Spirit’s End

CHAPTER 16

Eli drifted back to consciousness slowly, waking up one bit at a time. His first thoughts were little more than groggy impressions: soft stroking on his hair, musical humming in his ears, warm, still air, and brightness. White brightness that bled through his skin.

His eyes snapped open. Benehime’s snow-white beauty filled his vision. Her face hovered over his, her white hair falling in a curtain around them, blocking out the rest of the world. Her white eyes were soft as goose down, full of love, and her cheeks were streaked with sparkling trails. Tears, Eli realized belatedly. The White Lady was crying.

Oh, my darling. Her voice trembled as she fell on him, pressing his body tight against hers. My love, my only love, I was so worried.

Eli could only blink. He felt like he’d been hit with the Heart of War. His chest ached, his limbs were useless, and he was so tired it was actually difficult to stay conscious. Even so, the need to get away overpowered him, and he began to struggle weakly against her grasp.

There, there, she cooed, pushing him down. Be still. The healing isn’t done yet. You gave far too much of yourself, but that’s over now. I’ve got you. You’re never going to do that again.

Eli blinked, trying to remember. The haze in his mind made everything fuzzy, but he dimly recalled something being wrong with Slorn’s Awakened Wood. The trees, he’d stopped the trees…

He jerked as the memory of their screams came back in a rush. He’d been restraining the mad forest, and then that Spiritualist had surprised him and he’d lost control. After that, things got a bit jumbled. He remembered Nico grabbing him after he fell, but not why he’d fallen. Whatever it was, it must have been bad for Benehime to look this worried. She was hovering over him now, stroking his hair and making little soothing noises, calling him “love” and “darling.” Eli closed his eyes as a cold, sinking feeling of dread began to curl in his stomach.

That’s right, love, lie still, Benehime whispered, petting him. You mustn’t scare me like this. Oh, it’s all my fault. I never should have removed my mark. I meant to teach you a lesson, but I forget how weak you are without me. If I’d lost you, I’d… Her hand froze as her voice trailed off, and then the petting resumed faster than before. Don’t worry, I’m never letting you go again. Soon as you’re healed, I’ll replace my mark and then we’ll be together forever just as we were meant to be.

“No.”

The word came out as a wheeze, no louder than a breath, but Eli knew that Benehime heard. The moment he spoke, her body went stiff beneath him, her white fingers frozen in his hair.

What was that, love?

The words were sweet, but the threat looming behind them resonated down to Eli’s bones. He began to tremble, and for a moment he almost fell back to the old false compliments and appeasements. But then, clear as day, he saw Karon, still lost by her hand. He saw the nameless old Spiritualist, his wrinkled face wide with shock just before he crumbled to dust, his rings crying as Benehime crushed them beneath her white feet. He saw himself lying in her lap, being petted forever. No bounty, no fame, no freedom, no Josef or Nico or even Miranda. Nothing but Benehime’s hand petting him like a dog forever and ever and ever.

The horrible vision gave him strength, and Eli pulled himself from her hands. He sat up with a pained sigh, rubbing his eyes hard as his surroundings came into focus. He was in Benehime’s white world, no surprises there. Behind him, he could hear Benehime seething. Eli took another breath and turned, steeling himself against her rage, but as he faced her, he caught something out of the corner of his eye that stopped him cold.

Benehime’s sphere hung in the air behind her, the miniature seas and forests and mountains tiny and perfect as ever, but it was no longer alone. Floating beside it was a second sphere. It was tiny compared to the original, barely larger than a marble, but inside its delicate curving sky was a tiny world more beautiful than anything Eli had ever seen.

A sparkling blue sea lay along a golden coastline. Jewel-like corals sparkled beneath the gentle waves, and the beach was lined with beautifully colored reeds, each stalk as wispy as spun silk. Beyond the reeds, a field of grass so green Eli couldn’t help wanting to roll in it stretched off into gentle hills. Waterfalls tumbled into streams that flowed toward a snaking, shining river whose water was pure and crystal clear. Above the gentle hills was a deep forest, its tall treetops wrapped in silver mist.

