached.
“Hating them won’t change anything.”
A huff left Christopher as he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “A perfect Savior-like answer.”
Sensing a crack in his defenses, Tate allowed herself a little more of the truth. “I don’t remember much, but what I do remember is struggle. Every single moment of every single day. Endless fighting and sacrificing bits of myself so I could survive one second longer. So yeah, I find it difficult to fully hate them because their betrayal gave me what I currently have. Friends who’ve become family. A lover who reminds me what it is to be alive. A home that’s always waiting for when I’m ready to return.”
Yes, Tate had lost much when her former friends sent her to sleep. All her memories. Her sense of self. All that was left to her was a name and a gaping hole in the middle of her chest that said she didn’t belong. But, in Tate’s mind, she’d gained far more in trade.
“How very evolved of you.”
“Take it however you like.”
Christopher looked off into the distance as silence settled between them. “The Saviors you remember are different than the ones I know. They may have started with the goal to save everyone, but in the end, they became nothing but oppressors.”
“How did they manage that?”
Tate knew not everything Christopher said could be trusted. His interpretation of history was twisted, viewed through the lens of what had happened to him rather than objective reasoning. In addition, the source of his knowledge and its motivations couldn’t be trusted. The entity who’d given him this knowledge probably had done him irreparable harm. But, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some thread of truth. Intent mattered but so did actions.
Either way, keeping him talking was Tate’s best hope for learning something.
“Don’t you find it strange that there are so many sleepers in the remains of your ship?” Christopher asked with a knowing look on his face. “Why would the Creators use your own stronghold to imprison their experiments?”
Tate flinched.
“No answer, huh. It’s not just that either. If you take a look at where the awakened sleepers appear, you’ll find its always in a Savior stronghold. Never a Creator’s.”
“You can’t know that for sure. No one can.”
Not even Tate. The records from that time period were long gone. No one could say with any certainty what belonged to the Creators or the Saviors.
Christopher’s smile was brief and didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re stretching. You don’t want to admit that your former companions didn’t liberate the survivors because they wanted to help people. No, they saw an opportunity and took it. They left those who might benefit them. The Kairi, to conquer the oceans. The Silva, to help defend against the predators of this planet. Lastly, the humans, who had no ability to challenge their rule.”
Tate reached up to scratch her jaw. “That’s an interesting theory you have there, but there are a few flaws.”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed.
“First, Aurelia fell to the Ijiri toward the latter half of the war.” Tate’s memories told her as much, even if the details surrounding that knowledge were a little fuzzy. “Second, if what you claim was true, Jax and the rest could have destroyed the sleepers. It would have been easy once they were placed in sleep. They would have been defenseless.”
Tate acknowledged Christopher had a point. It was obvious Jax, Kenneth, Trace, and Suze had started to change at some point, unnoticed by her. They might very well be the very thing Christopher accused them of being. But they hadn’t started out that way.
“This is beginning to seem like a waste of time,” Dewdrop said.
Christopher sent Dewdrop a cool look. “They did something at the Rift, didn’t they?”
“How do you know that?” Ryu asked in a silky voice that exuded danger.
Christopher ignored him in favor of watching Tate. “Rifts are funny little existences. An opening in time and space allowing all sorts of things to spill out. However, at their core, they’re pure power.”
“Why is that important?” Tate asked.
“You took two potent weapons from him—the behemoth and the Apportens Mortis.”
The knowing look in Christopher’s eyes at the last one made Tate go still. He couldn’t know. There was no way.
“How can he make the Rift a weapon?”
Christopher’s lips curved. “Something tells me you already know the answer to that.”
“He wants to wake the remaining Creators.”
The very thing she most feared was coming to pass. Sooner than she wanted.
Christopher made a hmm sound. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. The Ijiri were true monsters that the Saviors could never compare to. If allowed to walk this world again, they will bring an age filled with nothing but death and destruction. They will water the ground of this planet with blood and what they raise will be so terrible and horrible that those remaining will beg for death rather than live on.”
The resulting silence felt loud as they all stared at the madman who prophesied the end of the world.
“I can’t understand you,” Dewdrop said with a frown. “You make the Saviors out to be villains but then say they’re the reason we’re alive.”
Christopher shrugged. “They were villains. To the Ijiri, they were the greatest villains of all.”
Dewdrop looked up at the ceiling. “Why am I trying to reason with a crazy person?”
A man in the corner pulled Tate’s attention from their conversation. He sat so his face was in shadow and wore a set of clothes that looked to be in better condition than the other prisoners. Most interesting was the fact he wore a poncho made of a warm looking fabric that protected him from the cold.
Tate’s guard rose, conscious of the way the poncho hid his arms and hands. Like this, it was impossible to tell whether he was armed. Not that any of the prisoners should have weapons, but Tate knew very well how these places worked. Contraband had a way of sneaking in.
