“Death’s Breath,” Janny whispered, her bleakness swirling around their small group. Vantra pressed her fists against her chest, too many emotions pummeling her to sift through them and extricate just one.
The dwellers surrounding the cracked crater’s edge were no more. Compatriots who had not fallen over the lip had collapsed atop one another, their spears scattered around them, the light breeze ruffling their limp feathers. Beings further on, unaffected by the maw’s pull, screamed at each other, attempting to comprehend what happened. Ash from the stricken plants and dust from the collapse blew in the wind, coating everything in a fine grey powder.
The yondaii had perished, their marks no longer a throbbing green, but smeared black soot. Whatever magic imbued the staves and spears no longer swam within them; they, too, were as dead as the hands that once held them.
Rezenarza sat on a swirling cloud of Darkness, observing the deceased and the destruction with Oubliette next to him, her arms clutching his waist. Their pain at the harm surprised Vantra; the literature she had read on the ex-Darkness gave no hint that he had a compassionate side. His was a tenure of pride and rage, and she viewed his high priestess with a similar lens.
“What is the residue coating the remains of the tower?” Jare asked, his attention on the bluish smoke rising from the crumpled stone. He held a Light shield for him and the pirates, though by the sunken look to his eyes and cheeks, he used his last dregs to do so. “I can’t get a good grasp of it.”
“I’m uncertain of its exact nature,” the ex-Darkness said, a fiery snap to his words. “Certainly nothing with Nature’s Touch, which is odd, considering Kjiven stole Strans’ mantle. I need a closer look.”
“That’s unwise,” Jare said.
“Yes, but who better than an ex-syimlin to investigate?” Rezenarza hugged Oubliette tighter then rose, his gaze drifting down. “You must move Navosh to safety,” he said. “If there is hope of cleansing the rainforest, it lies with him. We can’t have whatever wafts from the building infecting him.”
“Would Clear Rays help?” Vantra asked.
He shook his head. “Not right now. We need to collect samples of the residue, study the bodies. Levassa will come and do his own examination. None of that can happen, if you destroy it.”
Oh. She looked down, feeling awkward and foolish for suggesting it, but something bothered her about the sensation, something important. Unfortunately, weariness, shock, and the weight of events fuzzed her thinking.
A shimmery ghost flew above the treetops, away from the smoke issuing from the downed spintops, and waved. The dwellers noticed, and more than one threw their weapons in a useless attempt to reach her. Others ran away, breaking apart stunned clusters on their rush down the mountain.
“Temmisere says that the living beings are deceased, but any ghosts escaped,” Rezenarza murmured. “We must collect the items scattered across the crash site.”
“Me and Janny can help,” Dough said, scratching the top of his head beneath his hat. The pirate captain looked ready to bite through the toughest metal, and doing something other than watching a vine cocoon would channel that anger into something productive.
“As you like. Vantra, you can be a conduit between Jare and me to form a shield for them. Ripping Kjiven from the mantle impaired the corruption that rides the winds and fills the plants, and it should have a difficult time breaching both Touches. Dough, Janny, when you join Temmisere, be wary; while mitigated, the magic in the plants may still attempt to follow its calling. If Temmisere says to leave, leave. It is not worth your existence to remain.”
Both pirates nodded grimly as Vantra coated the Light shield in Sun. Rezenarza filled her power with his, and the shield absorbed both. With grim determination, they headed for the waiting nymph, swords ready to strike.
Vantra disliked sending them to work with Temmisere; she outed her combative nature and dislike of all things Katta in the Snake’s Den. Jare said nothing, however, and from the seriousness in both Rezenarza and Oubliette, harming those associated with Light and Darkness was not on their mind.
The Beast was.
Jare jerked his chin, and she floated with him to Kjaelle and Mica, relieved. She could view the deceased for only so long, memories of her own death spiraling her melancholy into a deeper depression. She hated whoever harmed them, and vowed, if she had the chance, to stop it from happening again.
She clenched her hands. She could not believe it was the Beast.
Erse Parr sent him to the Final Death. Darkness watched and bore witness. And, as Lorgan said, Sun, in his Meanderings, stated that no soul returned from the Void. He did not explain what, exactly, happened to them, other than they became one with the emptiness, no thoughts, no feelings, no self. Nothing left, the end.
