Dreadgod (Cradle, #11)

by Will Wight

[If I am taken apart and put back together, am I the same?] Dross whispered. [Do you die when you sleep, and another person wakes up with your memories, thinking they are you?]

Not enemy, the spirit told her. And…strong.

“Popping out from the couch,” Ziel said, with a perfectly flat expression. “I thought it was what Eithan would do. Did it help?”

“Yes. Apologies, but I have to feed you all to a Dreadgod now.” “I’d bet my spine that’s really what you’d say.”

Orthos lowered his voice, and Lindon could feel his embarrassment as he spoke. “What if…I can’t?”

Dross drifted up from Lindon’s spirit. The dark purple spirit didn’t say anything, but pointed to his one eye and then to Jai Long.

Charity didn’t make a single expression of pain. Mercy did her a favor and winced on her behalf.

“That was made to detect Judges,” Suriel said. “They’re ready for us.” Ozriel tipped backward as though letting himself fall into a pool of water. “No, they’re not.”

Gerravon considered that. Then he condensed all his Hundred Hands into a single strike that would obliterate this transport, his entire fleet, and most of Spawn to hopefully leave a crack in that pristine black armor. Instead, he felt his power dissolving along with the very origin of his existence.

Distrust me as you must, but I am no fool.”

Lindon inclined his head. “Red Faith.” “Twin Stars.” The Blood Sage tapped two fingertips together.

“Pardon, but we should move through quickly. I regret to say that my skills need work.” “Still too humble, even when tearing a hole in the world itself,” Orthos grumbled as he walked through. “Hold your head high and proudly announce what you’ve done!” “Maybe when I have more practice,” Lindon said.

Dross chuckled at his misfortune, and for lack of any better options, Lindon paid attention to the tour. Which he found fascinating. That annoyed him most of all.

“Don’t like you doing anything to my mind except listening to it,” Yerin said. “You start putting something into my head, and I’m putting something into yours.”

“How efficient is it to talk instead of work, would you say?”

Instead, she felt the two of them grow more and more similar even before they combined. Their mutual concern about losing the Uncrowned King tournament made their thoughts almost identical. Their fears became one. As Yerin, she felt like she had put down a burden she’d been carrying all her life. As Ruby, she felt like she’d finally been released from prison. Now, she had all the freedom she wanted.

The Blood Sage climbed up on a table and crouched on the edge; it was so casual that she wasn’t sure he was even conscious of doing it.

“Sage told me you were cracked in the head enough to worship a Dreadgod. Let me put in my Monarch eyes and tell you the future: I’ll be running this place inside the year. Only takes one person to finish their research, and you’re looking at her.”

Orthos had underestimated the human. Or maybe he had underestimated how fascinating his ancestors were. Probably both.

“I hope it works,” Suriel said. “So do I.” He watched a moment longer and then conjured a pair of cups from another world. “Tea?” he offered. Silently, she accepted.

He didn’t fail because he created an imperfect copy. He failed because he created a perfect one.

Would he die? [Maybe not,] Dross said, and he was calmer now. [There’s no telling. We head forth into the unknown…together.]

Plus Little Blue, if it came to that. The spirit couldn’t fight a Sage, but she shared a lot of the power from Lindon’s pure core. And Blue would fight, even against Red Faith, if she had to. She counted as a hidden card.

“Bright-and-warm welcome to my dirt circle,” Yerin said. “You can help yourself to some dirt.”

Yerin gagged. “All right, take your tongue out of her eye and move back three steps. You’re going to make me ruin your shoes.”

Yerin steadied her breathing and sharpened her eyes. She wanted Blue to learn to fight, but she wasn’t about to let the spirit face danger alone.

Lindon didn’t mind treating them all with respect. Manners were free.

Did you catch that? Lindon asked. Dross’ astonishment was loud in Lindon’s thoughts. [Do you think too much of me, or do you mean to attack me with your unreasonable expectations?]

The Remnant considered her deal. Then it slid into Yerin’s void key on its own.

[If you find yourself stuck in a mire of confusion, know that this is only a recording. Remember that I am not truly here with you and despair.]

[Ah, then you are desperate. Savor this feeling, for it is only in desperation that you know you are truly alive.]

He looked up to see them coming, but he didn’t defend himself.

Jaran slowly shut the door. Seisha slid a hand around his waist. “You’ll have to get used to these things sooner or later.” “No,” Jaran grumbled. Then he tossed his useless spear into the corner.

Fury burned a hole in Lindon’s heart. What was left was a cold, dark hole. A void.

“Consume,” the Void Sage said.

“Ambitious. Let’s see if your protector can hold up.”

“Wrong again,” Lindon said. “He’s not my protector. I’m his.”

At first, Dross enjoyed the thrill of approaching doom. The risk made him feel alive. Then Lindon had started to fight against the Silent King, and Dross felt much as he had when the sky blackened: that at least they would die together, as one. Then Lindon took the blow meant for him.

Here kitty kitty kitty, Emriss Silentborn says.

“The Void Sage has my blessing.”

The Monarchs had killed her.

He had known the arm of the Slumbering Wraith could threaten its existence. That was one of the reasons why he had tried to recruit Lindon. But it could eat a call for help? Had Subject One always had that ability? How had he not seen that in the future? These possibilities must have been hidden, cut from the list of possible outcomes. Cut. Snipped away. Almost…pruned. See you next time, Emriss Silentborn whispered into the Dreadgod’s mind.

I’ll keep them off you, Emriss Silentborn whispered. But only for a moment, or they’ll fight us both.

“He will not finish the Dreadgod,” Emriss told them. “He knows better. Let him weaken it while it cannot call for help.” Finish the Dreadgod, she said privately to Lindon.

“Four,” Lindon corrected. He raised his right hand in a fist. “The other four.”

“You made a mistake today,” he said to Emriss. “I won’t forget that.” “I don’t forget anything,” she said sadly.

“At last!” the spirit of the black dragon prince cried. “I am fr⁠—” Its perception stretched upward and froze. Then the spiritual sense spun right back into its soul. “Put me back!” Noroloth demanded. Ziel stared at the Remnant as Orthos gave a dry chuckle.

Yerin stretched out her Goldsigns and muttered, “Fine. You want me to hold the torch, I’ll wave it ‘till it goes out.”

But she was an Underlord. If Yerin sent a Striker technique after her, there would be nothing left of the Emissary but mist and regret.

“Listen. There’s only one reason why I’m making this speech instead of one of you. I can swing a sword the hardest.” A handful of people among the crowd nodded. “So here’s the only thing you need to know.” Yerin drew Netherclaw and slammed its black blade into the deck until it stuck. “I swore I’d see you safe and settled, so I will. Until you’re back walking on your own feet, if anybody crosses you, they’re crossing me. If the heavens open up and decide to strike us all dead, they’ll be striking me first. And that’s just how it is.”