‘Gods above, we get it. Reckon you’ll bore me to death before you get close enough to use that knife.’
‘Oh, you’ll die. But I am a seeker of knowledge, and you’re the oldest Siren I’ve encountered—your powers are more mature than the others’. I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d extract the soul-whisper from you, girl—I’ll dissect you and wield your power against any more of your kind. Palthonheim is a seat of knowledge, after all—not a slaughterhouse.’
Black tendrils skirted the edges of Serena’s vision. The obelisks drew her energy away. She pushed at Enoch, kicking back into his stone legs. ‘Enoch… Enoch! There’s gotta be some part of you still in there. Fight! Think about Myriel. Scruff. You don’t want to do this.’
‘Bring her to me,’ Sul commanded.
Enoch dragged Serena towards the ageless man.
What would Gallows and Tiera do? They wouldn’t give up… They’d… fight…
Serena’s eyelids grew heavy. The obelisks drained her song, silencing it before she could summon it. She felt her consciousness slipping.
What would… Myriel do?
Serena’s eyes snapped open. She kicked out, dug her heels into the cracked floor. Using what little breath remained in her lungs, she sang. ‘Uhm-mm-m… m-mm-hum-hum…mm-uh-mmm…’
Enoch’s grip loosened as Serena hummed the tune Myriel had used when she brought him back in Lunosdatter’s lab. Serena’s voice rose and fell, not quite hitting the notes, straining to sing as the strength drained from her.
But she was a Siren—a creature from myth—powerful. She kept singing, used every ounce of strength she had left.
Enoch screamed and dropped her.
Horror struck Sul’s face.
Enoch kept screaming and slammed his own head against the wall.
‘Stop!’ Serena yelled. The obelisks’ light pulsed through her, weakening her.
‘You are most certainly one of Musa’s children,’ said Sul. ‘She’d have admired your tenacity. Futile, however; Enoch, stamp this stoneroach into the ground.’
Enoch growled—inhuman, guttural. He kept slamming his head into the wall. Dark blood seeped from his forehead. ‘Serena… I cannot… fight this…’
‘Crush her like the worm she is,’ Sul commanded. ‘Like you killed every other Siren child I put in front of you.’
Enoch screamed, pounced on Sul and ripped the knife from his hands. It clattered to the floor.
Whimpering, Sul cowered, and the light in the obelisks faded.
At once, Serena’s strength returned.
Enoch placed a heavy foot on the old man’s chest.
‘How…?’ the old man begged. ‘How? You were designed to be immune to the siren-born. You killed them with your own bare hands. How?’
Serena rose. ‘There’s a power greater than Gods—greater than the Orinul.’ She kicked the bone-hilt knife out of Sul’s reach and glowered down at him. ‘Humanity.’
Sul cackled. ‘Humankind has wrought more ruin than all the wars of the Gods combined.’
‘Yeah, well, the Orinul enslaved the world, and now where are they? They’ve got assholes like you doing their work for ’em, running around without any eyes and hiding in their own shit. Humans have a lot of evolving to do, but we’re here and the Orinul ain’t—that tells you everything you need to know.’
Serena picked the knife up. She couldn’t stop the trembling in her fingers. She didn’t try.
‘Do it,’ Sul croaked. ‘I have lived ten thousand lifetimes. My power goes far beyond illusion, girl. This place belongs to the Orinul—hewn from their very bones. They will not allow you to leave. If I perish, Palthonheim falls.’
Serena gripped the knife. The worm before her had killed Musa, killed other Sirens with that very blade. Children. He was worse than the Idari, worse than Pyron Thackeray.
But still she couldn’t do it.
‘This creature will betray you, girl,’ Sul whispered.
‘Enoch’s my friend.’
Tears ran down Enoch’s face, mixing with his blood. ‘He’s correct, Serena. There is something inside me, something base and corrupt. My memories… I killed children—Sirens. They brought them to Palthonheim, tested them against me to see if I could withstand their power.’
‘Enoch, he was controlling you—you didn’t kill the sirens, he did. Your human side brought you back—your mum’s song. That’s the real you.’
