The Burn (22 page)

"He said you were an ancient soul, not even a human soul. You know I believe in that, past lives and the journeys we all take. He said that you got lost somehow, but that you were powerful enough to find your way and be born into this lesser world. He said that you had been living human lives ever since, reborn over and over again, but that you belong to the Gate and you have to return."

"Cil, Jesus—"

"He said it was my destiny to bring you here, you know, the spiritual task I was meant for."

"Well, you've performed your task."

"Seth, no," she pleaded, a sob breaking the sound of her voice. "I get it, okay? I wasn't thinking straight. I fucked up. I never wanted you to get hurt. I thought we were both going to become part of this, two of the important people here, and that you would finally realize how much you loved me after losing me to him. But he never wanted me either. He never thought that I was anything. He just used me to get to you."

Seth shut his eyes, unable to reply.

"It's so hard to explain," she said, defeated. "He can make you feel things, even when you don't want to. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry…Please… I don't want to die like this, with you hating me this much."

Seth grimaced, knowing that he couldn't allow her to believe that. The Necromancer had used her, and not kindly, to get to him. She had been through enough, far too much.

He struggled with his own anger, a seething desire to destroy the monster who'd hurt so many. It felt familiar to him now, as if he had lived this moment before, felt the same blinding hatred, the sheer magnitude of it imparting more strength than his body had to give.

"God, you're so mad, aren't you?"

He looked at her. "Not at you."

She gave a soft cry of relief, her small body shaking in the darkness. "He's going to kill me, Seth. He already told me that. He's going to kill me."

"No, he's not."

"You can't stop him. He's preparing it all right now. He's going to kill me in front of his most devoted followers, to wake some goddess."

Seth looked at her, stunned. "Why would he kill you?"

She turned her face away, her expression creased with hard acceptance. "Because they're waking up a goddess and she's supposed to represent how easily we die, how precious time is to us, how 'transient' our souls are. Here one day, gone the next. I guess that's part of what makes us human, right?"

"Impermanence," Seth murmured.

"They're going to kill me, to release my mortal soul, and this goddess will draw some kind of power from that."

"Cecilia—"

"I love you," she murmured without looking at him. "I guess I just need to you know that, okay?"

"I'm not going to let him kill you."

She grimaced, smearing the tears angrily from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She clutched his shirt to her chest, saying nothing more.

Around them, soft whispers of warning bled from the metal.

Seth drew her closer, feeling her small body come willingly into his arms. He held her as best he could.

"I need you to trust me," he told her.

The door unlatched before she could answer. The figure of the Necromancer and his guard appeared in silhouettes against the light from the outside hallway.

"Seth!" Cecilia screamed as the Necromancer's soldier reached for her. She tried to twist away but the armored figure clamped onto her wrist and pulled her toward the door.

Seth lunged at him. The soldier was ready, deflecting a hit and kicking Seth hard in the stomach. The world spun. Seth dropped to his knees. He choked, unable to breathe.

"Seth! No!" Cecilia was hysterical, grabbing for him even as the soldier dragged them apart. She kicked wildly against her captor, fear making her screams unintelligible.

Seth clenched his teeth, unable to help her.

More shadowy figures appeared in the doorway, the sweep of their cloaks blocking the light. Strong hands grabbed onto Seth and pulled him into the corridor. He saw a flash of the ceiling, a stretch of the floor grate, the pain in his lungs unbearable. He shut his eyes against it, the sound of Cecilia's screams echoing from the walls around him.

* * *

It was not Seth. It couldn't be.

Miranda stared at his dark image in disbelief. He looked like Seth, the angular beauty of his face so achingly familiar to her. But there was something else, an indefinable quality that was somehow more than Seth.

She shook her head, watching him glare at the two armored men in front of him. His attention moved from the Necromancer to the blonde king standing in his armor. "What has this advisor told you?" he asked the Khagan, his voice harsh. "Has he promised that the Gate will make you richer? More powerful? He lies. You will be condemned for this."