After the forest, the land rose dramatically, forming a beautiful rising line before suddenly going strangely flat, as though something were missing. Otherwise, it was perfect, a dream landscape born of a painter’s imagined paradise. Just looking at the soft grass and clear water made Eli’s heart ache with longing until it was all he could do not to cry.

Isn’t it beautiful?

Benehime’s whisper was right in his ear, and Eli jumped only to find she’d pressed herself against his back. Her arm encircled his waist, trapping him against her as she reached out with her free hand to brush her fingers against the tiny, perfect sphere.

As much as he hated to ask her anything, Eli couldn’t help himself. “What is it?” he whispered, his voice a hoarse croak.

Benehime dusted a butterfly kiss against his cheek. Paradise.

Her white finger slid across the sphere’s surface, petting it just as she had pet his hair. I made it for us, she whispered, cuddling him closer. A perfect world all our own, filled with my favorite spirits. It’s not finished yet, though. The mountain is the last touch I need. As soon as Durain stops being stubborn, we’ll be ready.

Eli jerked. Durain was the Shaper Mountain, the Lord of all Mountains, the star. He thought of the Awakened Wood’s panic, the strange flooding in Zarin, and everything became painfully clear.

“You made this from stars?” he whispered, voice shaking.

Of course, Benehime said. Nothing else is worthy.

“But what about the spirits?” The words were out of Eli’s mouth before he could stop them. He didn’t care. All he could think about was Slorn’s beautiful golden trees tearing themselves apart.

“The stars are the greatest spirits, the roots of the world.” His voice was rising now. “You made this system. You bragged to me years ago that you set your mark on the stars and tied the other spirits to them so you wouldn’t have to watch everything all the time. You built this house of cards with the stars at the bottom, and now you’re just yanking them out? Do you even care about what that will do to the rest of the world?”

No.

The quickness of the answer made Eli jump. Benehime’s weight vanished from Eli’s back, and he spun around to see she was leaning back with her head lowered, her hair falling over her like a shroud.

I’m tired, Eliton, she whispered. I’ve been Shepherdess for over five thousand years now. It was never supposed to be like this. I was never supposed to rule so long. Five hundred years, Father said. A thousand at most, and then he’d be back to save us, to free us from the prison. But he never came back.

“Father?” Eli said, bewildered. “You have a father?”

Of course, Benehime said. The Creator brought forth my brothers and me from his own body, each of us created to do our job. The Hunter hunts, the Weaver weaves, and I shepherd the spirits in his absence.

Benehime’s hand drifted to the larger of her spheres, her fingers running along the curve of the sky. This isn’t even the world, she said wearily. Creation used to be larger than your mind can comprehend. It stretched on forever, as full of spirits as the sky was full of stars. I was born into that world, and for one shining moment I saw things as they were meant to be.

Her voice was so full of sorrow and loss that Eli reached out without thinking, brushing her shoulder with his fingers. “What happened?”

Benehime leaned into his touch. All was lost, she said. Everything that is left of the world that was is held in this sphere. Her hand stroked the larger of the two floating worlds. A fragile shell, a tiny seed, an ark that was supposed to shelter us until the Creator could restore his creation. That’s why he made my brothers and me. We were to maintain and tend what remained in his absence. Just until he could return, he said. But he never did.

Benehime raised her head, gazing up into the white nothing above them. I worked for thousands of years in the hope of seeing the night full of stars again, but as the years wore on and the Creator did not return, the spirits began to degrade. Locked in this tiny orb, this cell, they fell deeper and deeper into sleep, and I could do nothing but take the blame.

I’m tired, she said again, taking her hand from the orb to cup his face. Tired of hoping, tired of waiting. I’m tired of managing the demon, tired of keeping things calm. I’ve been so tired for so long, I think I was actually starting to die. But then, without warning, everything changed.

