“You’re a fool, Adonis.” The human’s voice chased him through the shadows, taunting him, ever just out of reach.
He growled, bounding forward, before he realised her scent no longer hung in the air of the tunnel. Retreating, he found the side passage down which she had fled, and continued after her.
“A love-struck idiot, lost, alone, weak,” Maisie mocked. “Better you had died, than this.”
They continued the chase, Adonis ever just behind, though he sensed at times the shift of movements, the human’s presence. She had no stamina, this creature, not with the aftereffects of her injury. This could not last—eventually she would fall, would stumble or trip, and reveal her position. Laughter rasped from his throat as he imagined his fingers closing upon her soft flesh, her screams as he wrought his revenge.
“Nyriah, she would weep, to see she died for nothing.” Her voice came again, and this time the words struck Adonis like a hammer, bringing him to a halt. “You are a stain upon her memory.”
A tremor wracked Adonis and he swung this way and that, his snarls echoing in the narrow corridor. Where was she? How he longed to destroy her, to cease her tormenting—
There!
He leapt, bounding forward at a flicker of movement. The human had cried out, but there was no escaping Adonis now, as his fist met with flesh. He heard a soft crunch as of breaking bone, followed by a crash as glass struck stone. Abruptly, whatever magic had protected Maisie vanished and she appeared before him, broken wrist clutched in one hand, eyes wide.
She retreated from him, cursing beneath her breath, but the rock was damp beneath her feet and she slipped, collapsing to the stone. Adonis loomed above her, breath hissing in and out as he drank in her fear, her terror. The time had finally come, his vengeance, his redemption.
“They’re alive,” she said suddenly, eyes wide as they met his glare. “The fledgelings, they’re safe. She’ll never find them. Thanks to you.”
Adonis stumbled to a stop. Her words pierced the darkness upon his soul, the fog of his mind. Those words, they should have enraged him, driven him to a fury, for they proved the magnitude of his treachery.
Instead, he felt a thrill, a sharp joy that swelled within, growing, swirling as it burned up his hatred, his anger. A gasp tore from his throat and he staggered back from her, shuddering, struggling.
“I know you’re in there, Adonis,” Maisie’s words chased him.
Placing her good hand on the stone, she pushed herself up, her legs struggling to support her. One was slightly crooked, its bones healed poorly. She was so weak, he should never have let her live. And yet…
“I know you can hear me,” she spoke again, taking a step towards him, reaching out a hand. “I know you don’t want to do this.”
Another shudder shook Adonis and he twisted away from her, then back. A moan built in his throat, a pressure, a battle within that threatened to tear him apart. The pain in his soul grew to a crescendo as the twin forces of Maya’s Voice, and his own, did battle.
I…can’t… he whispered to himself.
And still the eyes of the human watched him.
36
The Sovereigns
The Sovereigns shuddered as they looked across the battlefield, taking in the chaos of war. Fear and rage and hatred swirled, mixing and swelling as human and Tangata clashed, the screams of the dying and the victors rising until it seemed they were one and the same. Watching the flicker of their auras, they couldn’t help but think it was true, that a part of each soul was lost with the death they dealt.
The darkness of Maya, and those who had come before, had consumed these pour souls. Even now as the Sovereigns worked to severe the Old One’s influence, the darkness fed upon itself, upon the battle upon the pain and loss and death. These men and women, they no longer wished to see the light, to believe in a better world.
A piece of the Sovereigns broke with each death, with the loss of every brother, each sister. In their minds’ eye, the terrible waste of war was laid to bare, revealed for the tragedy it was, to witness brothers and sisters murdering one another. Looking upon that horror, they knew they had made the right decision.
And together, they reached out to grasp the scarlet threads of rage, the emerald lines of hatred. Speaking as one, they sought to crush those dark emotions, to press them back, to contain them in the bounds of compassion and empathy that had once held them in check. Across the battlefield their Voice rang out, muting those terrible passions, trying to heal the wounds their foe had dealt.
Only as they came to an end and looked back did the Sovereigns realise the futility of their actions. As they moved from one part of the battle to another, the fighting paused, but only momentarily. For as the people looked and saw the dead and dying around them, their hatreds crept back, and the battle was re-joined.
No, they thought to themselves, watching the chaos resume, the darkness sweeping through the ranks of human and Tangata alike, all across the walls, except…
…except where they themselves stood, surrounded by the glow of their guard. Of all the souls on the battlefield, the Perfugian recruits and their Tangatan partners alone stood untouched by the darkness. Instead, they shone with
