—THE SACRED LAW OF THE HERALDS
Trinity sends me back, the current of its song carrying me up and up, out of its heart, the pieces of my body re-forming around me. I fold into myself bit by bit, slowly coming back to my lungs, my bones, my heart. Everything around me shines brighter and sharper. I flex my muscles, feeling the strength and stretch of them. All the pain and exhaustion in my body is gone, not even a dull ache left behind.
It felt like I was inside its heart for lifetimes, but no time at all has passed. Horace, his face stretched with horror, is still looking at the spot where I’d been lying just before I went into the pool.
I sing to the light, and it comes, filling my chest like a brilliant star. I feel it streaming from my eyes and fingers and the pores of my skin.
And then I phase.
The freedom, the lightness of it—spreading like air. I come back together with my heart hammering in my ears, energy arcing from me in crackling lines.
Every saint was born from a magnastorm.
ButIam the magnastorm now.
Someone is yelling and angry. I think it’s the false Herald, but he’s such an afterthought in my mind. Barely registering.
I drop into the space between the Herald-angels, hovering in midair. They surround me, advance on me, and I hold my hands out to welcome them, beckoning them forward. Lightning crawls down my arms, leaping across the empty space and grabbing each one by its chest cavity, trapping them in place.
I inhale, tasting metal and ozone, and close my eyes.
My body doesn’t phase—but my mind does. My awareness shatters into a billion tiny pieces, and I’m suddenly everywhere, seeing and feeling everything that moves and breathes all over the Gate of Heaven.
I am inside Horace Cooper, the Last Herald of Trinity, awash in his surety, his conviction in what he’s doing. Deep passion and ambition, twisted and gone sour. Bitten by greed’s poison teeth.
I am with Halle, feeling her terror and panic trapped inside the antechamber, pounding on the doors and yelling my name. Lost and unsure in the darkness, again.
I am with Dani and Orion, down in the garden below, staring at the stained glass sphere above them and waiting for my return. Hands clasped tight together, hearts beating in rhythm, love and hope and fear knitting them into one.
I am with Kelda, standing between Atlas and Liren on theedge of a town that was once called Opportunity, staring north over the Copper Plains. Quaking inside as she stands on a precipice, waiting to know if she is the only Bruinn left.
I am with the child, Gabriel, asleep but trapped, suspended in never-ending nightmares behind a wall of beautiful glass. Carried away from his family, screaming, in a ceaseless loop.
I am with all the saints who came before me, born to be part of Trinity, stolen by a man terrified of their power and used up until there was nothing left of them but empty shells.
I hear you, I whisper to them.I’m coming.
I open my eyes and slowly breathe out.
And then I clench my hands into fists, and the angels shatter into tiny pieces.
Not just the Herald-angels in this room, but all the Archangels outside it, too. In one blinding flash, I dissolve their automaton cages, and they crumble, reduced to nothing but dark glitter and ash. I feel the wave of relief from each and every one of the saints and Heralds trapped inside as they are released, finally free.
I fling my fingers out wide, like an explosion, and the towering stained glass window behind the gilded desk shatters into fragments. I beckon to the sleeping Gabriel, and his body floats out of the liquid light containing him, coming softly to rest in a clear spot on the floor.
Then I close my eyes and phase.
I bring all of them with me—Halle and Gabriel, Dani and Orion—away from the Gate, carrying them over miles and miles of alloy in an instant, all the way back to Opportunity. I set them down there, on the edge of the abandoned outpost town, just a few feet from Kelda and Atlas and Liren, the light from Trinityframing me in the shape of two enormous, outspread wings. And then I’m gone again, back into the Gate of Heaven.
Safe. They’re all safe.
My awareness shrinks and folds until it fits inside my physical body once more. The angel dust settles, the light blazing inside me dims, and I feel the floor, solid under my feet. My head spins, and I waver a little. I’ve used up quite a bit of what Trinity gave me, but Trinity’s song still beats in my blood, making me feel fast and vicious and strong.
Which is good. Because I have a Herald to deal with.
I spin toward Horace Cooper just as he whips a pulse pistol out from underneath his vest. His face is twisted with rage and frustration. He squeezes the trigger, but I disappear before the shot can hit its mark and reappear behind him, my arm blade drawn, swinging it in an arc toward his head. He spins, blocks my blow, and raises his pistol, pulling the trigger. I’m already gone, though, and the shot hits the wall behind me, bursting into a waterfall of sparks and tiny tongues of flame.
I reappear in a crouch just on Horace’s periphery and sweep his legs out from under him, bringing him to the ground. I go for his pistol, but his hand shoots up, grabbing me by the throat and throwing me off him. I fly halfway across the room, slamming into the wall and landing in a heap.