She landed gently within the Light shield Mica created to keep the dust away from the living. A wise precaution, since no one knew what Kjiven housed in his citadel that caused the blue smoke. Elora had no guesses as to what could produce the nastiness, and her ghostly love was not conscious to ask.
Jare floated to Mica and Kjaelle as Kenosera hustled to her, stepping near enough his whisper carried. “Are you alright?” he asked, setting a hand on her arm in comfort.
She shook her head. “It’s as terrible as you might think. We need to get everyone out of this place. I didn’t see a way up to the rim we can take, and I don’t think Zepirz will be of sound mind once he realizes what happened, to lead us another way.”
“I think he’s already there. Lorgan assured him we had not lost Strans, but he doesn’t trust the word of a ghost. Ayara reprimanded him, but they touched the cocoon and sensed no life. He mourns.”
Zepirz held the shell gently within his arms, his tears streaking down the still vines. Ayara sat with him, their arm around his shoulders. Their sadness flavored the air, and tears pricked her eyes.
“They should not mourn one who isn’t lost,” she said. “There are plenty of others who need their prayers more.”
“There are.”
Kenosera jumped too, so Vantra did not feel so badly about the tall, ebon-hued Avie appearing behind them. He set his hands on their shoulders, his red lashes fluttering furiously as he blinked.
“You’re not here for Navosh, are you?” she asked, a shing of fear raising her voice.
“No. I am here for those who discovered the mark of the unknown one prevents them from transitioning to spirit.”
“What do you mean?” Kenosera asked, frowning, as dread pummeled her.
“Their presence remains in their dead bodies.” He tucked his wine-purple hair behind his pointed ears and narrowed his matching eyes. “It is a violation I have not seen since the Beast walked these lands.” He hmphed. “Not to say others have not tried to emulate him, but one or two bodies are not the hundreds above.”
“So it’s really the Beast?” Fear, despair, fell on her, heavy as an anvil.
He shook his head. “I . . .” Sighing, he licked his lips, then sucked in a huge breath. “I can’t believe it. I stood witness, as Veer Tul did, to Erse purging the Beast. I don’t care how this aura feels, it can’t be him.” He touched his naked chest, knocking aside a flaring purple gemstone set in the center of an intricate gold medallion. “I accepted my charge before Old Man Death. In all my years of existing as a Death deity, I have never seen one return from the Void. Not one.” He swatted at his knee-length breeches. “Not one,” he insisted, before slipping around them and heading for Navosh.
Zepirz shot up, knocking Ayara away as the cocoon thumped to the ground, bleakness ravaging his face. The Light-blessed and Kjaelle looked up, and Lorgan popped away from his discussion with Yut-ta. Levassa held up a hand.
“I am here to help the yondaii and their misled followers,” he said. “You have a more difficult task. You need to convince the rainforest to release Navosh. It fears for him, so keeps him safe when he is most needed.”
Zepirz brushed at his cheeks. “Fears for him?”
“The Labyrinth is an odd entity,” Levassa said. “And only Navosh has ever understood it, so it protects him as it will no other.”
Vantra did not imagine Elora’s cheek twitching at the statement. The death deity turned to her, and his gaze hardened.
“You wish to flee. Don’t. Erse is not her predecessors. She believes too deeply in Redemption. Kjiven’s mind is not whole, and this experience sundered it further. He needs to see the mind-healers at the Mausoleum.”
Elora glared unhappily at the Evenacht’s Death. “He will not stay.”
“He will. More has shattered than you think. And Erse will bind him there, to make sure he cannot avoid the healing.” He raised an elegant, wispy eyebrow. “You wish what’s best for him. This is what’s best.”
Her lower lip trembled. “He caused so much harm. The Elden Fields are his destination.”
“No, the Mausoleum is. After that? If Erse sunders his essence, you will be his Redeemer. You are his Light.”
“How could you possibly know that?” she asked, her grip on the elfine tightening.
“He remains with you. Your arms are his safety.”
“He deserves it not.”
Levassa turned to Zepirz, who stood, hands clenched, his beak trembling. “No? If he receives punishment, then so, too, should the yondaii who paved his way. It will be lifetimes before the pain you caused relinquishes—a repetition that played as terribly for your ancestors as it has for you.”
