“HELL TAKE me,” Siris whispered, rocking in the ship.
On his mirror, Raidriar died the final death, killed in a flash of light.
Gone.
Impossible, Siris thought. Not that Raidriar had died. But that he . . . the creature that Siris had been born to fight, the oppressor and tyrant . . .
That man had sacrificed himself.
Oh, hell, Siris thought, slumping backward. I tried to betray him, and he sacrificed himself. I was the villain. And Raidriar . . . Raidriar just became a hero.
The Dark Self stirred.
“No,” Siris said. “I don’t have to be you.”
It shook within him, writhing to break out.
“No,” Siris said. “No.”
It thrashed and struggled, like a trapped rat. Siris clamped down on it and squeezed until . . .
Until it was no more.
He stood on shaky legs and looked at Isa, slowly healing on the bed. He left the cabin, passing TEL at the doorway. Siris walked up onto the deck, each footfall stronger than the one before. In the distance behind, rain fell over the ocean. But ahead . . . ahead was light.
Siris turned away from the storm and walked to the prow of the ship. The Sacrifice was complete. His ancient purpose, to defeat Raidriar, was no more.
And in the end, they had fulfilled one another’s roles, to an extent. He felt guilty, but soon found even that emotion evaporating. Replaced by awe.
If a man like Raidriar could be a hero, what did it mean for Siris?
It meant freedom.