Scythe groaned. “Can’t you just leave me out of all this? Cassandra’s the one you want everyone to worship, anyway. She’s the savior, right?”
“Much was asked of you all,” Jerrod reminded her. “For a time you each bore a great burden, and you bore it well. The world owes you a debt they can never repay, but at least they should know what you’ve done.”
“Maybe you could just change Scythe’s name or something,” Keegan offered, trying to find a compromise to satisfy them both.
“I’m sorry,” Jerrod replied. “I must tell them the entire truth. I cannot pick and choose what goes in or stays out.”
“Why not?” Scythe challenged. “Every other religion does it.”
“I hold myself to a higher standard,” he told her.
“Great,” Scythe grumbled. “So I get to suffer for your principles.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Keegan told her. “Nobody’s going to believe him, anyway. They’ll just think he’s crazy.”
Jerrod smiled at the jab, knowing it was delivered by a friend in jest.
It always looks strange when he smiles, Scythe thought. His features are too harsh and stern.
Even without the unsettling white eyes, it was easy to guess he’d once served the Order. He still carried an air of grim authority about him.
People are going to believe him when he tells his tale, she realized. Many of them, at least.
Jerrod came over to the bed and clasped Keegan’s arm. “Good luck to you,” he said. Then he turned and offered his hand to Scythe.
On a wild impulse she grabbed him in a fierce hug, just to see how he’d react. To his credit, he endured it with aplomb.
“Just remember,” Scythe told him when she let go. “If this religion of yours takes off, I want a cut from the collection plate.”
He smiled again, nodded at them both, and left the room, closing the door behind them. Once he was gone, Scythe crossed over to the bed and climbed in beside Keegan, snuggling close under the covers.
“I can’t believe you’re not more bothered by what Jerrod is doing,” she told him.
Keegan shrugged. “I guess I just got used to being told I was some kind of all-powerful savior. Maybe it’s hard for me to let that part of my identity go.”
Scythe knew Keegan was still struggling to come to terms with losing his gift. But she truly believed he was better off without it. And she needed him to believe it, too.
“You’re not letting that identity go,” she told him. “You’re breaking free from it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our lives were never our own,” she explained. “We were controlled and manipulated by Chaos. We were just pawns in some greater plan. Slaves to our fate. But that’s over now.
“Now we can be anything we want! Go anywhere we want! Do anything we want! That’s an amazing gift, and Cassandra gave it to us.”
“I hadn’t really looked at it like that,” he said, nodding thoughtfully.
“Well, it’s time you started,” she told him. “The future is whatever we make of it. So let’s make it a good one. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he said, flashing her a bright smile.
He doesn’t smile enough, she thought. But unlike Jerrod, it looks good on him.
“Glad you’re on board,” Scythe said, satisfied. “So tell me—what is the one thing you want to do more than anything else?”
“This,” Keegan said, pulling her close and giving her a long, hard kiss.
—
Daemron crouches on the cold stone floor of his inner sanctum, his wings wrapped protectively around him. Slowly he unfurls them and stands, every muscle and fiber of his body aching with exhaustion. The spell that he used to transport himself instantly back into his nether realm is draining, even for a God, but it has served him well.
Had he fought with everything in his power, he could have lasted much longer against the mortal who carried his Talismans. But in the end, he knew he would have fallen. She was too strong—better to retreat and live. And so, at the first blow from her weapon, he simply vanished.
He had used the same trick against the Old Gods when the tide of battle turned against him seven hundred years ago, but they had not been fooled. They sensed his retreat and banished him. But as powerful as the mortal who turned his own Talismans against him was, she was no God. She did not see through his trick. She does not know her enemy still lives.
With the Legacy destroyed, he can now cross between the worlds. The Children of Fire are not immortal; they will age and die. Until then he can plot and scheme, gathering followers in the mortal realm. And, when the time is right and there is no one left strong enough to oppose him, he will strike.
Outside his sanctum he hears the return of his followers, an angry army marching into the cramped, grimy city from which he rules his blighted kingdom. He hears them surrounding his castle, searching for the God who deserted them on the battlefield.
In time he will win their loyalty back, but first he must let their anger cool. He senses the horde descending on his inner sanctum; he knows it is time to leave. With the Legacy gone he can cross between realms, but they cannot.
He closes his eyes and reaches out to touch the mortal world, his mind stretching out to it across the Burning Sea. Instead of the tiny island where he left a foothold to draw him back, however, his mind butts up against a dark and forbidding wall.
No! The Legacy was destroyed!
With dawning horror, he realizes what has happened. Like the Old Gods before her, the mortal he fought sacrificed herself to banish him.
He pushes against the reborn Legacy, sensing there is something different about it now. The original Legacy was permeable; a barrier to keep him out but still allow the mortals to touch the ocean of Chaos from which all things were born.
The new Legacy is stronger. More solid. An impenetrable wall between the mortal world and the source of all magic: eternal and indestructible.
No! Anything that can be built can be torn down!
There is a weakness in the wall. There has to be! He only needs time to find it.
A shadow falls across the floor of his inner sanctum. Looking up at the hole in the domed ceiling—the only way in or out—he sees the outline of one of his soldiers in the aperture, clinging to the curved stone.
