Dark Immolation

by Christopher Husberg

  “What in Oblivion is she talking about, Wyle? Did you bang the bloody ex-priestess?” Jendry called out.

  Cinzia continued to ignore him, hoping Wyle would do the same. He was looking into her eyes.

  “You know I can’t,” he said quietly.

  Cinzia stepped back. She had known he would respond that way, but had hoped otherwise. Not because she had any desire to spend time with the man, not after such a betrayal. Just to distract him, to stop him from doing the inevitable. Now, she was out of options. No help from Canta. No help from her friends. Nothing else left.

  You can still trust.

  Cinzia was not sure whether the voice was her own or someone else’s. But as the words entered her mind, the strangest sensation trickled through her, beginning in her chest, spreading slowly throughout her whole body. She was suddenly as tranquil as a breezeless lake. Then, her prayer changed.

  And in that moment, she understood. She had been praying for herself, praying that she might find strength. That was not trust at all—that was control, she realized. She had been praying for control. Faith implied giving up what little control she had. It didn’t mean praying for her own power, to do what she thought was best. It meant trusting.

  Goddess… give me strength to trust you.

  The doors behind her creaked. Cinzia turned, and despite the peace she felt, still dreaded the sight of Jane. She had no idea what they could do to protect her. Jane was as good as dead.

  Goddess, give me the strength to trust you.

  As the doors opened, the brightest light Cinzia had ever seen sliced into the room. It was white and pure, brighter by far than the sun at noon. A figure stood at the light’s center. Cinzia squinted, shielding her eyes.

  “Canta’s breath,” Wyle whispered.

  Canta? Could it be?

  The figure at the center of the light was certainly a woman. And while she couldn’t recognize the woman’s face—the light was far too bright—Cinzia felt acceptance. A sense of love. Jane?

  Someone shouted to her left, and Cinzia turned. Knot had somehow freed his hands, and was struggling with Jendry. Cymbre moved towards them, but the light made it impossible to tell exactly what was happening, who had the upper hand.

  But if Cymbre was distracted, Cinzia might be able to help Astrid. She rushed to the rubble, calling the girl’s name. Astrid grunted something in response—it sounded more alert than the moan Cinzia had heard before, but she was still trapped under something Cinzia couldn’t possibly lift.

  Unless she had help.

  Cinzia had experienced unnatural speed and strength once before. Perhaps, just for a moment, Canta was willing to grant her those things again.

  “Hold on, Astrid,” Cinzia whispered, getting as solid a grip as she could on the mantel. Then she planted her feet, and lifted with all she had.

  The mantel did not move.

  Cinzia released the huge object, breathing heavily. Please, she pleaded, give me strength… Cinzia paused. Had she forgotten what she had felt only moments ago so quickly? Give me strength to trust you, she said. She tried again, straining against the weight of the great marble mantelpiece with all of her might, but still it did not move.

  Cinzia heard a muffled sound from beneath it, and she bent her head down. “Astrid, I can’t understand you.”

  “I said, are you really trying to lift this entire thing by yourself, you idiot?”

  Cinzia felt her cheeks flush, but before she could respond she noticed the light fading around her. She turned just in time to see Knot smash his fist into Cymbre’s throat. The woman collapsed to the ground, where Jendry’s body already lay.

  Cinzia felt a tiny seed of pride well up within her. Knot would make a good Goddessguard. She must remember to talk to him about that—if a Goddessguard had a place in Jane’s new Church.

  “If they’re dead, Kosarin won’t be happy.” Wyle was frowning. The light had completely faded now, and Jane stood in front of him. “All the more reason it’s time I kill you, Jane.”

  Was my sister the source of the light? Cinzia wondered. The light had felt so… so strange, as if a very different presence had accompanied it.

  Wyle drew a dagger from his belt. Knot rushed at him, but Wyle held up a hand, and Knot stopped immediately.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t set up any safety protocols while I fiddled around in that head of yours?”

  Knot fell to his knees, immobilized.

