The Reality Dysfunction (Night's Dawn, #1)

by Peter F. Hamilton

A spark of yellow light bobbed between the trees ahead of him. He pressed himself against a big qualtook trunk, and peered round. Quinn sank the fission blade into Powel Manani’s prostrate body. Horst gasped, and crossed himself. “Lord, receive Your son —” The demon sprite flared like a miniature nova between Quinn and Powel, turning the jungle to a lurid crimson all around. It was pulsing in a mockery of organic life. Incandescent webs of vermilion light crawled over Quinn like icy flames. Horst clung to the tree, beyond both terror and hope. None of the Ivets had even noticed the manifestation. Except for Quinn. Quinn was smiling with orgasmic joy. When the rapture reached an almost unbearable peak, Quinn heard the voices. They came from inside his head, similar to the fractured whispers which dream chimeras uttered. But these grew louder, entire words rising out of the clamorous babble. He saw light arise before him, a scarlet aureole that cloaked Powel’s body. Right at the heart there was a crevice of absolute darkness. Quinn stretched out his arms towards the empty tear in space. “My Lord! You are come!” The multitude of voices came together. “Is the darkness what you crave, Quinn?” they asked in unison. “Yes, oh yes.” “We are of the dark, Quinn. Aeons we have spent here, seeking one such as you.” “I am yours, Lord.” “Welcome us, Quinn.” “I do. Bring me the Night, Lord.” Seething tendrils of spectral two-dimensional lightning burst out of Powel Manani’s corpse with an...