Dreadgod (Cradle, #11)

by Will Wight

“I would have killed you,” Lindon said, “if I was like you.”

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. Jai Long shuddered.

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.

“Did you train to make people hate you, or is that some kind of bloodline technique?”

“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.

“Hmph.” She straightened to her full, tiny, height and smoothed the front of her outer robe. “If you didn’t mean to punish me, then you would have paid me a visit.” Lindon was struck speechless. “Years it’s been! Two years at least! And now you can walk through space, whoosh, like that, and still you never came to see me. Not until after the world ends, hmmm? The sky fell before you came to visit! It really fell! I saw it!”