Then, it snaps into place in my mind and suddenly, it’s clear.
Rise…a…god?
Rise a god!Rise a god!Rise a god!
What the hell does that mean?
“And on that bone, was born I.” Tyse is saying these killing words out loud now. But I’m still there, inside him. So it feels like it’s coming right out of my own mouth. “I am the executionerand the death. I am the dark soldier, standing in the blood of the fallen. The spool of Source, the thread of Spark—I am the machine made flesh!”
He howls this last word, stepping in close, looming over the armless monster on the ground. Then, in one swift, decisive move, he reaches down, grabs the thing’s head, and twists it until it goes limp in his grip.
For a moment, he pauses there. Feeling the brokenness of the neck. Almost rolling it back and forth in his hands. Like he finds the looseness of it… interesting.
Then he lets go, the dead monster slumps to the ground like meat, and Tyse, without hesitation, steps over the corpse and starts running through the maze, climbing up levels, twisting around corners.
Looking for the next kill.
28 - TYSE
Iam the executioner and the death.
I am the dark soldier, standing in the blood of the fallen.
The spool of Source, the thread of Spark—I am the machine made flesh
I’m lookin’ for the next kill, and as I scan, my eyes glow so bright, they start castin’ shadows across the scarred and rusted steel bars of the cage.
The crowd is stompin’ a beat into the floor, making the whole fuckin’ cage tremble. They are shoutin’ something different now. Can’t make it out. Don’t fuckin’ care.
Because just up ahead, hiding behind a thick beam, is my next victim. A hulking brute, grotesquely overgrown, flesh fused with metal plating. Arms thick as beams, gripping a rusted, bloodstained axe. Eyes—vacant and glowing.
And when I lock on to him, my whole world goes silent.
A weapon of the sandy sea.
In the image, I am made and in the image, I will unmake.
For thine is the kingdom made in sand.
“Come on,Tymmy! You know you want some!” Myra is holdin’ out a canteen for me. It’s filled with Sanddji, the local distilled spirit unique to Pi City, last stop before the Outlands.
I shoot Myra a look, not a nice one, either. “Call me that again and I’ll black the other eye for ya.”
I’m half jokin’, half not. I don’t like to be called Tymmy and she knows it. But she’s buzzed on the Sanddji, which is also a slight hallucinogenic, and it’s got a hold of her good senses. The only way threatening to punch a woman in the eye is funny is if she’s already got one shiner, and it didn’t come from me or some jealous lover.
She actually fell.Fell.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would’ve never believed her and probably Jast would be dead by now because he’s the kind of man who would definitely hit her back if she struck him first. And he’d for sure leave her marked up. A black eye is practically a calling card when it comes to Myra and Jast.
It wouldn’t be the first time that they’ve tussled. For some reason, they’re like oil and water those two, and I’ve gotten between them many times. Especially when they’ve been sippin’ the Sanddji.
I don’t like that he hits her like that, even though Myra doesn’t give a fuck. It’s not right. He should respect her a little more, not just because she’s a girl, but because she’s pulled him off the event horizon of an Outback veil on at least seven occasions and that last time they tangled, he knocked her out.
That was it for me. I told him if he ever touched her again, I’d kill him.
I don’twantto kill him. I need Jast. I need all of them.
But I’d have done it on principle.
