The Mother of All landed near Isfet on the dune and stalked toward her. She grabbed a handful of Isfet’s silvery hair and yanked her head back, then gripped her throat with her other hand, fingers curved into talons.
The ivory skin of Isfet’s neck glowed a burning orange around the edges of the Mother’s hand. The orange glow spread, deepening to a blazing crimson as it moved around Isfet’s neck, up her jaw, and down her chest.
Isfet opened her mouth, letting out a primal, blood-curdling scream.
As the glow continued to spread, inky fissures branched out along Isfet’s skin, deeper and darker than the shell that had surrounded Aaru.
“Holy shit,” Nik whispered from beside me. “She’s killing her.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I swallowed roughly, paralyzed into inaction. I reached for Nik’s hand, lacing my fingers through his.
The Mother of All was seconds away from destroying Isfet, and there wasn’t a damn thing any of us could do about it. All we could do was watch.
Isfet was our champion. She was the only thing in this universe that could stand up to a being as powerful as the Mother of All. She was the only one who could defend us. Or, at least, she was supposed to be.
But now, held in the Mother’s death grip, Isfet looked just as weak and powerless as I felt.
Movement near the godly duo drew my eye. It was Joju. He was sprinting up the side of the dune, closing in fast.
“What’s he doing?” I said, voice barely audible.
“Getting himself killed,” Nik said, stating the obvious.
Except the Mother of All didn’t seem to have noticed Joju. He was only a few steps away, but she was so focused on Isfet—on destroying the heart and soul of our universe—that she hadn’t realized Joju was mere seconds from tackling her.
But, much to my surprise, Joju didn’t throw himself at the Mother of All. He threw himself at Isfet.
And melted into her.
Right before our eyes, the dark cracks in Isfet’s skin faded away, and the glow spreading out from the Mother’s hand shrank back, fading until it was barely visible. Because Joju was inside Isfet now. He was giving her his energy, making her strong enough to fight off the Mother’s attempted deathblow.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
Joju had seen what I’d been blind to—the Mother of All had access to an endless power supply. She must have been refueling the whole time, feeding off her stores of universal energy to maintain her strength. To keep the upper hand.
But Isfet had a fresh supply of energy now, too. And thanks to Joju’s quick action, she had access to the good stuff—the energy contained within one of us. Nejeret souls were as top shelf as energy could come. We were fucking immortal.
Mei appeared behind Isfet suddenly, having teleported to the sand dune. In a blink, she melted into Isfet just as Joju had done.
“No,” Nik said, voice hoarse as he watched his only daughter disappear.
The glow surrounding the Mother of All’s fingers diminished further, and Isfet raised a hand to grip the Mother’s wrist. Ever so slowly, Isfet peeled the Mother’s fingers away from her throat.
“Stay with Auntie Aset,” Lex said, drawing my attention to her. She was handing Reni to the smaller woman. “I love you more than . . . more than anything in the whole world, baby.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead, inhaling deeply. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
Arms free, Lex pulled away and took Heru’s offered hand with a single nod. Not a second later, they vanished in a poof of rainbow smoke.
“Lex, no!” Dom shouted, and I looked at him, then followed his line of sight.
Lex and Heru had reappeared behind Isfet.
My mouth fell open, my heart hammering in my chest. They couldn’t be planning to do it . . . to merge with Isfet. To give her their energy. There was no saying what would happen to them. Would she burn through them? Would she use them up? Would they die?
Horrified as I was by the grim possibilities, Lex and Heru didn’t hesitate one bit. As one, they wrapped their arms around Isfet and, just as Joju and Mei had done, dissolved into her.
Bolstered by the influx of energy, Isfet rose to her feet. She slammed her palm into the Mother of All’s chest, sending the Mother flying well beyond the horizon.
There was a moment of hushed silence, of held breath. The Mother of All wasn’t gone. We knew better now. But there was no way for us to predict what might happen next.
In a flash of brilliant, white light, the Mother of All reappeared on the dune, just out of arm’s reach from Isfet. She and Isfet stood there, utterly still, locked in a stare-down. For the moment, they were equals.
And they would remain equals until Isfet burned through her energy resupply. Even if every single Nejeret soul in the Oasis merged with Isfet, I had no doubt that she would eventually run out of juice.
The Mother of All wouldn’t. She had universes upon universes to draw from.
Isfet only had us.
I looked at Nik, the solution suddenly so clear in my mind. I knew what to do. I knew how to end this.
“What?” Nik said, his eyes searching mine. “What is it?”
“We have to cut her off,” I told him, amazed that I hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Nik’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Cut her off?”
“From her supply of energy . . . from the other universes,” I explained. “We have to sever the connection between our universe and all of the others.”
“But . . . won’t that kill us?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. But it’s the only way Isfet will have a chance.”
After my short merger with Isfet, I understood not only the structure of the universe, but the greater structure that connected all of the universes. In my mind, I could picture it so clearly.
