Yerin was as good as dead, so Malice shifted her attention to Ziel.
She felt the change in Fate too late.
Malice’s arrow was already in the air when the Dreadgod breathed its last.
Hunger aura erupted out from the Weeping Dragon, empowering the last three Dreadgods: the Wandering Titan, the Bleeding Phoenix, and the one she’d named herself. The Empty Ghost.
The shadow of a dark future suddenly loomed in her mind.
Malice saw where her arrow would pierce Yerin’s chest only a split second before Lindon awakened. His first sight would be what Malice had done.
She didn’t see anything further in Fate than that.
Her future cut off at that moment.
“Return!” Malice commanded desperately.
It was uncomfortable whiplash to forcibly cancel her own technique so quickly after using it, but the arrow vanished in midair and reappeared in her hand.
Power erupted from Lindon.
He floated into the air, carried on the flows of energy flooding into him. Aura from hundreds of miles around poured into him. Restoring him. Empowering him. Changing him.
The Weeping Dragon’s sky dispersed.
And the sky turned black.
Malice didn’t allow herself to sweat, but she felt like wiping her brow nonetheless. When she sensed that power coming from Lindon, she felt like a young woman catching a glimpse of the Dreadgods for the first time.
It was an overwhelming power. A terrifying hunger. If she got any closer, she would surely be swallowed whole.
Malice was not used to being outclassed.
Still, she stretched her shadow out toward Mercy. Orthos and Little Blue would be risky to take, as their bond might alert Lindon. But she should be able to take her own daughter. Lindon would hardly be conscious at this point.
As though he’d heard her thought, Lindon vanished.
She didn’t feel the working until he’d already moved, and her heart rate spiked for a second until she saw what he was doing.
He reappeared standing along the back of the Weeping Dragon’s colossal corpse. His right hand dug into its scaly hide.
Lindon began to Consume.
There was a core binding somewhere inside the Dreadgod’s length, but monstrous power threaded through its every inch. Lindon devoured it mindlessly, driven by his own arm. She sensed no conscious thought in him, only hunger.
She was safe.
Mercy’s body slid inside the shadow, and Malice let out a breath. As expected, she could get away with this. So long as she didn’t do anything to affect Lindon’s spirit, he wouldn’t notice. Her shadow slithered back, closing the gate to her void space.
She froze.
He was gone.
There was no way she should lose track of anyone with that much power. It was like not being able to spot the sun at noon. Nonetheless, he was gone.
She found him standing beneath her.
His eyes were wide and mindless. Blank. Lindon stared up, but she was certain he couldn’t see her. Or anything. He still wasn’t fully awake.
White fingers twitched like someone was trying to puppeteer him. His arm lunged to the ground, dragging his shoulder with it.
Then he punched into her shadow.
Malice felt the intrusion into her void space. She could work her will against it, if she chose.
Instead, she stayed very, very still.
The white arm came out holding onto Mercy’s wrist. Lindon still stood with a blank expression, his eyes staring somewhere past Malice. But he pulled Mercy free of the shadow. Contrary to Malice’s expectation, he didn’t Consume her, only sat her onto the ground.
Lindon’s head twitched. His eyes slowly began to focus. On Malice.
Her breath stopped.
A moment later, she cast herself into the Way. She wasn’t particular about her destination, and she didn’t feel safe until after she’d left the swirling blue corridors and stumbled out into a jungle on the same continent.
Local sacred beasts sensed her and fled. Their simultaneous movement rippled through the surrounding trees, but she was watching the portal she came through.
If the Empty Ghost followed her…
But it didn’t.
Gradually, Malice breathed more easily as she watched the barely perceptible cracks in the world heal themselves.
After Consuming one Dreadgod, Lindon had grown powerful enough to threaten her and to defend his labyrinth against multiple Monarchs, but not enough to kill one outright. Now that he’d fed on a second, he could have forced the issue and killed her. She was certain of it.
Perhaps, if he had been awake or in prime condition, he would have done so.
That was terrifying enough, but the situation was even worse.
There were two other Dreadgods left.
Lindon flew Mercy over to set her next to Ziel and Yerin. He’d lined them up next to one another, but he couldn’t leave them lying on the dirt. Placing them on the back of the Weeping Dragon, which loomed over them like a mountain range, seemed even more disrespectful.
They all needed attention, but of the three, Ziel was in by far the worst shape. Orthos stood over him, manipulating life and blood aura using soulfire to keep his body going. Little Blue knelt by him and worked on his spirit, wearing a look of great concentration.
Without their attention, Ziel would have already died.
Lindon tore open a portal. The labyrinth’s defenses were still in effect, and he couldn’t deactivate them until he arrived, so the portal looked out over the slopes of Mount Samara.
He strode through, preparing an order for the labyrinth.
The portal stretched, and it felt like he was trying to walk through a flexible fabric. He pushed further, focusing his will, but in the end he was shoved backwards. He couldn’t cross his own portal.
Lindon stood in shock. He understood what was happening, but it was still unpleasant to see.
[You’re too heavy to move,] Dross explained.
[Sorry, is it rude to say you’re heavy?] another Dross asked.
[Bloated,] a third Dross suggested.
[Bulky.]
[Metaphysically dense,] said a red Dross. The other spirits turned and looked to him.
[You don’t get it, do you?] Lindon’s Dross said to the red one.
Lindon’s friends were on the verge of death, and he had just fought through some of the hardest battles of his life. His patience was hanging by a thin thread, but he pushed down his frustration. “If you’re going to act like a group, I’d prefer it if you took on different appearances. This is confusing.”
[Yerin thought so too. Don’t worry, it’s all a play. We can match up our thoughts, so you’re basically talking to an individual. Just because I’m a mighty hive-mind now doesn’t mean you have to address me with respect.]
When Dross mentioned Yerin, Lindon tried not to look at her. She was resilient and would certainly make a full recovery. He had to remind himself of that every few seconds.
Lindon let his portal fade. He couldn’t walk through it for the same reason that the Silent King had been forced to swap places with the Wandering Titan.
Dreadgods were too heavy to move. If they wanted to transport themselves anywhere, they had to use a trick, like trading with something of equal weight.
That had disturbing implications for Lindon’s existence. Especially taken with the fact that the white flesh of his right arm had climbed past his shoulder and was pushing into his chest. He didn’t sense anything unhealthy or harmful from those parts of his body; in fact, they felt healthier than his other side.
But his flesh and blood were being transformed by a Dreadgod’s. That couldn’t be good.
This is worth it, Lindon told himself firmly, and he set the problem aside.
If the portal wouldn’t work, he needed another location to bring his friends. He reached out his will to a location where his authority was strong.
“Come to me,” Lindon ordered.
He expected Windfall to fly toward him and pass through the portal, but instead space warped above him and then he was covered in shadow.