“We just need to survive,” Jason continued. “There’s nothing they can throw at us that we can’t survive.”
Allyra nodded though she didn’t feel any certainly in her own mind. The Fifth Final was one last fight—against opponents who felt no pain, who could not be negotiated with, and who felt no human compassion. In short—Sentinels. In reality, it was a fight against the Source itself, to prove themselves worthy to protect it.
Allyra squeezed Jason’s hands. “I won’t break,” she said. “We’ll survive and then we’re going to change the world.”
The drums lifted into a final frenzied crescendo.
It was time.
* * *
The crowd roared, individual screams combining into a single continuous sound. A thousand different faces merged into a rainbow of color, but her eyes couldn’t seem to separate and recognize any individual faces. Somewhere, hidden amongst the crowd, were family, friends, and opponents: Rob and Jamie, Eva and Gemma, ex-Five Finals Competitors. Allyra stood in the middle of it all and forced it to fade to the black emptiness of space until her mind was focused on only the test ahead. Until she stood in silence with Jason by her side.
A single figure separated himself from the crowd, walking slowly toward them. His gait was stilted and unsure and his back bowed with age. As he drew closer, Allyra realized he was being supported by two Sentinels, their forms winking in and out under the bright winter sun.
“The Archivist,” Jason whispered.
Up close, the Archivist’s skin was pale and paper thin with age. His hand trembled as he reached out for hers.
So, this was the man Emma would one day replace.
“Your hand please, Miss Warden.”
Allyra held out her hand to the Archivist. His fingers were shaky as they wrapped around hers. When he twisted the knife against her palm, the motion was clumsy and awkward, and it drew more blood than necessary. One of the Sentinels ran its fingers through the blood now dripping freely from her hand. At its contact, Allyra felt a brief connection to the Source—a moment of bright, infinite light. But for the first time, there was something else, something Allyra couldn’t quite put her finger on—a hint of darkness, of bitterness, of corruption. It was barely a trace, so faint Allyra wondered if she’d imagined it. Before it could truly register in her mind, the Sentinel glowed, and the Archivist moved on.
The same ritual was repeated with Jason before the Archivist turned and faced the Council.
“Allyra Warden and Jason Stone,” he announced, his voice thin and almost lost amongst the noise of the cheering crowd.
Strange—all this time and she’d never known Jason’s full name.
The Archivist’s Sentinel escorts accompanied him back to his seat. Once he’d been settled safely in his seat next to the Council, the two Sentinels turned back toward the Arena with perfect synchronicity. With the blink of an eye, they appeared, now wearing armor and holding weapons in their hands.
These were the Sentinels they were to face.
“There’s something wrong with these Sentinels,” Allyra hissed at Jason.
He turned to her with a question in his eyes, but before she could explain, the Sentinels attacked.
Both Sentinels came at her. The first held a double-edged axe in its hands and the other a simple, but enormous, two-handed sword. Allyra slid under the swing of the axe, her knees sliding along the rough grass of the Combat Arena. She bent over backward, so far that she felt the ground beneath her back, but even then, the axe barely passed over the tip of her nose. Before she could get back to her feet, the second Sentinel was over her, the tip of its massive sword punching directly for her chest.
Allyra managed to draw her twin swords and crossed them over her chest to block the blow. The crowd gasped as the swords came together with a metallic ring, sending bright sparks dancing into the air.
Jason ran his sword through the Sentinel standing over her, but it sliced through nothing but air. The Sentinels didn’t have true features, but even if they had, Allyra imagined that they would’ve shown no change in expression at suffering what would’ve been a fatal blow for any human. But of course, the Sentinels were not human, and as far as she knew, they could not be killed.
The Sentinel continued to push its sword at her chest, the tip of it moving ever closer to her chest. Its strength overwhelmed her own, and it would only be a matter of time before it succeeded in pushing the sword through her chest.
Using her Gift during combat had never come naturally for Allyra, but this time, she was left with no other choice. She reached for her Gift, gathering the yellow threads. Power flooded through her, so much stronger since that dark day in Antarctica when she’d given herself over completely to her Gift. A rush of Air flowed over her, slamming directly into both Sentinels and sweeping them off their feet and carrying them to the far edge of the Arena.
Jason pulled her to her feet, blood already dripping down his arm from a shallow cut. His eyes were wide with horror and his breathing heavy with adrenaline and exertion. “We can do this,” he said, but to her ears, his voice lacked conviction.
* * *
How do you fight something that cannot be hurt and feels no pain? Especially
