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This is what a sect is for,” Eithan said. “We can’t do everything. At some point, they have to protect themselves.”
“I’m more a dragon than any of those proud gold dragons who ambushed you like cowards. And I gained this control over my body when I accepted that I was in the form that suited me best.”
Anyone who fights a Dreadgod by my side is on my team,” Lindon said quietly. Ziel didn’t have much to say to that. “You can call us what you want,” Lindon went on. “But whether or not you consider yourself my ally, I am yours. You have only to call on me.”
Finally, Ziel realized where that chill was coming from. He wasn’t talking to Lindon anymore. That was the Void Sage.
“The word ‘appreciate’ can have so many definitions, don’t you think?”
Jaran grunted and shifted his weight off his wounded leg. He understood the truth that Lindon had been forcibly advanced, but he couldn’t help but think it was a waste. What could someone else have accomplished with those same resources? He wondered if Orthos could intervene on Kelsa’s behalf. If Lindon could do as much in only a few years, Kelsa would shock the entire world.
Lindon didn’t feel like it was the time to mention that he had first summoned an Icon when he was an Underlord.
Naru Huan breathed in for a solid five seconds, and then exhaled even more slowly.
“I know, Eithan. I do know. You have done more for the Empire than anyone since my mother, but you make it so hard to be grateful. If only you weren’t so…infuriating. All the time.”
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.
As he did, he had one strange thought: he was pulling something into existence, and out of nothingness. That resonated with the Void Icon, but he wasn’t sure exactly how yet. It was worth examining later.
“It is a corruption of the natural order of Cradle,” he went on. “A manifestation of ambition, of selfish desire. Created by the presence of the Monarchs.” Subject One met Lindon’s eyes and spoke clearly. “The Dreadgods will die only when there are no more Monarchs.”
She walked forward and gathered Mercy to her chest, wishing only that she had time to find her other children. Where was Pride? Was Fury all right? Or had this disaster consumed him as well? She should have left Fury with a better good-bye. Their last conversation had been a fight. He had wanted her to leave—wanted all the Monarchs to leave. She’d refused, as she always had. And always would. “I’m so sorry, Mercy. I don’t know what I was thinking. It only matters that you’re safe.” Mercy’s arms tightened, but she leaned back to look into Malice’s face. She was so young. “Mother, I’m scared,”
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Yerin snapped off a long stalk of dry grass and popped one end into her mouth. “Can’t say I’m smiling about ending it like this, but weighing all our options, we didn’t have it so bad.” She glanced around at their surroundings. “Just think: you could have died in Sacred Valley.”
[The Destroyer has come.]
Eithan hadn’t known. “I always know,” Eithan said.
