DeShane turned to face him, and it was like she completely deflated. The magic vanished, and all the strength seemed to drain from her limbs. She collapsed to her knees and huddled over him, tears streaking down her face.
Chaval grunted and turned to Amaya. “Shoot him.”
The yohisha leveled her gun and fired.
Chaval screeched as her cellium bullet pierced his protective sphere and tore through his shoulder. The shimmering bubble vanished, and he clutched at his wound as he fell flat to the ground.
Amaya looked at her outstretched hand as if seeing it for the first time. A tendril of smoke puffed from the barrel, and for a long moment she could have sworn she was watching someone else. Finally she came to her senses and shifted her aim straight down at his head.
And then she was falling upwards. She flailed desperately in a vain effort to grab onto something before crashing violently into the ceiling. The air left her lungs in a stale gasp, and the glass cracked all around her. Something sharp jabbed through her back, and her vision blurred as blood welled up in her throat.
She was dead. Her breath was gone and it wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t feel her legs, and all she could taste was blood. Her thoughts turned again to Talam, to the family she was about to abandon because of one foolish act of morality. They wouldn’t even know how she died. She prayed they never learned about the man she had worked for.
A cold hand wrapped around hers, and Amaya tilted her head. The Vakari was there, pressed against the glass next to her, pinned by the same invisible force and unable to move.
“I can stop him,” the woman breathed.
Only days ago Amaya had tried to kill this creature. She’d nearly succeeded, in fact. Now she might have been the only chance of stopping Chaval and preventing this catastrophe. She wanted to feed upon Amaya’s ebbing life and use its power to break free.
And she was asking. That might have been the strangest part. She could have just taken what she wanted; she could have easily swallowed Amaya’s last breath without her permission. But instead she was pleading for it, and Amaya couldn’t understand why. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the other woman’s sparkling green eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t decide which of them was ultimately the bigger monster.
With the last of her strength, Amaya nodded. The creature reached out just enough to touch her skin, and the Vakari’s eyes went white as she started to feed. There was no pain, no screaming, only a bitter chill that slowly wrapped itself around Amaya’s body and dragged her down into darkness.
***
Eve watched as Chaval hurled his bodyguard to the ceiling. He clutched his hand to his shoulder, and blood streaked across the white fabric of his undershirt. His protective magic was gone, and Eve knew this might be her one and only chance to strike before he could recover.
She lashed out with everything she could muster. A brilliant, shimmering torrent of electricity, flame, and raw Fane energy burst from her fingertips and struck Chaval squarely in the chest. He screamed as he reeled backwards against the blast. For an instant he vanished completely amidst the surge of power, but then the Flensing abruptly took another bite. Eve screeched and lost control of the spell, and it was all she could do to remain conscious. She whimpered and tumbled over in a ball, unable to draw even a single breath.
Chaval roared angrily as he tried to steady himself. His tunic had burned away completely, and both his face and chest were badly charred. Eve could scarcely believe he was still conscious, but rage alone seemed to keep him upright as he staggered forward.
He glanced down to his bodyguard’s abandoned gun, the cellium-loaded pistol that had nearly killed him. He opened his palm, and the weapon leapt into his grip.
“Close, but still not enough,” he growled. “Why do you allow yourself to be crippled by the Flensing? You are a born Defiler. Take the power around you and use it!”
Eve clawed at the floor. She could breathe now, albeit barely. Her arms still weren’t responding, and she couldn’t feel her legs. She was dimly aware of Zach holding on to her; he might have been talking, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear much of anything at this point.
But she could feel. Past the pain, past all the distractions, she could feel the flora in the arboretum for what they truly were: small sparks of energy connected to the Fane. Just like the vermin back in the warehouse, they could be her gateway to greater power. Snuffing out their lives would allow her to weave without facing the Flensing. It was the only thing that would let her finish Chaval.
No, that wasn’t true. She did have one other option, and in the end, it was the only real way to avenge her mother, protect her friends, and avoid turning into the monster she feared.
But it had its own price.
Eve pushed her hand down on the cold floor and slowly brought herself to a crouch. She called out to the Fane again, but this time it burned as it coursed through her. The cost of this spell, she knew, would be her life. The Flensing would consume her completely, but if she could focus long enough to strike him one last time…
A swirling vortex of violet energy formed in her palm, glowing so brightly she could have been holding a piece of a star. She could feel the overwhelming heat on her face despite her body’s numbness, and it dried the tears against her cheeks.
“No, not like this,” Chaval said, pulling back the pistol’s hammer and aiming it down at Zach. “You will Defile, Evelyn, or I will kill him. You cannot defeat me any other way!”
Eve heard Zach’s voice again. It was faint, like a distant plea at the back of her mind. He knew what she was going to do, and he knew it was going to kill her.
But it didn’t matter. This was the only choice, the only way she could save him—
A loud thud reverberated across the room as Shaedra inexplicably dropped to the floor. Her eyes were a solid white, and she roared like a caged animal. Chaval spun to face the new threat, but for once he wasn’t fast enough. The Vakari smacked the gun from his hands with a wild swing and then kicked him over to the ground.
