by K. M. Fahy
“I don’t know how many Strikes I can fend off,” Kitieri panted, wiping the sweat that was beginning to drip from her brow into her eyes.
“Just as long as you can,” Catarva ground out.
The double doors to the Church were flung open and a tall form emerged, silhouetted by the hot, sinister glow from the flames within. Face darkened with smudges of soot, Stil stepped out onto the stairs, eyes locked onto Kitieri’s, and the people scrambled out of his path to the pillar. As the man stepped out of the Church’s shadow, Kitieri’s gaze dropped to the small form he gripped before him.
“Taff.” The whimper tore from Kitieri’s lips as her heart lurched into her throat.
“Stealing my cintra,” Stil growled, words simmering in a boiling anger. Every trace of his former smugness was gone, replaced with a maniacal glint in his narrowed eyes and twisted snarl. “You killed our Baliant, and stole from me.”
His fury ripped across the Square, hitting Kitieri with almost physical force as Taff flinched in the man’s grip.
“Well, I’ve got something that belongs to you, too.” His powerful thunder came down to a menacing growl as his long fingers slid up to grip Taff’s jaw. Kitieri started forward off the dais before Haldin and Lara caught each of her arms, pulling her back.
“Get the fuck off me!” she hissed, jerking against them.
“Kitieri, don’t take his bait,” Catarva whispered behind her. “Don’t—”
Stil’s hand turned red hot, his fire searing Taff’s skin, and Kitieri's brother let out a heart-wrenching scream as he fought the man’s grasp.
“Taff!” she cried through streaming tears. “I will fucking kill you, Stil!”
The man released Taff’s jaw with a dark laugh, leaving angry, blistered skin where his hand had rested.
“Give me back what is mine, and I may leave him partially unscarred.”
“I don’t have your cintra!” Kitieri shot back.
Stil planted his hand on the side of Taff’s face, covering his cheek and right eye, and Kitieri barely heard her own scream as it sounded in tandem with Taff’s.
She twisted hard against the officers’ hands, wrenching free from Lara first. Though Haldin lurched forward to catch her, Kitieri was already flying off the dais, all of her hate and anger trained on Stil as his grin widened.
He shoved Taff to the ground as Kitieri bounded up the wide Church steps, lightning snapping in white arcs all around her. She didn’t care how unruly the element got now. The stronger the better to end this miserable piece of shit.
A warning surged through her body, and Kitieri skidded to a stop halfway up the steps. Stil held both hands out, engulfed in flame, awaiting her with a crazed smile.
“Ahh, going to kill me?” he mocked her. “Your lightning can’t overcome the cintra. You’ve never been strong enough. You’re nothing but a pathetic little bitch.”
“You’re right.” Kitieri’s chest heaved, sweat pouring freely down her face and neck in the face of the roaring fire that spilled from the Church doors. The second warning came, and Kitieri let her lightning react to its charge in all its brilliant glory. It snapped and sizzled, sending Stil back a step as his confidence wavered.
“My lightning isn’t strong enough to overcome a Gadget,” she said, advancing slowly up the steps now. “But your time is up.”
Stil emitted a hiss, lip curled. “I will always rule. I am the feared one. I carry the power. I have ruled this Church for ten years without so much as a single acknowledgement.”
Despite the churning panic, Kitieri felt the crowd quiet behind her as Stil’s voice cut through. His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just announced, and his snarl deepened.
Kitieri laughed, lifting her hand as the third warning came. She pushed its energy forward, knocking Stil back several more steps, and his wide eyes snapped up to her as he regained his balance.
“You can’t touch me!” he shouted. “You can’t breach a PCR—”
“I don’t have to, Stil,” Kitieri said, gaining the top of the stairs. “The two years you thought you had are up. The day the Blue Killer takes over is here—the day the lightning overpowers the Gadgets.”
Stil’s eyes darted back and forth as he backed closer to the intense heat of the fire, seething through his stained teeth.
Kitieri raised her hand, calling the coming Strike as she lowered her voice to a quiet growl. “And the Blue Killer answers to only one.”
