Mercy couldn’t break the rules after all. She didn’t have what it took.
She opened her mouth to tell Ziel that, but he spoke first.
“The heavens don’t decide when you advance to Archlord,” he said, without opening his eyes. “You do.”
He slid something across the rocky ground between them. A void key.
“I’m almost out of Archlord treasures,” he continued. “Put them to use.”
She swept her perception through the void key and found six Archlord-level natural treasures remaining. Some of them weren’t at full power, but she could make a balanced circle out of them. They might be enough to advance.
But she would have only one chance.
With reluctance, she set the void key back down. “I don’t have the insight yet, I’m sorry. I can still open the seventh page for a second, though, so I should be able to send you—”
Even with his eyes closed, he somehow glared at her. “Do I look like I have the time to spare for a conversation? Your Archlord revelation is the oath to which you dedicate your future. Anything works, as long as you are dedicated to it, honestly and fully. That honesty is the hard part. Now don’t bother me until you advance.”
Mercy really wanted to keep asking him questions, even though she’d spoken to him about the advancement many times over the weeks they’d shared this pocket world together.
She didn’t think his attitude was fair. “Don’t think too hard, it’s only the entire purpose for the rest of your life.”
Mercy scowled at Ziel. Then she scowled at the entire pocket world and scowled at herself for scowling.
What was a purpose she could accept?
She could swear herself to her friends, but that felt like it was about someone else, not herself. Swearing to do better than her mother was once again comparing her to her mother, like her previous two revelations. This should be something unique to her, she felt.
Not to her family.
Not to her Path.
Not to her friends.
To her.
When she put it that way, she felt something clarify within her. The void key opened and Archlord treasures drifted out, but she hardly paid attention to them, even as she balanced their aura.
What did she really want? What had she always wanted? She wanted to make the world a better place. At some point, her mother had wanted the same thing.
She had seen the darkness of the wilderness, and she had wanted to light it up. She used the power of darkness to push back the darkness.
And she had seen Mercy as a light.
Mercy spoke aloud. “I will bring light.”
The natural treasures burned away in a flash of silver flame.
While the Archlord fire was still pulsing through her, rebuilding her body and spirit, Ziel cracked one eye. “That was better than mine.”
Mercy tried to shake her head, but she was having trouble controlling herself at the moment.
Ziel shut his eye again. “Let me know when you’re done. Should be ready anytime…assuming there’s anything we can do.”
The same doubt had haunted Mercy’s mind for months. How was she supposed to help Lindon and Yerin? Even now, she was only a newly advanced Archlady, though her Book of Eternal Night would still let her punch harder than she could otherwise.
With her revelation still fresh in her mind, Mercy had an answer.
What would she do to help? Anything she could.
13
Lindon dove into the ocean as thunder roared overhead.
Blue-gold serpents of lightning chased him down, and the Weeping Dragon’s will crashed over him, violent as the waves.
He couldn’t fight the Dreadgod here. Not only would their battle be likely to break Windfall, opening Ghostwind Hall and endangering everyone inside, but Lindon needed the support of the labyrinth. He had to hope the Dreadgod followed him directly.
And didn’t just tear through the countryside.
[There’s a good chance!] Dross said, too brightly. [They can travel through space for short distances, just not too far. Or too often.]
Lindon remembered the Wandering Titan blinking through space to attack Moongrave. He also remembered the Dreadgod switching places with another of its kind all the way across the planet, showing skill and clever planning beyond anything the monsters should have been capable of.
He moved faster.
When he arrived in Sacred Valley, thanks to the labyrinth’s transportation, he swept his spiritual perception over the territory. Most of the people were still sheltering underground—it hadn’t been long since the battle with the Monarchs—but a few had ventured topside.
Warn them, Lindon sent to Dross.
Then he began to prepare.
[Uh, Lindon, I will, but I’m afraid I have—]
A tide of invisible power swallowed the northern sky, followed by a storm appearing gradually out of nowhere.
[—bad news.]
Lindon’s heart clenched. The Weeping Dragon had followed him most of the way back.
Even if a thousand miles counted as a short distance for a Dreadgod, it had manipulated space more than it should have been able to. Just like him, the Weeping Dragon had been empowered by the death of the Silent King.
As liquid lightning rained from the sky and sizzled against the ground, Lindon sensed the thing he feared the most.
Mercy and Ziel tumbled out of a rip in space.
They spilled out only a few yards from where Lindon stood, just north of Sacred Valley. Ziel braced himself on his hammer, and the energy from the Weeping Dragon was reduced to sparks when it hit the silver runes that spun all around him.
Mercy called her armor to protect her from the rain, but she raised her arms triumphantly as they appeared. “You did it!” she cried to Ziel.
Ziel looked to Lindon, and relief was clear on his face. “Looks like we weren’t too late.” Then fear and despair shivered through him as he looked up and saw the Weeping Dragon in the distance.
Mercy, too, gasped as she looked upward. She shivered and hugged her sides tightly.
Lindon controlled his expression. He didn’t want to frighten them, because they weren’t too late.
He was.
Mercy had advanced to Archlord, which at any other time would be cause for celebration. And Ziel was at the peak of his realm, close to Sage. He controlled the Grand Oath Array with a fluidity that suggested he had made great strides.
But so what?
Even average Heralds and Sages couldn’t help Lindon at this point, much less the two of them. They had thrown their lives away.
Lindon tapped into the labyrinth, ignoring how weary he felt and how his thoughts flowed like lead. He had to get them out of here.
But first, he owed them an apology. “My gratitude for coming, and I’m sorry. I didn’t make it.”
He had hoped they would advance without him, or that he could shake free of the Monarchs with time enough left to empower them himself. Now it was too late, and without the pocket world, how could they advance any faster? Even making it so far must have taken a miracle.
Dross appeared with his arms crossed, and he shook his head at Ziel and Mercy. [Not to criticize, but I’m very—]
“Stop,” Lindon ordered him. “This is my fault.” Lindon sank to his knees and bowed deeply. “Forgiveness, please.”
Mercy grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up almost desperately. Her armor vanished to essence. “No, get up! Come on! We’ve got to move!”
Ziel’s horns shone emerald, and he looked into the sky with resolve. An Enforcer technique nailed him to the ground as he lifted his hammer. “Let’s get him out of here.”
“No need.” Lindon was steady on his feet; he might feel hollow on the inside, but his Bloodforged Iron body had restored him. “I’m not done yet. You should leave. Go back to Yerin.”