Her white eyes filled with love. I found you, she whispered, stroking Eli’s cheek with her burning fingers. You were the only thing in all the world that loved me without prompt or knowledge, without fear. The night I found you in the forest, you embraced me without hesitation, without knowing what I was. You were so beautiful, so bright, I felt alive again for the first time in a thousand years. I loved you instantly, loved you so much that I would give up the world just to see you smile. That was when I knew it was over.

Eli swallowed. “Over?”

I’m tired of being the Shepherdess, Benehime said. So I’m not going to anymore. I’m done.

Eli stared at her, his brain scrambling for purchase as she turned his world on its head. “You can’t be done!” he cried. “You’re the Shepherdess. You protect and support every living thing in the world!”

I did, and far longer than I was supposed to. The Shepherdess shook her head. It doesn’t matter. Even if I stay, nothing changes. The Great Spirits grow weaker, the weak spirits fall into sleep and never wake, the world crumbles into entropy with or without me. Better I save what I can now.

Her other hand shot out and wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Don’t you see, Eli? she said. I’m saving the best of creation. The paradise I’ve built is small enough that I can support the entire thing with my will alone. It will be a world without death or suffering, a world without the demon. A world where everything loves me and I am free to love you with nothing in my way.

“But what about the rest?” Eli said, trying to jerk away. “What about the seas and the mountains and the plains and the people who aren’t stars?”

Why should I care for them? Benehime said, holding him firm. All I love is safe in the paradise I’ve made, except for you. She slid her hands down to his shoulders, her long nails digging into his arms. Come with me. I can’t wait to show you the world I’ve made for us. A world just for you and me, ours alone, forever.

Eli went stiff against her, his head tilting up to look at her face.

She smiled down at him, shining with love. I’m sorry I had to be so cruel before, she whispered, kissing his forehead. But that’s all over now. Look.

She beckoned the tiny sphere closer. It floated to her, flying soundlessly through the white until it reached her hand. She took the delicate world between her fingers and tilted it so Eli could see the black stone of the bedrock and the glittering red vein of magma that ran through it. Eli’s breath caught as he recognized it, and Benehime’s smile widened.

You were so sorry to lose him, she said. And I hate to see you unhappy, so I brought Karon back and gave him a place of honor. Now do see how much you mean to me, darling? He’s not even a star, but I will share my paradise with him gladly if it makes you smile.

She kissed Eli again. See how much I love you, darling? Now—she released the paradise and reached down to seize Eli’s hands—come with me. Leave this dirty, thankless world, and come away to paradise.

Eli looked up, searching Benehime’s eyes for some hint that this was a test, that she was joking, but he found only sincerity and love. She was serious about going through with this, serious about taking him into that tiny sphere and leaving the rest of the world to rot. Eli’s eyes flicked to the green fields and blue waters, to the peaceful golden shore and the velvet forest, to Karon.

His chest contracted. The lava spirit looked so happy flowing below the ground again, living as fitted his nature. Could he be happy, too? Eli frowned, trying to imagine an eternity of walking beneath those trees, nothing to steal, no one to talk to except Benehime and her fawning stars for the rest of time.

Bile rose in his throat, and Eli jerked back, putting as much space between himself and the Shepherdess’s hands as possible.

“No,” he said.

Benehime cocked her head at him. No? she repeated, as though she didn’t know what the word meant.

“No,” Eli said again. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather rot here.”

Benehime began to tremble. Her shoulders shook, her hair rolled in waves like a storm-tossed sea. The only thing that stayed still were her eyes. They remained locked on Eli’s, the white irises widening as the love that had shone in them seconds before burned away to pure, violent fury.

Why? The word roared out of her as she surged to her feet, taking Eli with her. She shook him then, grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him until his neck was snapping. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted! she shrieked. I gave you my love, my attention and adoration! Now I give you paradise, and you throw it back in my face!

Her fingers dug into him like knives as the shaking stopped, and Eli gritted his teeth against the pain, desperate not to cry out as she dangled him like a hooked fish before her. Benehime’s face was terrible in its rage, and when she spoke again, her voice was cold enough to burn.