Stil’s mouth twisted into a horrified scream as Kitieri harnessed the Blue Killer’s full power. Her lightning sang within her, working in tandem with the Strike as the blue bolt came crashing down.
A deafening crack and spray of rubble pushed Kitieri back, and she lifted her arm to protect her face. Through the clearing dust, dark smoke arose from a blackened pile of ashes where Stil had stood, mingling in the breeze with the fire he’d set ablaze.
Absolute silence permeated the Square, and Kitieri wondered if the blast of the Strike had damaged her hearing. She turned to face the crowd, and watched one man lift his fist with a triumphant cry. Cheers rippled through the people, growing to a roar as Kitieri stood paralyzed by shock.
Don’t cheer… Cold dread flooded her system, turning her blood to ice. Run.
Another warning jolted her, reigniting the desperate cries from the Square as people resumed their stunted escapes. The exits between buildings were crammed with bodies, slowing foot traffic to nearly a standstill.
“Kitieri?”
At Taff’s rasping call, Kitieri rushed to her brother’s side, ignoring the burn of the second warning as she lifted his shoulders from the stone in a gentle cradle. “Gods, Taff, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant—”
“You killed him.” His burned face was blistered in the shape of a handprint, one gruesome eye melted closed. Kitieri nodded, biting hard on her bottom lip.
The third warning ripped her lightning from her hands with searing pain, and she scrambled back away from her brother. As much as she longed to hold him, it was too dangerous. She was dangerous.
As soon as she repelled the Strike, another warning pummeled her.
“Shit,” she whispered, closing her eyes. This wasn’t sustainable. Her eyes stung with sweat, and her hands were shaking. Even repelling one was exhausting…
The warnings doubled up, one Strike’s second warning colliding with another’s first, and Kitieri’s shoulders bent forward against the agony. Her lightning lashed out every which way, utterly uncontrollable now, and it was all she could do to keep track of the warnings. She became vaguely aware of Catarva’s huddled form on the dais, suffering worse than she was. Blue, gray, and red officers alike ushered people from the Square, working to unclog the exits, but Kitieri feared it would never be enough. Even if they made it into their homes, what then? They would only be trapped there, facing the slow death of starvation…
She sank to her knees, borrowing the energy it took to stand to repel more Strikes. It was all she could do now. Hands shaking violently, she threw yet another Strike back into the atmosphere. Maybe this was it… the best way a lightning could hope to die.
The sound of clattering hooves and wooden wheels reached Kitieri’s ears, and she lifted her head. Atop a giant wagon, driving four muscular draft horses out into the Square, Eriat shouted something at Bat.
“What in the hells…” was the only phrase Kitieri could make out.
“Eriat, you son of a bitch!” Bat’s voice came from much closer to Kitieri, somewhere near the base of the stairs. “You did it!”
“You doubted me?”
“Come on, kids, to the wagon. The cintra will protect you.”
Through the pain of two more double warnings, Kitieri watched the brown cloaks trot to the side of the wagon as Bat came running up the stairs.
“Kitieri,” she breathed, lifting her fingers to her mouth as they locked eyes.
“Stay away from me,” Kitieri managed, dropping her gaze as another bolt of white
lightning lashed out to char the carved stone banister. “Just… get Taff. Help him.”
Though she couldn’t see Bat’s nod, she knew it was there. The woman slipped past her, lifting Taff to his feet to help him down the stairs, and Kitieri closed her eyes. The Blue Killer came again, one Strike after another, and she pushed it back with every fiber of strength she still possessed.
At least Taff and Jera were safe for n—
Ice-cold air blasted in Kitieri’s face, blowing her hair off her neck and freezing the sweat that drenched her skin and clothing as a blinding light beyond any Strike flashed in the Square. Kitieri blinked repeatedly in the wake of the flash, rubbing the tears from her eyes to see two vague figures at the foot of the stairs.
“Catarva.” The smooth, buttery voice, registering just a hint of surprise, was unlike anything Kitieri had ever heard, and she squinted through the smoke. A dark-skinned woman in a long white dress faced the pillar, black hair falling in tight curls all the way down her back.
