As always, the space between worlds looked like a tunnel of textured blue, like a cross between light and cloth, but also indescribable in physical terms. But with her understanding of the Way, she could see tunnels branching off, splitting in different directions.
She hovered outside Sector 11, catching glimpses of its Iterations.
There, down that tunnel, was Amalgam. A standard, almost barren world, with tinier balls of color and potential clinging to it like fuzzy moons caught in its orbit. What the locals called Territories.
Up another sloping tunnel, she saw Asylum. This one was sealed off, and she could see the discs of elaborate script-formations set up by a previous generation’s Gadrael. The scripts were fragmented and flickering, on the verge of failure, but they had been that way for decades.
Beneath the seals, the world itself was smoky gray, locked against intrusion from the outside. Through that barrier of gray, she could dimly see unspeakable shapes squirming, pushing against the restrictions of their prison. Fiends of Chaos, each powerful enough to contend with Judges. Trapped there by the collective will of ordinary humans.
She looked to each of the other worlds in the Sector, some more notable than others.
Then, finally, she looked to Cradle.
It should have been closer to her than any other Iteration, but the Way grew thin and gray as it approached Cradle. The Vroshir influence. If she tried to enter that Iteration, she would be shunted off to the side, most likely into another Sector.
But even obscured, Cradle shone like a star. She could see the powers that made it up swirling, the powerful—but still mortal—fates that clashed inside.
[WARNING: intrusion detected.]
Her Presence drew her attention up, until she looked into the neighboring Sector Twenty-One.
The Mad King’s burning eyes met her own. Around him, blue light crumbled and twisted, the rules and laws of the universe breaking around him.
He wouldn’t enter the Way physically for her. No fisherman dove into the ocean to wrestle a shark.
The Vroshir reached out with one bone-gauntleted hand, and that hand clawed for her in the Way, larger than her entire body. Its weight distorted the swirling world of order, bringing with it the crackling darkness of the Void.
Suriel’s Razor erupted into its true form, from a meter-long bar of blue steel to a branching tree that sparked with light. It was the ultimate tool for cutting away corruption, and she cut at the Mad King’s attack, severing it from existence.
[WARNING: multiple intrusions detected.]
Her enemy wasn’t alone.
A chain of shining stars crashed into the Way to wrap around her, a constellation brought to life. From another direction came a thousand hands of blood. From yet another, a wisp of the same dark, corrosive smoke that Gadrael had faced.
She cleansed or severed each one, catching glimpses of the Vroshir on the other side as she did so. A spear crashed down on her like a meteor striking a planet, and she met it with her Razor.
Outside the Way, that would have been a deadly attack. Here, she could meet it, but it took all her focus.
And more and more of the Vroshir were drawn to this spot.
They swarmed around her, and the Way dimmed. Thread by thread, it unraveled around her, revealing endless darkness specked with distant, swirling balls of color. The Void.
Enemies surrounded her, all attacking. And as they struck, she slipped from one side of existence to the other.
At least it’s working, she thought.
Then the Mad King reached out again. This time, she had to bring the full force of her power to bear against the grasping hand, and the clash of forces stretched the Way even further.
The chain of stars wrapped around her midsection, and she couldn’t spare the attention to stop it. Bloody hands landed on her leg, and a wisp of smoke twisted around her neck.
Her armor began to crack.
[Arrival incoming,] her Presence said.
A flaming sword burst through the Mad King’s hand.
A woman carved through the Vroshir’s attack with her sword, her Mantle boiling behind her like wings of white fire. Even her hair was crimson flame, and she severed the other attacks binding Suriel with one more sweep of her blade.
Razael, the Wolf, turned to face Suriel with a furious expression. “I should have let you die!”
Threads of blue light slipped back in as the Way recovered some of its hold. A shimmering orange diamond appeared over Razael’s shoulder, sparkling with a different reflected face in each facet.
[My host is relieved she arrived in time,] Razael’s Presence said.
A string of twisting symbols punched through the Way again, and Suriel glimpsed a group of Silverlords chanting in tandem. The silver crowns on their heads shone and serpentine runes twined around them as they called on the energy systems of plundered worlds to make their attack.
That working would be enough to rewrite the physics of any local Iteration, but Razael backhanded the ribbon of symbols with an armored fist. The working of the Silverlords shattered.
Razael glared at her Presence. “Plot our retreat!”
[We don’t have a retreat,] the crystalline Presence said to Suriel. [She knows that.]
Void beasts clawed their way into being, indescribable horrors slashing their way through more strands of order, drawing them closer to the Void.
“Stop talking and help me!”
[She’s happy to be here.]
The Mad King let the Scythe drift off to one side and drew his sword, a length of bone that screamed with the sorrow of a thousand butchered worlds. Suriel’s instincts and Presence screamed danger, and she turned her attention to the attacks of the other Vroshir as the Wolf faced down the Mad King.
Another figure marched into the fading blue light, holding his molten shield ready. The Titan blocked the oncoming void-beasts, slapping them back out of reality.
“You will stand trial for this,” Gadrael warned Suriel. “But for now…” He set his shield and faced the Mad King. “…nothing will touch you.”
The blue light shone brighter, but only for a moment.
Daruman’s red-sun eyes blazed as he spoke one word. “Come,” the Mad King commanded, and he was echoed by his Fiend.
Their word spread through the Void, echoing among the empty chambers of chaos, and those who dwelled in chaos obeyed.
The world darkened, and once again, the hold of the Way began to slip. Even with three Judges present, the forces of the Void were too strong. Their gravity tugged the Abidan away.
Just when the Way had faded to one thin azure thread, a girl’s head popped out.
She looked like she was about twenty, and she glanced around with uncertain eyes. “Quick, let’s go!”
Someone else shoved her from behind. A distinguished gentleman whose glasses gleamed. As the girl tumbled out of her tunnel and emerged next to Suriel, he stepped out elegantly, and he even had his weapon in the form of a cane.
“I suppose you’re going to insist on making me work, aren’t you?” said the Spider, gesturing with his cane.
The Fox, Zakariel, trembled and hid behind him.
“This is not my doing,” Makiel said.
The Hound manifested in full battle armor, holding his broad two-handed sword in one hand. He looked completely unharmed, with his dark and weathered skin and his iron-gray hair, but Suriel could see that his existence was still weak.
He gave Suriel a hard look. “But if we are to walk this path, we will walk it together. All of us.”
The Ghost blew hair away from her face, and Suriel realized for the first time the woman was standing at her side. Durandiel was the only one of the Seven not wearing armor, instead wearing a dull gray dress that hazed into smoke and carrying a tall staff.
“We’re all going to die,” the Ghost said.
Makiel’s Presence, a floating purple eye, answered her. [We have not seen our deaths.]
“I didn’t mean here,” Durandiel sighed. “I just thought it was worth contemplating our own mortality.”