Infinite (Incarnate)

by Jodi Meadows

  “Help Sam!”

  -No time.- Cris tangled around me. -Push the poison inside. We’ll heat the canisters. Hopefully the explosion will be enough.-

  “Cris, no. Who knows what that could do to you?”

  -Don’t argue. This is our redemption. We need to fight for it.-

  One minute. I didn’t want to let the sylph be trapped in there with all that poison, but Cris was right: this was their fight, too. As quickly as I could, I began shoving twenty canisters of poison into the temple.

  The doorway was all misty gray; I couldn’t see anything beyond, but the sylph threw themselves inside as I pushed the last canister in with a grunt.

  Over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Sam wrestling Deborl to the ground. The younger boy stopped struggling, but his chest heaved with breath.

  Sam looked back at me. “Are you all right?”

  The door slammed shut as the last of the sylph vanished into the gray, and the shriek of dragon conversation made my head spin.

  My SED beeped. Beyond the wall, the sun fell below the horizon.

  Deborl’s outstretched hand closed around a laser pistol, and he brought it around.

  “Look out!” There was no way Deborl could miss that shot.

  Sam jerked away from the other boy just as darkness washed across the roof.

  Soul Night was upon us.

  And the temple was dark.

  29

  JANAN

  ABOVE, DRAGONS ROARED in triumph as they coiled muscles and spit acid onto the dull, white stone. The reek of acid poured through the air, making my nose burn and my lungs ache.

  The temple was dark.

  It was Soul Night.

  We’d done it.

  I ran for Sam, tracking the blue light of the laser pistol Deborl held. All I could hear was screaming and dragons and the incessant ringing in my ears. I was blind with darkness and deaf with noise, and my whole body ached with burns and fatigue and grief.

  “Sam!”

  Stone cracked above, and bits of rock pattered against the roof like hail, drowning out the sound of my voice. There were other voices below, too, thousands of people screaming.

  Twilight bled across the world, the sky an eerie violet that deepened into night as I pushed myself toward Sam. He was nothing but an outline of blackness as I called his name. He was still standing, at least. And the blue targeting light came from below him, which meant Deborl hadn’t gotten to his feet yet.

  The light swung around toward me, dazzlingly bright as it darted over my eyes.

  I dropped to the ground and rolled away, the lump of my backpack hindering my movements. Scattered shards of temple bit into my knees and bare hands, but I huddled low to the roof and crawled toward Sam. I’d been a fool to give away my position.

  Deborl, however, either didn’t realize how obvious he was, or didn’t care. The blue light moved through the darkness, bright enough to keep my eyes from adjusting, not bright enough to see by.

  The roof shuddered as a chunk of stone fell from above. Pebbles sprayed like shards of glass, slicing open my exposed skin where they flew by. Roaring and the thunder of dragon wings muffled my cries of pain as I moved away from the place Deborl had almost shot me.

  I could see Sam; he was silhouetted against the glow of spotlights, which shone on the market field and industrial quarter. Did he know he was so visible? I wanted to call out a warning, but the chaos of falling rock and screams would drown my voice.

  I searched for the blurs and outlines of Deborl, and where his targeting light originated. He lay on the far side of the roof, just a smudge of dark against the glow of lights.

  Slowly, I drew my pistol and covered the targeting light with my finger. I aimed at Deborl and took long, measured breaths to steady my hand. The clatter of rocks and voices and wing beats faded for a heartbeat.

  I fired.

  Deborl screamed and the world came rushing back. The shriek and roar and cracking of stone loomed overhead. Soon, the temple would come down on us.

  I scrambled to my feet and ran for Sam. No time to check if the other dragon was still waiting on the edge of the roof. We’d find a way down.

  Before I could cross half the roof, the world jerked and I tumbled over. Stones stabbed my palms and elbows as I rolled onto my back. Pain sliced through my shoulder blade and my spine. Chunks of rocks gouged at my skin, and fire flared in the back of my head.

