Ren let out a breath. Moira’s words were like a sirensong, calling her. Ren had to do it. If not for anything else, then for them.
“Alright.”
40
White light engulfed her. Spat her out in a field of wafting shadows that brightened as a feminine silhouette closed in.
Moira. Her soft smile and wreathing dress of silver clouds brightened the shadowscape. Ren gasped as she looked down on familiar territory—the island. Though, unlike when she had first seen it sparkling in emerald greenery, now it was a chasm of steaming smoke and black rivers. Any hint of green vanished, shrinking toward the southern shore and the place she knew as Sitras. The Wilds were no more, now it was just a towering graveyard of stick-thin trees and pulsing sulfur pits. The northern shore was gray, its waters black as the Great River. From time to time, rock faces crumbled and fell to the earth as the ocean surrounding the island churned and spat. Hissing at the little patch of earth. Surrounding the entire scene was the Veil. Once a white veneer of puffy steam and mist, it now churned like the raging ocean below. White deepened to a blood-red. A haze of burgundy mist.
Above, the sky battled with itself, black curving into black.
It was like the world was ending. Her world.
Ren could only imagine what was going on outside the Veil. Were the States getting hit with this too?
Moira grasped her hands. “The Old Ones will rise up and stop this catastrophe. Look to the shining light in the darkness. She will light their way.”
Feverish, Ren yanked her hands away. But, Moira simply reached and grasped them once more. “Look.” She commanded, doe-like eyes narrowing.
Ren looked. Clapped a hand to her mouth as, even from this height, she could see massive human-like creatures taller than the farthest reaching trees of the Wilds crawl out of the ground. Three dug themselves out of the earth and stomped toward the Great River. The land shook, the sky trembled. Ren’s heart thumped in her chest as every one of her muscles tightened.
The Old Ones. They amassed on the Great River and instead of pounding toward the black tower that sprouted near the Heartlands, they swerved and made their way toward the final patch of green on the southern shore. Sitras.
“What in the hell are they doing?”
Moira grinned. “Taking back what is rightfully theirs.”
Ren pulled, trying to free her hands from Moira’s grip. But the goddess only tightened her hold, nails digging into Ren’s skin.
Ren couldn’t watch as the land groaned and shook. When the giants surrounded the island’s last bastion of hope, they pounded it into nothing. Into dust and rubble and smoke.
“For over a millennia, they have slept. For over a millennia, I have waited for a human like you to come and fulfill their wishes—my plans. Once the Old Ones take back the island, nothing will stop them from getting through the Veil. Your energy—the power of the Core—will shatter it.”
Slipping her fingers out of Moira’s grasp, Ren backed away midair. Things were starting to make sense. Kind of. “The Veil traps you.”
“Not me, little girl,” Moira said, a thoughtful grin sliding across her features. “The Old Ones.”
“What exactly are they?” Ren blurted, knowing full well that she shouldn’t give a damn. They were killing machines. That’s all that fucking mattered.
“At one point in time, your people called them Titans.”
Ren narrowed her eyes. “Titans. Greek mythology, Titans?” she shook her head. “You know what? No. It doesn’t fucking matter. They aren’t getting through the Veil.” I’ve made a mistake. A huge fucking mistake.
No wonder everyone back home thought of her as a failure. She was stupid. Gullible. Easily tricked. She just wanted to be a hero. To do something good that fucking mattered. And now she had woken these things up. Titans. Things of myth. Things that shouldn’t fucking exist.
And here she was talking to a machine that saw itself as a terraformation network. Ren was pretty sure she was losing it.
Moira floated closer, arms extended. “You willingly walked into the pillar. Sweet girl, you are the Core. You are a part of me now.” She shrugged, “You truly have no choice.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re going to have to fucking prove it.”
