What had Righteous done?Or said?
Then the Guides at my sides grabbed me, and all three of us were dragged to the center of the Assembly Hall. One Guide pulled me up to the top of the podium, where Sunny and Hope stood, leaning against each other. Someone had tied their hands low, behind their backs.
Sunny was the light I’d seen from the center of the room. She glowed as brightly as I did, almost like her namesake, and had no smut on her at all.
“Sunny?” I whispered when I was close enough. “You ascended?” She nodded once. “Is that what you’re on trial for? Do they really have trials in Sanctuary, or is this some made-up bullcrap?” Her eyes darted to Tradition when she answered in her thoughts.
I sucked in a sharp breath, staggered at the images I saw. Valor dragging Hope away from the Great Gate, where she’d been singing. Taking her into a room where he “questioned” her, juggling the soul knife in one hand as an unspoken threat, accusing her of conspiring against the leadership. Sunny being called in to force Hope to answer truthfully… and Sunny losing her shizz entirely, ascending in one giant burst of power and brilliance, and beating the stuffing out of Valor.
She’d grabbed the soul knife and, when Tradition walked in, it had looked like she was planning to murder Valor. He might not have been wrong. Tradition’s handsome face had been burdened with sorrow as he ordered a dozen Guides to detain Sunny and Hope.
I’ve ascended, so I should have been strong enough to fight off twenty Guides,Sunny thought.But I’m weaker than a High Angelus should be. Something’s pulling on me, draining me.
It’s Sanctuary.I wanted to curse, but didn’t.You’re a High Angelus, but that means Sanctuary sees you as a battery. Your power, your light, is being siphoned by the realm.
Her eyebrows flew high, and I could tell she’d heard me.Well, that really sucks,she joked, though her mental voice was weak.
I sent her a memory of one of the worst Regency erotica novellas I’d ever read, titledInflation Cums for Iphigenia, which featured very little editing or historical accuracy, but a lot of interesting oral techniques.It sucks and blows, I replied, happy when her spirit seemed to brighten a tiny bit.
Sunny pretended to throw up in her mouth, but then stared at me directly and thought,Valor has no light in him at all. Be careful, Feather. Don’t get unmade again.
I fought back tears as I felt how weak she was growing.Careful is my middle name.
A tiny smile played on her lips.No, Anaconda is your middle name.
At the rear of the Hall, someone blew a horn three times. The mellow tones held a hint of melancholy, and a demand for silence. The entire Hall obeyed. I was shocked; it was the first time I’d heard an instrument played in public here. It was probably their Angelic Execution Bugle or something.
“Protectors and Guides of Sanctuary,” Tradition began, and his voice was like rich molasses, trapping everyone’s attention.“These are unusual times. Sanctuary is threatened on all sides. There are dangers facing us from the Abyss and, as I have recently learned, there are also dangers from within.” His eyes moved to Sunny and Hope. “We have a system of rules. Laws and precedents to help protect you, and these halls, and Earth itself. When our laws are broken without regard, the perpetrators harm every one of us, whether intentionally or unintentionally.” His voice thrummed with grave sadness, and a ring of truth, which was only slightly less prevalent in the next words. “I take no pleasure in today’s trial and judgment. All I do is for Sanctuary. To uphold the legacy so many of our forebears sacrificed to build for us. To keep you safe.” His words held all of us immobile, and I closed my eyes, wondering at the sheer charisma he emanated. His firm belief that he was doing the right thing was a power in and of itself.
I dove into his thoughts, hoping to find some weakness, some angle I could play to get him to really listen, and reconsider his actions. But his mind was fixed on the one overarching thought that consumed him, that echoed in his mind:Protect. I must protect this realm. My younger ones who can’t protect themselves. The Guides who are losing their way. They have no one else. Only me to make the difficult choices, to follow the paths of righteousness. If I show mercy, all will be lost. Great Guide, my heart aches with the pain of this day. But for the good of the realm, I harden it for You. To protect.
Protect. It was the same command that I had heard for so many years, telling me the same thing. I was a threat, a clear danger. He was absolutely certain of it.
My heart lurched. Tradition was the bad guy here… wasn’t he?
Though I was the one who’d sucked the juice out of a whole realm earlier today. Drank all of Sanctuary’s power down like chocolate milk.That’s some supervillain-level action rightthere, Feather. And Rumple’s the guy who taught me how to do it. A guy with horns, tail, bat wings, lives in and apparently rules Hell? It’s not that hard a riddle to solve.
I swallowed hard. When Gavriel had first found me, he’d asked if I knew what I was. I’d said a superhero. What if I was the opposite?
Tradition’s next words grabbed my fractured attention. “…and that is why, when I learned that the Protector Sunny had ascended without coming forward to ask permission, I was gravely concerned. Sanctuary’s power is limited. From the rations at meals, to the dimming lights and the virtual blackout we experienced not long ago. We feared there was a connection between unapproved ascensions, and Sanctuary’s loss. And today, only moments ago, we discovered Perception has willfully ascended as well. And he did so immediately before Sanctuary lost all power for the first time since it was created. The correlation cannot be ignored.”
This seemed like the time to admit that I was the one who had fried Sanctuary’s circuits, not my friends. I opened my mouth to reply, but the room had erupted into shouts of disbelief. No one but Valor, whose eyes were fixed on me like a rabid dog, even noticed me trying to interrupt.
Then Hope stepped forward. “Guide, may I speak?” Tradition nodded, though Valor was hissing for the others to force her away from the podium. “The rule that was made requiring permission to ascend was instituted mere days ago. It is entirely possible that they had already begun to ascend—the rules could be overlooked in the absence of intention?—”
Tradition sighed. “If only that were true.”
Hope spoke louder. “Guide, the process of ascension normally takes months, even years. I would offer that what happened to these two was not their fault. It could have been out of their control entirely! If they ascended—and I’m notsure Perception has even done so, not fully—it must have been because some series of events forced the change upon them. They had no reason to rush their ascension. The Great Gate is still unusable, and the Well is sealed. There will be no moving on to the Celestial Realm. Why would they do such a thing?”
Tradition sighed. “Protector Hope, you yourself asked permission to ascend not long ago. I believe your thoughts then were that neither Righteous nor Valor were up to the task of leadership?” She sputtered at that, but he spoke over her explanations. “We did not approve your request, when it became clear you were positioning yourself to be the acting High Angelus, with Mikhail and Gavriel unreachable. Were we wrong? As you yourself just said, what reason could there possibly be to rush your ascension—if not to snatch power? You have the floor.” He stepped back, waiting.
Hope’s face went beet-red, and as she spoke, my heart plummeted. She was an amazing individual and looked like a blonde Amazonian warrior, but Hope was no public speaker. Her rage made all her words seem too sharp. I watched the eyes of the Protectors around us shutter as they tuned her out. “… and something is wrong with the Guides, it must be! Possibly even with High Angelus Gavriel. Our teachers have been teaching false doctrine, and the lecture halls smell like sewage! I’m not imagining it. You might not see their smut, but the scent of their crimes is poisoning the very air in our realm!”
When Hope’s high-pitched screed ended, the room was so silent I could hear my own heartbeat. It was time for me to tell them who was really to blame. I had just cleared my throat when Tradition sobbed and wiped a tear from his cheek. He looked devastated. And when I dipped into his thoughts once more, I could hear the voice of his mind, faint but unmistakable.
Protect.
No. It was the voiceinhis mind, sayingProtect. The word repeated, in an endless, insistent thrum. Not his own. Another was speaking the word, urging him.