  Overhead, immense shapes flew from the tower and roared. Claws scraped. Stone screamed as it was torn apart.

  Then light blazed, white and blinding above me.

  I threw my hands over my eyes and rolled over, as though I could protect myself from the burn. Even huddled over, arms wrapped around myself, all I could see was white white white as tears poured from my light-seared eyes. It felt like they were bleeding, like color was fading out. My head throbbed with blinding light.

  I was blind.

  What if I was blind forever?

  I howled against my knees, against the rocks and roof, but I couldn’t hear my own voice in the tumble of rocks and the roar of dragons and the shrieking of telepathy and the screams of people and the crash of the earth shaking itself apart.

  Gradually, the white dulled into gray. I sat up and squinted through my fingers.

  The light still blazed, but I could see grades of pale gray.

  Rocks plummeted to the roof and to the market field below, but they were smaller chunks now, shaken from dragon talons or wings. The pebbles seemed to rain down silently, the sounds of their impact covered by the din of everything else.

  Darkness in the south drew my attention.

  A plume of brown smoke boiled into the air, as though something had exploded there.

  No, not smoke.

  Ash surged upward, chased by red and gold lava. The world shook and rippled again as a massive black wave heaved itself straight toward us.

  “Ana!” Sam’s voice sounded dim and far away.

  I pointed at the eruption on the south edge of Range. Purple Rose Cottage was obliterated by now. And Sam’s graveyard. The cabin where he’d become my first friend. The forest where I’d explored as a child. The clearing where I’d watched Soul Night celebrations fifteen years ago.

  All gone.

  Soon, we would be, too.

  Footsteps rushed toward me, and Sam draped his arms around my shoulders.

  Had we stopped Janan? The temple was so bright, it seemed unlikely. And though dragons flew from Heart as fast as they could, they wouldn’t outrun the eruption. There’d be another, soon. And another.

  I didn’t want to talk to Sam about any of that, though. I faced him. Blood poured from a wound on his head, matting down his black hair to his skin. Scrapes and bruises marred his face, but he was still the handsomest man in the world to me.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you.” He kissed me softly. Grit brushed between our lips.

  The temple burst apart.

  Shards of brilliantly lit stone flew in all directions, hitting my back and arms and face. Agony flared across my entire body as Sam shoved me down and held himself over me, as though he could protect me from what was happening.

  Sam cried out, but neither of us could move. Rock piled up around us, shining with templelight. Dust rushed up, making me cough and gag, no matter how I pulled my shirt collar over my face to filter each gasp.

  The rain of stone went on forever. It was a race: what would kill us faster? The eruption fire speeding its way here, or Janan’s ascension.

  When the noise dulled, Sam sat up, and I followed. The explosion had been violent, but quick. Rocks lay strewn across the roof, and the city below looked as though it had been covered in fine white powder, which glowed.

  And the prison—it was gone.

  I glanced southward, checking on the wave of fire and ash and pyroclast. A gray-and-black cloud of debris and fire rushed upward and outward. We had minutes at best.

  “Come on.” I scrambled t
o my feet and helped Sam up. His movements were stiff and pained, and we picked our way around glowing rubble, toward the crater on the east side of the Councilhouse. We were lucky the force of the temple’s explosion hadn’t destroyed the Councilhouse, too.

  “You’re too late.” Deborl’s voice was scratchy and weak from the opposite end of the Councilhouse. He just wouldn’t die. “There’s no stopping Janan.”

  I ignored him and held tighter to Sam’s hand as we gazed at the bright pit below. People huddled around it, their voices muted as they wiped blood off their faces, or swept shining grit off their clothes. Some hadn’t gotten up after the blast, but most had survived. They gaped at the place where the temple used to be.

  “Oh, Ana.” Anguish filled Sam’s voice. “I’m so sorry.”

  At first, I saw only light.

  The white stones resolved themselves into stairs. Or tiers. And skeletons. Silver chains shone in the strange illumination, glimmering as a dark figure in the center shifted and stood.

