The female priest nodded to one of her followers, who leapt from the stage and started working over them just as Kreed had done to Storn. Cole shut his eyes and looked away, wincing as each scream pierced the din of the writhing crowds.
“What do you want anyway?” Kreed asked. “Can’t you see I’m entertaining our special guest?”
“Your undue affinity for Decreath is no great mystery to us, Father Kreed.” She gave a derisive bow as she said his name. “You will be pleased to know that your master has arrived early, and alone. It’s strange. It seems Decreath knew of your special guest before Sorronis and Grotton.” Her eyes and voice sharpened. “I do wonder how this came to be.”
“Let’s not labor over the litany of things you priests wonder about. I haven’t the time or the tolerance.” He shot her a look that put an end to the subject. “Is that all?”
The red priest’s head dropped at the weight of his glare. “No, Father Kreed, that is not all. Decreath captured one of the elders from The Sill. It was the Bone-breaker, Roth. He was found above the city, watching us from the back of a baileen. The beast escaped during the struggle, but we have Roth. Grotton’s Domina are bringing him in now.”
“Outstanding!” Kreed gushed, clapping his hands. Shame the baileen got away, but the Bone-breaker is the boon of boons. Where is the elder now?”
The priest extended an arm, pointing across the square. The crowd parted and revealed a squad of elephantine Domina dragging a massive two-wheeled structure. The wheels were made of solid metal, each the size of a large house. In place of the axle was Roth, locked in a thick yoke that secured his limbs inside the massive wheels. Chains coiled around his torso led to a pair of mountainous Domina that pulled the whole structure. Roth’s face was blank, though his eyes were alert and calculating. The black armor shroud was gone, revealing soft blond hair and bleeding wounds. The great warrior was defeated.
Cole’s chin fell to the stone. There was nothing now. No chance for anyone. Roth was supposed to be this unbreakable monolith of Rage and power. Yet here he was, laid low by just one of The Three. The Sill would fall soon enough. The only hope now was that Roth somehow had sent message to Chiron and Alvani, warning them not to come. He couldn’t feel the bonds between Goran or Eliza and himself anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.
“Stars above, he’s bigger than I remember.” Kreed’s teeth came out again with his greedy smile. “With any luck Decreath might let me have a bite of his fire. I do hope he shows up to the party soon. Where is the Feared now?” Kreed clapped his hands again, sounding as if he might explode with excitement.
“Decreath is here now, Father Kreed,” the priest replied, pointing to a void in the stars.
Kreed took a deep breath as he gazed up at the void. His voice dropped, wet and gravelly. “So he is. Begin the Devotion.”
Priests in black robes appeared on the stage in puffs of smoke. They descended to the crowds of Underkin, shooting murky olive clouds from their hands as if watering a garden. Priests throughout the square followed suit, covering the entire area in a putrid haze.
“Kreed don’t you dare!” The woman in crimson gripped her robes, her eyes wild. “Grotton and Sorronis are not here!”
Kreed ignored her, walking behind Cole and dragging something heavy into his peripheral vision. With a renewed pang of Despair, Cole saw Habbad buried up to his neck in his own stone vat. His lifeless eyes rested on the stone, puffy and pink.
“You’re going to watch this, Habbad. You owe me that much.” Kreed raked his nails over Habbad’s skull. Invisible hooks pulled Habbad’s eyelids open and snapped his head upright. “Pay close attention to the tower on the left. She’ll be right on the bottom. First to burn. First to scream.”
Cole thrashed against the Fear, flexing against the stone. He reached for the power Roth had given him. It was still there, waiting in his marrow, but his grip was feeble and slippery. The Fear was too powerful.
The Underkin began dousing themselves with the odium as they climbed the spiral walkways up the towers. A rotten, flowery odor like a dead woman’s perfume wafted over the stage. Desperation, the likes of which he had never felt, fueled his racing heart. Cole gave a helpless groan. He flexed against the stone tub, smashing his chin over and over.
“This isn’t right!” Cole wailed, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You can’t do this! Please, don’t kill her.”
Kreed clucked his tongue. “Come now Cole, don’t fret. This is just the natural way of things here. What you are watching is no different than the butchery of livestock so that the superior life can flourish. I do believe you humans practice something similar with your own cattle, do they not?”
