Rought throws his head back and laughs. He laughs as if we aren’t standing on the possible edge of the end of it all. “You should have seen it. The dragon hacking away like a fucking cat with a hair ball.”
I shake my head at them both. “The point is —”
“He thinks he can use my own antler against me,” Rath says. “If I weren’t invulnerable to my own fucking antlers, I’d have accidentally skewered myself numerous times while learning to smoothly transform.”
It’s my blood in the mix that truly worries me, but I let the conversation drop. And not only because we appear to be entertaining the Cataclysm by pausing to chat about it.
Reck stays tight to my side, his arm and the knife still tucked behind me as we cross out onto the bluff, closing the space between us and the Cataclysm.
Rought and Rath share a glance. The energy shifting around them lets me know they’re talking to each other telepathically. Rought grimaces. Rath nods curtly.
They stop walking, each stepping to the side. Seemingly giving ground to the interloper, leaving Reck and me to face him alone.
A moment later, essence rolls over both Rath and Rought. The bonds between us thicken and sharpen as they take their beast forms — forms that are too large to allow all four of us to be arrayed shoulder to shoulder across the bluff.
Reck has chosen the knife over teeth and claws. But then, in the form of the cu-sith, he can’t fly and swoop down on his prey.
The clouds break open overhead. Large drops of rain splatter over us, wetting the rock. I pause a few paces from the Cataclysm, noting that he seems even larger than before. With the backdrop of the night sky surrounding us, it’s as if we stand on the edge of the world — quite literally, with the entire Pacific Ocean stretching out endlessly before us.
The Cataclysm should have felt larger stuffed into that plush prison cell he held me in, not out here against this seemingly never-ending vista. But then, my senses were seriously dampened in the cell, and now they’re wide open.
Wings snapping taut and muscles bunching as he launches upward, the gryphon takes flight. The celestial dragon slips off the side of the bluff, sliding easily over the jagged rock and down into the churning water below.
A frown flits over the Cataclysm’s face. But his confusion is smoothed away a moment later.
Reck almost steps past me, almost tries to strike at his father preemptively, then checks himself.
The Cataclysm smirks. “Such a good puppy, coming to heel for your mistress.”
Reck’s energy contracts. I take a wary breath, hoping the cu-sith doesn’t make an appearance. That would be an extra complication. He stays in human form, though.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” I say, continually aware of the gryphon in the clouds and the dragon in the water — both circling around their father, primed to strike. The intersection point vibrates under my feet, essence threading through my every word. “I’m glad you’ve come to return home. It’s past time.”
Anger shifts across the Cataclysm’s face, but he just widens that toothy, fanged smile, not bothering at playing human at all. “You aren’t strong enough …” He flicks his gaze to Reck, who bristles at the attention. “You haven’t claimed what is yours. So he weakens you instead.”
I smile back, playing at being charming. “You could always go voluntarily. I’ll reseal the breach behind you.”
He snarls. “If Disa couldn’t vanquish me —”
“You weakened her.” Cutting him off, I viciously throw his own words back at him. Mine ring with utter truth, as if voiced by the universe itself.
The celestial dragon climbs up and over the far point of the bluff, behind the Cataclysm’s back. Fog roils around him. The small slices of moon and starlight shining intermittently through the clouds reflect prettily off his iridescent scales as the dragon lowers his head and fixes blazing amber eyes on his prey.
The Cataclysm shifts almost minutely, as if reacting to the dragon’s presence.
Except …
Not taking my gaze from him or the looming dragon, I focus my own energy downward. The Cataclysm is pulling more of that anti-essence to him … from the crack in the intersection point. Him standing around for a chat as we obviously settle into an attack formation, rather than outright attacking us, makes much more sense now.
Once again, that anti-essence, that otherworldly antimatter, registers as nothing to my senses. There’s that weird emptiness that feels almost suffocating anytime I’m near him — and I can’t feel it or see it happening.
This is how he hid it from my aunt.
This is why the Cataclysm looks bigger.
He is. He’s somehow pulling energy from his realm or reality.
The gryphon strikes first, streaking down with talons extended. Reck lunges from my side, bringing the knife into play. The dragon opens his massive maw, displaying teeth longer than my forearm.