“Run,” she said, turning briefly to face Eve. “Take Zach and run!”
With that, Shaedra pounced upon Chaval, and the room exploded in a burst of searing light. Eve could barely make out their bodies as the two magi discharged their power at one another. The air hissed as if it had suddenly caught fire, and the flora in the room almost immediately blackened. The entire building rumbled like an earthquake had struck the heart of the city.
And the Fane…the Fane cried out in agony.
Eve aborted her spell and reached down to grab onto Zach. She couldn’t feel her legs, but somehow she found the strength to command them. She swept him up in her arms, and for some inexplicable reason he felt almost weightless.
She ran. When she reached the door, she risked a single, furtive glance backwards—and her blood froze in her veins. A shapeless black mass now stretched out across the room. It billowed outwards, a cloud of pure darkness swallowing everything it touched. The Fane screamed in anguish so loudly it nearly knocked her from her feet.
Eve turned away and ran down the steps, Zach held tightly in her arms. She didn’t look back.
***
A lump formed in Glenn Maltus’s throat as he gazed out upon the Hall of Innovation and the carnage in front of it. The battle was over; the corpses of Steamworks soldiers littered its steps. Overturned carriages and wagons still burned in every direction, and the moans of dying men and beasts echoed across the smoke-filled streets.
But the triumphant Enclave forces weren’t pressing their attack into the building. They were, in fact, running in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long to figure out why.
“The Fane,” Jean whispered as the trio crouched behind a toppled statue. “It’s…”
“Dying,” Gregori finished.
Maltus didn’t even have to weave to know his friend was right. He could feel the dark chill creeping across the city. Someone had sundered the Fane—someone
had Defiled. And now the gaping maw they’d torn open grasped across Cadotheia like a thousand frozen tentacles yearning to crush the life from their victims.
“Eve,” he breathed. “We’re too late.”
“Not yet,” Gregori said, leaning over their cover and squinting. “Look.”
Maltus followed the man’s gaze and frowned in confusion. Eve was racing down the front steps of the Hall, Zach held tightly in her arms. He had to blink twice before he believed it.
“Well, come on!” Jean insisted, hopping up from her crouch and racing over to the young woman. The two men followed right behind her.
“Evelyn!” Maltus called out.
She tossed him a shocked glance before veering towards them.
“We have to run,” she told them when she got close. “Chaval is—”
A rolling tremor shook the city as the Hall of Innovation began to crumble. Cracks traced along the giant dome until it finally shattered and the entire sphere collapsed inside itself. A shower of dust and stone rained over the streets, and the group dove for cover back behind their toppled statue.
“Where’s Shaedra?” Maltus asked though clenched teeth.
“Inside,” Eve said. “She went after Chaval, and then this happened.”
She set Zach gently down on the ground. He looked conscious, if only just. Blood was splattered across his knee, and without aid he wouldn’t survive long. Jean quickly brushed a hand across his wound, and her palm flashed with healing magic.
“We’re dead, aren’t we?” Eve asked softly as she glanced back to the building.
Maltus shook his head. The wound in the Fane was spreading, like a crack slowly drawing across a pane of glass. It was Kalavan or Vakar all over again. The wound hungered for lives to feed it power, and hundreds or even thousands would fall before it was sated.
But not them. Not yet. For all of his failures today—for all his failures in his life—Maltus could protect them from this. Then at least they would be able to face the aftermath together.
He took a deep breath and reached to the Fane. Few in the Enclave, even among the magisters, had access to the full depths of their ancient knowledge. Maltus was one of them, and he called to mind the only spell that could ward them against such a release of such power.
A shimmering sphere of energy burst around them, a single bubble standing resolute against the tidal wave of destruction washing away Cadotheia and its people.
And with them, any hope of a peaceful future.
Epilogue
By nightfall, Cadotheia was a graveyard. Every living thing within a mile of the Hall of Innovation was dead, reduced to a desiccated husk or pile of ash. A few of the buildings had been razed, but most of them still stood…and I think that made the scene even more haunting. They were like tombstones bearing silent eulogy to the wound that had been torn in the Fane.
It didn’t take long for news of the tragedy to reach everyone in Arkadia. No election took place this last Monday, and part of me wonders if there will ever be one again. Local officials have been trying to keep people calm, but that won’t last for long. Anarchy is spreading like wildfire. The Dusty gangs out west are calling for blood, and they’re using the newspapers to spread their vitriol. Here in the east, it isn’t much different. The Enclave has been trying to rally anyone—mage and torbo alike—who will stand with them. The universities have emptied, and their students have become soldiers overnight. It won’t be long before the military declares martial law, for all the good it will do. The lines have already been drawn, and people have chosen their sides.
Except for us. I think that’s what bothers me the most. In every history book we ever read growing up, wars were almost always black and white—one side was clearly wrong, and the other was clearly right. Father always warned me that the real world was a lot more complicated, but I don’t think I ever really appreciated that until now. I couldn’t pick a side to follow even if I wanted to.