It would make her a lot less nervous if he placed those hands where she could see them. Better yet if he could step into the light so she could see his face.
While she was concentrating on the stranger, Ryu stared at the door they’d entered through. His frown grew more pronounced, and his posture tensed.
“What’s wrong?” Dewdrop asked.
“I’m not sure. Something feels off.”
Dewdrop’s eyes darted around the room. Tate’s preoccupation with the stranger faded as she tried to sense what had Ryu on edge.
Tate started to turn when Christopher suddenly moved. His hand reached for her.
Ryu yanked Tate back, his harsh grip digging into her arms. She leaned against a hard chest that rumbled with a low, gravelly growl. Out of the corner of her eye, Tate saw Dewdrop standing at attention next to her, his lips pursed in preparation to release his scream.
Christopher held up a finger to his lips, his eyes smiling at Tate. “Are you really sure it’s me you should be concentrating on?”
He pointed behind the trio.
The prisoner Ryu had called a traitor cursed. “This is not good.”
Tate craned her head to see. Seconds passed as she struggled to see what had so alarmed the prisoner.
A pair of sentinels blended with the stone, their features gradually growing clearer and more defined as they pushed through the wall. First their faces appeared, followed by their torso and weapons. Legs and arms appeared next, each second adding more detail to the statues.
If they’d been menacing before Tate had entered the prison, they were downright terrifying now.
“Please tell me that’s normal,” Tate said.
Ryu’s grip tightened as he hauled her to her feet. “It’s not.”
“I told you. Worst case scenario—every time.” Dewdrop pointed at Tate.
“I touched nothing. You can’t blame me for this.”
“Still your fault,” Dewdrop argued, not letting go. “I don’t know how but it is.”
Tyne’s gaze moved back and forth between Tate and Dewdrop. “You two have a fascinating dynamic.”
Tate pointed to the opposite side of the room. “You’re too close. Go over there.”
Tyne ignored her and looked in Ryu’s direction. “I want my sentence forgiven.”
Ryu’s jaw flexed. “Fine. Help us and I’ll escort you out of this place myself.”
Dewdrop sputtered. “We’re going to trust a traitor to help us?”
Tyne grinned. “He doesn’t have a choice. You lot probably won’t survive without me.”
Dewdrop scoffed. “You think pretty highly of yourself.”
“Tyne is right.” Ryu’s eyes had taken on the glow of the dragon. “These aren’t enemies we can take on ourselves.”
Rath, already in his physical manifestation, crawled onto Ryu’s shoulder where he perched.
“That’s new,” Tyne said with a low whistle. There was fascination and greed in his gaze, as if he’d seen a new toy he’d very much like to own, whether the current owner wanted to give it to him or not.
Ryu ignored him to focus on the sentinels as they pushed their way through the wall, inch by inch.
Tate backed away, dragging Dewdrop with her.
“The sentinels should only come to this side when there is an attempted prison break. Usually someone needs to die before they return to the other side.” On bare feet, Tyne strode to his bone throne, yanking out a thin, long white sword.
“Is that made from bone?” Dewdrop demanded.
Tyne grinned but didn’t answer.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tate saw Christopher stand and move toward the door. She reached for him only to have him slip through her hands as easily as smoke. A mirage impossible to contain.
“Christopher,” Tate warned in a low voice. “Whatever you’re thinking—don’t. Stay. I can protect you.”
She eyed the distance between him and the sentinels. Could she grab him and retreat to safety in time? The sentinels were almost through the wall, just the backs of their feet and body still contained in its depths. It could delay them—then again, did she want to take that chance?
In the end, she stayed where she was, choosing caution over recklessness.
Christopher’s expression gentled as he glanced at her. “I’m afraid such things are out of even your hands.”
With that, he took the last two steps that would put him in reach of the sentinels. Tate’s body tensed. Christopher wasn’t what she’d call a friend, but she didn’t want to see him killed in front of her either.
To her surprise, the sentinels didn’t react. It was as if Christopher was a ghost they couldn’t perceive. A blind spot that allowed him to slip away with ease.
“How is that possible?” Dewdrop asked.
The man Tate had first noticed in the corner rose when Christopher touched the door. It swung open as he hurried across the floor, the light showing his face for the first time.
“Peter,” Tate hissed.
He didn’t spare a glance at her as he reached striking distance of the sentinels. This time Tate was less surprised when they let him pass. Of course, Peter was probably the reason Christopher could escape. He’d done something—Tate didn’t know what—but it allowed them to bypass a defense system nobody had ever escaped from.
“Christopher, I promise whatever he told you he’s not on your side,” Tate said in a last-ditch attempt to stop him.
Christopher gave her a sad smile. “Unfortunately, the same could be said for you.”