Why? The word trembled. Why am I never enough? There’s someone else, isn’t there? Is it the Spiritualist girl or the demonseed? Or maybe your swordsman? She jerked him close, and this time Eli did cry out. Blood ran down his arms from where Benehime held him, the red painfully bright against the white perfection of her world. Tell me!

Eli raised his head, biting his teeth against the pain as he grinned in her face. “If you want me to list everyone I’d rather spend time with over you, we’re going to be here awhile.”

Why? she whispered again. You love me.

“I did,” Eli said. “A long time ago, when I was too young and stupid to understand what I didn’t want to know. But I wised up. I’ve seen what you really are, Benehime, and what you are is cruel. You’re a cruel, selfish, violent, spoiled brat, and I will never, ever love you again.”

Benehime hissed and dropped him. He hit the white ground hard, and the impact left him gasping. He tried to roll over, but Benehime’s white foot landed on his chest, stopping him. She crawled over him, forming a cage with her body as her face hovered just above his. For a long moment, she just stared at him, and then, without warning, she leaned down and kissed him hard enough to bruise.

You will have no other but me, she said when she finally raised her head. I will kill anyone else who dares to touch you. You are mine. Mine forever.

“I’m mine,” Eli hissed in her face. “My life is my own and no one else’s. But you were right about one thing.”

Benehime eyed him suspiciously. And what is that?

“There is someone else,” Eli said. “Josef, Nico, Karon, old man Monpress, Slorn, even Miranda and Banage. The list goes on and on, and the truth is I’d rather stay and die with any of them than live in paradise forever with you.”

As his voice faded, the air grew very cold. He could feel Benehime’s rage pressing down on him like a physical thing, and the small, realistic part of Eli’s mind whispered that this was probably it. He’d pushed her too far, and now she was going to kill him. But even as the truth dawned on him, Eli was surprised to find he didn’t care. After all that had happened, he’d rather die here than suck up to Benehime ever again.

But the Shepherdess made no move to attack. Instead, she rolled off him, her long white hair sliding after her. When she was on her feet, she glared down with a look of hatred so intense it took Eli’s breath away. And then, without another word, she turned her back on him.

Get out of my sight.

Eli was about to point out that she was the one keeping him here, but before he could open his mouth, the ground beneath him vanished. He plunged down in free fall. Benehime’s white form shrank above him, quickly fading into the white. Even so, her final words were as loud as though she were standing right beside him.

Never come back.

With that, the white world exploded into blue sky. Biting cold wind slammed into Eli’s body, buffeting him from side to side as he plummeted through the air. He began windmilling his arms on instinct, trying to get his head up. It did no good. He fell like a stone, going faster and faster as the wind ripped past.

Just when Eli was sure he was going to be falling forever, cold white exploded all around him. For a terrifying second, he thought he was back in Benehime’s world, but then the white stuff fell on his face, burying him in wet, cold dark. Snow. He’d landed in a snowdrift.

As the snow finally stopped his fall, all Eli felt was relief. He lay still in the freezing dark, so happy to be alive it hurt. No, he was actually hurting, and not from joy. His back ached from the impact, and the weight of the snow above him was crushing his chest. He was buried alive.

At that thought, his body exploded into action. He thrust his feet down and began to swing his arms around, batting madly at the snow. At the same time, he flung open his spirit. That hurt more than anything else. Opening his spirit now was like trying to use torn muscle, but Eli gritted his teeth and kept at it, running a plea through the snow, begging it to move.

For a long time, the snow didn’t even seem to hear him. And then, slowly, it started shuffling. The tiny movements became larger ones as the bank woke up. Eli increased his pleading, and the snow obliged, rolling out of the way to form a tunnel up.

