Bastien’s voice pierced the air, high and clear. With a burst of emerald light, shards of crystal scattered around us, and he emerged into the clearing, Azrael in tow. Again, he tried to approach, but the chains around us tightened, and he was repelled.
Another tremor shook the chamber, fissures erupting in the stonework above us alongside the terrible groans of the earth coming undone. If this continued, the Cradle would come down, that much was clear. Countless tons of rubble and rock moments from crashing down on top of us.
Mustering as much air as I could, I called to them.
“Please. You have to get out.”
If they heard me, they certainly didn’t heed the warning. Azrael was the next to attempt to reach me, fangs bared and claws out as he fought whatever invisible force separated us. But even as he dug his heels into the crumbling earth, the barrier did not give. Bastien mouthed words I couldn’t hear, Azrael nodding, but not relenting in his assault. Blow after blow from bloodied hands, ringing deaf in my ears.
“Please,” I pleaded to the gods, both past and present. “They can still live.”
The Umbral swore suddenly, spewing a string of words in that same vile language that needled at my ears. The air around us took on an otherworldly chill as the Umbral’s form began to twist, the chains that held us going slack as they did so. The ichor that seeped from the wound in their chest spread over their form, eclipsing any features of humanity. In seconds, the shape of my master had vanished, a pool of ichor spreading across the stone floor, seeping into the cracks.
I was too weak to react as my epee clattered to the ground, the puddle of ichor completely disappearing into the stone. I reached for the handle of the blade in my chest, but there was only more ichor, mixing on my skin in a swirl of red and black. I stared down at the swirling pattern on my hand, transfixed by its motion. Before I could rally myself, the icy grip of the chains encircled me once more, binding me in place, but there was not enough fire left within me to panic. Whether I was bound or not, I was in no condition to leave. Raising my gaze, I stared up into the drifting charcoal cloud above me, alight with the glowing red sigils of a language forgotten long before I was born.
There was a beauty to them, these alien characters. The longer I watched them hover above me, the more intricate their details became. Shapes pulsed and moved as if they were livingcreatures, enacting stories of times before the Expanse was created. Primordial legends of gods and titans, painted out for me in motions of crimson lights.
But then the crimson light grew, spreading across my body like the beams of a sunrise, chasing away the evening chill. It was comforting, that precious warmth. I wanted to linger in it, but my peace was ruined by the shattering of something massive.
Sounds rushed in—the roiling of the earth under me, the frantic voices of Bastien and Azrael as they shouted too quickly for me to comprehend, a screeching, grinding noise that set my teeth on edge.
The warm, crimson light returned, and I swayed as the chains holding me fell to the floor, no longer able to support the weight of my body. Solid arms caught me, a glimpse of violet hair and a fanged smile somewhere above, telling me that I would be all right.
But how could that be? I was dying, wasn’t I? My world had been shattered, just as the foundations of the Cradle crumbled beneath us. Sancha was gone. Tobias had yet to awaken. I couldn’t feel the presence of the Source’s blessing any longer. I had disintegrated members of my own community. Sancha may have handed her authority down to me, but no Hallowed in their right mind would follow me.
I was better off here, buried under the ruins of the very Church my actions had destroyed.
“This place will come down any second. How long till she’s back?”
Bastien’s words rang through the haze, and I struggled to lift my head to see who he was speaking to. The figure was shorter than him, their face obscured by a mask made from white and crimson porcelain. Familiarity scratched at my mind, but everything was getting fuzzy, including my thoughts.
It was nice, being held in Azrael’s arms. He was warm. So warm, it felt like I’d been draped in sun-drenched linens.
“Just a moment longer,” the masked figure answered Bastien, their deep voice impossibly clear in my ears. It was as if they were standing right beside me. “Reina is dreadfully efficient.”
Again, that voice triggered something deep in my mind. Some recognition that was clouded by the haze that plagued my senses. Did I know them?
Azrael jostled me a bit, then Bastien’s face was hovering above, twisted into all the bitter angles of concern that made my heart ache. Why did he look like that?
“He needs a healer,” Azrael’s voice rumbled against me.
“I have neither the skill nor the energy,” Bastien concluded, his frown deepening.
I wanted to comfort him. To tell him that everything would turn out all right. But my tongue was thick, and my mouth parched, and no matter how desperately I wanted to speak, I couldn’t seem to get the words through the haze that filled my mind.
“I’ll look after him,” said the third voice, that mask streaked with crimson coming into view beside Bastien. “Once we’re out of harm’s way.”
The silence that followed told me that Bastien and Azrael were not in support of that idea. Whoever this character was, it was clear that they did not have their trust.
Another tremor rumbled through the Cradle, portions of the stone above us breaking free and falling. Bastien swore, Azrael’s muscles tensed as he judged which direction would be safest, but the stranger didn’t panic. He merely raised a hand above his head, a flash of crimson light bursting from his fingertips as a dome of dull red light formed over us. Massive chunks of stone crashed against the barrier, falling harmlessly around it.
“No need to fret,” the stranger iterated. “We are safe here.”
“Do you intend to lift the entire building to get us out of here?” Bastien questioned.
The stranger didn’t laugh. “If that is what is necessary, so be it.”
Perhaps it was the blood loss altering my judgment, but I believed them.
