by Will Wight
Copyright © 2021 by Hidden Gnome Publishing
Book and Cover design by Patrick Foster Design
Cover illustration by Teigan Mudle and Patrick Foster
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Bloopers
About the Author
Also by Will Wight
Prologue
Iteration 246: Commandment
From far away, Suriel watched a rain of orange lightning fall across the eastern hemisphere of the planet, scorching it to bare rock in seconds. Dull gray vessels drifted away, bearing most of the people and objects of any significance.
Around the planet, war raged.
Vroshir defended their ships’ retreat with protective workings, barriers, guardian beasts the size of moons, and shields that could block exploding stars.
Abidan attacked to seize the ships, lances of blue as they drew on the Way to reinforce their attacks with absolute authority. But it was too late; millions had died in the planetary barrage, and the Iteration’s relationship to the Way was weak.
Color-swirling portals bloomed in front of the ships as they prepared to leave through the Void.
Drifting in endless sapphire light outside the Iteration, Suriel tapped into her mantle and reverted the world towards a state of order.
A dozen Abidan blinked back to life from where they had been struck down. A hundred others found their armor repaired, their minds restored, their weapons returned.
The charred planet blossomed to blue and green once again, the dead population finding themselves whole and alive. Commandment’s relation to the Way strengthened again, so the Abidan attacks punched through Vroshir defenses.
The ships carrying the captives lost their connection to the Void, their portals fading.
Suriel felt the exultation from her people like a wave of cheers. Their morale surged, a warm heat inside her, as the tide of power turned.
But she couldn’t bask in the sensation.
Half her attention was elsewhere.
Iteration 247: Jester
Six Silverlords, platinum-crowned men and women, coordinated a barrage of attacks against Jester’s primary planet.
Positioned in orbit all around the globe, they unleashed a synchronized bombardment, each attack entirely different from the others. One released a storm of razor-sharp rose petals to scour a continent, another sang a song that drifted all through that reality, eating away at opposing workings. Yet a third summoned titanic spires of dense metal, hurling them into the planet.
The four remaining Abidan of Sector Twenty-Four Control held the world. They maintained a triple-layered shell around the atmosphere, a shield of blue Way-power that wouldn’t falter even if the planet beneath it exploded.
But the Silverlords were elites, powerful figures even by the standards of Judges. Their combined wills eroded the barrier like moths eating away fabric.
Suriel added her power to the Abidan, and the shell restored itself.
The Silverlords redoubled their efforts, pushing back against her…
…and Suriel found herself stretched to her limit.
The instant she released her attention from Commandment, the Vroshir ships would re-open gateways to the Void and escape with the captured population.
But if she took an ounce of focus from Jester, the Silverlords would crack the barrier like an egg.
In one world, time was on her side. The longer she stalled in Commandment, the more likely her forces would defeat their opponents and reclaim the enemy transports.
In the other world, time was against her. The longer the siege of Jester lasted, the more opportunities the Silverlords would have to break open the shield.
And there were a dozen other worlds calling for a Judge. She didn’t have time.
[All forces halt,] her Presence called to the Abidan in Commandment. [Secure the remaining population of the planet. Allow the enemy to withdraw.]
In Commandment, the Abidan halted their assault. Multi-colored portals swirled in front of the blocky spacecraft, which vanished one by one into the Void, soon followed by their Vroshir guardians.
Only a handful of millions were left on the planet, but at least it was whole. She had protected as much of the Iteration as she could.
Now it was time to focus on Jester.
With a brief effort of will, Suriel passed through the Way and into the Iteration.
The instant she manifested in reality, the Silverlords cut off their attack and retreated. They stepped through portals of their own, several of them looking toward her and touching their silver crowns in mocking salute.
They knew better than to fight a Judge directly, but that meant only that they were cautious. Not afraid.
She couldn’t hunt them down, and they knew it. If she chased them too far, eventually they’d overwhelm her with numbers.
A saying passed down among Judges: “There are always more Silverlords.”
She felt that external surge of relief and elation crash over her again as the Abidan in the world celebrated her arrival. Suriel only wished she felt the same.
From their perspective, she had just won two great victories, but she knew better. In her head, a distress call from a far-off world went silent. There was no longer anyone left to cry out.
She hadn’t won anything.
She had only delayed defeat.
1
Mercy sat at her brother’s bedside, carefully peeling a fruit. She offered him a slice with trembling fingers.
“Pride…” she said softly. “Would you like this? Only if you feel up to it, okay? Don’t strain yourself.”
Pride snatched the rest of the fruit from her hand, leaving her holding only the slice. He bit into its flesh with an audible crunch.