Eli burst out of the snowbank and rolled onto his back, gasping and shivering. He wasn’t sure how long he lay like that, sucking in air and reveling in the pure joy of being alive, but eventually the world began to assert itself again. The first thing he noticed was how dark it was. He stared up at the sky, wondering how long he’d been gone for it to be so late. But the longer Eli looked, the more he began to suspect that it wasn’t actually night at all. The night sky didn’t roil and move like the one above his head. He frowned, squinting up at the blackness just as a wild fork of lightning flashed, lighting the sky up from the inside.

Eli caught his breath, and then he was scrambling to his feet, cursing himself for an idiot for not recognizing it earlier. There was only one force of nature that brought clouds like that, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what the Lord of Storms might be doing up here. He floundered in the loose snow, looking for traction. The moment he found it, Eli opened his spirit as far as he could before the pain stopped him.

Sure enough, he felt the Heart of War blazing like a beacon to the west. Eli turned his feet toward it and started running, holding the Heart’s position in his mind. He didn’t know what he would do when he got there, but whatever it was, Eli hoped against hope that it wouldn’t be too late.

Josef gripped the Heart in his hands, blinking against the sweat that poured into his eyes despite the cold. Behind him, Nico was slumped motionless against the cliff, and ahead of him, standing on the flat ledge like he owned it, was the Lord of Storms.

The tall man looked completely unruffled. No sweat stained his brow, and his breaths, if a storm needed to breathe at all, were so calm Josef couldn’t see them. The Lord of Storms held his sword high before him, his arm steady with no sign of fatigue, and his body was completely uninjured despite the fact that Josef had been sticking him like a pincushion for the last quarter hour.

Will, swordsman, the Heart’s voice boomed in his head. Concentrate. You have to strike him with—

“I know!” Josef shouted, shifting his fingers on the black sword’s hilt. “I’m trying. I’ve never done this before.”

Then you’d better learn quickly, the sword said, its voice sharpening. Because I can’t keep you up much longer.

Josef knew that. Even with the Heart’s strength roaring unchecked through his body, he was nearing his limit. How many times had the Lord of Storms’ blade slipped through his guard? Too many, Josef thought with a wince. He hadn’t pulled that third-arm stunt again, thankfully. Probably because, for all his other faults, the Lord of Storms was a warrior. A warrior would consider such tricks beneath him.

It wasn’t like the Lord of Storms needed cheap gimmicks anyway. He was standing firm on the icy stone, waiting for Josef’s next attack and smiling like he was having the time of his life. Considering how the man was always going on about a fight to make him feel alive, he probably was. Josef sneered. Must be fun to swing a sword around when you were an uncuttable bastard.

Stop thinking that, the Heart snapped. Thoughts like that are why you can’t cut him. Focus your mind, forget what you think you know and strike.

Josef tightened his grip and lunged. He came in low this time, the Heart clutched at his side until the last second. The Lord of Storms grinned wide and ran to meet him. He didn’t bother blocking. Instead, he threw all his weight into a swing that would have taken Josef’s arm off had Josef been a hair slower. But Josef wasn’t just Josef anymore. He was a true swordsman now, with the Heart’s strength and centuries of experience flowing through his veins beside his blood. He shifted at the last second, dodging the Lord of Storms’ glowing blade as he swung the Heart down and around to come up with a stabbing thrust straight through the League Commander’s side.

Josef knew he’d failed again as soon as the strike connected. The Heart went through the larger man’s torso without resistance, leaving Josef to stumble forward, a slave to his own momentum. They’d been at this long enough now that the Lord of Storms didn’t even try to take the opening on Josef’s back. He just lowered his sword and turned around to wait for Josef’s next charge.

“I’ve got a little bet going with myself,” he said as Josef plunged the Heart into the ground and leaned on it, panting so hard his lungs ached. “What do you think? Will I kill you first, or will you faint on me?”

Josef didn’t answer. Even if he’d had the breath to waste, there was no point rising to such obvious bait. Instead, he focused on stilling his shaking muscles and clearing his mind as the Heart commanded. It was a near-impossible task. His body was screaming for rest now, and the countless failures made his thoughts twisted and bitter. Josef wanted to beat the Lord of Storms until the man was a cloud-shaped pulp, but he couldn’t, and the frustration was making him wild.

