The Monarchs were that close in power to the Phoenix; Malice had fought it more or less to a standstill for three days the last time. And even if the Dreadgods joined forces, they were still outnumbered by Monarchs.
There had to be something else. Something…
A feeling of utter cold passed over Windfall like a glacier shooting through the sky. Lindon’s body and spirit shivered together as it chilled him on a more-than-physical level, but it was past them in a second.
The Phoenix’s head came up, and it snapped its beak onto one of Malice’s glistening blue arrows. The missile shattered.
A purple-armored fist followed it an instant later as Malice punched the Dreadgod in the ribs.
This time, the impact did blow out Lindon’s windows.
He was ready for it, pushing out with force and wind aura to blast the glass shards back before they slashed all the Sacred Valley refugees to ribbons. The crowd was screaming, but Lindon couldn’t hear them.
Now darkness was interspersed with red light as the second Monarch joined the battle. If Lindon had thought it was hard to follow before, it was chaos now.
And devastating for the land beneath.
Malice strode through foothills, and they became a plain. The impact from one of Northstrider’s strikes stripped a forest bare. One of the Phoenix’s techniques was deflected, and bloody fire rained down.
There was only one saving grace: the Monarchs were pulling the battle away from Sacred Valley. Every second, they were further north.
Lindon’s heart hammered, and he checked the viewing constructs in the fortress. Some of them had blown out, or the scripts that controlled them had, but some were still intact. An image floated over his console, flickering and indistinct because of the damage.
The eastern slopes of Mount Samara were covered in rubble. And filled with bodies.
As he watched, armies of bloodspawn rose like ants.
He quickly turned the projection to another direction, trying not to vomit all over the control panels. How many people who had left Sacred Valley on foot had survived? Had anyone?
His own spiritual sense told him that the suppression field had stopped the worst of it for the people inside, blunting even the physical force from the blows. Crowds still pushed their way out of Heaven’s Glory…though the human tide slowed with reluctance as they saw the bodies piled on the eastern side.
Then he found the Titan.
It was standing just outside the ruins of Mount Venture, still except for its lashing tail, watching as the northern horizon was lit red by the battle. Lindon’s heart tensed as he waited for it to go join the fight. If it did, would the Monarchs be overwhelmed? Or did they have some kind of plan? Maybe an ambush?
His first breath passed while the Wandering Titan stood still, except for its writhing tail. Then his second breath.
His third breath caught in his throat as the Titan turned. Slow, lumbering, the giant turned back toward Sacred Valley.
The yellow beacon that had once rested inside Mount Venture was still dim and flickering, but the Titan marched over in one stride, ignoring it. The Dreadgod took one purposeful step after another, marching across Sacred Valley.
And leaving it in ruins.
Its footsteps crushed trees like grass. Its tail lashed out behind it, knocking more chunks from the ruined Mount Venture…and as it continued walking, its tail cut into more and more.
Lindon felt like his heart had stopped beating.
From their vantage point, high above Samara’s ring and moving south quickly, the high-quality viewing constructs from the Ninecloud Court picked up the destruction in great detail. Not all of them had been damaged, and this projection was crystal clear.
So Lindon missed nothing as the Dreadgod waded into the Wei clan.
The central avenue, the artery that supplied traffic for all the major businesses in the clan, vanished beneath its colossal foot.
Earth aura flashed out in a golden wave, and the earth rippled like water. Entire housing districts were torn apart by rolling earth, including the Shi family. Somewhere in that chaos of destroyed buildings and uprooted trees rested the remnants of Lindon’s childhood home.
A black tail slashed through the middle of Elder Whisper’s tower, and the top half toppled slowly to shatter on the ground.
If the elder hadn’t escaped when he had the chance, then he was dead now.
The Titan didn’t even notice as it kicked aside the arena where the last Seven-Year Festival had been fought. Where Lindon had met Suriel. Where he had first seen this vision of the Titan wading into Sacred Valley.
The vision he’d failed to stop.
With inexorable steps, the Titan was heading their direction. It seemed to be drawn to Samara’s ring, but not in a particular hurry. To the Dreadgod, it was simply time for a stroll.
Mercy laid a hand on his shoulder. “You should turn that off,” she said quietly.
Only then did Lindon remember that the construct was projecting this image into the air. If he could see it, so could everyone else.
His family, and several dozen other refugees from Sacred Valley, had just seen their home destroyed.
“Apologies,” Lindon whispered.
The view cut off.
But he could still see it. He could feel it, his entire being focused on it.
Tears tracked down his sister’s face as she approached him. “Is there…is there something we can do?”
Lindon barely saw her.
“Maybe we could go back? We can find more room. Even…even if we can save one more person…”
The Titan wasn’t in a hurry, but Sacred Valley wasn’t a long walk for it. If it continued walking in the same direction, it would reach Mount Samara in a matter of minutes.
Lindon stopped the cloud’s propulsion. They could go back. At the very least, they’d be able to pick up a few more people.
His spirit screamed a warning, and he looked up at the windows that were once full of glass. All he could see was a wall of purple crystal.
Mercy threw herself at it, leaping forward. “Stop!” she shouted.
Akura Malice’s fist closed around the cloudship, and they were swallowed in shadow. For a few long heartbeats, Lindon was alone in the darkness.
He couldn’t even feel his own body. All he could feel was the space twisting around him and the sinking numbness of failure.
[It…it wasn’t a failure,] Dross said. [It wasn’t! …Lindon?]
The darkness fell away.
They floated over a dark city. Spires of smooth black stone reached to the violet-tinted sky, and the shadow aura was thick here. Luminous flowers shone white, pink, or blue from carefully cultivated public gardens, and Remnant horses pulled carriages through the sky on tracks of purple flame. All around the city, walls stretched up, black and imposing.
Some of the remaining Irons cried out, groping blindly as their senses weren’t strong enough to penetrate the haze. Lindon had to steer the fortress away from a smaller cloudship before it crashed directly into them.
Far below, a scripted spire stood proudly from an open courtyard. A teleportation anchor.
Even for a Monarch, it would have been hard to send their entire cloudship through space in one trip. Malice had sent them to the one place she could reach easily.
Moongrave. Capital of the Akura clan.
The fight for Sacred Valley was over.
17
The cloudship was anything but quiet as they drifted in the wind over Moongrave.
While Lindon had been focusing on the battle with the Dreadgods, bloodspawn had risen all over the ship. Some of them had been destroyed, but others were still attacking, and it took him and Eithan a moment of concentration to destroy them.
In the meantime, virtually everyone was shouting something.
“What happened?” Lindon’s father demanded. “We’re not moving!”
His mother clung to Kelsa, holding a glowing blue-and-yellow sword in one hand and a matching shield in the other. Products of her Soulsmithing, which she must have been hiding somewhere. She looked to Lindon with terrified eyes. “Where are we?” she asked, and she probably meant to sound demanding, but it came out as a plea.