Moira chuckled. Broke into a full-bellied laugh, arms crossed over her chest. Silencing her laughter, she windmilled her arms out, flinging her fingers toward the western side of the island. Ren’s vision followed, her mouth agape as Moira’s power took up Ren’s arms and worked her limbs like a puppet’s. Black energy came to life in her field of vision, buzzing and bubbling like liquid in a cauldron, and it raced at her. Pierced her wrists and brought fire to her fingertips. Before she could scream, could fight back—do something—fire was erupting out of the ocean in the form of boiling bubbles. Before long, a wall of earth followed, spiking up like a wave of hardened sediment. It pierced the Veil, pulled back the bloodied curtains of mist to reveal an ocean, not in turmoil. A world calm—too calm—awaiting the tumult that was to come.
Unless Ren could stop it.
When Moira let go, Ren almost dropped to her knees. Her torso keeled over and her arms went limp. It was leagues worse than Nakato taking over her body. When Moira did it, it felt like slippery eels were slipping down her veins. Replacing her blood, her bones. She had been pushed to that corner of her mind all over again, watching her body do things like a passenger watching their train derail.
She’s just a puppet. The entire fucking time, she had just been a puppet.
“If you just wanted to use me like a puppet, why send me all over the damned island to round up some magical freaks?” Ren spat. Bile threatening to charge up her throat.
“Oh,” Moira suppressed a giggle. “I needed to know where they were. Who they were. Scions and Shapers and Godcallers, they were a precaution set in place by…well…I assume it no longer matters by who, does it? Humanity’s guardians died a long time ago, little girl. You were the last. You and your…friends.”
Ren swallowed that information. Let it dwell deep down inside of her.
She had been tricked.
“When they pass to the southern shore, you will open the Veil for them. Do you understand me, human?”
This time, Ren saw the energy moving around her without Moira’s force. Lightning crawled through it. A deep-voiced hum thundered through its inky tentacles.
Ren turned on Moira, indignation burning her body like flame.
“No one fucking controls me.”
41
Siphoning the energy swimming around her, Ren grinned widely as fire crackled through her palms. Charging through the air, she clapped both hands to either side of Moira’s face and let the fire travel through her. If Moira was anything like Nakato, she was just a manifestation of Ren’s mind. Everything was. From the island down below to her floating in midair. None of this had to be real. None of it.
Hands cold as ice clamped to both of Ren’s wrists. Ren held her breath as Moira pried her hands off of her face and shoved Ren backward. White cloud tendrils followed Ren’s descent, four of them spiraling around her like a spinning tornado funnel. They crisscrossed beneath her back, catching her and stringing her up in front of Moira.
Moira pressed her lips into a line, her head dipping slightly as she simply stared at Ren. Eyes thin slits on her dark face.
Ren fought. She had to. Pounding toward the southern shore were the Titans, massive humanoids which looked to be made of rock or plant or both. Ren looked down and met fiery glowing eyes. Could they see them? Ren shook her head and tried pulling her arms away from the cloud tendrils. Tried burning through the puffy steam, but when a tendril evaporated two more materialized to take its place.
“Stop,” Moira said, voice low. “It’s pathetic. Even for you.”
Black energy faded to life in her vision again. A dull ache in the back of Ren’s throat tightened. Moira was doing it again. About to make Ren open the Veil and let those things go free.
Ren couldn’t burn Moira away, not like she had done Nakato. In this instance, her fire was useless. She was back to being her old self, powerless, helpless. She slunk against the clouds stringing her up, eyes on Moira. Black energy wafted and bubbled before Moira directed it into Ren’s wrists. Fire blazed up Ren’s throat, through every one of her limbs.
This was it.
An ocean of energy was left when Moira was finished, her forefinger falling as she turned her gaze in the direction of the charging Titans. Watching the energy, Ren bit her lower lip, her stomach rolling. Maybe, instead of being a manifestation of her own mind, she was a ghost in Moira’s. Hadn’t Ren entered the pillar—basically entering Moira? All of this—it could still be fake. But it’s not a creation of her mind—it’s a creation of Moira’s.
“Now.”
Fire pulsed, brought on by the command of Moira’s voice. It charged through the air, ripping through the Veil as the monsters plunged into the ocean. Concentrating on the left over energy surrounding her, Ren listened to the boom of thunder pooling in the dark clouds around her. Listened for that troublesome voice that spoke through the energy. That warned her, so long ago, that she wasn’t worthy of it.