Stop it, the Heart said. You’re not learning from your mistakes. You’re just swinging like an animal.

“I know.” Josef panted.

No, you don’t, the Heart said. If you knew anything you wouldn’t keep doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome.

Josef had no answer for that, so he focused on pushing himself up for the next charge.

His body stopped moving before he made it to first position.

No, the Heart said. No more. Stop for a moment, Josef Liechten. Stop and think.

Josef slumped against the Heart’s hold. What was there to think about? He couldn’t do this wizard nonsense. He’d lost. The only reason he was still standing was because the Lord of Storms was having too much fun playing with him to end it.

Shut up. The Heart’s voice roared through his mind, drowning out everything else. This is the last blow I’m keeping you up for, swordsman. After this, it’s done. I’m letting you drop. But before that happens, I want you to shut up and think about how best to spend your final strike.

Josef bared his teeth in a snarl and threw his head back. The Heart had locked his legs, but he could still move his upper body, and he used what was left of his strength to look up at the rolling clouds. The Heart was deluding itself. He wasn’t a wizard, wasn’t even a real swordsman, apparently. He was just a man, a man in way over his head. A man who couldn’t save his most important thing.

Josef’s eyes flicked to Nico. She looked so small, pressed back against the ledge. Her coat had wrapped around her completely, hiding her face, but he had the feeling her eyes were open. Shame shot through him. She was watching him fail her. Watching him throw everything he had at the Lord of Storms only to come up short. What a pathetic end this was.

That line of thought made him feel queasy, so Josef tore himself away from Nico and forced his attention back to the sky, the only safe place left to look. The storm stretched out as far as he could see, a swirling vortex above the Lord of Storms. Lightning forked between the black clouds, lighting them up from the inside just as the Lord of Storms had lit his own body with his sword. The clouds’ curling edges reminded him of the wounds he’d laid on the Lord of Storms before they healed. The thunderheads moved quickly in the high wind, the same wind that blew the Lord of Storms’ long hair back without touching Josef’s…

Josef jerked as his mind ground to a halt. Of course. He turned to his opponent. The Lord of Storms was standing as before—feet planted, sword arm raised tirelessly, his smile slipping into an expression of bored disappointment. But Josef saw the body for only a moment before he discarded the image the Lord of Storms projected and looked deeper.

He could see nothing special, nothing he hadn’t noticed before, but the more he looked, memorizing every detail of the Lord of Storms’ pale, unmarred skin, his unflushed cheeks, his sweatless brow, his undamaged coat still perfectly settled on his broad shoulders, the deeper the truth settled into Josef’s bones. Of course. How could he have been so blind?

Nature of your race, the Heart said. Are you ready to take the last swing?

“Yes,” Josef whispered, picturing the strike in his mind.

The Heart’s deep laughter filled him like water. A good blow, the sword said as Josef raised it to his shoulder. I am with you, Josef Liechten.

“And I with you, brother,” Josef whispered.

Across the ledge, the Lord of Storms lifted an eyebrow. “If you’re done talking to yourself, I do actually have business to get on wi—”

Josef attacked before he could finish. He didn’t lunge like the times before, didn’t throw himself at the League Commander. Instead, he planted his feet and swung, sweeping the Heart’s blade down in an enormous arc from the top of his shoulder to just above his foot. His arms ached as he moved, but it didn’t matter that they had no more strength to give. This blow had nothing to do with muscles, and it was not aimed at the Lord of Storms.

Josef swung with everything he had. His mind, his body, his desperation, all of him was focused into this one motion, this single arc of the blade. The blow exploded out of him with a boom that echoed across the mountains, and in the sky overhead, directly in a line from the tip of his sword as it traveled down, the thunderheads split open.