He was trying to prove how strong he was, and that effort touched her. She almost teared up again, thinking of the suffering he’d been through when she failed to protect him. Juice dribbled down his chin, and she reached out with a napkin.
He slapped her hand away. “What are you doing?”
She spoke in a quiet, soothing tone. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me. It’s okay. You can relax.”
“That’s enough. Get out of the way.” He tossed the fruit aside and slid out of the bed.
“No! Aunt Charity said you have to rest!”
She wrestled him down, and initially she overpowered him. Until four Enforcer techniques flowed through him, and then he broke her grip, seized her by the shoulders, and shoved her back down into her chair.
Now that he stood over her for once, he glared down. “How injured do I look to you?”
Not at all, she had to admit. Her brother was a compact and heavily muscled man, which fit his Book with its many Enforcer techniques. He looked healthy as ever, ready to wrestle a bear, and his purple eyes had a sharp gleam.
He wasn’t injured anymore, and
she knew that. In fact, as she understood it, Charity had restored him to the point that he had never been hurt in the first place.
“She still told you to rest,” Mercy insisted, and it sounded like a plea.
“Not to strain myself,” Pride corrected. “Straining myself is fighting two Overlords at once.” His voice caught on that sentence, darker emotion bleeding through, but he continued as though he didn’t notice. “I don’t need someone spoon-feeding me.”
Mercy hung her head. She knew all that, she just didn’t know what else she could do for him. Charity had emphasized that, while his physical and spiritual wounds were gone, the mental and emotional consequences were difficult to determine.
Coming from the Sage of the Silver Heart, that warning had sounded dire indeed.
More than just a shadow on his heart, this experience could impact his willpower and slow his future advancement. And it was all Mercy’s fault.
She had apologized over and over, until Pride had hit her on the head to stop her from talking. Now…she only wanted to help her little brother. She just didn’t know how.
Shakily, she offered him the one remaining wedge of fruit.
He sighed before taking it.
A shadow passing over the room was all the warning they had before Uncle Fury popped into existence between them, screaming loudly enough to hurt their ears.
Mercy was on her feet, readying Suu with an arrow of madra, and Pride fell back onto his bed with hands raised defensively.
Fury’s scream trailed off. “Sorry, sorry!” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, his hair drifting like black seaweed caught in an unseen current. “Not used to that yet. I thought I was about to fling myself into the center of the earth.”
Mercy straightened to meet his eyes, though she wasn’t quite tall enough. She ground the butt of her staff into the floor, and the dragon-headed Suu hissed. “What were you doing? Do you see what you did to Pride?”
Pride had already straightened and was brushing off his clothes. “I’m fine.”
Fury looked more embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to. It’s not as easy as Charity makes it look. How you feeling, Pride?”
“Perfect.”
“Oh, great!” He glanced at Mercy’s face before coughing and continuing to speak. “Ah, yeah, but wounds can be deeper than you realize. Even when the healing is done exactly right, sometimes time is still the best cure.”
“I think he’s pushing himself too much,” Mercy insisted.
Fury blinked. “By standing up?”
Pride gave her a look of superiority.
“He can handle it.” A trace of rage crept into Fury’s face, and his crimson eyes burned. “I came to let you know that we’ve captured Seishen Daji.”
Pride ground his teeth, and even Mercy felt a cold anger. She had known it was only a matter of time before the family found the Seishen Lords, but they had produced results even faster than she expected.
Now they would face justice.
“The trial’s in a few hours. Mercy, she wants you to sit in judgment.”
Mercy’s first instinct was to say that Pride was the one who deserved to pass judgment, as he was the one who had almost died. But she knew better. This was to get her used to determining the lives and deaths of others.
Pride gave her a nod. He understood too.
“I will hear them out,” Mercy said. “As fairly as I can.”
Fury reached out and placed a hand on each of them. “You know, I’d given up on my brothers and sisters until you two. Your father would be proud.”
Pride and Mercy both stared at their oldest half-brother. He tended to wax sentimental even less often than his daughter.
“Uncle Fury…” Mercy began. “…is everything all right?”
“What? Yeah! Of course, yeah, everything’s fine!” His red eyes slid up to the ceiling. “But I am going away.”
“Where?” Pride asked.
Fury pointed one finger to the ceiling, and the bottom dropped out of Mercy’s stomach.
“You’re ascending?”
He scratched the side of his neck without meeting her eyes. “I don’t really have a choice. It’s not a surprise, though. This was always part of the plan.”