  He looked small from this far above, but I remembered seeing him before: short and thick, bushy brown hair on his head and face. He’d looked strong, then, even dead or asleep or whatever he was.

  Now, power surged through his movements as he grasped the chain linking the skeletons to one another—to him—and strode out of the temple ruins, dragging the dead behind him.

  Janan had returned.

  30

  PROMISES

  I ROCKED BACK on my heels. Sam’s hands dug into my sides to keep me upright, and he said something by my ear, but I couldn’t understand the words. All I could think was that we’d failed.

  Janan had returned. Ascended. Both, because he was here and he was powerful.

  We had failed.

  Below, as Janan strode out of the decimated temple, the crowd split in two, leaving a wide, rubble-strewn path to the phoenix cage. They were silent, save the awed whispers and weeping. Stones continued pattering to the ground like the last moments of rain.

  Silver chains clanked and clattered, and bones chattered as Janan heaved almost a million skeletons out of the pit. He dragged all the skeletons I’d seen inside the temple before; there’d been one for everyone in Heart, everyone who reincarnated.

  Janan dragged nearly a million skeletons by those chains. He was impossibly strong. Impossibly alive.

  As the crater emptied, I found dozens of skeletons left behind: darksouls.

  The world roared and trembled as the pyroclastic flow burned through the forests of Range, rolled across the valley of Midrange Lake, and thundered toward Heart.

  This was it.

  I wanted to close my eyes, but I watched my death coming. It would be fiery and immediate, and terrifyingly beautiful.

  The black wave crashed against Heart and split around the city wall, as though the stone were a blade. The particles of rock and ash and fire surged, blocking out the moon and stars. Everything beyond Heart was dark, burned away as the eruption blast continued, but inside Heart was bright with thrown temple stones and the glare of spotlights.

  Heat poured through the city, a flood of sulfuric summer that made me shake and sweat.

  But we weren’t dead.

  I turned toward Sam, sure I wanted to say something about the way the pyroclastic flow split, unsure what exactly.

  Deborl stood behind Sam, a jagged piece of stone raised over his head. Blood and grit poured down his face and clothes, and his expression was distorted into something savage and raw.

  “Sam!”

  He turned just as Deborl brought down the stone and thrust it into Sam’s shoulder.

  Sam yelled and dropped to the ground, clutching the wound. Blood flowed down his sleeve, bright and red in the templelight all around.

  Rage clouded my vision as I stepped around him and shoved Deborl away, putting all my remaining strength into it.

  Deborl staggered and caught himself. His expression was wild, feral.

  I gave a wordless shout and shoved him again, but Deborl was ready this time and held his ground. He lifted his hands to hit me, but before he could act, Sam surged up and threw his weight against Deborl’s smaller body.

  Deborl fell over the edge of the roof and tumbled down the slope of expelled temple rock. His body struck stone again and again until it landed at the bottom, motionless as it lay in odd angles. Broken, with only darksoul skeletons for company.

  Janan didn’t stop moving out of the crater, or even acknowledge Deborl’s fall. The clack of chains and bones overwhelmed all other sounds as Janan hauled the skeletons from the temple ruins and onto the market field.

  People stepped back even farther.

  Dragon thunder snapped as Acid Breath’s army returned to the city, now only half the original number. Their scales were covered in ash. The pyroclasts had shredded wings. Many swerved through the air, too burned or beaten to navigate properly. A few dragons dropped to the earth as they entered the city, the air relatively clear of the particles that would suffocate us. Their bodies crashed and made the ground shudder, uprooting trees or knocking over buildings where they landed.

  Other dragons landed more gracefully, heaving as their talons raked the ground, while a few dove at Janan with their teeth bared and fury in their eyes.

  Janan stopped in the middle of the market field and lifted his free hand.

  No, it wasn’t free. His fingers were wrapped around the hilt of a long knife, the blade shining gold with phoenix blood. The blade arced over his head, flashing silver and gold, and every dragon diving toward him was thrown backward.