It was as though someone had cut the clouds with a knife. The heavy ceiling of black storms split in two, the storm clouds peeling back to reveal a perfectly straight swath of blue sky running from horizon to horizon directly over Josef’s head.

But Josef himself didn’t see this. He was frozen at the end of the blow, lungs thundering, his muscles straining to keep him upright. The pain and exhaustion were little more than a buzz, however. Insignificant background noise against the single thought that filled Josef’s mind.

From the moment he’d committed to the swing, he’d seen only one thing. The image had filled him, pushing out everything else, every doubt, every pain, until there was room for nothing but the truth. He clung to it even now, unable to do anything except hold on as the final echoes of the blow left his body. He had no thoughts, no knowledge, just that one image held like a candle behind his closed eyes.

It was a memory. Not his own, but one from the Heart of War. The same memory the sword had shown him when it had picked up his dying soul and told him to make a choice: walk out of death a swordsman, or not at all. Even as the last of the overwhelming power left him, Josef clung to the cold, clear vision of the mountain rising taller than any other, its sharp, knife-like peak cutting the clouds in two. The Heart’s true self.

Finally, slowly, Josef forced himself to let the image go. He unclamped his mind from the memory as he peeled his white-knuckled fingers from the Heart’s hilt. As the vision faded, the world roared back, and Josef stumbled as the pain and exhaustion crashed back down. He was still standing though, his sword still in his hands, his heart still thudding in his chest, full of life. With these things in mind, Josef pried his eyes open to see if his final blow had been enough.

What he saw rooted him to the icy rock. Across the ledge, the Lord of Storms stood, his pale face contorted in disbelieving horror. Overhead, the storm raged, lightning forking from every cloud, but the storm itself had changed. Directly down its center, the strip of clear, blue sky remained untouched, a cut dividing the thunderheads horizon to horizon. And directly below the cut in the sky, a second cut, just as clean, ran across the Lord of Storms’ chest, dividing him from shoulder to hip, nearly cleaving him in two.

Josef stared at the wound in disbelief, waiting for it to close as all the others had. But it didn’t. Inside the Lord of Storms’ body, the thunderheads were churning. Lightning blossomed, lighting him up, but no matter how the storm raged, it could not close the gaps, not the one in the sky nor the one in the Lord of Storms himself. Through it all, the Lord of Storms’ eyes never left Josef, but the look in them changed as Josef watched, creeping from shock to raw fury and, buried beneath it, a burning, grudging respect. He saw it for only a moment before the Lord of Storms vanished.

Josef stumbled, looking frantically for his opponent as he fought to raise his sword again. There was no way the Lord of Storms was defeated that easily. Groaning at the effort, Josef wrenched up his sword and spun, letting the Heart guide him toward the electric feel of the Lord of Storms’ presence just as the man reappeared behind him, right in front of Nico.

“No!” Josef screamed, but it was already too late. The Lord of Storms’ hand was shooting forward even as he coalesced from the cloud, his long, white fingers stabbing into Nico’s chest the second they were solid. Her coat’s scream was so loud even Josef heard it, but black fabric couldn’t stop the Lord of Storms. His hand tore through the screaming coat like paper and slammed into Nico’s rib cage, fingers clenching as he found what he sought. Fast as his lightning, the Lord of Storms pulled his arm back, ripping his hand from Nico’s chest and bringing the black thing with it.

Even in his fury, the sight of what the Lord of Storms pulled out of Nico almost sent Josef to his knees. It was black as ink in the Lord of Storms’ bloody grip and shiny as a beetle’s shell. Its surface glittered in the dull light, a thick, black cylinder as long as an infantry short sword and tapered to a wicked point at both ends, and though Josef had never seen one, he knew it at once. It was Nico’s seed, the demonseed itself.

Nico made no sound as her seed was ripped from her, but her eyes were screaming beneath the cowl of her hood as the Lord of Storms stood, holding the seed in front of him. She fell when he let her go, collapsing into a black pile at the base of the small cliff, her white fingers scrabbling in the snow that was quickly turning black as the blood poured from her sundered chest. Almost at once, her movements slowed, and then stopped altogether. The small, pale hands reached out one final time, and then the fingers fell still, lifeless as the rock below them.

