“I don’t know,” I admitted, a small smile creeping across my face. “I’ve done what I could to salvage a reputation stained, but no amount of scrubbing will make that name clean again. Whenhistory looks back on the Unseen Rebellion, they will see a story of two sides of a coin.”
“They will see the man who had the courage to take action,” Rudderkin sneered.
“And the boy who knew that violence could only take us so far.”
The man snorted a cruel laugh. “Yet you’re ready to give it all up, aren’t you? You’re just as weak now as when I pulled you off the streets, boy. Only a fool would give up that power. You’ve proven yourself the unceasing fool.”
Another rumble of thunder and the dark canopy above began to part, a shadow moving amongst the clouds.
“You’re right,” I said, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. “I am a fool. The time of Rudderkin is done. Our people are no longer served by the stained name. I’ll prune it, just as I pruned myself of you all those years ago. Let the legend die alongside the name. I’ll show them that they need not a hero clad in bloodied armor, but a boy from a garden of roses who only wants the best for his people.”
Rudderkin moved then, charging at me with a wail of pain and grief that echoed through my mind. I braced myself for the impact, planting my feet in the smooth earth, but before Rudderkin could even reach an arm’s length from me, a massive shadowy hand erupted from the clouds, reaching down to wrap me up in fingers crafted from umber and soot. The hand lifted me from the ground, pulling me with blinding speed away from the hill where Rudderkin stood, glowering after me. I cast one last glance down at my mentor before I slipped into the haze of the clouds and the eerie silence that followed.
“He’s coming round,” a muffled voice dripped through my subconscious like the gentle patter of rain falling from a canopy of leaves.
The first thing I noticed was the cold stone beneath me. The base of my tail throbbed, and I let out a groan as I shifted my weight from that spot, allowing temporary relief.
“That was quick. You’re getting better at navigating, Cirian.”
My eyes fluttered open at the mention of his name, and a familiar head of scarlet hair came into view. He offered me a shy grin, followed by a wave of his hand.
“You’re going to feel woozy for a bit, but it’ll pass.”
I sat up, the dull throb in my head intensifying till the dimly-lit room around me swirled like two streams meeting.
“Where are we?” I managed through gritted teeth.
“That’s a difficult distinction as it were. Physically, we’re inside the Cradle. Of that I’m almost certain. As for our consciousnesses….”
He didn’t elaborate further.
There were others in the space. No more than ten. Their movements in the background of my steadying vision drew my focus. Rows of candles lined the ground on either side, moving away from the spot on the floor where I rested. Rows of stone benches—about half a dozen on either side—faced towards the small altar at the far end of the space. Above it, a single window of stained glass, glowing in multifaceted brilliance against the dark backdrop.
“It’s a sanctuary,” Cirian said after a moment, his head turning to follow my gaze. “Sancha said it was the one she was raised in as a child.”
“The Cardinal is here?”
He nodded, pointing to one of the figures seated in the front row. “I’m not sure how much longer she’s going to be able to hold out. The strength of her magic alone is keeping the shadows from overtaking this place. If she falters, then we’ll be lost once more.”
“And Bast? Is he here as well?”
Cirian’s smile faded. “No. Not yet, I mean. I haven’t been able to find him, out there in the dark. But I’ve found others. Dragged them back here where it’s safe. There are dozens more, Azrael. I can’t possibly get to all of them, and I fear the wick has almost burned to its end.”
As if they’d heard Cirian’s words, the candles flickered around us, their warm light faltering just long enough for the shadows to lurk closer from the corners of the room.
I braced myself on the nearby bench, pulling myself onto my feet. “Then we will put an end to this madness.”
Cirian stood alongside me, his brow furrowed. “I can appreciate your confidence, Azrael, but do you have any idea how to go about that?”
“No,” I admitted, stretching to alleviate the stiffness in my back. “But the most brilliant Magi I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting is here in the Cradle. All we need to do is find him, and he’ll be able to guide us.”
Cirian sank onto the bench, running pale fingers through scarlet hair. “I’ve looked for him. Every time I go out into the dark, it’s him I’m searching for. But I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him in all this time.”
I’d never heard Cirian sound so defeated. The shadows closest to him seemed to thicken, as if they craved the despair inhis voice. It must have taken a great toll on him to dive into the dark as much as he had. The strain was evident.
“It’s my fault he’s here in the first place,” he said after a moment, his head downcast and eyes distant.
“How do you mean?”