‘It’s inside me, Serena—it’s why I was drawn to you in Dalthea. As long as I’m alive, you’re in danger.’
Sul squirmed beneath the Stone Man. ‘Destroy her now, Enoch—fulfil your destiny.’
‘Leave,’ Enoch begged. ‘I will not allow blood to stain your hands, Serena—not as it has mine.’
Serena dropped the knife. ‘We’ll both leave.’
‘I cannot be trusted, Serena.’
Serena’s siren-song flowed through her. ‘Only while this asshole controls you.’
Sul’s grey tongue licked over his teeth. ‘If my master senses your soul-whisper, it will end you—it will squeeze the life from you, siren-born.’
Serena towered over the old man, balling her fist and narrowing her gaze. ‘It’s welcome to fucking try.’
Her song swept over Sul’s mind—if he was right and the Orinul inside him was protecting him from her song, then something had changed; either Musa’s visions had given Serena more power, or Sul’s defences had been stripped.
But something still lurked inside him, something dark and vengeful—like the thing inside Ventris, except stronger, angrier…
And ancient.
So you’re what wants me dead.
Serena felt the Orinul staring back at her, sensed its power, great and terrible. Rage emanated from it—a white-hot, elemental fury older than the world. It wanted to lash out at Serena, to rend the skin from her bones. She felt its glare upon her, felt every ounce of its hatred.
And its fear.
Let Enoch go.
The Orinul drew Serena into Enoch’s head and made her look through his memories. She felt its tendrils crawling inside her mind—powerless to do anything, but there—a presence burning in the back of her eyes, needling her optic nerves.
She watched as Sul took Enoch and Korvan past the fountain of Aerulus, through Palthonheim’s cobbled courtyards and into a bright, spacious house. Inside, a figure in a white robe sat on the floor, playing with toy soldiers. A young boy, with cropped, jade-green hair.
The hairs on the nape of Serena’s neck rose as she watched. She knew what was about to happen, but she willed Enoch to stop. Don’t do it.
Sul spoke, and the boy recoiled in fear. He skittered across the room, raised his hands, brow drawn in concentration.
But he couldn’t stop Enoch.
The Stone Man stepped forward, lifted the boy and snapped his neck with all the ease of breaking a twig.
The child’s corpse fell to the ground, eyes wide open, head lying at a sick angle.
Serena screamed, and the thing in Sul’s mind withdrew like a snake into its hole. She felt the distance between it and her—felt its disciples, the vast number of souls under its command.
And she knew where it dwelled.
‘She saw what you are, Enoch,’ Sul mocked. ‘Saw what you did.’
Then the scribe stopped moving. Serena towered over his corpse, hands on her hips, glaring at him as he died.
Then his skin and organs turned to dust before her, filtering through his own bones.
The ground quaked. ‘Serena…’ Enoch warned.
Serena fell to the floor, cracking her head against the edge of a stone desk.
The gems in the obelisks burned brighter, red-hot, white-hot.
Like Musa’s light.
The floor above caved in. Stone and rubble fell—Serena could only watch as a slab of masonry hurtled towards her.
Enoch loomed over her, shielding her from the debris.
‘Get up!’ he yelled.
Dust and grime f
illed Serena’s throat. The light from the obelisks grew even brighter, accompanied by a piercing shrill.
A wooden beam collapsed onto Enoch, bringing him to his knee. Metal and marble collapsed in a torrent, materials from the observatory above.
‘Get up!’ Enoch roared.
Serena got to her feet. Enoch shouldered a section of the floor, clearing a path between Serena and the exit. Blades of burning light cut through Sul’s room, setting Enoch’s clothing on fire.
Serena screamed his name.
Growling, he rose to his feet, straining beneath the stone on his shoulders.
‘I can’t hold it forever! Go!’
‘I can’t leave you!’ she screamed.
‘You must!’
The light throbbed in Serena’s eyes. ‘You’ll die.’
‘Warn the others!’
‘Enoch…’
The light cut through Enoch’s stone skin. It peeled away, revealing the man beneath. ‘Let me atone.’