After that, Josef saw nothing but red.

With a raw howl of fury, he charged the Lord of Storms, the Heart swinging madly. The Lord of Storms glared over his shoulder at the sound, and Josef screamed louder still, throwing the Heart of War over his head, but the Lord of Storms made no move to defend. Instead, he clutched the demonseed to his chest, his skin smoking wherever it touched the seed’s bloody surface, and vanished in a flash of white.

Josef stopped, boots skidding on the icy rock as he spun to look for where the man would appear next, but the air felt strangely empty. Overhead, the black clouds were dissipating, leaving the afternoon sky clear and empty.

“No!” Josef howled. “Come back you coward! Come back and fight!”

He screamed and screamed until the words faded to gibberish. He screamed until his throat was raw, sword swinging uselessly at the clear sky. His rage was like a river, washing him away, but hard as it held him, he never turned around. Josef was strong enough to rend the sky and cut the Lord of Storms, but he wasn’t strong enough to turn around and see Nico’s lifeless body.

He might have stayed like that forever had the hands not grabbed his shoulders. The grip was firm, but the fingers were gentle. Even so, Josef spun around, Heart flying and teeth bared like an animal. But the sword grew heavy as an anvil as he turned, and the hilt tore from his fingers. The Heart fell from his grip, crashing into the icy ground, and Josef fell with it.

He landed on his knees with his head in his hands, but even that was too much. Without the Heart, it was exhaustion that calmed him, and he flopped on his side, lungs gasping. As the red haze of fury faded, Eli’s worried face came into focus a foot above his own.

The thief’s mouth was moving, and from the way his lips shaped, Josef knew Eli was shouting his name. Still, it was some time before the pounding in his ears faded enough to make out anything else.

“What?” he croaked.

“I said, ‘Get up you blasted idiot!’ ” Eli shouted. “You have to do something!”

Josef just stared at him. How could he tell the thief he’d tried to do something and failed. That Nico was dead and it was all his fault. That he hadn’t been strong enough.

Pain shot through him as Eli grabbed his cheek and pulled hard.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now,” the thief snapped. “Nico needs you.”

Josef’s voice shook. “Nico’s dead.”

Eli cursed and grabbed Josef’s head, wrenching it up. “Does that look dead to you?”

Josef’s fury drained away, the frustrated sorrow and rage giving way to icy dread. At the foot of the ledge where Nico’s body had fallen, all light was gone. In its place, a pillar of liquid night rose to the sky. It swirled and seethed like a living thing, and at its center was Nico.

She floated at the pillar’s heart, naked and tiny, a splinter of pale white in a river of ink. Her eyes were shut tight, but her mouth was open, stretching in a scream Josef could not hear over and over and over while her hands clutched at the empty, black wound that was spreading across her chest.

The second he could move, Josef went for his sword.

“We have to get her down,” he said, grabbing the Heart.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Eli grumbled, helping the swordsman to his feet. “Like how we’re going to do that.”

“How did you get her to snap out of it last time?”

“She snapped herself out,” Eli said, holding Josef steady. He sighed. “You know, I wouldn’t be so worried about her going crazy if she didn’t find a new way to do it every time. I was hoping you’d know what happened.”

“The Lord of Storms happened,” Josef said. “He took her seed.”

Eli went paler still. “Impossible. If he took her seed, she’d be dead. I don’t know what she is, but dead ain’t it.”

Inappropriate as it was, an enormous grin broke over Josef’s face. “You should know by now, thief,” he said, almost laughing as he tightened his grip on Eli’s shoulder, “Nothing kills Nico.”

He should have known, too, he added silently. He should have kept faith. “Come on,” he said, walking forward. “Let’s get her back.”

Eli did not look comforted, but he fell into step behind Josef.

And all around them, the mountains began to wake as the dreaded fear rose up.