The Khagan smiled. "You have the power to condemn me now? You, who breathe at my mercy?"

"The Gate was given as a gift," Seth continued. "Not to you, but to this world, to grant permanence to your most exceptional souls, to identify you to those with the power to destroy you and allow for understanding, at least until your natural evolution could provide some proof of your potential."

The Khagan laughed under his breath. "You and Asmud speak the same indecipherable language, I see. It should be gratifying for you to know that he shares your devotion to this greater version of the world, pitying all the frail mortals around him. Yet, you both suffer along with us, I have noticed."

"He and I are not the same. This gift can be used against you and there are some who want to see you fail."

"Fail?"

"We have no time for this," the Necromancer hissed.

"He brought you here," Seth argued. "Because your name is in the Gate, because your destiny was to become one of us, but not like this, not through betrayal and bloodshed. He used you and your armies to overtake me, knowing that you will be the one who is damned for it. When you die, great king, you will become a slave within the Gate, unable to act or reason for yourself."

"Lies—" the Necromancer growled.

"He will use you to spill my blood, sacred blood," Seth continued, "and open a door that will destroy your independence as a species, any possibility you have to evolve."

"Enough!" the Necromancer insisted. "Slaughter him here, my lord. Proof of his death is all that is required to take command of this treasure."

"There is no treasure," Seth replied through his teeth. "Just damnation, for your entire world. Proof of my death is proof that you don't deserve your freedom. Can't you see what he is doing?"

The Khagan looked beyond them, his blue eyes narrowing on the Gate. "What I see is that you have hidden this artifact within my sovereign territory and kept it concealed from me. I will inspect every chamber. I will secure all of its treasure. Then I will dismantle the structure, melt the gold, and take it from this place. You can assist me or you can die here."

"It cannot help you destroy it."

The Khagan considered it a moment then nodded to his guards. Seth was hauled up by his arms again, bearing the physical torment with his teeth clenched.

One of his captors unsheathed a sword, its long blade rasping into the air.

Seth reacted quickly, leaning against the hold of the guards and kicking his attacker away. The sword clanged along the steps, flashing as it cart-wheeled into the darkness. The guards struggled to restrain him and he twisted, heaving both of them onto the rocks.

The Necromancer drew his sword.

Seth lunged forward, locking both hands onto the hilt. The two men clashed, each trying to wrench the weapon free. Seth jammed his elbow into the Necromancer's jaw. His opponent fell beneath him and Seth ripped the sword from his grasp. The Necromancer snarled beneath him. "You cannot save them. We are their gods. They are ripe and succulent fruit for our hunger, nothing more."

Seth shook his head, his chest heaving with exertion. He raised the sword in a killing arc. Miranda watched the Khagan move in desperation, the flash of a dagger in his hand.

"Seth!" she screamed in warning, her voice unheard in the static memory of the Gate. The Khagan drove the dagger into Seth's side, watching as he arched in pain. The sword dropped from his hand. Blood spilled from the wound, droplets splattering on the rocks.

A deep pulse issued from the Gate, a burst of frequency so low that the air trembled with it. Power crackled across the cave's stone ceiling.

Seth reeled back a step, clenching his teeth in pain.

"It starts," the Necromancer hissed.

Seth backed away. Shaking his head, he turned and staggered up the steps to the Gate, trailing blood.

"The wound is deep," the Necromancer called after him, rising to his feet to follow. "There is nothing you can do now."

Seth kept going, his movements awkward and pained.

Miranda climbed after him, ducking under the Gate's arched entry to walk beside him as he forced his way down the corridor.

"Where are you going?" she asked desperately, as if she could prompt the answers somehow. "What are you doing?"

He grimaced, holding his arm to his side, blood leeching from the fabric of his tunic. A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He narrowed his gaze on the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

"There?" she asked. "What's there? Jesus—"

He reached for the railing and pulled himself up, weakening as he climbed. She walked with him, feeling helpless as he began to shake, his breath turning shallow.

