“We need to speak with the Autocrators,” said the smith, raising his large hammer and shaking it at the Great Soul. “Things need to change!”
“They do indeed,” said the Great Soul with a sigh. “Looks like you all need a reminder as to why we rule without question.”
“Wait,” croaked Scorio, shaking the memories of the Final Door and the darkness beyond it from his mind. “Wait!”
The Great Soul looked back at their group. He was handsome, his cheekbones raised, his manner refined. But a quick appraisal was all it took for him to dismiss them out of hand.
The smith snarled and drew back when the Great Soul raised his hand, then screamed in agony as a blast of flame poured down to immolate him where he stood.
Chapter 3
Scorio stared in horror as the smith became a black silhouette within the column of crimson flame. The stench of burning flesh filled the air and his compatriots fell back with cries of horror.
The Great Soul cut off his attack. The flames died away. The smith had become a charred statue, his flesh cracked like old coal, the bone of his skull showing through the remains of his features, the head of his hammer partially melted and gleaming bright.
The corpse collapsed forward onto the cobblestones.
“There,” said the Great One primly. “That gave me no satisfaction, but I pray it proved educational. This rebellion of yours is an asinine disruption of Bastion’s sacred hierarchies. The four Houses stand united against this ingratitude and will escalate retribution the longer it persists. Return to your homes, friends, or suffer the same fate.”
“By the ten hells,” croaked Leonis.
“You bastard.” A lean, hard-faced man with a balding head was glaring at the dead man. “You’re just like the rest of them. You’re no Great Soul. You’re a demon. You’re all—”
The Great Soul extended his hand and flames burst forth once more, enveloping the tall man. His scream rose then cut short, and a second later he, too, collapsed to the cobbles.
“Manners,” said the Great Soul.
“Hey!” Scorio stepped forth, his whole body shaking with outrage. Waves of nausea and fury washed over him and his voice trembled. “You!”
The Great Soul looked back at him once more, eyes narrowing. “The streets aren’t safe for students. I’d advise you to return to the Academy immediately.”
“Or what?” Scorio couldn’t get the stink of burned flesh out of his nose. “You’ll burn me alive, too?”
A look of utter confusion crossed the man’s face. “What? Why would I do that?”
Naomi stepped up alongside Scorio, her face pale, her eyes shining with hatred. “That man was right. You’re scum.”
Confusion gave way instantly to anger. “You try my patience. I don’t have time to deal with you children. Go back to the Academy. Now.”
“Guys?” Zala’s tone was nervous. “Maybe we should…?”
Scorio felt wild, barely in control of himself. The crowd of protestors was staring at him in hope and confusion. What could he do? What should he do? This murderer was a House Enforcer, and the only way to stop him was to—what—fight him? Kill him?
But to do so would declare war on the four Houses.
A chant became audible and a second, larger crowd marched around the far corner, banners raised and weapons in hand. The original protestors hurried back to them, melting into their ranks even as the new group slowed and took stock of the situation, faces reflecting shock and then fury at the sight of the twin torched corpses.
The Great Soul sighed. “This day truly taxes my patience. I am Flame Vault Xiang Xi, an Enforcer for House Hydra acting under the full authority of Autocrator Praximar and the Council. Martial law has been declared and all assemblies and protests are now illegal. Disperse and return home or suffer the full consequences of rebellion.”
A slender, raw-boned woman pushed her way to the fore, her crimson hair cut close to the scalp, her watery blue eyes burning bright.
Scorio had seen her before. On the streets, and recently. She’d been haranguing a crowd with incendiary language, urging them to turn against the Great Souls, whipping up their anger and discontent. Her passion had been fervent, her conviction total, her fury incandescent.
He’d not recognized her then.
This time, with his thoughts on the Final Door and the horrors beyond it fresh in his mind, he recognized her instantly.
Nissa.
A Red Lister like him, and part of Sal’s crew who’d yearned to escape their prison. She’d abandoned him and the others to flee into the depths, leaving him to try and save Halvert and Hestia.
Nissa. Once known as the Flayer of Men.
He’d only ever seen her by the blue glow of the chthonic moss. Her hair had been longer and green in its light, her features sallow and gaunt.
Now she glared up at Xiang with fearless disgust, clad in threadbare robes and vibrating with pent-up fury. “The change is here! You Great Souls have promised over and over again but always failed to deliver. Your prophecy failed. Your Academy is a black hole and your Houses are overflowing with corruption and injustice. Bastion rises! If you Great Souls can’t save us, then we shall save ourselves!”
These words drew a raucous cheer from the nearly two hundred people gathered tightly behind her.
“How tedious,” said Xiang, raising both hands. “Very well. Your fates will be a lesson and a warning both to the rest of the city.”
“No,” whispered Naomi. “He can’t.”
“Scorio,” hissed Leonis. “What do we do?”
Scorio reached back, grabbed Jova by the arm, and hauled her up beside him. “Shrouds,” he said quickly, Igniting his Heart. “We place them right in front of him, block his attack. It’s our only chance to—”
The crowd cringed and fell back as the Great Soul poured forth flames from his palms—all but Nissa, who raised her face, eyes closing, and extended her arms. Where before he’d cast out a narrow stream, now he unleashed a great wave of crimson. Desperate, Scorio summoned his Shroud and tried to fling it forth, to place it before the attack and block it.
But his invisible shield merely manifested before him, hovering a few feet away, glimmering and ethereal.
Jova’s did the same.
Which meant they could only watch in horror as the fiery deluge washed over the front ranks of the crowd, killing a third of those gathered, the flames whipping around them and growing into a white-hot inferno that caused screams to rise to shrieks and then snuff out as the bodies collapsed.
Nissa stood tall amidst the flames as if receiving a blessing, arms extended as she blackened and burned.
She was a Red Lister. She’d never received Academy training. For all Scorio knew she was a Char still and had yet to Ignite her Heart.
“No!” he screamed, his cry lost in the wailing and hoarse shouting of the crowd as it broke and began to flee.
“There,” said Xiang, his satisfaction obvious. He blew on his fingertips as he waggled them then clasped his hands behind his back. “Class is over. Go home.”
No thought, no calculation. A rage as fierce and hot as the flames that had just killed scores roared through Scorio, and with a cry, he embraced his scaled form. He took four long strides and leaped.
Xiang sensed the attack, wheeled about in obvious shock, and then flew aside just as Scorio passed through the space he’d inhabited, white-hot claws slashing at the air.
“Grow up, you stupid fool—”
But the Nightmare Lady came right behind Scorio, leaping high and clawing at the Great Soul, who again swerved away, but not far enough to avoid her tail. Its great triangular blade slashed across his thigh, opening a deep gash that immediately turned crimson against his white robes.
Scorio landed, spun about, and saw the rest of his companions get involved.
Zala raised her arms, unleashing a flurry of pastel butterflies. Leonis summoned Nezzar. Jova took six quick steps forward, placing herself before Xiang, and hit him with her horror power, causing the man to startle and recoil. Lianshi hesitated, unable to contribute, while Juniper moved out wide, aiming to circle behind their flying foe.