“They’re suffering!” Cole spat, bloody spit flying. “This is evil! You’re evil!”
Kreed giggled, bringing his mouth close to Cole’s ear. “You haven’t seen suffering yet, Wisdom Walker. Wait till they realize they cannot die, no matter how the fire burns them. Wait till you see how many shades a person can suffer when the odium takes them. First is the Fear, because they still have hope. Then when the hope melts, some time after the skin, there is Despair. My word, is there Despair. Roiling oceans of the stuff.” Air rushed into Kreed’s teeth as he tasted the words. “Then there’s my favorite part. The Hatred. The Hatred saves them. It strips them of their emotions, their memories, their very identities. It gives them strength, purpose, even pleasure. They become something else entirely, something…divine. Its beauty is still beyond my comprehension.” Kreed gasped, his breath rapid and feathery. Another faint squeak fluttered from his lips. With a slippery whisper, he hissed, “That is the suffering you are about to witness. That is what sweet Lexy is about to become.”
Cole’s chin hit the pale stone with a final thud. He could hear Habbad’s choking cries as he struggled against his bonds. He too had heard every word.
“Kreed, stop this!” the red priest shouted. “This is most inappropriate! We must wait for Sorronis.”
Kreed ignored her once more, drumming a playful beat on the rim of Cole’s stone tub before turning to the towers. “Oh excellent! They’re nearly ready for us. Ah, and there’s sweet Lexy now! Front and center! She looks adorable in that dress, I must say. Picked it out myself.” His sharp nails raked Cole’s scalp, voice dripping with menace: “Behold her, Cole Carter. BEHOLD HER!”
Hooks yanked Cole’s head back, cracking his neck and peeling his eyelids open. There she was. Right in front of them. The weight of her dwindling mortality pulling her down, never to dance again. She wore a frilly pearl gown with gold trim, just like Kreed’s suit. With somber, vacant eyes, she looked to Cole and Habbad as she poured the oil over her head.
“NOOO!” Cole bellowed, voice breaking.
A long, high moan rushed through Habbad’s gritted teeth before tapering off into defeated sobs.
“Kreed! Stop this at once or I will!” the red priest shrieked, delirious with ire. “Decreath be damned, I’ll cast you down, Kreed. I swear it!”
Kreed brought his hand over his head, signaling to his priests below the towers, who awaited his final command with torches in hand. “Do what you feel is right in your heart, Baedine.” He locked eyes with her, voice softening with endearment. “It’s all a person can do.”
With a flourish, Kreed snapped his hand downwards. Cole watched in helpless horror as thick straps wound up the spiral walkway, slamming into the cattle and pulling them snug to the tower. The grim spell dissolved from the Underkin’s minds as they suddenly realized where they were and what was about to happen. The first screams stung at Cole’s ears. They were screams of Fear because they still had hope. Lexi’s screams were not the loudest, but he heard them above everything else.
With a pained expression and tears bubbling in her eyes, the red priest Baedine twisted her hand, forming a purple needle in midair. “I’m sorry, brother.”
Baedine flicked the needle, sending it screaming into Kreed’s chest. Kreed fell to his knees, life draining f
rom his face as he looked to his sister with pale adoration.
“I’m so sorry.” Baedine’s tears dripped into her mouth as she bawled.
The heat of the flames lashed at Cole’s cheeks. The din of screams rose exponentially as the fire climbed up the tower, burning every ounce of flesh and every facet of soul on its way.
Baedine’s sobs came to an abrupt halt as Kreed rose to the tips of his toes. His head lolled as he arched back at an impossible angle. He floated into the air, his fancy leather shoes dangling as he hovered a foot off the ground.
“This is not right, something is amiss.” Baedine took a step towards her brother, dread in her eyes. She signaled to her priests, backing them away from Kreed.
Baedine’s eyes snapped to the sky. A dark tendril descended from the void in the stars, bathing the stage in a rancid cloud of Fear.
A freezing wind burned at Cole’s still-open eyes as the Fear filled his lungs. He knew this was the end, that this was death. His every instinct demanded he escape, but the stone tub held him fast, forcing him to embrace the wild terror. Just as he thought the sensation would surely smother him, the cloud thinned. The stage reappeared and the fog lifted. The void above swirled its way down into Kreed’s open mouth.
