“Isaac!”
Isaacreached the top of the pyramid.The students turned, their eyes blank, theircasting stance as rigid as the automatons of the necromancer empire.From here,he saw the ice bristling from their palms, like the protruding break of a bone.
He fellto the floor of the altar, gasping from the exertion.None of the thrallsrestrained him.
“Isaac,”Berith warned, stepping back.
As hestruggled up to his feet, the colossus began to stir.The earth trembled, andshadows raced across the pyramid.A squall of wind ripped through the air.Theworld around them seemed to tense for a strike.
Itnever came.The beast was too massive.He was too close.
Wouldhis uncle really have done it, if he had the chance?
“Isaac....”
Berithretreated backwards, pressing himself into the bank of metal devices.The boneson his robes slithered into links and chains, racing to protect his vitalorgans.
“Isaac.”
Thehaft of the dagger was slick with sweat.
“Isaac!”
Bonesrained down around him.A humerus speared next to his chest, and, when he didnot stop, there came a grapeshot of fingers, a burst of tarsals and teeth.Soon, there were skulls screaming past his face, a blizzard of vertebraeshattering at his feet.The air became thick with motion and bodies.Isaaclimped through it all, never dropping his gaze.Nothing touched him but thesplinters.
It wasall a show.It was all an empty threat.
“Listento me,” Berith said.
A humanfemur came down from above.It held itself straight, like an arrow caught inflight, its blunt spherical head chiseled by age and time.Now, the boneresembled little more than an improvised shiv.
“Youcan still have a life,” Berith said.
Isaac keptwalking.The femur did not retreat.
“I canhelp you escape.The Diet will never know the truth.”
Only afew paces remained between him and his uncle.
“You’llnever have to see me again.”
Isaacraised the dagger.The femur shot forward, pressing into his neck.It split hisbreath in half.With the slightest push of force, the sharpened head wouldpuncture the skin, severing his artery.
“Lookat me, Isaac.”
Berith’sblue eyes glowed with magic.There were wrinkles in the flesh, where his scowloften rested.Isaac was sure he would never forget the face in all his life.
“You’remy son,” Berith said.
Isaac’svision began to blur.
“He’snot your father.I am.You’re my son, and I—”
“No!”Isaac screamed.
Hisvoice echoed across dust, stone, and sand, spilling out into a sea of festeringbone.Berith flinched in surprise.
“No!I am not your son!I willneverbe your son!”