  Wyle frowned. “You’re fighting it. You’re stronger than I thought you’d be. It’s a good thing I’ve been annexing dozens of sifts over the past few weeks, otherwise I don’t think I’d be able to hold you back.”

  He turned back to Jane, raising his dagger.

  Jane’s eyes flashed from the dagger to Cinzia. In Jane’s eyes, Cinzia saw the tiniest glimmer of white light. Jane nodded, slowly, and Cinzia found herself nodding in return.

  Suddenly light burst forth once more from Jane’s body, banishing every shadow from the room.

  Wyle squinted, shielding his eyes with one arm, dagger still held high in the other. “Your silly trick with the light won’t worrrrrrrrrrrrrr…”

  Wyle’s speech slowed, and the world around Cinzia stretched, everything elongating both away and towards herself. Her mind felt as if it were moving far ahead of her body, just as it had done when she had saved Jane from the second assassination attempt.

  She stood and sprinted towards Wyle. He was frozen in place. Jane, too, was unmoving, although it was difficult for Cinzia to look at her sister, the focal point of the bright white light. The light, in fact, was the only thing other than Cinzia that moved. She could see it spreading slowly, reaching outward from her sister.

  Cinzia slammed into Wyle, and they both crashed to the floor. Wyle did not react, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

  Cinzia tore the dagger from his hand and flung it across the room. As soon as the dagger left her hand, it froze in midair. Cinzia ignored it, planting herself firmly atop Wyle. Just as she did, the world around her sped up once more, and the slow hum of the room turned to chaos.

  As quickly as the light burst forth from Jane, it collapsed back into her. Wyle screamed, a ragged shriek. Cinzia blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted. She looked down at Wyle, whose scream had faded into low, ragged moans. She was shocked at what she saw.

  The whites of his eyes were split and dotted with blood. More blood leaked from his nose, and he cradled both of his arms close to his body.

  Slowly, Cinzia stood. Wyle wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. Had she done this to him? She had only tackled him to the ground. She looked around. Knot was standing, shaking his head, but he seemed all right. Jane, too, was safe. Flustered, but safe.

  That was when she noticed the frantic sobbing coming from the corner of the room where her parents and the triplets were cowered. Cinzia rushed over. Wyle must have hurt them somehow—

  Cinzia’s gut turned to lead when she saw the dagger protruding from her father’s neck. The same dagger she had taken from Wyle, and tossed aside. It was buried up to its hilt.

  The tears that blurred her vision were immediate and unstoppable. “Father,” Cinzia whispered, kneeling next to him. Recovery from such a wound was impossible.

  Unless…

  “Jane,” Cinzia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Jane.”

  But Jane was already at her side, staring blankly down at their father.

  “Heal him,” Cinzia demanded.

  Jane shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Heal him.”

  “I can’t, Cinzi,” Jane whispered. “All of the healing I’ve done over the past few days, all of that power, the light… I have no more left in me. I… I can’t…”

  Cinzia shook her head. How could Jane be exhausted? Was not Canta Herself the source of Jane’s power? How could that power fail?

  “Lana, Wina, Soffrena.” The triplets looked up at Cinzia. “Go find Elessa or Ocrestia, and send them here as qui
ckly as you can. Go.”

  The three stood simultaneously, and ran quickly out the door. They, at least, did not hesitate to do what they could to help their father.

  Cinzia looked back down at her father, fighting the panic clawing its way up her throat. She put her hand gently on his neck. “I can try to remove the dagger,” she said, over her father’s gurgling. “I can try to—”

  She felt a hand on her own. It was Jane’s.

  You can still trust.

  How can I trust that this is what you want to happen? Cinzia pleaded.

  You can still trust.

  Then, the same peaceful feeling that Cinzia had felt earlier returned, washing over her. I can still trust. If this is what you want to happen, I will accept that it is for the greater good.

  I will accept it, because I trust you.

  Then, slowly at first, then growing more and more intense, a warm glow wrapped itself around Cinzia and Ehram. She felt it envelop her, an embrace she never wanted to leave. Cinzia did not know how long the glow remained, but as it faded, she looked at her father. Tears fogged her vision, but even through them she saw his face, smiling up at her.

