The Fate of Ten

by Pittacus Lore

  Setrákus Ra stares at his ruined machine in disbelief. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the old bastard at a complete loss.

  Marina’s in motion immediately. She leaves Adam’s body behind and dives towards Ella. Her Legacies are still turned off, so when Marina presses her hands to Ella’s body, I know nothing will happen. She’s too late, anyway.

  I don’t need to see the tears streaming down Marina’s cheeks to know. Ella is dead.

  Setrákus Ra stares at the body of his granddaughter, a desolate expression on his face. While he does that, I pick up the biggest chunk of rock I can find.

  And then I crack it across the back of Setrákus Ra’s head.

  A cut opens. He bleeds. The Mogadorian charm is broken.

  My attack brings him back to himself. Setrákus Ra roars, spins to face me and lifts the giant sword over his head.

  He’s about to bring it down on me when his eyes—normally empty black pits—fill with the blue glow of Loric energy. The sword falls from his grasp and Setrákus Ra, the leader of the Mogadorians, killer of my people, destroyer of worlds—faints right at my feet.

  I’m stunned. I turn to look for Marina, but find her passed out too. What the hell is going on?

  Ella. The glow of Loric energy emanates from her. It spills out of her eyes, mouth, ears—everywhere, just like when the Entity briefly animated Eight’s corpse.

  From one of her fingertips, a beam of Loric energy shoots towards me. It hits me right in the forehead. I sink down to my knees, feeling myself drift towards unconsciousness. I stare at Ella . . . or whatever she is now. There are other bursts of Loric energy zipping away from her body, flying away from her like shooting starts, out of the crater and off to . . . where? I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening with her, the Entity or any of it.

  I just know that this is my chance.

  “Not now!” I scream, fighting against the gentle sleep the Loric energy is trying to force upon me. “Ella! Lorien! Stop! I—I can kill him!”

  But then I’m out. I’m pulled into the same artificial slumber as Setrákus Ra and Marina.

  What I see next, what we all see, is where it all started.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  SO THIS IS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE DEAD.

  I float above my body and hardly recognize myself. My grandfather—he’d started to turn me into a monster like himself. The broken girl down there, all pale and washed out, I can hardly believe that’s me. Or was me. Marina puts her hands on my body, tries to bring me back even though her Legacies are turned off. It’s sad to see her distraught like this.

  I don’t want to go back into that body. It’s a relief being out. There’s no more pain and for the first time in days I can actually think straight.

  Actually, it’s kind of weird that I can think at all considering I’m, you know . . . dead. I guess this is just what the afterlife is like.

  Below me, the others—Marina, Six, Setrákus Ra—they all move in super-slow motion. I can see so much. Every particle of smashed temple still floating in the air is visible to me. The beads of cold sweat on the back of my grandfather’s neck are visible to me. The pulsing glow of Loric energy inside all of them, even Setrákus Ra, that’s visible to me too.

  How can I see all this?

  I only wanted to break Setrákus Ra’s hold over me, to shatter his disgusting Mogadorian charm so that he couldn’t hold me hostage anymore. I wanted to help my friends. Something told me the best way to do that was to throw myself into that swirl of energy. I figured I would die and I was almost okay with that. I’m glad it isn’t just darkness and worms. Whatever this next stage is, though, I hope it isn’t all watching people I love fight to the death in slow motion.

  Ella.

  The voice comes from all around me. Not one voice, many voices. Thousands of voices. Yet somehow, from that chorus, I can pick out ones that I recognize. Crayton. Adelina. Eight. They’re calling to me.

  You have work to do.

  I fall towards the ground and my body. For a moment, I’m filled with panic. Am I going back inside my old skin to once again be puppeteered around by my grandfather? But then, suddenly, a feeling of calm washes over me, like I’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket. Nothing can hurt me, not now.

