“Never bet against a lancer if you value your rebu.”

—General Drogawth Bastern, Supreme Allied Commander during the last years of the Fifth Heretic War

 

Kitali kept up a low growl. Zaina’s hand twitched toward her scrapshot, ready to draw and fire in an instant.

“Compelled by fate, no doubt,” Beni continued. “We’re glad—it makes what we have to do much easier.”

Trying to keep a brave face, she said, “So you did follow me. I was hoping you found someone else to stalk.”

In response, he twirled the black sword between his fingers. She gulped, remembering how fast he’d slaughtered the Ildegor guards and Demelia Defense Forces. There’s not enough time.

Beni spat, “Why are you making this so difficult, Zaina? Anything you dream of will be yours—whatever it is you want, the Shining Will can give.”

Zaina glared. “I know for a fact this isn’t what you wanted before all of this. Before that thing showed up, you were a good person!”

His eye twitched. “Beni was an ignorant mortal and couldn’t even fathom what he truly wanted. That was before we were shown the truth of the universe. Come now, Zaina—you, too, bear the mark. That knowledge is as much yours as it is ours. But you have refused it—why?”

A lump formed in Zaina’s throat. He was corrupted beyond recognition. The voices were trying to corrupt her, too. Her hand tightened around the scrapshot’s grip.

In a low, pleading tone, she said, “It’s not too late to come back, Beni.”

He frowned. “Why would we ever want to go back? Demelia will be gone soon. The power of a thousand worlds is at our fingertips. The Shining Will is the only truth eternal! Can’t you see?”

“And what about Orna? And Eniri? You’re going to leave your wife and daughter behind in all this madness?”

Beni recoiled—for a brief moment the shadow lifted from his face, revealing pain, sorrow, and horror—but only a glimpse. Darkness returned, and he chuckled. “You think bringing up organic constructs from the past will prolong this? Flesh and bone are temporary. Power—this power—is endless.”

“Please,” she said. “You aren’t making any sense. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

Beni pointed at her. “You were chosen to ascend by the Primortala’s Instrument. Now you must come with us to the Hollow and take your rightful place as the new Prophet of the Shining Will.”

Zaina’s stomach churned. So Beni—and whatever that shadow was—had plans for her. She wanted to attack him—to rip him apart. She cast a glance toward Kitali. The limphor’s fur was standing on end, and she was still growling at their stalker.

Zaina grimaced. If I charge, she’ll charge. I can’t—I can’t fight him.

There was little chance she could make it out of a fight with Beni, much less keep the limphor safe. Even if she did, the bloodlust might overtake her, and she didn’t want to think about that. Instead of risking their lives, Zaina slung her knapsack over her shoulder, turned, and ran north toward Mount Dialemor. Kitali followed, barely able to keep up as Zaina sprinted.

Beni’s angry shouts were still audible as she and Kitali ran past Ildegor’s outskirts. How she was running so fast was beyond her, but considering how useful the newfound speed was, she didn’t question it. She glanced over her shoulder—Beni was still chasing, and he wasn’t letting up this time.

Zaina scooped up Kitali; the limphor was much lighter than she remembered as they ran northward through the burnt plains. They were approaching the black meteor’s impact site, from which towering plumes of dark smoke twisted into the sky. The hole was surrounded by tall, sharp stones darker than night, jutting from the ground like gnashing, uneven black teeth.

Two stationary lights flashed on near the impact site. Was someone there? She wanted to fire off a mapper to confirm, but she’d have to either drop her stick or Kitali—neither of which she was willing to do. With Beni’s shouts growing closer, Zaina pushed forward.

From behind, Beni spoke in a multitude of dark voices, all coalescing into a single phrase.

“Cease motion.”

Zaina’s legs stopped in place. Her entire body froze. Beni’s control wasn’t as powerful as the shadow’s had been, but it was enough to hold her in place.

No, no, no. Zaina’s mind was a flurry of panic. They were standing next to the jagged black rocks surrounding the impact site. Voices shouted in Zaina’s head from every direction—quieting them sapped her will. Unsure of how much longer she’d be able to resist, she dropped Kitali.

“Run, girl,” she said, straining against Beni’s control. “Run—”

Kitali’s hackles raised, and she growled as Beni approached. Zaina’s heart sank. Same as before, Kitali wasn’t going to leave her behind.

Towering over the trembling limphor, Beni raised his black sword.

Zaina screamed, “NO!”

At the last moment, something struck him in the side—cold liquid splashed onto Zaina’s face as Beni crashed against the rocks surrounding the impact site.

Zaina staggered, suddenly freed, but nothing she just saw made sense. Water?