  “Thank you,” he said weakly.

  The dagger no longer protruded from his neck. There was only a pink scar, just above his collarbone.

  Thank you, Cinzia thought. Then she collapsed.

  47

  Imperial palace, Izet

  WINTER HAD BEEN SUMMONED to the emperor’s chambers. She knew the plans had been set in motion; she knew the decisions she had made, and how Chaos had helped her make those decisions. Winter knew the risks. She knew what was at stake. But she had made her choice.

  She nodded to the Reapers guarding the door to the emperor’s chambers. They would be taken care of, she had been assured.

  Winter, the fire of frost burning in her veins, knocked on the emperor’s door.

  * * *

  Cova wrung her hands, pacing back and forth in the corridor. She was in the royal wing, but not close enough to her father’s chambers to appear suspicious—or so she hoped. Winter should be arriving there now, being admitted to the anteroom by Urstadt. Daval’s retainer of Ceno monks had been called away, thanks to a diversion Cova had orchestrated with Hama Mandiat, Girgan’s mother. While Winter claimed Cova’s father was the source of her block, she did not want to risk having any monks around who might interfere.

  The skin on the back of Cova’s neck prickled. The fact that they were putting their hopes on Winter’s powers did not seem wise. And yet it was their only option.

  The image of Luce pinned against the wall of the council chamber flashed into her mind. If Winter could access her magic, Cova did not think anything could stop her.

  Cova took a deep breath. “Guards!” she screamed.

  * * *

  Kali waited impatiently in the Void. Winter had not been back since their altercation. But Kali had remained close to the dark immolating star that she had learned to recognize as Winter.

  A battle was coming. Kali could sense it. If Winter was involved, she would use acumency. She wouldn’t be able to resist. Or, at least, that’s what Kali hoped. Kali had plans. Plans that just might get her out of the Void and into the real world once more.

  * * *

  The girl is here.

  The Fear Lord’s voice still gave Daval chills, the sound of a deep, dark, terrible fire, roaring as it consumed.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Daval asked. “She is coming around to our way of thinking.”

  Your daughter has drawn the Reapers away, as we suspected she would. And the girl… there is something different about her. They may be colluding.

  “What do you mean?”

  I am not certain. Be on guard around them both.

  Daval was surprised; while the Fear Lord had told him to watch out for a power play from Cova, a part of him had still not expected it from his own daughter. The fact that she might be colluding with Winter… but what good would that do? Winter was powerless around him.

  Daval tried to cover his emotions as best he could. “Of course, Lord. I accept your commands, as always.”

  The girl is important. Keep her alive if you can.

  Daval nodded, although he felt a twinge of jealousy. Was he not enough for his lord?

  No, Daval. You are not.

  * * *

  Winter entered the anteroom to the emperor’s chambers and was not surprised to see Urstadt waiting for her.

  “Dropping in unexpectedly once again, I see,” Urstadt said.

  Briefly, Winter passed through Urstadt’s mind. Urstadt was worried about Daval—unsurprising, considering Cova’s plot—but to Winter’s surprise, Urstadt was also thinking about the Ziravi poem, what it means to love, and how destroying someone once you truly love them might be the hardest thing to do. Urstadt was thinking about the people she loved—her mother and brother back home, someone named Erial, and… and one more, one more person that Urstadt is not entirely sure whether she loves or not, but thinks she might. Someone she might love the way a daughter loves a father.

  Daval.

  “I need to see him,” Winter said.

  Urstadt stared at Winter. Then, knowing her orders, Urstadt led her into the emperor’s chambers.

  * * *

  When the Reapers found Cova, they completely ignored her claims of an intruder.

  “The emperor said you would do this, Your Highness,” the Reaper captain said. Cova immediately regretted not spending more time getting to know the Reapers that served her father. If she had been friendly with them, this might have gone differently.