Ren thought of Ekanna’s caution—don’t pull too much or the energy will take your fire. It was about time Ren tested that theory.
She directed it all into her wrists. Into her collarbone. Into her heart. The energy eagerly accepted her silent commands, filling her body with sharp shards of ice. The fire near the Veil died, the blood-haze curtains collapsing before the three Titans. They turned their gazes up.
“Renata!” Moira shrieked, flinging herself into Ren’s body. She grabbed Ren’s wrists just as the last bit of energy filtered through her, freezing her insides. Causing the blood in her veins to jell and stagnate. It hurt like hell and Ren fought to breathe through the lung shattering pain. It felt like spear heads had somehow lodged themselves beneath her skin and were hooked. Phantoms pulled the spearheads up, holding her high in the air like a fish strung across multiple lines. Her heart fluttered as the black energy expanded and detracted within her, each whiff of energy fighting to find a home within her body.
The sky, the island, the ocean; everything was swallowed by an inky shadowscape once more. Moira’s body disappeared, the woman absentmindedly dropping her before she fizzled out of existence. In the darkness, Ren lay there fighting to control the mass of black energy as it overtook her. Ice glazing over her organs, her skin. Turning her eyes to glass.
A white light shook the darkness.
42
Ren woke up gasping, fingers of water combing over her head. Opening her eyes, river water stung her. Icy water jolted her heart awake and slimed over her fingers. Slapping her palms onto the rocks of the riverbed, she pushed herself up, head above the water. Rolling over onto dry land, she coughed and heaved. Opened her eyes to the sky and almost screamed at the amount of ink soiling her skin.
A black river slid by her head, curving into the forest beyond. The Wilds? Ren couldn’t be sure. Gasping on her back, her eyes met a starless sky crowded by a stick thin canopy of ashen trees. They seemed to curve over her, reaching toward the forest floor. Toward her.
Ren’s arms shook. Her legs felt like jello. Had she fallen from the sky? How in the hell did she get down here? She chanced a look around and cursed at the sore ache in her neck. Every part of her body felt old and rickety, like the dry roots of a hundred-year-old tree. Standing, her mind moved through molasses as it tried piecing together everything that had happened up until this point. Agartha. Moira. The Core. Titans.
The hairs on the nape of her neck rose, standing at attention. A wisping breeze floated by, swirling through the damp and ash of the land. The inky river nearby shivered.
Ren remembered them being on the southern shore. There was nothing she could do now. From the looks of things, the Titans had already made their presence known here. In what looked to be the Wilds. Or, what was left of it.
And how about her friends? Were they still alive? What had the Paragon’s people done to them before the cave in? Had they survived that massive drop?
Ren chewed her lower lip, frozen in place. Arms crossed over her chest. Instead of a burning sensation alighting her chest, all she felt was ice. She shivered at the chill, gooseflesh pimpling along her forearms. Thousands of questions rolled through her mind and she tried centering herself on one; what would she do now? Stuck in what seemed to be the Wilds, where would she go? From what she saw on high, Sitras and the Upper City were decimated. The island was dying and now, because of what she had done to Moira, the Earth would follow suit. Everything would go to shit and it was all Ren’s fault.
Not if I can fix things.
She walked. No direction, no goal in mind. She just placed one foot in front of the other and walked.
43
Burnt wood crunched under her feet. The sound snapped through the brush, stealing the world’s silence. Ren flinched at the noise but kept going. Right until she heard voices. Island speak. Not the guttural tones of the Vost, but the breathy song of the Mesh.
Soon, she saw a camp. Dull tents affixed themselves between dying trees, all surrounding a blackened pit of ash and scorched bone. Voices quieted when Ren charged through, eyes following her presence, though Ren couldn’t see them. Ren moved toward the largest and most colorful tent. The one tent that stood out among the pack.
It sat at the back of group, white smoke curling out from its opened flap. Ren smelt hints of lavender and sage as she ripped open the flap further and barged her way inside.
