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“Oh no, I missed something!” Eithan cried. “Quickly, repeat your entire conversation before you forget a word!”
“Stop. I like you, Lindon. I was a lot like you when I was your age, except weaker and not so crazy. But I’m not part of your team.”
He wondered aloud if maybe not everyone could advance as quickly as he did, even given the chance. Yerin had stared at him for five straight minutes when she heard him say that, while Eithan laughed himself sick and then stored the memory in a dream tablet to share with others.
The explosion of death above her was still coming, and gravity was too slow.
“This is your ancestor, Eithan?” Eithan ran a hand over his head as though wishing for longer hair. “The first of my House, yes.” “I’d pick you over him six times out of five.” Eithan blinked. “That may have been the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I don’t want to win by giving something up. I want it all. I want all of it.”
[We are perched on the precipice of greatness,] Dross whispered. [Plunge over the edge, and see what you may become.]
[A destroyer has come.]
“Remove restraints and release authority. Authorization zero-zero-eight…Ozriel.”
[The Destroyer has come.]
“You ruined everything,” Eithan said, and his rage wasn’t as cold as usual. Through the cracks behind the Mad King, even the Void quivered in fear. “How?” Daruman demanded. “How are you here? You couldn’t have known!” Eithan hadn’t known. “I always know,” Eithan said.
Oth’kimeth and Daruman merged again, and once more the Mad King looked down from the sky. “I assumed you had seen the truth and left.” “The truth? Here is the truth you deserve. You do not decide who lives and who dies.” Eithan levered the scythe up onto his shoulder. “That’s my job.”
“Daruman, the Mad King!” Eithan shouted. “Oth’kimeth, the Conqueror! By the authority of Ozriel and the Court of Seven, I condemn you to die. No matter the cost.”
