by R. J. Louis
It beats in her hand, the tiny beating flutter of a young man’s heart, as he works on the deck above to waken magic that responds to him as it does to no other.
“Rico... what are you?”
Epilogue
“So, we are in agreement then, after the news from Flare, we must take greater action.” Cyrus Bloodwash stalks past the seated delegates at the Table of Fifteen. A massive Livewood table, cut and polished to a fine sheen, sits in the centre of the Grand Hall of the Citadel. The table is a semi-circle, with fourteen seats around it, arranged in pairs. Two for each shard. In the centre of the semi-circle, a stunning glass and gem model of Shatter sits, suspended from the ceiling and glowing with a soft light. The fifteenth member of their council is ostensibly the world at large, though these days ties are rare enough that that particular step does not need to be taken.
Here, it is an easy win. Twelve for, two against. The Kephir and Khepri vote nay in absentia through Raven priests, dealing with matters on Evergreen, but it is pointless.
Cyrus is surprised to get everyone else on board so easily. He expected trouble from the Shadewalkers, but perhaps they too are disappointed in their rebellious child. They don’t know he knows about her though, so for now he simply smiles at the two masked figures representing Dusk.
The others came on board easily enough. It is a small matter for the Table to vote on, and perhaps they hope that supporting his pet project will encourage him to support their own votes.
No matter. He claps his hands, and servants enter. He directs them to a stack of papers on the table. “Have these distributed across the shards and to all naval operatives at once, please.” He grins viciously.
On each paper are pictures, sketches of varying levels of accuracy, reproduced from descriptions by his own Legionnaires and others across the Shards. First are pictures of The Kingfisher in flight, asking for information on the whereabouts of the ship. Other posters include profiles, and brief descriptions, along with text in bold lettering.
Kendra Stoutheart: Wanted.
Molly Baulch: Wanted.
Wilmar Helm: Wanted.
Artemis Mirrorwing: Wanted.
Lilian Selana: Wanted.
Jonas Blackwater: Wanted.
Zacharias Mudge: Wanted.
Erin Thunder: Wanted.
* * *
The body slumps. Archangel breathes in deeply, the raven feathers turning grey and ashen on her arm before drifting away. She beckons to her Watchers and they remove the corpse. Power simmers under her skin. So much power. The power to save the world, or destroy it.
Her lips curl into a cold smile, and she beholds the darkness of space through the great glass window of her tower. A shadow lurks in the void, obscuring distant stars, and growing ever nearer. She cannot see it, yet. But her child is moving toward her, bringing the Singer with him. His sight will be the last piece of the puzzle, she hopes.
The power that hums through her is addictive, the energy burns with a holy light. Fragments of each God, melding within her. Truly this is divine.
A knocking sounds at the door, and her Watchers bring in another. She turns, wiping the manic smile from her face.
“Another brave soldier.” She presses her hand to her heart. “Thank you for your sacrifice.” She stalks toward the young Solarii, lowering a finger to touch their chest. “Don’t think of it as dying. Think of it as enlisting early to beat the rush.”
Feathers burst again on her skin, and her hand dips into the heart-space greedily. This is her burden, sacrificing the few to save the many. A burden she bears gladly, as more power whispers through her.
Saving the world never felt so good.
To be continued in The Kingfisher Histories Part 3: A Web of Lies.
So, now we’ve reached the end of this instalment of The Kingfisher Histories. I hope you enjoyed it! If you didn’t, that’s fair too. I know I’ve still got a lot to learn about story-telling, so if you have any feedback, please leave me a review! Any feedback will go towards making books three and onward the best that they can be!
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