The door frame split and cracked. Enoch screamed as the light burned through him. His skin floated away like dust, disintegrating before Serena’s eyes. ‘Go! Now! Now, Ser—’
The light swallowed Enoch.
Serena ran.
‘No… It’s not you.’
Sera floated towards Gallows. She smelled of toffee apple perfume and fresh apricots. Her silver rings and bracelets glinted.
An ache spread through his chest. She spoke to him, called his name.
Gods, but she sounded so real.
‘Because I am real, Tyson. I’ve been waiting for you.’ She reached a hand out. ‘All you have to do is say yes. All you have to do is want to.’
He lowered the shotgun, his legs turning weak and his eyes stinging. ‘I can’t…’
She stepped closer, her smooth, tanned fingers reaching out to him.
Gallows stepped back. ‘This isn’t real… You’re an illusion. Gods, Sera, just a month ago, I’d have accepted an illusion. But now—’
‘Now he has a reason to live,’ a new voice whispered behind him.
Gallows backed away. ‘No…’
‘You never wanted her anyway, dog.’ Nidra the Perceptor slinked towards Gallows. Her golden hair tumbled over her shoulders, and the thin, gold tattoos on her face glowed. ‘Not after you had a taste of me.’
Gallows’ finger tightened on the weapon’s trigger. Every suppressed memory, every torment the witch had visited upon him while he was in captivity rose up in him. He fought the urge to retch.
More voices surrounded Gallows, those of his old unit—Omari, Rocco, Cooper. All dead. ‘You betrayed us. You ran.’
Gallows turned and stormed back the way he came. The bookcases stretched into the distance, longer, darker. Gallows rounded a corner, then another, but he couldn’t find his way back.
Sera called out for him and Nidra’s childlike laughter echoed inside his head.
Gallows gritted his teeth and kept running. He rounded another corner—and hit a dead end.
‘This isn’t possible.’
Swivelling the shotgun, he turned back—and ran straight into Damien.
He regarded Gallows with cold, dead eyes. ‘How many lives would you have saved if you only had the courage to kill me? You’ve always known what I am.’
Gallows backed away. This ain’t real. This ain’t real.
Gallows shouldered past more apparitions—Sera, Damien, Nidra.
And there, on the floor, blood pooling around her and matting her emerald hair, lay Serena.
Gallows threw himself down and checked her pulse. ‘It’s not real, it’s not real…’
Her skin was cold.
It can’t be real.
‘It had to be done.’
Gallows looked up—and peered into his own eyes.
He stood with his shortsword in hand, blood dripping from it. ‘She’s a monster.’
‘You were supposed to look after her,’ Myriel whispered. She clawed at his eyes and face. ‘You were supposed to look after her.’
Gallows screamed and pulled himself away. ‘None of this is real.’
He slung the shotgun on his shoulder, turned his back, and marched away from Myriel.
‘You can make it stop,’ Sera whispered. ‘I can show you how. It’s okay. We can be together, Tyson. Don’t you want to be with me?’
Without realising, Gallows pressed the flat of his sword against his wrist.
‘Make the pain stop,’ urged Sera. ‘Make it stop, and we can be together.’
Part of him wanted to do it, wanted to say yes and accept the lie.
But Tyson Gallows wasn’t the same man he was after the Night of Amberfire.
With a scrape, he slid the sword back into its scabbard. ‘Sorry, Sera.’
‘You’re choosing to abandon me again?’
Gallows shook his head. He thought about Genevieve Couressa, and how it was about time he admitted his feelings. ‘I’m choosing to live.’
A flash of anger spread across Sera’s face. She lunged at Gallows…
And disappeared.
The library returned, still and silent.
A scream tore out behind him.
Tiera slashed at Gallows, her knife whistling through the air.
He ducked, and Tiera’s blade cleaved an ancient tome in two.
Gallows pointed his shotgun at her. ‘Was it something I said?’
Tiera looked as confused as Gallows felt. ‘I… saw things. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be—it’s going around.’
Something rumbled.