Tate remained motionless as Christopher and Peter disappeared beyond the door being guarded by the sentinels.
“What now?” Dewdrop asked.
“We survive—and when we get the chance, we hunt Christopher down,” Ryu snarled.
Rath opened his mouth, fire spewing forth. The first sentinel burst from the wall, spear extended. Ryu dodged to the side as the second statue planted a foot. The floor cracked beneath him as the air seemed to cry.
Danger!
Tate was already moving, dragging Dewdrop with her as she dove to the side. Wind rushed past her along with the sound of stone breaking.
Tate and Dewdrop turned and stared in disbelief as the sentinel extricated itself from the wall they’d been standing in front of seconds before. Fast. Dangerously so.
Tate scrambled to her feet, Dewdrop doing the same beside her as the sentinel slowly turned to face them.
Switch!
“No time,” Tate snapped back as the sentinel’s eyes started glowing.
She pushed Dewdrop away from her as lightning singed the air where they’d just been. Tate hit the ground and rolled, finding her feet instantly.
“Tate!”
“I’m fine, Dewdrop.”
Though she couldn’t say how much longer that would last.
Screams echoed from the hallways branching off the main room.
“Fuck, it’s a culling,” Tyne snarled.
“What does that mean?” Tate asked.
“We’re not facing only one or two of them. We’re dealing with an entire army. They won’t stop until everyone is dead, or the time runs out.” Tyne’s chin lowered as a grim expression settled on his face. He looked like a man who was facing death and had already decided to go out making as much of a ruckus as he could.
Dewdrop’s lips pursed. Sound split the air.
Tate clapped her hands over her ears, fighting to stay upright as the sound bounced off the walls, bombarding her from all directions. Growing and growing, until finally she heard nothing but white noise, instead feeling the power behind his cry vibrating her insides. Liquid dribbled from her ears and nose.
She touched it, her hands coming away with streaks of red. Blood. No surprise there. At its highest decibel, Dewdrop’s scream could burst organs and kill.
Unfortunately for them, the sentinels didn’t have organs.
A sentinel, his face an emotionless mask, thundered across the floor. He reached Dewdrop with the same insane speed he’d used before. Dewdrop screamed as the sentinel latched onto his arm. There was a low pop of joints being dislocated before the sentinel picked Dewdrop up and flung him into the wall.
Dewdrop slid limply to the floor, unmoving.
The inside of Tate’s mind went white as the sentinel advanced on Dewdrop’s crumpled body.
Drops of liquid silver boiled from Tate’s skin. She pointed at the sentinel as he raised his spear over Dewdrop. The silver struck, forming a long, pointed rod that punched through the sentinel’s back. Through his spine into where his heart would have been had he been human.
The sentinel paused, his head turning toward her. Those cold, emotionless eyes showing no remorse or fear, somehow making everything that was happening even worse.
Death should mean something to the person dealing it. Not be this cold, impersonal process.
T
ate clenched her fist. Ropes of silver leached off the rod, spreading across the sentinel’s body as they faintly started to glow. The brighter they shone, the darker and chalkier the stone of the sentinel became.
“Die!” Tate hissed.
The stone of the sentinel started to crack and then crumble. The sentinel seemed to collapse into himself as his form dissolved into pebble-sized rubble.
Pain splintered Tate’s mind as she wobbled, conscious of the fact half her body was covered in the same silver as the weapon she’d just used to destroy the sentinel.
A mechanical voice spoke in her mind. “Synchronization has reached above 98 percent. You are now the recognized owner of this device.”
Tate didn’t have time to ask questions about the new capabilities of her relic. She staggered toward Dewdrop, falling to her knees beside him. Afraid the collision with the wall might have damaged his spine, Tate touched him on the shoulder lightly.
He groaned. “I really thought that would work better than it did.”
The laugh that came from Tate was more of a sob than anything.
Dewdrop maneuvered tentatively onto his back. “Did we win?”
His question reminded Tate that their sentinel wasn’t the only one. As she helped him sit up, she glanced in Ryu and Tyne’s direction. Their sentinel was dismembered, and half of its torso had been melted into a pile of molten rock by the dragon clinging to Ryu’s shoulder.
“It’s not over,” Tyne barked. “They’ll respawn soon.”
Already, Tate could hear the march of feet from the sentinels in the corridors. There was no more screaming, leaving Tate with the uncomfortable feeling that no one else besides them remained alive.
“The door.” Dewdrop pointed. Tate followed the direction of his finger to find two more sentinels forming in the walls on either side of the door.
“We never seem to catch a break.” Tate helped Dewdrop to his feet.
“I told you. It’s always the worst-case scenario when you and the underground are involved,” Dewdrop said in a tight, pain-filled voice. He gingerly cradled his arm to his side. The color leached from his face and a grimace carved deep grooves into the side of his mouth and around his eyes.