Even in death, Chaval got what he wanted. I might not have wiped out Cadotheia, but as it turned out, he didn’t need me to. He has become a martyr, a rallying figure that has whipped the Dusties into a blind rage. They want to burn down every temple and kill every mage. And on the other side, the Enclave is just as savage. They’ve done everything in their power to take over the country. They assassinated the President and killed hundreds of civilians just to prevent an election they were going to lose.
It’s sickening, and I’m still not sure what we’re going to do. The others seem to think our best bet is to try and prevent as much destruction as we can. They want to save magi that are in trouble, of course, but they also want to stop the Enclave. I think they’re right, but I have no idea how we’re going to do any of that. I don’t even know how we’re going to survive.
About the only thing I do know is that Zach is still with me, and somehow that makes me believe things will be all right. I’m more confused about why he’s still here at all. Any sensible man would have run away from me a thousand times over by now, but he hasn’t. He’s stood beside me despite everything that has happened, and I don’t know what I would do without him.
I hope I never have to find out.
Evelyn DeShane set down her pen and looked out the window. It was a beautiful day here in Lushden, and she wanted to enjoy the peace while it lasted. Behind her, Zach was asleep on the couch next to a pile of letters recalling him to the army. They came from a half dozen different officers in the increasingly fractured Arkadian military, each trying to recruit whoever they could to their side. They were a grim portent of the chaos to come.
She sighed and squinted out the window, and despite her best efforts she couldn’t help but wince at her reflection. The scar on the left side of her face ran from the corner of her eye all the way to her jaw line, and no healing magic had been able to remove it. Its partner on her left hand was less obvious but just as marring. For some reason the wounds made her think about Shaedra and wonder what had happened to her. Maybe she had survived the Defilement somehow…or maybe she had finally found peace. Either way, if not for her, Eve would have had far worse than just a few scars to show for the battle. She breathed a silent thanks to the woman she had, at one point, hated nearly as much as Chaval.
“I hope someone gets to read that someday,” Zach commented from behind her, smiling as he sat up. “It would make for a pretty exciting book.”
She grunted softly. “I don’t know about that.”
“You can always spice it up later,” he suggested. “Indulge on a few of the details.”
Eve smiled. “Mr. Maltus thought it would be a good idea to keep an account of what happened regardless of how it turns out.”
“He’s probably right,” Zach admitted. “And I think it would make your parents proud.”
He walked up behind her, still limping a bit from the wound in his leg. The cellium bullet had prevented magical healing, so it was going to have to mend the old-fashioned way. He might never again have full movement with it.
His fingers kneaded her shoulders, and Eve closed her eyes and let herself melt beneath his touch. They’d been alone here for the last two days while the others went to gather more allies, but soon enough they’d be moving on. It wouldn’t be safe for them to stay in any one place too long with both the Dusties and the Enclave trying to find them. It might end up being the last time she ever looked at this house, and the thought made her heart sink.
“More mail?” Zach asked.
Eve blinked her eyes open and glanced outside. The postman slid a letter into the box and then rode off.
“Probably trying to enlist you, too,” Zach grunted.
Eve shrugged and stepped outside to go and grab it. She frowned when she pulled it out and read the label. “Not to be delivered until…”
“Who’s it from?” Zach asked from behind as he slid an arm around her waist.
She shook her head distantly as she tore open the envelope. “I think it’s from…mom.”
“Huh?” he breathed, peering over her shoulder.
To my loving daughter,
If you’re reading this, then I’ve achieved more than I ever dreamed possible. I have cheated fate, and I have given you a chance to become something extraordinary. By now you’ve learned about some of the things I never told you, and I don’t think you’ll ever understand how hard it was for me to keep the truth from you. I realized long ago that it was my destiny to carry these burdens alone, no matter how difficult it might have been. Each time I shared my gift with someone, it ended in disaster. I wasn’t willing to make that mistake again.
You might be the Avenshal, but that does not have to be a curse, I hope you understand that now. It means you have a special connection to the Goddess and her Fane, and it can be a wondrous gift if you let it. I know it will serve you well in the impossible times ahead.
Within the house you will find the remnants of my journal and many other entries like them. They are hidden in your father’s study behind the third shelf inside a hidden wall safe. There is no key, but your magic should be able to open it. I hope that once you read them, you will understand the necessity of my sacrifice. Misleading Simon—drawing him out into the open—was the only way I could protect you. The coming war was the one thing I couldn’t change, but I have done everything I could to give you a chance to survive.
Trust in yourself, and trust in your friends. Abalor may have touched your spirit, but I know that Edeh holds your soul. You will find the strength to persevere, and you will be the one who keeps our people alive through the coming darkness.
Know that I love you more than anything. Perhaps someday when we are together in the arms of the Goddess, we can speak as if for the first time and finally know each other. Until then, I will be waiting.
Mom
Eve slumped on the steps. The cool air matted the tears to her face, and Zach wrapped his arms around her tightly. He said nothing, but she felt his own tears on the back of her neck.
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