Zepriz clacked his beak, rage swimming through his eyes. Levassa cocked his head, then smiled, an odd reaction to the Wiiv’s anger.
“I would ask, as a dweller to a dweller, you think about the choices generations of your people have made. It might be best, to change direction.”
“Dweller?” the yondaii asked, eyes narrowing.
“I am Skell River Basin Avie.” The shock of both Wiiv confused Vantra; did they not know that? Then again, she did not think the Wiiv cared about out-Greenglimmer deities of any sort, even the Evenacht’s native Death. “The Elfiniti is my home, however little I am able to enjoy its beauty.” He glanced at the top of the crater. “They are cayzreol, every last yondaii and soldier who stood atop this cliff.”
Zepirz gasped, eyes wide in disbelief as Ayara slapped their hands to the top of their beak. “No, that cannot be!”
“Convince your people, yondaii. If not, I fear they will follow in the unlucky’s footsteps. Our enemy has no care for your lives and will abuse your support until you change course.”
Zepirz choked. “How many?” he whispered.
“Hundreds. It will be an easy hunt, will it not?”
The Wiiv flinched, and rage turned to panic.
“You are lucky, I don’t ascribe to your traditions, or the yondaii you revere would be sent to the Void. And who warped your understanding of the afterlife, that you happily cause more pain to the deceased?”
“It’s the Beast,” Kjaelle said with bitter certainty. “He did the same thing during his reign, to keep the living subservient.”
“I watched him fade into the Void, Kjaelle,” Levassa said, his words sharp. “I watched his essence disintegrate. I watched the fear fill him, when he realized his existence fractured on the edge of a living woman’s blade. Whoever we face, they can’t be the Beast.”
“You sense him too!”
“I sense beghestern death magic. Many use it, even if they lack knowledge of its origin.”
“Levassa—”
He held up his hand. “A discussion for another time. Get Navosh to safety.”
“Where should we take him?” Kenosera asked, his quiet words a balm over the anger, shock, despair.
“Bring him to the Light Temple.” Elora rose, Kjiven clutched tightly to her chest. “From there, perhaps we can contact Embeckourteine.”
“The ways are open,” Levassa said. “Tenathi, Death, Passion and Darkness held them, and they continue to do so, awaiting Strans’ return.”
Zepriz hmphed. “It took three syimlin to keep Greenglimmer open to outsiders?”
“No, it took three syimlin and Tenathi to keep further harm from befalling the rainforest. Don’t underestimate the damage the corruption caused, and don’t disregard Tenathi. She fought to keep Strans’ Blessing whole so the forest did not eat the people living within. Combined, they not only protected the ways in and out, but also its people, its plants, its animals, its being. You know why it fell to only them? The corruption infected the local deities it did not kill, and they were the only recourse. But you knew that, didn’t you? And you saw it as vindication, that yondaii were the stronger shaman praying to stronger deities.”
“Untrue,” he seethed.
“Hate has made the Wiiv short-sighted, yondaii. Your peers paid for it. Will you?”
Too harsh; Levassa lit anger rather than understanding, and Vantra had enough experience with religious resentment to know where it led. Perhaps that was why they looked to the Rotting One and the false Strans for guidance.
The deity glanced at her, annoyance breaking apart on amusement. “You are loud, when you wish to be.”
He heard her? Mortification could not explain the deep, raging need to sink into the floor and never be seen again. Before she asked forgiveness for unwarranted brashness, he sighed.
“We all want the same thing; peace and prosperity for the rainforest, unmarked by corrupted hand. There is no one true way to achieve it, and too many that inhibit it.” He pushed from the ground and floated midair before fading into nothing. “The healing will only begin when Navosh is whole. Take him from this place.”
And how would they manage that, when they could not even get out of the crater?
“Look!”
Yut-ta pointed up; a Badeçasyon ship hovered high above the crater, its black metal hull gleaming. The side door opened, and Lokjac exited and zipped towards them. Who had sent them? Did it matter? If they could reach the ship, they could fly Navosh far away from the citadel and its magical corruption.
She looked at the shard; a dull shimmer coursed over its surface. And then, a recharge.
