Nyssa is already outside, on her knees in the wet grass, looking up at the sky above the village. It is already turning a bruised, unnatural purple. “What do we do?” she asks. The uncertainty in her voice is unnerving. I hold my hand out to her, while still staring at the sky, as Dreven and Voren join us.
She grips my hand and uses it to help her to her feet.
No one answers her. No onehasan answer.
“Well, this is awkward,” I mutter, breaking the quiet because someone has to. The silence is heavy, weighing on my shoulders.
Nyssa doesn’t even glare at me. She keeps staring at the horizon where the purple hue spreads across the clouds. It looks wrong. The physics are all off. Gravity seems to bend around the mass, pulling the clouds into long, unnatural streaks.
“It isn’t attacking,” Dreven says, his voice flat. He tracks the movement with eyes that reflect the dark. “It is observing.”
“It’s huge,” Nyssa whispers. Her hand trembles in mine. I squeeze it. The chaotic energy rolling off the entity makes my head hurt. It calls to the disorder in my blood, urging me to let go, to join the riot. I lock that urge down.
Voren steps away from the group. He looks toward the village lights flickering in the distance. “The dead are screaming,” he states. “Not at us. At it.”
“Where is Tabitha?” I ask, suddenly, looking around. She stuck around after the other gods slunk off when the First Law was enacted.
“Are you sure she wasn’t possessed?” Nyssa asks, still staring at the thing in the sky, which is drawing a crowd.
A crowd of mortals who have absolutely no idea what that thing is or how close they are to being non-existent.
“She didn’t come through the rift,” I say, scanning the dark perimeter of the crypt. “Or she chose not to.”
“Is that a good thing or not?”
“Let’s just go with, she isn’t here, annoying us.”
“Good point.”
I look toward the village. The mortals gather in the streets. I see the glow of phone screens lighting up their confused faces. They film the end of their world and probably plan to upload it with a catchy hashtag.
The purple bruise in the sky pulses. It doesn’t roar. It doesn’t strike. It simply exists.
“What is it doing?” Voren asks quietly.
“Waiting,” Nyssa replies.
“For?”
“The Judge.”
“Why, though? What difference does it make? Shouldn’t it be eating the world while you are on pause?”
“It didn’t recognise me,” she mutters. “It flew straight over me. The First Law took whatever power I had that it could see.”
“It’s looking for you,” Dreven says, connecting the dots faster. “Or rather the you with the powers.”
“Yeah,” she says. “It wants to eat me first.”
“Because it knows you will stop it,” I catch on.
“It buys us time, but how do I stop it without the powers? This is the ultimate catch-22.”
“Great,” I say. “So we have a stalemate. The monster waits for a signal that isn’t broadcasting, and we wait for a Judge who takes too long.”
Nyssa huffs out a frustrated breath. “We can’t just stand here. Not to mention everyone can see it.”
“Maybe they think it’s a big thundercloud,” I say.
