Page 83 of The Endless One

And then came the pounding, the snarling, the grunting and groaning of a little infected child trying to claw her way out of the building because she wanted to bite and spread what Ajax had created.

“Jessamine,” Elric snapped. “The boards. The others will hear soon enough.”

Right, she couldn’t stand there horrified. She grabbed the first plank and ignored the rough-hewn splinters that bit into her fingers. Together, they worked with Elric’s magic jamming the nails back into the wood to hold the door closed, and Jessamine holding each individual piece. By the time they were done, there were a lot more of the infected trying to get out of the door.

“Why didn’t it work for good?” she asked.

“Her soul was being tugged in many directions. I could feel it. You were keeping her here, but the curse was summoning her away.” Elric was red in the face, staring at the door like it was about to burst open at any moment. “We have to cut it off at the source, and let the souls return when you summon them. But this is proof, Jessamine. Once this is over and done with, you can piece this kingdom back together again.”

Hope, she realized. That was what he had wanted to gift her.

Hope that she could actually save them all.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we find supporters of Leon Bishop, and we use them in two ways.” Elric cracked his neck. “First, we get whatever information we can about his scheming. And then, the witches sacrifice their enemies to us. It’s the greatest dose of power we could get.”

“And the best revenge.”

Elric watched with pleasure as Sybil drew her knife across the throat of the man they had dragged through the portal. He was one of many who now worshipped the God King, or perhaps who had never stopped. He was a fanatic at best, and at worst, the kind of person who would have killed anyone who didn’t agree with his beliefs.

Yet again, another sacrifice who knew nothing about Leon Bishop’s whereabouts or where the pantheon was going to be built. But they were getting somewhere.

There were rumors throughout the kingdom. People who had been accepted into the inner workings of Leon’s council, and those who had been asked to become gods. They were the ones who held all the cards. And while the coven had not gotten their hands on those people yet, he knew soon enough they would.

The dungeon was the perfect place to ask all of these supplicants about what they had done. Who they gave their time and prayers to. And why they would ever waste their time on his brother when there were so many better gods out there. Gods who actually cared about them. Gods who would give anything for an ounce of their attention.

A rush of energy flowed into him, as impressive as only a life could be. The sacrifices that had been made over and over again—nearly twenty people at this point—had glutted him to near bursting. He wanted to feel every individual life. He wanted to devour them whole and consume each one of their souls, just as his brother had done.

But he didn’t. He only took the emotion and the feeling behind each sacrifice, and then he let them go. Because Elric was not his brother. Elric was not Ajax, and he would not, could not, be that person. He would not destroy the afterlife for these people who had been convinced to worship a false god.

It was only their life he was after, not their souls.

And so he breathed it in, filling himself with even more magic because they would need every ounce of it to fight his brother, until it was almost painful to take it in. The man’s eyes glazed over, death taking him into the realm beyond where Elric once would have helped to guide him into the afterlife. If he wanted to. Otherwise, he would leave the souls wandering until they found that gleaming beyond themselves.

Now, there was another way. An easier way. When souls entered that hidden realm, they could choose his side or hers. Darkness or light. Death or the never-ending fields of wheat waving in the cool breeze.

Sybil sighed and drew a cloth over her blade. The fabric was already dripping with blood, so it was nearly useless to even attempt to clean the blade. She seemed to notice that at the same time he did. Grimacing, she shook her head. “This is messy business.”

“Necessary, though.”

“Yes, and still we are no closer to any information.” The words were filled with accusations, and he could hear them clear enough.

We’re killing people for no reason.

They don’t deserve this.

We aren’t any closer to getting the information we need.

Perhaps some of this was misguided vengeance. Elric wanted to hear their pleas for their lives. He wanted them to beg him, on their hands and knees, pressing their lips into the dirt because they had worshipped the wrong god.

It was an old wound he was healing in this moment. A wound that had plagued him for centuries.

And still, he did not give Sybil the answer she wanted. “Kill another.”

“They will know just as little as this one.”

Elric’s expression tightened. He could feel himself winding up, the bloodlust already pressing down on his shoulders and making the world hazy. “Kill. Another. One.”