  I should smack into the ground. Instead, I keep right on going. I pass through the dirt and rocks, and soon I’m submerged in total darkness. It doesn’t feel like I’m falling anymore. It feels like I’m floating through space—no gravity, no weight, just endless peaceful drifting. I lose track of which way is up, which way goes back to the world and my friends, my body. It doesn’t seem important right now. I should probably be freaking out. Somehow, though, I know that I’m safe.

  Slowly, light begins to shine around me. Thousands of bright blue pinpricks float around me, like the way dust motes drift through a beam of sun. It’s just like the Loric energy I dove into. The particles expand and contract, reminding me of lungs. Sometimes they blend together into vague shapes, then quickly break apart.

  Somehow, I get the feeling that I’m being watched.

  There’s a net of the energy beneath me and I no longer feel like I’m floating or falling. It’s more like I’m being held, cupped in two giant hands. I feel relaxed and comfortable, like I could lounge here forever. It’s so much different from the hell the last few days have been, where exerting any bit of my own will caused shooting pains throughout my body. Part of me wants to turn off my mind and just let whatever’s happening to me stretch on forever. But another part of me knows my friends are still fighting back in the world of the living. I have to try to help.

  “Hello?” I ask, testing if I can talk. I hear my voice, even though it doesn’t feel like I have a mouth, lungs or a body anymore. It feels like it does when I have a telepathic conversation, like how some of my thoughts are louder than others and those are the ones I project to the other people.

  Hello, Ella, a voice answers. The blobs of energy floating in front of me pulse in sync with the voice. Weirdly, I feel completely comfortable having a conversation with a bunch of neon fireflies.

  “Am I dead?” I ask. “Is this, like, heaven or something?”

  I feel a not unpleasant tickle against where my skin should be. I guess that’s what it feels like when this thing laughs.

  No, this is not heaven, child. And your death is only a temporary condition. When the time comes, I will restore you to your physical form. “Oh.” I pause. “What if I don’t want to go back?”

  You will.

  Don’t be so sure, buddy, I think, but don’t say.

  “So . . . where’s here? What is this?”

  You abandoned your body and used your telepathic gifts to retreat into my mind. You merged your consciousness with mine. Did you even know you were capable of that, child?

  “Um, no.”

  I did not think so. It was a dangerous thing to do, young Ella. My mind is vast and stretches across every where and every when that I have existed. I am shielding you from this knowledge, so as not to overwhelm you.

  I guess that’s why I feel so cozy in this total darkness, bodiless and cradled by pure Loric energy. Because the Loric Entity thingy is taking care of me.

  “Thanks for that,” I reply.

  You are welcome.

  It occurs to me that I should probably ask some important questions. It’s not every day that you end up sharing a mind with a godly energy.

  “What exactly are you, though?”

  I am me. I am the source.

  “Uh-huh. But what should I call you?”

  There’s a short pause before the voice answers me. The dots of energy never stop flitting around in front of me.

  I have been called many things. Once, I was Lorien. Now, I am Earth. Your friends called me the Entity.

  So, this is what was hidden under the Sanctuary, what Setrákus Ra was after. Marina and the others must have talked to it before its hiding place got blown to hell. The Entity, t
hough . . . that seems all formal, alien and cold. That’s not the feeling I’m getting now.

  “I’m going to call you Legacy,” I decide.

  As you wish, child.

  Legacy seems so calm. It was only a few minutes ago that the Anubis was sucking it out of the ground through a big mechanical straw.

  “Did my grandfather hurt you when he pulled you out of the Earth?” I ask.

  He cannot hurt me, he can only change me. Once changed, I am no longer me, and so the pain is not mine to experience.

  “Okay,” I reply, not following a bit of that. “Are you, like, trapped aboard the Anubis now?”

  Only a small part of me, child. I exist in many places. Your grandfather has tried to harvest me before, but I am greater than he even knows. Come. I will show you.

  Before I can even ask—go where?—a wave of Loric energy sweeps me away. I’m no longer floating along in the peaceful darkness. Instead, I’m inside Earth itself. It’s like one of those cross-sections where you can see the different layers of Earth’s crust—the tectonic plates, dinosaur bones, hot molten lava near the planet’s core. I can visualize it all. I feel tiny in comparison.