Tiera raised her knife. ‘Please tell me you heard that?’
Spilling out of the shadows and tumbling over the bookcases, strange humanoid forms emerged. Their skin was covered in stone scales, like Enoch.
Gallows took aim and blasted one apart, stone shattering and congealed blood erupting. ‘Reckon they’re real enough.’
Tiera drew her rifle. They stood back to back, shooting anything that came near.
‘Up high!’ Gallows yelled.
One of the monsters leapt from the bookcase—Gallows’ shotgun took its head off.
More came—snarling, lumbering, crazed looks in their eyes.
‘We need open ground,’ Tiera said.
‘I’ll draw ’em, you cover me.’ Gallows ran, his shotgun clearing the way to the library’s hall. Bodies crumpled at his feet, men with flaking stone skin.
‘Run!’
Tiera ran towards him. ‘Is that all of ’em?’
Gallows mopped sweat from his brow. ‘Yeah, think so.’
A juddering, lumbering statue with overlong limbs shuddered out of the shadows. Like the marble guards in Musa’s tomb, it moved without command. Its long legs moved but Gallows could see no joints, no evidence of it being manufactured.
Gallows charged towards it, blasting its face, cleaving half of it away. But still it came towards him. Its arm whipped him, sending him flying. His head glanced off of the stone floor.
He stumbled to his feet, pulled the trigger.
Click.
‘Gods damn it.’
He hurled the shotgun away and drew his sword. The thing struck out at him; Gallows’ blade pushed against its arm, deflecting the blow. He slashed its torso—sparks sheared from the friction.
‘Get down!’ Tiera yelled.
Gallows hit the deck. Bullets pinged on the thing’s stone flesh.
It kicked Gallows in the ribs, sending him rolling across the floor, the tang of blood on his tongue.
‘Reloading!’
The thing loomed over Gallows. He crawled back, evading its stomps, arcing his sword. It drew brownish blood from an exposed patch of skin.
It brought its heel onto Gallows’ chest. He screamed.
It raised its foot again—one more and it would punch through Gallows’ breastbone.
A flash of silver glinted behind the monster, a blade plunging in and out of the wound Gallows’ shotgun had made.
A geyser of blood
spurted from it before it fell.
Helena tal Ventris stood behind it, armed with the blade Tiera had used to wedge the door open.
Tiera appeared alongside her. ‘You used my blade to cut your bonds.’
‘Got bored of waiting.’
‘Guess I should say thanks.’ Gallows retrieved his shotgun and reloaded it. ‘But I ain’t gonna.’
The ground rumbled and a crack split through the ceiling.
More of the living statues emerged through holes in the ground and fell from the ceiling, rising to their feet—stone warriors, marble monsters wearing frozen, impassive faces; things that looked like Enoch, things that looked closer to human, things that resembled the statue armour in Musa’s tomb.
A chunk of masonry plummeted and crashed on the ground.
Gallows raised his weapon. ‘Just once I’d like to visit a place that doesn’t collapse around me.’
The observatory’s dome and telescope rusted before Serena’s eyes. The telescope crashed to the side, cleaving through the structure, obliterating it.
Go, go, go…
Palthonheim decayed around her, growing decrepit, derelict, dead. The city’s towers collapsed into dust. Only the twisting, bone-white structures remained the same. The bones of the Orinul.
Enoch’s final words rang in her head, making her throat clench and her eyes burn, but spurring her on. The ground convulsed, breaking and throwing Serena. Cracks tore across the ground as soon as her feet touched it.
Pain speared her legs and chest, and she had to will her tears to stop forming.
Sul’s body might be little more than dust, but some of his illusions stood strong. Glimpses of apparitions rushed past, figures identical to Sul, staring at Serena from windows, doors, and rooftops.
The ground fell away at Serena’s feet—she leapt over a chasm, tucked and rolled, then rounded a corner, pushing herself faster and faster.
No way out, nowhere to go…
Serena willed the senses away, ignored the gnawing doubt in her gut. She sensed the presence of something huge flitting through the mist—the thing she had glimpsed through the telescope.
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