She scuttles in, invading his inviolate space. Others follow close behind: Those with claws crawl along the stone; those with wings simply fly in. Those that cannot fly or scale the wall are carried in on the backs of others. A dozen. Fifty. A hundred.
They fill Daemron’s inner sanctum like insects packed into a hive, their eyes hateful and accusing.
Their God stands motionless at the center of the horde, knowing he is too weak to fight them all. But his reputation keeps them temporarily at bay, and his mind races as he thinks of what to say to win their loyalty back after abandoning them on the battlefield.
As he opens his mouth to speak they fall on him. In seconds Daemron is ripped to shreds, his followers feasting on his entrails.
Chaos is the source of all life and creation, but also all death and destruction. Nothing is eternal. Even an Immortal can die.
For my father, Ron, a wonderful and amazing man.
Though he was taken too soon he lives on in the memories and love shared by his friends and family.
Acknowledgments
Chaos Unleashed is the final book in my Chaos Born trilogy—a labor of love that has consumed the vast majority of my creative energy over the last four years. I’ve spent many, many hours with these characters and this story, and now that the tale is finished I find myself engulfed by a mixture of satisfaction, relief, and even regret. It’s part of my life that I will miss, but it’s time to move on to other things.
Of course, none of this would have been possible without the help and support of many people. This project never would have gotten off the ground without the help of my agent, Ginger Clark. She championed this series fro
m day one, and I’m proud to have her in my corner. I also want to thank my fantastic editors, Tricia Narwani and Michael Rowley. In any tale that spans across three full-length novels there are going to be some rough bits. As the author, I’m often too close to the story to see where things didn’t quite work as I planned, and my worst fear is to have all my efforts undone because I slipped up on some crucial aspect of character development or because I inadvertently left some kind of gaping plot hole. Throughout this process, Tricia and Michael have been there with a steady hand to guide me through the choppy waters that inevitably spring up, and I know this project would have suffered greatly without their input.
I also want to thank those in my family who have given me the love, support, and understanding any creative person needs when undertaking a massive project like this. My wife, Jennifer, has always stood beside me; without her, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Many years ago she carried the financial burden when I left my job at the bank and went back to school to pursue my dream of being a professional writer. But that was a minor contribution to my success compared to everything else she has done for me over the years. I write in fits and starts, and she’s never complained about the long stretches where I procrastinate and do nothing productive for weeks on end. She’s put up with me in the times when my deadlines get closer and I go into crunch mode, working far too long until I’m tired and cranky and short-tempered. She’s patiently listened as I’ve prattled on and on about my half-finished ideas, letting me bounce them off her as I try to shape them into something worthy of sharing with the world. I owe her everything.
I also need to acknowledge the incredible job my parents did in raising me. They encouraged me in my writing, and they were never afraid to tell me how proud they were of what I was doing. And I always knew that if things went wrong, they’d be there to help me pick myself up. They gave me the courage and confidence to work at becoming a writer; they taught me to follow my dream.
My father passed away unexpectedly a month after I finished the first draft of Chaos Unleashed. I think it was safe to say he was my biggest fan, but he never got a chance to see the ending of my story. He taught me so much about life that I can’t even begin to express it in words. Dad loved people, and people loved him. He understood that everyone has worth and value, and he treated everyone with respect. He taught me that life isn’t just what you do, it’s who you do it with. Friends and family are what really matter. Though Dad is gone, part of him lives on in the memories and the relationships that those who loved him share with one another.
My mom has shown tremendous courage since his death, and I’m so proud of how she has carried on. She’s been an inspiration to me, and though we have come through difficult times I know there are still many good days ahead of us. I’ve also realized how lucky I am to have had such incredible parents, and I see now that I was taking them for granted. It’s awful that it took a personal tragedy to make me fully grasp how much they mean to me, but I intend to treasure the time I have left with Mom.
Finally, I want to acknowledge all the readers and fans who have followed me on this long journey. Obviously, I wouldn’t be anything without you. Being able to share my stories with others is a rare honor and a privilege, and I know how lucky I am. So, thank you for everything, and I hope you enjoyed Chaos Unleashed!
BY DREW KARPYSHYN
STAR WARS
Star Wars: Darth Bane: Path of Destruction
Star Wars: Darth Bane: Rule of Two
Star Wars: Darth Bane: Dynasty of Evil
Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan
Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation
MASS EFFECT
Mass Effect: Revelation
Mass Effect: Ascension
Mass Effect: Retribution
FORGOTTEN REALMS
Temple Hill
Baldur’s Gate II: Throne of Bhaal
THE CHAOS BORN
Children of Fire
The Scorched Earth
Chaos Unleashed
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DREW KARPYSHYN is the New York Times bestselling author of Children of Fire, The Scorched Earth, and Chaos Unleashed, as well as the Star Wars: The Old Republic novels Revan and Annihilation, and the Star Wars: Darth Bane trilogy: Path of Destruction, Rule of Two, and Dynasty of Evil. He also wrote the acclaimed Mass Effect series of novels and worked as a writer/designer on numerous award-winning videogames. After spending most of his life in Canada, he finally grew tired of the long, cold winters and headed south in search of a climate more conducive to year-round golf. Drew Karpyshyn now lives in Texas with his wife, Jennifer, and their pets.
drewkarpyshyn.com
@DrewKarpyshyn
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