She couldn’t have been happier to see Lindiwe. The elder stood with a blank expression on her painted face. Where prayer beads as large as a toddler’s head once assailed her throat and collar, a thin silver necklace now tread. Her cheeks were sunken, eyes hung with stains of blue. It looked as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. Months.
Lindiwe didn’t hold out her hands or wave Ren in. She simply stared, heavy eyes sodden with sadness.
“You’re alive.” Ren croaked. “All of you—”
“Not all of us,” Lindiwe said, moving to the stick of incense blazing at the back of her tent. Quietly, she snuffed it out. “Some of us broke off, ran toward the Northern Shore.” She turned to face Ren, face grim. Features hanging from her bones like a ragged dishcloth. “We haven’t heard from them since.”
Lindiwe looked Ren up and down. “My connection to the island has been cut off,” she whispered, “what have you done, Fire Scion?”
Ren cocked her head, brain swimming. “Fire Scion?” she forced a laugh. “Not, Shamaness?”
Lindiwe ducked her head and shook it.
Smiling, Ren had no trouble accepting that fact. She was never cut out to lead anyway. Just to destroy. “I did it.” Ren sighed, falling to the dirt floor. “I saved the island—I saved…” her body hit the dirt floor as her eyes slowly closed. Lindiwe’s voice was bleary, far away, as she rushed to Ren’s side and shook her. Anxious feet rushed in, kicking up dust. Island speak drowned the tent in a flame of words—questions. Ren had no time for this. She still had questions—a myriad of them—for Lindiwe. For the Mesh. Ren needed help fixing this mess, but here she was, giving up. Lying down. Taking a nap.
Blacking out.
Ren woke with a start. Heavy blankets held her down. At her side, Lindiwe watched with eagle eyes as Ren tried sitting up.
“You were badly beaten.” Lindiwe’s voice was emotionless. “Your ties to Moira have been severed as well. As have all of ours, I ask you again,” Lindiwe leaned close, almost nose to nose with Ren, “What have you done, Renata?”
What had she done? She saved the island, and the phrase tiptoed to the tip of her tongue before she swallowed the words down. “Moira was a…” how could she get the information across to Lindiwe? Ren barely believed what had happened herself. Moira was a terraformation network created by the Old Ones, Lindiwe, duh. Oh, not to mention, she was evil. Like seriously evil. So I
killed her. Right, your goddess. I fucking killed her. Her throat constricted. If she couldn’t tell Lindiwe that, then what could she tell her?
“Moira is a lie.”
Lindiwe backed away. Murmuring in clipped island speak, she threaded her gnarled fingers through her necklace.
“She isn’t a goddess.”
Lindiwe’s gaze spat fire. “Then what is she?” her tone said tread carefully.
A machine. A demon. Something you totally shouldn’t worship. A…some sort of… “Beacon,” Ren whispered. “She was a beacon…set by the Old Ones…”
Lindiwe’s gaze could no longer meet Ren’s. Her eyes found the dirt, the sides of the tent, anything that wasn’t Ren.
“And she planned on calling them—waking them—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Lindiwe said, her flat palm silencing Ren. “There is much we must do then, to prepare.”
Whoa. So, Lindiwe understood this shit? Ren’s eyes narrowed. Of course, she did. Lindiwe always seemed to know more than she let on. “Prepare for what?”
“They are awake, yes? The Old Ones? Or, rather, what remains of them. We must find them and lull them back.”
Ren fought a laugh. “Oh, like, sing lullabies to five hundred foot tall giants? Oh, I see that going well.”
A small smile inched across Lindiwe’s grim features. “Lull, I said. Meaning…” She brought both hands up and clapped them together. Ren flinched.
“Okay, that definitely does not mean lull. It means pulverize, destroy…yada, yada.” Ren’s eyes widened. “Is that what you meant? You’re going to try and get rid of those things? Through force?”
“Not us,” Lindiwe shook her head, “the Scions. The Shapers. The Godcallers. You must find them.”
Again.
Ren worried her bottom lip. She no longer felt weak, but she was pretty sure those Titan things would smash her into a fire-tinged smoothie well before she could do any damage against them. She opened her hand.
Wild Hunt (The Island Book 2) Page 15
