Infinite

29 JANAN

ABOVE, DRAGONS ROARED in triumph as they coiled muscles and spit acid onto the dull, white stone. The reek of acid poured through the air, making my nose burn and my lungs ache.

The temple was dark.

It was Soul Night.

We’d done it.

I ran for Sam, tracking the blue light of the laser pistol Deborl held. All I could hear was screaming and dragons and the incessant ringing in my ears. I was blind with darkness and deaf with noise, and my whole body ached with burns and fatigue and grief.

“Sam!”

Stone cracked above, and bits of rock pattered against the roof like hail, drowning out the sound of my voice. There were other voices below, too, thousands of people screaming.

Twilight bled across the world, the sky an eerie violet that deepened into night as I pushed myself toward Sam. He was nothing but an outline of blackness as I called his name. He was still standing, at least. And the blue targeting light came from below him, which meant Deborl hadn’t gotten to his feet yet.

The light swung around toward me, dazzlingly bright as it darted over my eyes.

I dropped to the ground and rolled away, the lump of my backpack hindering my movements. Scattered shards of temple bit into my knees and bare hands, but I huddled low to the roof and crawled toward Sam. I’d been a fool to give away my position.

Deborl, however, either didn’t realize how obvious he was, or didn’t care. The blue light moved through the darkness, bright enough to keep my eyes from adjusting, not bright enough to see by.

The roof shuddered as a chunk of stone fell from above. Pebbles sprayed like shards of glass, slicing open my exposed skin where they flew by. Roaring and the thunder of dragon wings muffled my cries of pain as I moved away from the place Deborl had almost shot me.

I could see Sam; he was silhouetted against the glow of spotlights, which shone on the market field and industrial quarter. Did he know he was so visible? I wanted to call out a warning, but the chaos of falling rock and screams would drown my voice.

I searched for the blurs and outlines of Deborl, and where his targeting light originated. He lay on the far side of the roof, just a smudge of dark against the glow of lights.

Slowly, I drew my pistol and covered the targeting light with my finger. I aimed at Deborl and took long, measured breaths to steady my hand. The clatter of rocks and voices and wing beats faded for a heartbeat.

I fired.

Deborl screamed and the world came rushing back. The shriek and roar and cracking of stone loomed overhead. Soon, the temple would come down on us.

I scrambled to my feet and ran for Sam. No time to check if the other dragon was still waiting on the edge of the roof. We’d find a way down.

Before I could cross half the roof, the world jerked and I tumbled over. Stones stabbed my palms and elbows as I rolled onto my back. Pain sliced through my shoulder blade and my spine. Chunks of rocks gouged at my skin, and fire flared in the back of my head.

Overhead, immense shapes flew from the tower and roared. Claws scraped. Stone screamed as it was torn apart.

Then light blazed, white and blinding above me.

I threw my hands over my eyes and rolled over, as though I could protect myself from the burn. Even huddled over, arms wrapped around myself, all I could see was white white white as tears poured from my light-seared eyes. It felt like they were bleeding, like color was fading out. My head throbbed with blinding light.

I was blind.

What if I was blind forever?

I howled against my knees, against the rocks and roof, but I couldn’t hear my own voice in the tumble of rocks and the roar of dragons and the shrieking of telepathy and the screams of people and the crash of the earth shaking itself apart.

Gradually, the white dulled into gray. I sat up and squinted through my fingers.

The light still blazed, but I could see grades of pale gray.

Rocks plummeted to the roof and to the market field below, but they were smaller chunks now, shaken from dragon talons or wings. The pebbles seemed to rain down silently, the sounds of their impact covered by the din of everything else.

Darkness in the south drew my attention.

A plume of brown smoke boiled into the air, as though something had exploded there.

No, not smoke.

Ash surged upward, chased by red and gold lava. The world shook and rippled again as a massive black wave heaved itself straight toward us.

“Ana!” Sam’s voice sounded dim and far away.

I pointed at the eruption on the south edge of Range. Purple Rose Cottage was obliterated by now. And Sam’s graveyard. The cabin where he’d become my first friend. The forest where I’d explored as a child. The clearing where I’d watched Soul Night celebrations fifteen years ago.

All gone.

Soon, we would be, too.

Footsteps rushed toward me, and Sam draped his arms around my shoulders.

Had we stopped Janan? The temple was so bright, it seemed unlikely. And though dragons flew from Heart as fast as they could, they wouldn’t outrun the eruption. There’d be another, soon. And another.

I didn’t want to talk to Sam about any of that, though. I faced him. Blood poured from a wound on his head, matting down his black hair to his skin. Scrapes and bruises marred his face, but he was still the handsomest man in the world to me.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you.” He kissed me softly. Grit brushed between our lips.

The temple burst apart.

Shards of brilliantly lit stone flew in all directions, hitting my back and arms and face. Agony flared across my entire body as Sam shoved me down and held himself over me, as though he could protect me from what was happening.

Sam cried out, but neither of us could move. Rock piled up around us, shining with templelight. Dust rushed up, making me cough and gag, no matter how I pulled my shirt collar over my face to filter each gasp.

The rain of stone went on forever. It was a race: what would kill us faster? The eruption fire speeding its way here, or Janan’s ascension.

When the noise dulled, Sam sat up, and I followed. The explosion had been violent, but quick. Rocks lay strewn across the roof, and the city below looked as though it had been covered in fine white powder, which glowed.

And the prison—it was gone.

I glanced southward, checking on the wave of fire and ash and pyroclast. A gray-and-black cloud of debris and fire rushed upward and outward. We had minutes at best.

“Come on.” I scrambled to my feet and helped Sam up. His movements were stiff and pained, and we picked our way around glowing rubble, toward the crater on the east side of the Councilhouse. We were lucky the force of the temple’s explosion hadn’t destroyed the Councilhouse, too.

“You’re too late.” Deborl’s voice was scratchy and weak from the opposite end of the Councilhouse. He just wouldn’t die. “There’s no stopping Janan.”

I ignored him and held tighter to Sam’s hand as we gazed at the bright pit below. People huddled around it, their voices muted as they wiped blood off their faces, or swept shining grit off their clothes. Some hadn’t gotten up after the blast, but most had survived. They gaped at the place where the temple used to be.

“Oh, Ana.” Anguish filled Sam’s voice. “I’m so sorry.”

At first, I saw only light.

The white stones resolved themselves into stairs. Or tiers. And skeletons. Silver chains shone in the strange illumination, glimmering as a dark figure in the center shifted and stood.

He looked small from this far above, but I remembered seeing him before: short and thick, bushy brown hair on his head and face. He’d looked strong, then, even dead or asleep or whatever he was.

Now, power surged through his movements as he grasped the chain linking the skeletons to one another—to him—and strode out of the temple ruins, dragging the dead behind him.

Janan had returned.