“What about Aunt Naria?” Fury’s wife was an Archlady, but she almost never fought anymore. Mercy hadn’t seen her in years.
“She’s coming with me!” Fury said brightly. “The little ones are coming too, and a few families from my branch. I guess it’s embarrassing to ascend unless you’re bringing a whole parade with you.” He rolled his eyes, but she knew he didn’t really object.
He was unreliable in many ways, but he would hate the idea of leaving the world forever if it meant abandoning his children before they grew up. His youngest was only eight.
This was all too much for Mercy to take in so quickly after returning from the battlefield. It had been less than a day since she’d fought Sophara outside Sky’s Edge.
Pride seemed to be taking it all in stride. He folded his arms. “What about Aunt Charity?”
It was a good question. If the Akura clan lost two of their three pillars at once, they would be vulnerable. Even considering that their biggest rival had been killed.
By Yerin.
Mercy still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around that one.
“Charity’s staying,” Fury said, and he sounded a little regretful. “She has her own responsibilities. But she saw this coming a long time ago, and we made our peace with it.”
“When are you leaving?” Mercy asked.
“Now.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, but to Mercy it was another heavy blow in a long string. “You mean…today? You’re not even going to wait until we get home?”
Fury looked down on her sadly. “Well, tonight. I wish I could wait longer, but another Monarch staying in Cradle causes all sorts of problems. Especially now.”
She blinked back tears to focus on the implications of what he said, but Pride asked the question she wanted to.
“What does that mean?”
“Mother will explain it to you.” Fury’s shoulders slumped and he gave a heavy sigh. “I wish I could, but I don’t want to fight with her before I leave. Don’t worry too much, though; it won’t be too long before you join me yourself, Pride. Herald, Sage, doesn’t matter. Even some Archlords make it out by their own power.”
Mercy noticed that Fury didn’t include her in those words, and she knew why. If she succeeded Malice, she would stay in this world for the rest of her life. Which could stretch on for centuries.
Why did that make her sad? She liked this world.
But it did mean that she would probably never see Fury again.
“Did Mother…” Pride started speaking, but hesitated and visibly changed what he was about to say. “Is she going to come see you off?”
Mercy knew what he had started to ask. Pride wanted to know if she had come to see him when he was on the verge of death.
Fury answered the real question. “She would have come if we really needed her,” he said, though he didn’t sound very convincing. “Charity was plenty able to heal you. And Mother’s busy. There’s a Dreadgod, not to mention a bunch of dragons to kill.”
He sighed wistfully. “At least I got to finish off Xorrus. What a nice going-away present.”
“So she’s not going to see you off?” Mercy said.
“We said our good-byes a long time ago.”
Silence fell heavily over the room, and Mercy knew they were all thinking about their mother.
Fury finally broke the quiet by clapping his hands together. The entire room shook, and someone down the hall screamed.
“Not leaving until sunset, but I’ve got a lot of people to see before then. I’ll see you with the rest of the family then, all right?” He looked off into the distance. “In the meantime, you should probably go see your friends. I think Charity’s about to lock them in a box and sit on them.”
“What
do you mean?” Mercy asked.
“Where are we supposed to go at sunset?” Pride added.
In an implosion of wind and a swirl of shadow, Fury vanished.
Mercy stopped herself in the doorway as she was about to leave, leaning back to check on Pride. “Are you going to be okay by yourself? Do you need anything?”
He gave her a flat look. “If you ask me that one more time, I’m going to pick a fight with Yerin.”
“Do…” She hesitated to say anything, but she couldn’t let that go. “…do you think you can?”
Pride folded his arms and sat back down on the bed. “Shut up.”
The cloud fortress that Lindon shared with Yerin had a control panel similar to those that he had used before. It was a raised, polished podium that looked like it had been designed to hold a book, but was instead covered in script-circles.
These controls were more elaborate than those he’d used in the past, and there were several secondary panels to his left and right. The main control panel was situated in the highest room of their home, and broad windows gave him a clear look outside even as projection constructs showed him glimpses of other angles.
It was designed to be as easy to pilot as possible, which would come in handy whenever he was allowed to do so.
The Ninecloud Soul’s feminine voice filled the inside of the control room. “We regret that we still cannot allow any air travel away from Ninecloud City at this point. We will inform you as soon as our security procedures change.”
“Apologies, but I don’t need to fly out of the city. I need a portal.”
“Sadly, our spatial travel is even more restricted at this time, and I cannot guarantee that we will ever be able to accommodate that request. If you would like to make an appointment with one of our Heralds, I can submit your petition into the queue, but we are experiencing a higher-than-normal volume of requests.”