"Seth," she whispered in agony.

The stairway opened into a bright chamber, its golden walls spherical. She paused at its entrance. The metal here didn’t whisper, it sang across the senses, its power resonating so deeply that she felt weightless in its grasp. The individual tones were too pure to sound human, weaving light and dark as emotions rather than noise. It flowed around her, through her, through everything.

The goddesses.

They were awake and alive, their power coursing through the warm metal, their souls glittering from the curving wall.

An eighth symbol appeared on the floor at the center of the chamber. Not a Rathvam symbol but something else, something with lines that seemed to fold into one another and form Escher-like illusions in the flickering light.

Seth collapsed to his knees, pulling a strained breath through his teeth.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs behind him.

"Get up!" Miranda insisted, leaning close. "You have to get up. You have to get out of here."

He shook his head, heaving himself to his feet. "There can't be any trace of me. No trace of my death here, nothing that can be used against your race of origin. We must destroy the chamber and everything in it."

Miranda frowned, unsure of who he was talking to. "Destroy?"

He walked past her, pausing before one of the goddess symbols on the wall. Reaching out, he brushed his hand over the metal, tracing the lines with the blood on his fingers.

"Goddess of War," he murmured. "I'll lose the others but you… You'll come back to me."

Miranda stared at him in shock.

He
was
talking to her, a previous version of her.

Seth lost his balance, dropping to the floor and slumping forward on his knees. He bowed his head. The blood from his wound dripped onto the seal underneath him.

Another deep pulse sounded from the metal, this one louder and more powerful, sweeping a concussive wave into the caverns. Arcs of energy snapped from the walls. The songs of the goddesses raised in pitch.

Miranda covered her ears with her hands, the tones sailing along a terrifying spectrum. The chamber filled with light.

Power. Brilliance. Immensity.

She couldn't breathe.

"It opens!" the Necromancer yelled from behind her.

Not for you, she thought. She knew it instantly. She knew it as Seth raised his arms and threw back his head, his outline thinning, his body melting into the glare. He hadn't waited. He hadn't allowed himself to die in human form. Instead, he had merged with the power of the Gate.

The Necromancer howled with rage.

The Gate thrummed dangerously, the songs of the goddesses warping into piercing screams of destruction.

Miranda cried out, unable to back away or reach the stairs. The light burned around her. The chamber caught fire with it, the gold shimmering hot and melting into the brilliance. There was no way out, no way to escape.

Clenching her teeth, Miranda stepped forward onto the seal. The weight of her body dissolved, her soul following Seth's into the bright stream of eternity.

S
eth was dragged into a small chamber and shoved to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees on the metal, gasping desperately for air. His lungs felt heavy and useless, his throat and mouth coated with blood.

They forced Cecilia to kneel before him. Her captors were rough with her, securing her hands behind her back with a plastic zip-tie. She sobbed, her eyeliner running wet down her cheeks, her hair trembling as she looked up at him.

The Khagan drew a short dagger from his belt and moved to stand above her. He loomed tall in the glow of the lanterns, a monster twice her size, his arms corded with muscle and his golden armor shining.

Seth held her gaze, urging her to be strong.

A crowd now gathered around them, six cloaked members of the camp watching in hushed anticipation, their faces hidden under hoods.

The Necromancer appeared from among them, his pale eyes glowing with triumph. "Look around you, Seth. It must be familiar, even after all of these years."

Seth glanced at the chamber and winced. It was spherical, formed and sculpted from heavy gold. Seven intricate symbols adorned its walls. An eighth symbol appeared on the floor, one he couldn't help but recognize.

"It was difficult to repair it," the Necromancer murmured. "I collected every sliver, every glint from the rocks, every damaged or melted piece. It took over a thousand years before the first sign of success."

He walked toward the center of the chamber, stepping carefully around the seal on its floor. "The symbol reformed itself here, from bright, unblemished gold. That was how I knew that you had found a place in this human world. That was how I knew that you were still present, that you could be found and the power of this gift could be restored."