  The beasts roared and clawed at the air. Wings flapped and limbs flailed, their serpentine bodies twisting violently before they landed around the city, unmoving.

  I ached for them. We hadn’t been friends, but we’d been temporary allies. Acid Breath had liked my music.

  Low groaning drew me back to Sam. He was kneeling again, clutching his shoulder. Blood flowed from between his fingers.

  “Let me bind it.” I dug through my backpack for the bandages and antiseptic. “We’ll get it cleaned out and you’ll be fine.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t feel my arm.”

  That seemed bad. I tried to recall if Rin had said anything about losing feeling in limbs after injuries, but nothing came to mind. All I could think about was Sam, the way he groaned and clenched his jaw against the pain. “No, you’ll be fine. Just move your hand so I can wash the cut.” I was a terrible liar, and my voice didn’t sound as light as I intended, though I tried.

  “There’s no point.” He sounded weak, exhausted, as though he were already dying.

  He couldn’t be dying, though. He hadn’t lost that much blood.

  “You need to go,” he hissed. “Hide.”

  I shook my head. “Where would I hide? There’s nowhere left. I’m staying with you.”

  Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “Guess you’re right. What happens now?”

  I had no idea. I’d assumed that if we failed, we would be dead. The possibility of living beyond the moment of ascension hadn’t occurred to me. “We watch. Maybe there will be another chance. We need to be ready to take it.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t argue.

  We sat together on the roof, facing the industrial quarter and the cage. Janan finished crossing the market field, his every movement precise, careful, as though he’d forgotten what it was like to have a physical form.

  “Where are the sylph, do you think?” I asked.

  While Sam was distracted by the scene below, I cut his sleeve off and worked on binding his shoulder. The wound was bad. Bits of stone were stuck inside him, glowing, and I couldn’t stop the bleeding long enough to get a good look at anything. It was just red. And bad. A hole in my Sam. I poured antiseptic over the gash and held a bandage over his shoulder, pressing as hard as I could.

  “I don’t know.” Sam stared at Janan, at the cage. “They went inside the temple, and they’re not here now. Maybe he
. . .”

  “Maybe he did the same thing to them he’s been doing to newsouls.” I choked on tears as I pressed another bandage against the soaked one on Sam’s shoulder. I could almost hear Rin’s instructions in my head: Don’t let up the pressure, no matter what; put new bandages over the old one until the bleeding stops.

  His voice was low and exhausted. “Did we send them to their deaths?”

  “We didn’t send them. They went because it was a way for them to contribute. It was something they could do. They didn’t want to be spectators in their redemption.” I’d failed them, though. I hadn’t stopped Janan.

  Below, he was threading an end of the chain through the bars of the phoenix’s cage. The racket was incredible as he dragged the silver and skeletons, and for the first time, the phoenix under the cloth moved.

  “Did you see that?” Sam leaned forward; the bandages slipped on his arm. “What is he doing?”

  “The phoenix moved.”

  “Why doesn’t it fight?” Sam whispered. “It could fight and free itself.”

  “Maybe they drugged it or hurt it. I don’t know.”

  “It could burn itself up and start over.”

  “Not here.” I shifted closer to Sam. “Can you imagine being in such a vulnerable state? Between lifetimes with your enemies all around you?”

  Sam looked at me, and he wasn’t just a boy anymore. He was an oldsoul, one who’d spent a hundred between-lifetimes in Janan’s grasp.

  He’d told me once death felt like being ripped from oneself, like being caught in talons or fire or jaws for years until he was reborn. He hadn’t known then that Janan was his enemy, but now he knew. He could refer back to those memories with new light. And new fear.

  “The phoenix will let it happen, whatever happens next. Unless more phoenixes come to save it.” How long had it taken the other phoenixes to save the one from five thousand years ago? Hours? Days? Weeks? And what would Janan do with the phoenix? Nothing good, that much was sure. “I want to save it,” I whispered.

  Sam’s expression lifted. “Save the phoenix?”