The Netjer universe was like Iusaset, like the great tree, its branches reaching far and wide across all of existence. And the fruit hanging by thin, fragile stems from those branches were the different universes, born of that first one—of the Mother who was, like Isfet with our universe, the personification of that first universe. To sever our connection to the Netjer universe and cut the Mother of All off from everything that gave her power, all I had to do was snip that tiny stem.
If Isfet survived the battle with the Mother, there was a chance that she would be able to nurture our universe—that severed fruit—into a new tree. There was a chance that cutting ourselves off from the Netjer universe wasn’t a death sentence. But only if Isfet survived.
If I didn’t cut the Mother’s power off at its source, Isfet didn’t have a chance in hell.
“It’s the only way, Nik,” I told him. “If we don’t do this, we’re all going to die. And even if cutting our universe off ends up killing us, at least we’ll take that bitch down with us.”
Nik narrowed his eyes and was quiet for a moment. And then he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “What do you need to make this work?”
“You,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze and flashing him a tight smile. “Just you.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I was running on fumes, barely able to stand. Back when I’d been a prisoner in the Netjer universe, Anapa had told me the Mother of All had to bank up a crap-ton of energy to sever the connection between one universe and all the others. In my current, exhausted state, taking three steps would have been difficult, verging on impossible; severing the connection between universes on my own was flat-out out of the question.
Good thing I wasn’t on my own.
I was half of a bonded pair, and my connection with Nik went soul deep. I’d borrowed energy from him before—once after a shadow soul killed me, and again, on the football field when I’d cleansed the taint from all of the shadow souls.
But this time was different. This time I didn’t just need an energy boost from Nik; this time I needed everything he had. I needed him to become one with me, like he did for a few seconds during the peak
of our passion every time we were intimate. I needed our souls to merge, wholly and completely. And permanently.
After this, our souls wouldn’t just be bound together; they would be fused, making us one being.
Remotely, I wondered about fate. I’d never really believed it to be a thing . . . never bought into the idea that my actions didn’t matter. That regardless of the choices I made, I would end up here. But I couldn’t ignore the way things had turned out. It was only by way of my soul bond with Nik that he and I would be able to enter such a deep union; without that ability, I wouldn’t be able to cut our universe loose, and our universe and everything and everyone in it would be facing certain death.
Without Nik and me—without our bond—this would be it. The end times. The end of everything. It was almost like this was our fate. Like it was predetermined that we would end up here, like this.
I turned in Nik’s hold, facing him, and offered him my mouth. “Kiss me,” I said, eyes locked with his. Giving in to the passion that was always simmering just beneath the surface whenever we were near each other would be the quickest and easiest way for me to capture his soul. To make him a part of me.
Nik’s pale eyes searched mine for a moment, and I watched his curiosity give way to understanding, and then to resolve. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, then bent his neck, closing the distance between our mouths. One of his hands pressed into the small of my back, pushing my body flush against his. The other slid behind my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.
The moment his lips touched mine, I felt a surge of energy. His aura flared, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the blinding glow.
We must have looked crazy, standing there among our people, locked in an embrace while two genuine gods battled it out in the desert just beyond the edge of the Oasis.
But I dismissed that thought as Nik’s ba grazed mine. It was just a gentle caress at first, but he didn’t stop there. As the kiss continued, his soul slid deeper into mine—deeper than he’d ever gone before. The sensation was mind-blowing, the pleasure all encompassing.
But even that paled in comparison to the sense of rightness I suddenly felt. It was as though I’d been a fractured being my whole life, but now, finally, I was whole.
The sensation reached an apex, Nik’s ba resonating in perfect harmony with mine as I felt him settling in my body—in my soul—a perfect melding of two beings. We were connected in everything—heartbeat, thought, and breath. We were truly one.
Head bowed, I took slow, deep breaths. Nik’s vital energy wrapped itself around and through my soul, seeping out into every single cell of my body. I could feel myself strengthening. I could feel my power surging within my sheut, my connection to the universe transforming from a weak thread to thick, electrified cords.
Raising my head, I opened my eyes.
My people weren’t watching the battle between Isfet and the Mother of All anymore; they were watching me. I had no idea what I looked like, but I knew how I felt—strong, powerful. I felt amazing.
And I felt ready.
Dom broke away from the crowd of Nejerets and took a couple cautious steps toward me. Toward us. “Little sister?” he said, his dark eyes wary, his expression guarded.
I blinked, slowly. Deliberately. I felt the same, but different. Like each of my movements was both well rehearsed and also brand new. I saw Dom both as I always had—as my mentor and brother—but also as something of a stranger, the way Nik saw him.
Dom stopped just out of arm’s reach. “What did you do?”
“What had to be done,” I told him, my voice echoing with hints of Nik’s.
Without another word, I bent my knees, feeling the universal energies charging the threads of At and anti-At marbling my soul. Tendrils of those otherworldly materials extended into my physical body, coiling around every fiber of my muscles. I crouched, letting the mounting power build, and then I sprang straight up. I leapt toward the sky, flying higher and higher.