  “Our orders are to take you to your father immediately,” the captain said. She was an older woman, older than Cova would have expected, her hair gray and short. But she was broad, and looked strong. She turned to one of the other Reapers. “Call in another platoon, just in case. Meet us in the emperor’s quarters.”

  The captain placed her hand on Cova’s arm lightly. “Please, Your Highness, come with us. We would prefer you to come peacefully.”

  Cova went where the captain directed her. Inside, as the confused storm began to settle in her brain, she was left with fear. She hoped Winter hadn’t acted yet. The best move would be to save their plan for another day.

  If Cova saw another day.

  * * *

  Daval greeted Winter, but his face was oddly blank. He usually seemed happy to see her.

  “Thank you for coming, Winter,” Daval said. “I have a task for you.”

  Winter hesitated. This was not part of the plan. “You do?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Daval said. “A more delicate matter than anything you’ve done for me thus far.”

  Winter nodded, but her mind was already reaching towards Daval. She moved her acumenic tendron slowly, as if the slower her tendron moved, the less chance Daval would notice it.

  “What is it you would like me to do?” she asked.

  Then her tendron made contact. Daval was talking about her next target, but she was too distracted to listen. She just had to find a way to stop him blocking her telesis.

  The moment her tendron attempted to enter Daval’s mind, Winter’s vision flashed, and she saw the terrible dark skull wreathed in darker flame. But her tendron didn’t enter his mind. Winter’s heart beat faster, and she attempted to delve Daval’s mind again. But the moment her tendron touched him, there was the grinning skull.

  The door behind her opened, and she immediately reached out to see who had entered. Reapers. Two in the chamber, and nearly a dozen more in the anteroom. And with the two…

  Winter turned in surprise. Cova stood between the two Reapers. When her wide eyes met Winter’s, Cova shook her head slowly.

  Winter turned back to Daval. A quick delve into each of the Reapers’ heads told her that they had been told to bring Cova in if she did anything suspicious. She concentrated on Cova. She wanted Winter to stop, so that they could attempt this another time.

  Win
ter closed her eyes, and immediately Chaos was there. The sphere was black. She wouldn’t stop now.

  * * *

  When Winter entered the Void, Kali was prepared. Winter ignored her, and Kali was all right with that. What she was about to attempt would probably be easier that way.

  Winter looked around, her tendra immediately branching outward. Then, seeming to find what she was looking for, three tendra shot out, delving into three different stars in the Void. One of the stars, Kali suspected, was the one at the exact center of the black bubble around Izet.

  Curious. What business Winter had with this force would have to be discovered later. For now, Kali waited. She couldn’t make her move too soon, or Winter would sense what was happening. But if she moved too late…

  Now was her chance. Winter was distracted, concentrating—surely attempting to rearrange these people for some reason. Kali moved to one of Winter’s tendra, the one that was not connected to the star at the center of the veil—Kali did not want to join herself to that power until she knew what she was doing—joining it with her own just as she leapt directly into the stream with her ersatz body in the Void.

  Her vision shifted, writhed, and Kali suddenly felt as if she were traveling down a very long, dark, twisting tunnel. Kali sent her tendra ahead of her, within Winter’s. She could see what Winter was doing, but Kali did not have time to note the details.

  Obliteration could be an easy process, especially with all of the practice Kali had. With her tendra she carefully carved out the mind she was entering, detaching it from its host. She wrapped her tendra around it, tying off the edges. She hoped, if she kept it intact, Winter wouldn’t notice what was happening. Kali removed the sift, and rushed through the tunnel to her destination.

  When she opened her eyes, she was in a room. A real room. A massive room, actually. Some noble’s armory, by the looks of things. She was surrounded by racks of weapons and armor, some encrusted with precious stones.

  “Torun?” a woman’s voice said.

  Kali turned to see a woman in a green robe frowning at her. Kali remembered these green robes, remembered the Ceno monks, from her last visit to Izet. She did not like these people. Kali’s hand snapped out, grabbing a dagger hanging on the wall, and she rammed it into the woman’s throat. She fell to the floor, choking, blood pooling around her.