There was silence for a moment as Kreed floated back down to the stage. His chest was several times its normal size, all of the buttons gone from his pearly jacket and vest. Air whistled out through his pursed lips, giving over to a sound that didn’t belong in the world of the living. The sensation crippled every fiber of Cole’s body and filled every corner of his mind with undiluted terror. There was no hiding from it. It was Fear in its purest form, It was the voice of Decreath.
The noise subsided, giving over to the scabbed yowls from the towers. Cole moved his eyes as far from the towers as he could, but his eyes were still locked to Lexi by Kreed’s spell. The billowing flames were painfully bright now.
“Kreed… what have you done?” Baedine’s voice trembled between terror and awe. “What are you?”
Kreed returned to the stage, his mouth stained with soot. He opened his eyes, revealing empty, burnt sockets. His lips parted, revealing gaps and jagged crags of shattered teeth. A child-like smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Kreed exhaled, long and low while something flapped from inside his throat.
“D-Decreath?” Baedine fell to her knees, hands open in surrender.
Kreed approached Baedine, chest heaving in ragged, weak breaths. He clasped her hands, entwining his fingers in hers as he pulled her upright. Her jaw quivered as she came up to meet him. She stared into his empty eyes. Blood leaked from the sockets as he tilted his head down to her, dripping over her cheeks and mouth. Baedine shut her eyes as Kreed brought his burnt lips to hers, kissing her tenderly. She resisted, then begrudgingly gave in, returning the kiss with a slight nudge. She made to pull away, but his hands pulled her closer. Baedine wriggled and beat her fists against his arms, but Kreed pulled her closer still.
Baedine’s eyes popped open as she stopped struggling. The left side of her body convulsed as her chest rose and fell in violent jerks. Her left leg went limp, sagging at an odd angle like an empty balloon. Kreed threw a hand around her waist and caught her. Baedine moaned as her mouth stretched wide, her neck swelling as something large worked its way up and out. Kreed’s jaws closed and he pulled back steadily. In between his broken teeth was a long bone covered in blood and fascia. Baedine’s tibia had torn through her throat, cracking her jaw on the way out. Her fibula came next, connected by hanging ropes of tendon and ligament. Her left arm fell limp next, fingers bouncing off her side like a rubber glove. Kreed let her fall, pulling yet more bones from her mouth as she landed in a heap on the stage. When the final bone slipped between her ripped maw, Kreed threw the lot into a pile beside her.
Baedine tried to stand, but only the right side of her body seemed to want to. With her right hand she patted the left side of her head, which drooped like a loose mask.
Rasping breath still leaking from his mouth, Kreed stirred a hand over the pile of bones. The bundle rattled and rolled over itself as the bones formed the skeleton of a patchwork creature. It stretched its asymmetrical legs and wings, clicking its finger-bone teeth together. Baedine cried out, dragging her broken body away from it. Sensing movement, the creature cocked its head, curious. It took a hesitant step towards Baedine, teeth clicking.
Baedine threw herself down on her boneless side, wailing in agony. Her right arm waved in the air, purple glow flaring in her hand. The creature cantered forward as it gained confidence. Baedine fired a violet needle at the hobbling bone creature, missing it entirely. She fired a few more, one of which passed harmlessly through the gaps in the creature’s structure.
Cole winced as a needle shattered against the rim of his tub. The stage became a hail of purple shards. Priests dodged and jumped, clearing the platform. Kreed stood in the middle of the bombardment, unharmed, the creature pausing with its jaw wide. It looked back to Kreed, who nodded with approval. The bone child pounced. Baedine screamed as it tore at her. She waved her hand shooting needles blindly over the stage.
Cole saw the flash of purple from his periphery. He wrenched against his invisible bonds, but to no avail. Something smacked his neck, hard. His exposed skin felt hot and wet. There was a quiet pitter patter near his head. Cole looked down to see spurts of bright red shooting from below his chin. Afraid to make it worse, he stopped struggling, but it was worse already. The surface of the stone basin became a pool of crimson around him as he grew dizzy. He could no longer hear his blood hit the pool, and Baedine had gone quiet. Most odd was the sudden silence of the towers. A vague concept swam to the fore of his mind, which explained why he couldn’t hear anything at all. He was dying. As his vision faded to a thin tunnel, the last thing Cole saw was a pair of bloody holes staring into his soul.