I was two souls made one, more energy being than physical being now, and the laws of the physical world no longer had a hold on me. Gravity tried to pull me back down to earth, but its grasp was slick, and I slipped free, hurtling toward the stars.
I flew faster and faster until stars and other celestial bodies rushed past me in a blur. Or rather, I rushed past them. And still, I flew faster.
I could sense the seed of the universe. It called to me, drawing me in.
It was the original point of existence in this universe, a single molecule of endlessly regenerating energy born of the Netjer universe. The Mother’s universe. The first universe.
The seed was the spark that ignited creation here, the birthplace of Isfet, and it was the only thing connecting us to the first universe. It was the fruit hanging by a thread-thin stem from a distant branch of the great tree that was the first universe, and all I had to do was snip that stem, and we would be free.
And the Mother would be cut off from everything that gave her power.
Around me, the blur of stars grew denser. Ahead, a single point of silver light brightened and grew—the seed of the universe. I was so close now.
As I drew near the seed, what I saw made me doubt the accuracy of my understanding of the universe. The seed wasn’t a single molecule but a writhing, silvery mass. My understanding of the universal structure came from Isfet herself. How could it have been wrong?
I slowed, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding radiance. But I didn’t look away, not completely.
As I stared at the place where the seed of the universe should have been, as I watched that silvery, vine-like mass endlessly shifting and knotting in on itself, recognition waylaid my confusion. It was the Beast—Iusaset.
I shook my head, my mental gears turning in triple time.
The information I’d gleaned from my short communion with Isfet had been old—ancient—from the dawn of time itself, when the Mother of All first created this universe. It had been from before the creation of Aaru and everything in it . . . and before its destruction.
Suddenly, I understood. It wasn’t that the insight I’d gleaned from Isfet was wrong; it was just outdated, verging on obsolete.
When I tore down the shell surrounding Aaru, I’d released everything that had been trapped within. I hadn’t considered the possibility that Iusaset wasn’t just another creation of Aaru’s strange magic. I hadn’t considered the possibility that Iusaset was an actual being—or perhaps force was more accurate—trapped within Aaru at the dawn of time, right alongside Isfet.
But here Iusaset was. I couldn’t ignore the evidence writhing around the seed of the universe, not when I was seeing it with my own two eyes.
Reconciled with the new state of things, I moved closer to the seed. To Iusaset.
As I closed in on the center of the universe, I spotted a single, miniscule bronze shoot poking out of the mass of writhing silvery roots.
I stopped, utterly stunned.
The seed of the universe had sprouted.
I was watching the birth of a brand-new great tree. The seedling was tiny and frail, but it was there. In time, it would become a sapling, which would grow and grow and grow, and if it was tended properly, it would eventually fruit, producing new, infant universes. Just like the first universe.
The gears turning in my mind stopped, all of the pieces clicking into place. I got it. I understood . . . everything.
Iusaset was the thing that had been missing, the reason that severing the connection between our universe and all of the others would mean ours would shrivel up and rot away once it was cut loose. But now that Iusaset was free, our universe was a fertile, viable place once again . . . as it had originally been, before Iusaset and Isfet were locked away in Aaru.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
Our universe could survive this. If the seedling was strong enough to live through the severing, it would thrive and grow into a new great tree. This universe had been stunted for so long, but now it
would finally have the chance to become the glorious instrument of creation it had always had the potential to be.
Filled with wonder, I drifted toward the seed of the universe ever so slowly until I was close enough to reach out and touch it. “Iusaset,” I said, my voice swallowed up by the vacuum surrounding me.
The writhing vines slowed, then stilled. Iusaset was listening.
“You know me,” I said. “You helped me in Aaru—do you remember?”
A sibilant voice I’d heard only once before whispered through my mind. “Yes . . .”
Encouraged, I raised a hand, tentatively reaching out.
The vines shifted, reminding me of a skittish animal.
I froze, hand outstretched, mere inches from the silvery mass. “I won’t hurt you,” I said. “I want to free you . . . to free all of us. But to do that, I need to touch the seed. I need you to let me in.”
The vines continued to shift for a few seconds, like Iusaset was considering my request, but soon enough they stilled. And then they parted, making an opening just large enough to fit my arm.
Figuring that was as much of an invitation as I was going to get, I moved closer, slipping my hand into the hole. The seed was more alive than anything else in the universe, and Iusaset, wrapped around it, was channeling its raw, vibrant energy. That energy reverberated throughout me, sizzling around the edges of my and Nik’s merged souls. The deeper I reached into the mass of roots, the more intense the sensation became.
I paused, arm submerged in the hole up to my elbow. The sensation went beyond painful; it was pure agony. But it was also necessary.
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw, then pushed onward, deeper into the mass of roots.
The moment I touched the seed, the sensation stopped. All sensation stopped.
Kat Dubois Chronicles Page 109