  Running through every layer of the Earth, intertwined with the core itself, are glowing veins of Loralite. The energy is thin in some places, stronger in others, but there’s nowhere on the planet that isn’t close to its gentle glow.

  “Whoa,” I say. “You really made yourself at home.”

  Yes, Legacy replies. This is not all.

  We rise up. Once again, the battlefield appears beneath me. My friends and Setrákus Ra are still moving like they’re stuck in molasses. Six is in the process of picking up a rock, hopefully to clobber my grandfather with.

  In Six’s chest, right over her heart, there’s a glowing ember of Loric energy. Marina and Adam have it too. So do I, although my ember looks a little weaker than theirs, probably on account of the whole dying thing. Even Setrákus Ra has a spark of Lorien in him, although his looks partially molded over by some black substance. He’s corrupted himself in ways I don’t understand. The thought makes me glance up towards the Anubis. There, housed in the ship’s belly, is a throbbing glow of severed Loralite. It’s nothing compared to what I just saw underground, but still . . .

  “What is he going to do with it?” I ask Legacy. “I mean, with you?”

  I will show you. First, you need to gather the others. I have decided they should all see why they fight.

  “What others?”

  All of them. I will assist you.

  Without warning, my mind begins to stretch. It’s like I’m using my telepathy, groping out for familiar minds, except my range is way extended. It actually doesn’t feel so great, like my brain is being pulled in all directions by some really strong magnets.

  “What . . . what are you doing?”

  I am augmenting your abilities, child. It may be a bit uncomfortable at first. I apologize.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Gather up the ones I have marked.

  Crazily enough, I actually know what this means. When I reach out with my telepathy, I can actually sense all the Legacy-touched people out there. I aim for Marina’s sparkly blue core, snatch it up with my telepathic hand and reel her in. It’s just like how I was able to pull John into my visions except now it’s so much easier. I snap up Adam too, bringing them into the warmth of Legacy’s consciousness. Then, I hesitate.

  “What about him?” I ask, gazing down upon my grandfather.

  Even him. It must be all.

  Feeling a little grossed out that I have to come into telepathic contact with that twisted brain and his spoiled Loric heart, I pull in Setrákus Ra. I try to absorb Six next, but her consciousness fights against mine. Distantly, I’m aware of her physical body yelling something.

  “What’s she saying?” I ask Legacy.

  She does not yet understand that I do not interfere, Legacy intones. All will see, or none. No advantage will be given.

  I don’t know what Legacy means and I don’t have time to think about it because as soon as Six’s consciousness gives way to mine, we’re spreading out even farther.

  The entire world unfolds before me. Hundreds of little Loralite embers dot the continents. These are the new Garde, the humans only recently given powers. Legacy wants them, too. I reach out with my mind, plucking them up one by one.

  A boy in London who stares up at a Mogadorian warship, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tries to decide what to do. The gravel on the street hops and pops with his every motion, caught in his uncontrolled telekinesis.

  A girl in Japan who just days ago was confined to a wheelchair. Now, she finds herself moving through her parents’ small apartment with speed she didn’t think possible.

  A boy in a remote Nigerian village, where they haven’t even heard about the invasion yet. His mother and father burst into tears as he floats above them, emanating an angelic glow.

  I snatch all their minds up. Wherever Legacy is taking us, they’re coming with.

  Some of them are scared. Okay, a lot of them are scared. The Legacies were one thing but now this—a sudden, uninvited telepathic experience? I get that it’s a little much. I talk to them. Comfort them. I find that my mind is strong enough that I can hold multiple conversations at once while still zipping across the telepathic plane.

  I assure them that they’re going to be okay. That it’s like a dream. I don’t tell them that I have no idea what I’m doing.