With a deep, slow breath, the Baliant forced herself upright, lifting her chin. “Mother.”
The simple word shook Kitieri from her exhausted daze, and her eyes opened wide.
“You finally came.” Despite her efforts to still her shaking, Catarva’s voice still trembled.
“Would you mind telling me what’s happening here?” the woman asked. Enahris. A god. A real god, standing right here—
A deep baritone voice rattled Kitieri’s core as the figure beside Enahris turned. “Why the fuck is my Church on fire?”
A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the base of the stairs, looking up at the all-consuming inferno raging behind Kitieri, and she was struck by his resemblance to his statue.
Histan.
Enahris turned beside him, piercing golden eyes coming to land on Kitieri. Another warning pulsed in the air, and Enahris’ eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“The balance is broken,” Catarva said. “Look around you. Your people have been dying for years, and it finally had to come to this. Our end.”
Enahris tore away from Kitieri to face her daughter once more.
“And whose fault is that?” Her buttery tone laced with a subtle venom as Kitieri gritted her teeth against the second warning. “What were the last words I said to you when I left you here in my stead, Catarva?”
“You mean when you abandoned me at seven years old to do the work of a god?”
Even facing her back, Kitieri could see Enahris’ bristling anger awaken as the third warning pulsed.
“It doesn’t take a god to run a Church,” Enahris said. “You should have been more than capable of balancing out this idiot.”
As she gestured to the god beside her, Kitieri called and repelled the looming Strike. Three distinct cries rang through the Square, and Kitieri looked up again to see Enahris and Histan sprawled out on the stones, Catarva clinging to the pillar for support.
Enahris pushed herself up, golden eyes snapping to Kitieri with glowing hatred.
“You,” she hissed, climbing to her feet. “You’re the one causing this.” She stalked forward, hateful gaze locked on Kitieri.
“She did not cause this,” Catarva said. “You did. Your negligence has destroyed this world.”
“My negligence!” Enahris spun back to her daughter.
“Enahris,” Histan barked. “Enough. We have to fix this.”
“I don’t have to fix anything,” the god hissed. “You’re the one with the Church on fire, Histan.”
Histan opened his mouth to retort, glanced up at the fire, and snapped his mouth shut with a click of his teeth.
“I did my part,” Enahris continued. “I left an heir to keep the balance while you”—Enahris emitted a low, terrifying laugh—“you were too busy living it up, chasing tail and getting drunk in any realm but this one. You never cared about this place or your duty, while I did everything in my power to—”
“You never gave a shit, either!” Histan fired back. “Leaving a half-mortal child in charge of your work is hardly responsible. If I’d known this place was falling apart, I would have been here, but neither of us knew until those shocks started coming full force. Now that we know, we have a responsibility to fix it.”
“No, Histan. This is not my fault! I won’t—”
“The High Council won’t give a flying fuck whose fault it is,” Histan thundered. “Our job was to keep balance and we failed, which means we will both go down for this.”
“No.” Enahris stepped toward her counterpart. “We won’t. You want to fix this so badly? You suddenly have such a bleeding heart for these people? Then break your bond to this world and give me your crest.”
Histan’s hand flew to the half-circle brooch pinned to his chest, glinting gold against his black shirt, and Kitieri noticed its mirror image in silver against Enahris’ white dress. Just like the Baliants’ crests…
Histan shook his head. “There must be two. Our laws—”
“Break your bond and bear the consequences of your own failure, Histan,” Enahris cried.
No… Kitieri watched Histan lower his bright blue eyes to the golden crest. She met Catarva’s eyes and saw her racing thoughts reflected in the Baliant’s face.
Horrified and enthralled by the gods’ argument, Kitieri had almost missed the next set of warnings. She felt the Strike’s surge of energy at the last instant as it moved to claim a young girl gaping in utter awe at the gods. As Kitieri reached out to call the lightning, Enahris whipped around.
“Don’t you dare!”
