47
To Sanctuary
The Resh’Agar stood with the Sovereign Flame on the high balcony overlooking the Sokâr’s sacred Path of Fire. Both men watched as the crowds bowed and the torches flared to life at each milestone of the procession.
He adjusted his fanged half mask over the bottom half of his face, his blue eyes alert and unyielding. He’d sent Reskala to guard every path and road, no matter how abandoned. His fear was a Solutus strike—this ceremony was a perfect opportunity to leave a message in blood.
Beside him, Shu’Khan noted his unease.
“You think you can contain her, Iridias?” The Sovereign’s voice was almost fond. “You think you can hold her in your hands?”
He gestured outward. To the crowds. To the temple arches and broken rooftops, carved away to make room for the spectacle.
“We have made her divine. Beloved. So much more than the fate you abandoned her to when you brought her here.”
The Resh’Agar did not look at him, his fists tight at his sides.
“You’re trying to break her into something that fits what you want,” he said. “But she won’t break.”
Shu’Khan stroked his lips with a single finger. Thoughtful.
“We will protect what is Ours,” he said. “As long as she obeys.”
Then—a tremor.
A flicker of mana at the edge of the Path.
First one scream. Then many.
The sea of people hissed and shifted into disarray. Some ran. Some fainted. Others stared dumbly at the final pillar.
Kailorien's hands gripped the carved marble edge of the viewing platform, his heart steady, but his shoulders tensed. Solutus erupted from the ground in droves, and the Reskala he’d stationed all around the plaza immediately rushed to intercept them.
They drew their shields, the towering bulwarks flaring white in the blazing sun. Thrassus burst from the crowd, bellowing commands for formations. The warriors tried to surround the attackers, but their movements were limited in such a dense crowd. They could not cast and wield their blades with so many bodies in the way.
The People were too panicked. They ran into the warriors, grabbed at their shields, their arms, even their legs. The Reskala moved them aside without harm, but each moment spent pacifying the crowd was a moment the Solutus used to get past them.
The rebels funneled towards the final torch, where Kailorien sensed Auryn’s magic flaring. His heart lurched, but he gritted his teeth and steadied himself. She could handle herself. Even without Veilpiercer in her hands, she was far from helpless.
If he didn’t assist the Reskala, she would be in more danger.
Shu’Khan’s cold gaze settled on him, but the Resh’Agar did not turn to meet his eyes. He wasn't interested in asking for permission.
Straightening, he lifted his hand and extended it forward. Breath by breath, he let down the wall between his will and that of all those tied to the Flaeme. Their terror pierced him like a thousand spears, but he held firm, wrapping his command around their souls, chaining them, binding them.
The screams below grew quieter. Those who were fleeing, grabbing, trampling, stopped mid-action and looked up at the balcony above. Their eyes grew glassy and hollow, the glow within them intensifying. First, fifteen. Then thirty. More and more souls gathered at the call of the Resh’Agar until most of the crowd froze, allowing the Reskala the freedom they needed to maneuver in the raging battle in the plaza.
“Resh…Resh…Resh…Resh…”
The crowd’s chant was sluggish—lacking in fervor or emotion—but it grew in volume until its undulating syllables merged with the Solutus horns and battle cries around them. Moving his hand, the Resh’Agar guided the citizens to move aside, to shuffle in clumsy steps towards the western portion of the plaza.
All the while, his eyes swept the crowd, scanning, searching…
Auryn…my love…where are you?
A growl in the back of his mind rumbled through his spine. A heat at the nape of his neck.
IRIDIAS.