Cole had lost; the game was over. He’d tried harder than anyone and made the best choices he could. Yet here he was, broken, bleeding, and defeated. Whether it was the whims of fate, or an underhanded blow, it mattered not. Here he sat, frozen and unable to hold onto his own life as the heart that battled to keep him alive pumped more of his blood out of him. His breath, which was once oh so essential, no longer seemed important. He couldn’t even hear the scraping of air in his throat anymore. He couldn’t hear anything except for the void as it rushed to greet him. As the deafening roar filled his ears, he couldn’t recall what he was just looking at, or where he was, or who he was supposed to be. He was sinking, quickly now, far beneath the world, beneath himself. Nothing mattered. Everything was gone. He was not. The void welcomed him with lover’s arms, whispering eternal respite as it pulled him ever deeper. He was the blackness, the darkness, the nothingness.
No
No
Somewhere in the void, a spark ever so faintly flickered. Light? Can light exist in such a place? No, it’s gone now. Far too weak and feeble, surely snuffed out. The void darkened as Cole darkened, and laughed as Cole laughed. But there it was again, stronger than before. The impossible spark became a minute flame, living and breathing. That such a flame could exist in the crushing emptiness was inconceivable, yet there it was, Raging against the darkness. With every miniscule breath the fire grew. The flame was now a thing, the only thing, and it was alive. The flame rebelled against the blackness, tiny and weak, yet hot and fierce. The void would not be denied. It deepened as Cole deepened, their suffocating presence choking from the inside out. They would not be denied the depths of their hollow.
No
NO!
There was someone else in the void now, an alien yet familiar presence that Cole half recognized from another life. He was there. Crouched in the darkness He stoked the tiny flame, breathing life into it. With His encouragement, the baby flame refused to go gently into the crushing abyss. The flame Raged, burning brighter and hotter until it no longer flickered, but roared. The sound filled the void, reverberating off its skin. It was the bellow of the s
oul outright defying death. It would not be silenced. There was no alternative. The flame was blaring now, tearing at the void, bending, twisting it asunder.
For the first time, their faces met in full, His eyes locking with Cole’s. An iron link of vengeful wrath joined the two.
YOU EXIST! YOU EXIST THEREFORE THE VOID CANNOT EXIST! YOU SHALL NOT BE SILENCED! THERE IS NO ALTERNATIVE! ARISE, COLE CARTER!
ARISE!
His final word faded from Cole’s mind, replaced by the pounding of blood in his ears. Cole’s eyes snapped open, heart punching his ribcage like a bull trying to escape. Red hot Rage prickled down his neck, filling his limbs with power he had never known. The sensation was intoxicating, but it was too much. He needed a purpose for the power lest it destroy him. Without a moment to spare, his vision returned and Cole realized where and who he was. He blinked and turned his neck, snapping the invisible hooks like dried cobwebs. Fueled by utmost need the power came forth, joining Cole in body and mind, armor and claw. He became Rage incarnate.
The stone prison exploded, sending sparks and stone in every direction. Cole emerged from the cloud of dust shrouded in ebony armor inside and out, munisica flexing in the starlight.
“Kreed!” Cole shouted at the sky. “Get down here and face me!”
Kreed floated far above him, watching with empty eyes and cradling his bone child, which now sported new organs and a fresh layer of skinless muscle.
“Have it your way, coward. I’ll come to you,” Cole said to himself, preparing to jump. There was no doubt he could make the distance.
Just as he readied to spring his legs, he heard a scuffling of footsteps and swishing of robes. Dozens of priests flooded the stage brandishing long, sweeping daggers and hands that shone with purple light. Cole took a deep breath and sheathed his desire for vengeance. The priests would make a fine outlet for now.
“Stand down, human!” A red priest shuffled to the fore of the crowd, cramming his sleeves up to his elbows. “The Three may have deemed you useful, but not necessary. So by all means resist us. You will make a fine meal with all that Rage burning in you.”
Saving The Dark Side: Book 1: The Devotion Page 43