A strong force knocked Kitieri back, pushing her dangerously close to the raging fire behind her and breaking her connection with the Blue Killer. In the wake of the loud crack and blue flash that followed, Kitieri twisted to find the little girl’s blackened body crumbling into a pile of ash, and felt a hoarse scream leave her throat.
“Enahris!”
The god ignored Histan’s cry, advancing up the stairs toward Kitieri now. “As a matter of fact,” Enahris growled, fiery eyes locked on Kitieri’s, “I’ve had just about enough of you. Your element’s usefulness has run its course.”
The white-clad god loomed larger than life as she ascended the stairs, towering over Kitieri with a menacing grin. Kitieri curled her fingers, summoning her lightning, and Enahris’ dark laugh sent chills down her spine. With a swat of her hand, even from ten paces away, the god knocked the white sparks from Kitieri’s hands.
“Idiot,” Enahris sneered. “Only a god can kill a god.”
Enahris lifted her hand, the air shimmering like a trick of the light over her fingers, and Kitieri braced herself for the pain. For death.
I told you, I’m not a god.
“Mother.”
Catarva’s silky voice cut through Kitieri’s thoughts, and she lifted her head to find the Baliant standing only one step behind Enahris.
“Stay out of this, Catarva,” Enahris snapped, looking over her shoulder. “You’re as much a failure as that poor excuse of a god. My biggest mistake was trusting you to lead my Church.”
Catarva stood as still as the pillar, her expression that perfect picture of calm that Kitieri had come to so deeply respect.
“But don’t worry.” Enahris tilted her head with a patronizing smile. “When this creature is gone and Histan breaks his bond, I doubt even you can screw it up from there.”
Enahris turned back to Kitieri, still wearing that sickly sweet grin as Catarva spoke.
“I am twice the leader you’ll ever be.”
The god’s grin morphed into a snarl, but she did not look back.
“And if you want Kitieri dead, you’ll have to go through me.”
Enahris rolled her eyes, throwing her head back. “Oh, spare me the theatrics, Catarva. I’m not in the mood, and you’re not god enough to stop me.”
“I am.”
Catarva lifted her hand to the back of Enahris’ neck, long fingers curling around her throat from behind. Enahris went completely still, save cutting
her eyes to the side.
“Only a god can kill a god. Isn’t that right, Mother?” Catarva’s sneer was unsettlingly identical to Enahris’.
“You’re not a god,” Enahris hissed. “You’re a disgusting half-breed. A necessary evil. Try to kill me, and you’ll find out just how weak you really are.”
Catarva leaned in close to her mother’s ear. “But I can kill you.”
“You will die.”
Catarva’s snarl widened into a smile, and her amber eyes flicked to Kitieri. “Gladly.”
“Catarva, no!” Kitieri had barely managed the words before Enahris’ golden eyes shot open wide, tongue lolling from her mouth in rasping gags under Catarva’s vice-grip.
They toppled to the stone, Catarva’s hands locked around her mother’s throat, with a deafening scream. Enahris clawed at her as they began to emanate a bright aura, heat rolling off their bodies in palpable waves until Kitieri could no longer watch. She shielded her eyes from the horrific brilliance until a hot wave of energy rushed over her.
Enahris’ human form erupted into a shower of blinding golden sparks, burning Kitieri where they touched her skin, and Catarva collapsed into a still heap.
“Catarva!” Kitieri shrieked, scrambling to her. Gently, she rolled the Baliant over to pull her head into her lap, and weary dark brown eyes looked up at her.
“Kitieri,” Catarva whispered, fighting for each shallow, ragged breath. “Shirasette… will look to you.”
“No.” Kitieri’s throat closed off as two tears splashed onto Catarva’s dark skin, and a hard sob cut off further speech. Haldin bounded up the stairs, falling to his knees beside Kitieri and Catarva’s eyes, now devoid of their amber glow, drifted to him as a soft smile touched her lips.
“I love you, Haldin.” Her whisper grew fainter. “I always have.”
Tears streaming down his face, Haldin scooped up Catarva’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “I love you, too.”
Her eyelids flickering open and closed, Catarva slowly dragged her gaze back to Kitieri. Barely audible, she said, “Lead them.”