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“What the fuck happened?” Vincent’s voice was the first we heard amongst the chaos when the doors opened on the top floor of the guild.
Logan and I stepped out, covered from head to toe in soot and blood. We headed toward the main conference room. There was something I needed there. Celestials ran around in circles with phones held to their ears. A red banner flashed across the many screens hung throughout the room, a distorted image of Dianna’s Ig’Morruthen form flying away from the devastation of a burning Zarall plastered on each one.
“Hey, I’m talking to both of you,” Vincent said, falling into step with Logan and me.
“I had to extinguish a forest fire,” I said.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Logan said, jerking his head toward a screen as we passed. “You would be lying if you said you would protect them over someone you care about.”
“What?” Vincent practically yelled over the chaos of everyone talking at once. “What happened?”
“It’s insane to be upset with her. I’d do the same thing. I’d kill anyone who hurt Neverra. So why do we care if they live?”
I pushed the large doors open with a little more force than I meant to. “We don’t.”
“Who are we talking about? Why was all of Zarall on fire?” Vincent demanded.
I tuned them out as Logan filled Vincent in on the last few hours. We reached the main conference room, and I headed straight to the pile of books and scrolls on the table. I sighed and began digging for the one I wanted.
Vincent hovered at my side. “Samkiel, if she is killing—”
“I know.”
“Know what?” Logan said. “As I said, she is killing the bad guys. That’s what we want, right?”
My heart ached as I found the one text I wanted. Cadros: The History of Many Wars. I opened it and flipped through, looking for what I needed. “I do care about her, not them. But killing them will not be enough. You and I both know that. She will need more power, especially if she is going after Kaden. In our time together, she never fed on mortals or blood. She is now, and that will make her spiral even further. What happens when an Ig’Morruthen consumes too much?”
They went quiet as the text suddenly flipped open, the pages expanding out in a diagonal line, exposing the words across the top. The First Rule of Pharthar. Created when the Ig’Morruthens first appeared, it depicted exactly what I feared may happen.
“Pure and absolute desolation. That’s what I fear. I may be the World Ender, but they were the first destroyers of worlds.”
I took a step back, my hand running over my eyes. My head throbbed, flashing back over the last hour, seeing her but not her, feeling her but not her.
“Okay, but this is Dianna, not a ravenous beast,” Logan said from behind me. Vincent made a low noise in his throat.
“I know, but there is a myth. One I remember from when my father and I first besieged Jurnagun. He told me I had the ability to feel Ig’Morruthens. Although we may have our differences, we are all made from the same floating chaos of the universe. When gods experience traumatic events, they petrify and turn to stone. Every molecule hardens as if it wishes not to exist any further. Ig’Morruthens are different. Blood lust can consume the cognitive function of the Ig’Morruthen brain. They consume in more ways than one. Overindulgence in blood can lead to massacres, mood swings, and erratic behavior.”
I ran my hand through my hair as I tried to remember every single bit of my training.
“It’s as if a switch gets flipped, anything mortal in them snuffed out like a flame, only the beast remaining. My father said the truly nasty ones are starved of light and love, reeking of absolute havoc. He said some of the oldest and most powerful even feared the sun. There are stories of Ig’Morruthens being burned by sunlight as if the dark power used to create them despises it. Dianna follows no one, but she is on the path Kaden set out for her. I will not lose her because of a tyrant. I refuse.”
The room grew silent.
“From now on, you are completely with me, or you are not. And if you are not…” I said, holding their gazes.
“I am,” they both said without hesitation.
“The Council of Hadrameil remains oblivious to this subject. Blame Zarall on a rapid thunderstorm and terrible lightning. A slip of my power,” I said.
“Okay.” Vincent stood a fraction taller. “I’ll get all the guilds and ambassadors on the same page.”
I nodded.
Vincent left, his mission clear, and I knew he would accomplish it.
Logan stayed, as always. He glanced down at the mark on his finger.
