“Maiya? No. No-no-no-no!” Vir shouted. “Please. Not you.”
Vir roared in pain and sobbed into her. He’d give anything. He’d give his own life to save her.
And yet, there was nothing he could do. He could only watch. Maiya looked… divine in that moment. All trace of pain and sadness was gone, and only a gentle warmth overflowed from her body.
“Don’t worry about me, Vir. I—” Maiya suddenly frowned in agony.
No. Not agony. Concentration.
“What is this? Ekanai…?” she asked. Her eyes widened in realization. Her expression went from one of acceptance to confusion, to shock, and finally to sympathy. But the sympathy wasn’t directed at Vir. “I see,” she said with a wry smile. “So this was your plan all along.”
Vir didn’t understand a single one of the emotions that flitted across her face. Her expression and her tone were no longer that of someone about to meet their death, but someone who’d just intuited something profound.
“Maiya? What’s happening? Are you—”
“What are you doing?” Ekanai rasped, and for the first time, there was fear in his voice. “Stop! How are you even talking?”
Maiya turned her neck, smiling defiantly. Her hostility was mostly gone, replaced by a look that bordered on pity. It made no sense to Vir. “If you think I won’t help him, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Turning back to Vir, she spoke hurriedly. “There isn’t much time. Vir, listen to me. It’s fear. You must learn to control your fear. It’s the only way to win. To get out of this place. It will kill you if you let it.”
It? Maiya clearly wasn’t referring to Ekanai. But if not him, then what?
“Stop! You’ll ruin everything!” Ekanai roared, thrusting his orb onto Maiya’s back. Her essence flowed away faster, and she winced in pain. Vir could barely even make out her outline now—she was so faint.
“Maiya, what—”
“Ekanai is not the real enemy. There is a way out. You can do this, Vir. Remember, you must overcome your fear!”
“None of that matters. What about you?” Vir asked, his face screwed up in anguish.
There was a brilliant flash of white, and what was left of Maiya’s body began to vanish, turning into white motes of prana, starting with her feet and moving up.
Maiya held Vir’s face in her transparent hands and touched her forehead against his. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay, Vir. I’ll be okay.”
Her hands vanished, turning into motes of prana. Her face neared, and she planted a kiss on his lips. Then she was gone, leaving no trace she’d ever existed.
Vir stared blankly as the last of her floated to Ekanai’s orb, settling within it. The crystal now blazed dazzlingly with Maiya’s Ice and Wind prana. Ekanai tossed it high into the air then caught it again.
Vir felt sick.
The demon grinned wickedly. “And now, I have two things you value greatly. Your Artifact, and your friend. I truly did not believe it would be so easy to consume her.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Vir said. It wasn’t a threat. He was simply stating a fact. Inside, he felt nothing. Not anger, not even sadness. Just a hollow emptiness the likes of which he’d never experienced. Not when he’d assassinated the slumlord Ravin. Not even when he’d taken Head Priest Harak’s life.
“I’m going to end you,” he repeated.
“You will no doubt try,” Ekanai said, already slipping into a shadow. “But you cannot kill me. Not as you are.”
And with that, Ekanai disappeared, taking with him the most precious person in Vir’s life.
80GHOSTS OF THE PAST (CIRAYUS)
Cirayus found himself amid pandemonium. Fires raged. Buildings burned, and demons screamed.
Some fled from their homes, on fire. Others knelt beside loved ones, mourning. The sky was dyed in hues of blood, as if mirroring the terrible destruction.
Cirayus knew this place. He knew it so well he could even place the neighborhood and name the streets.
This was Samar Patag. Garga’s primary stronghold. Its capital city.
And it was in flames.
The castle loomed in the distance, blackened and bent, and a dozen demons hung on ropes fifty paces high. Their corpses swayed. Sometimes bouncing off the side of the keep’s tall tower. Sometimes threatening to catch the flames of the burning building that suspended them.
A flag flapped nearby. Fire red, with the black outline of a monkey’s face in the center. The flag of the Chitran.
Beneath it, on the dirt, was what remained of the Gargan golden bull. It was barely even recognizable, having mostly burned to ash.
The more Cirayus took in, the more his confusion deepened. He was witnessing the sacking of Samar Patag when the Chitrans attacked it on that fateful day sixteen years ago.
Except that was impossible. Cirayus had never been there at the time. He’d been fleeing into the Ashen Realm with the newborn Vir. He couldn’t have been reliving his memory, for these memories simply did not exist within his mind.
Unless…
Cirayus thought back to the Ink of Clarity at Saunak’s tower. It was the only device he’d ever come across that allowed one to glimpse the past. Or the future, if Saunak was to be believed.
Could this be something similar, only greater in scale? Though, if so, why? To what end? And how?
“Lad! Vir, can you hear me?” Cirayus yelled. Right now, the reason mattered not. Finding the boy came before all else. They could ruminate all they wanted—once they were free. He only wished he wasn’t unarmed. He longed for Sikandar’s reassuring weight.
Cirayus crouched and lunged… and nearly toppled over when Balancer of Scales lessened his weight far less than anticipated.
His first thought was that the ability had been compromised, but while the Ultimate tattoo used a startling amount of prana, it was one of the lucky Ultimates whose performance degraded commensurate with the level of prana in the surroundings.
The ability hadn’t failed—it’d simply degraded, matching the prana level of the barren Samar Patag.
Trying again met with the same results. As he’d feared, it wasn’t only Balancer of Scales. Giant’s Hide, Giant’s Grace, and the Gargan Lionheart and Braveheart tattoos had similarly degraded.
“Gotten too used to the Ash,” Cirayus grumbled. If the prana was commensurate to Samar Patag, did that mean he was really there? It was either the world’s finest illusion, or there was something more to this.
Cirayus knew of no force in all the realms that could achieve such a thing. It was impossible. It should have been impossible.
“Lad! Answer me!” Cirayus hollered, stepping through the rubble. It was of no use. Vir never answered. Panic surged through Cirayus, and he forced it down with the Foundation Chakra. Still, his fear was founded in more than just desperation.
He had already lost the boy once. He’d sworn never to allow it again, and yet, here he was. Separated.
Cirayus took a moment to center himself. He was alone in this bizarre place. Which meant he was being shown this scene for a purpose. Vir was not here. Perhaps he was seeing a vision of his own.
A shadowy figure lunged at Cirayus, who blocked instinctively.
Cirayus might be hampered without the overwhelming prana of the Ashen Realm, but he had never failed to train his body. Like Vir, he too boasted an internal prana capacity far beyond that of most demons—he didn’t need any other advantages to win most fights.