  Then I get to New York. I snap up Sam first, mostly because I’m so excited he’s been awarded a Legacy, I just want to hug him. That creep Five, handsome Nine who I would also very much like to hug, some new girl—they all get pulled into my telepathic embrace. And then I get to John. I’ve had more practice using my telepathy on him than anyone; it should be easy. But like Six, he struggles against me. That’s when I notice the biggest and ugliest monster I’ve ever seen is looming over him and the others. John wants to fight. Or, well, he doesn’t want to get stepped on. I can’t say I blame him.

  “Will this knock him out?” I ask Legacy. “Will he, like, get eaten?”

  No. All will pass in the blink of an eye.

  “Don’t worry, John,” I say triumphantly. “It’ll only take a second.”

  I pull in John’s consciousness, too. That’s everyone. Every Garde on Earth. All their pulsing Loric heartbeats, pulled into my vast consciousness.

  “So, what now?” I ask Legacy.

  Watch.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  I’M SOMEWHERE ELSE. A PLACE THAT’S BOTH strange to me and familiar. I float through the air, able to see the entire scene around me, but not able to take any action. I can sense the hundreds of other minds along for the ride with me.

  This is what Legacy wants to show us.

  It is a warm summer night. Two vivid white moons hang in the cloudless dark purple sky, one in the north and one in the south. That means it’s a special time for my people. Two weeks out of the year the moons are like that and for those two weeks the Loric would celebrate. That’s where we are. Lorien.

  I know this because Legacy knows this. What I don’t know is how far back in time we’ve gone.

  We’re on a beach, the sand dyed flickering orange from the light of a dozen bonfires. There are people everywhere, eating and laughing, drinking and dancing. A band plays music like nothing I’ve ever heard on Earth. My gaze drifts towards a teenaged girl with a curly mane of auburn hair as she dances to the music, her hands thrown over her head, not a care in the world. Her dress shimmers and twirls, caught occasionally by the warm ocean breeze.

  Down the beach, at the edge of the party, two teenaged boys sit in the sand, taking a break from the festivities. One is tall for his age with close-cropped dark hair and sharp features. The other, smaller but more handsome than the first guy, has a shaggy mop of dirty blond hair and a square jaw. The blond is dressed in a loose-fitting white button-down, untucked and cas
ual. His friend is dressed more formally in a dark red shirt, ironed and perfect, the sleeves meticulously rolled up. The two of them, but the taller boy in particular, seem super interested in the dancing girl.

  “You should just go for it,” says the blond, elbowing his friend. “She likes you. Everyone knows it.”

  The dark-haired boy frowns, sifting a hand through the sand. “So what? What would be the point?”

  “Uh, are you watching her dance? I can think of a lot of reasons, buddy.”

  “She isn’t Garde. She’s not like us. We wouldn’t be able . . .” The dark-haired boy shakes his head gloomily. “Our worlds are too different.”

  “She doesn’t seem to mind not being Garde,” the blond boy counters. “She’s having fun anyway. You’re the one hung up on it.”

  “Why do we have Legacies while she doesn’t? It doesn’t seem fair, that some should be stuck being so . . . normal.” The dark-haired boy turns to his friend, an earnest look on his face. “Do you ever think about that stuff?”

  In answer, the blond boy holds out an open palm. In it, a tiny ball of fire comes to life and quickly shapes itself into the form of a dancing girl.

  “Nope,” he says, grinning.

  The dark-haired boy concentrates for a moment and the little fire-dancer suddenly winks out of existence. The blond boy frowns.

  “Stop it,” he complains. “You know I hate when you do that.”

  The dark-haired boy smiles apologetically at his friend and turns his Legacies back on.

  “Stupid Legacy,” he says, shaking his head. “What good is something that only works against other Garde?”

  The blond boy waves towards the dancer. “See? You’re perfect for Celwe. She doesn’t have any Legacies, and you’ve got the crappiest one there is.”

  The dark-haired boy laughs and punches his friend playfully in the shoulder. “You always know the right things to say.”