She squinted, straining to make out the newcomer amid the darkness.

An odd, friendly voice pierced the shadow.

“Hello, friends. Why the fighting?” The tall silhouette of a cloaked figure stepped forward, standing beside the ship’s lights.

Beni growled. “Who are you?”

“As I said—a friend. If you’re inhabitants of this planet, I mean you no harm. But I will not hesitate to defend myself—or others—if I deem it necessary. I’m sure whatever situation you’re arbitrating can be better dealt with via a productive conversation.”

Beni pointed his sword. “If we were you, we’d turn back before you get hurt. You’re dealing with matters beyond your depth. You cannot stand against us.”

The cloaked figure stepped into the ship’s floodlights. “Think I’ll give it a go anyway.”

The newcomer was a humanoid male reptilian with small, horned crests running along his cheekbones, and dark red scaled skin. His face, though human-like, was without an extended nose—two slits ran down the center, stopping above a large mouth with scaly lips. His yellow eyes held no malice. A utility belt with plenty of gadgets—but no guns—was wrapped around his waist, and he wore a piece of scratched and dented green armor under a gray cloak. The hood was down, revealing his bald head with patterns of short spikes.

Zaina recognized his species from her time at Ryrda University—he was a Raolgrian, native to the swamps of Diraxus. But Diraxus was on the other side of the Nova Rim—why the hell was its denizen here?

Who the hell is this guy?

Beni growled. “We’re so close to what we came here for. Too close to let you interfere!”

The Raolgrian’s lips pursed as he studied Beni. “You bear the mark, do you not? I’m assuming you were native to Demelia before all of this?”

Beni chuckled. “We don’t owe explanations to a corpse.”

With that, Beni leaped forward and tried to bisect the Raolgrian. Even with his heightened speed, he was too slow—the newcomer dodged the attack with ease. Both fighters were near-blurs—the Raolgrian twisted, ducked, and jumped to avoid Beni’s black sword as it sang through the air.

“I can tell,” the Raolgrian said as he leaned aside to avoid a thrust, “you aren’t very experienced with that weapon.”

The comment enraged Beni, who roared and slashed. The newcomer sidestepped the attack, then jumped back to dodge the follow-up. The Raolgrian had his hands clasped behind his back as he eluded the black sword’s strokes.

Zaina’s grip on the walking stick tightened. She had to help—right? The newcomer seemed to have things under control, but he wasn’t fighting back. She took a few short, deep breaths, bouncing as she psyched herself up.

Beni lunged toward his shifty foe, but his frenzied strokes parted air. With a roar, he tried to cleave the Raolgrian in half; instead, the newcomer leaped over the sword and kicked Beni in the head—the blow knocked him back twenty feet.

This was Zaina’s chance. As Beni rose to charge the Raolgrian again, she jumped in and swung with everything she had. With a loud crunch, the walking stick connected with Beni’s side and sent him crashing into the black stones around the pit.

Beni was struggling to get up when a geyser of water impacted his chest, slamming him back into the rock and cracking it. Zaina glanced toward the newcomer—the water was streaming from his open-palmed gauntlet at high speed. As soon as he let up, Beni collapsed to one knee.

Zaina had the walking stick ready to strike in one hand, and her scrapshot drawn in the other. Kitali took her side with her hackles raised. The Raolgrian strode toward Beni, whose eyes darted back and forth between all his enemies.

In a dark voice, he said, “We thought lancers didn’t like to intervene in our matters.”

The word lancer struck Zaina like a scrap bead to the brain. A lancer? This guy’s a lancer?

The Raolgrian stopped. “It’s not too late for you, friend. You don’t have to do what it says.”

Instead of giving a reply, Beni leaped high into the air, landing atop a stone surrounding the impact site.

“We see,” he said. “We need more—more power, and then we can deal with you and your ilk. Yes—we’ll have what we need soon.”

Beni spread his arms out and fell backward without another word, descending into the pit. Zaina rushed forward with a shout—“Beni!”—but it was too late. He was gone. Now she was alone with the Raolgrian. Kitali—who usually didn’t care for strangers—walked right up to him and sniffed his legs, her tail swinging back and forth.

After rubbing the limphor’s head, he turned to Zaina and spread his arms to show her his palms. “You’re safe now. Are you all right?”

Zaina was struck by his words, her entire chest loosening. Safe. For the first time since that meteor appeared, she was safe. But was she all right?

Her mouth opened to answer in the affirmative, but no sound came out. Everything she’d been burying since that meteor arrived—all the fear, confusion, and exhaustion that she didn’t let herself feel in the moment, couldn’t be put off any longer. The trauma of everything she’d endured swept over her like a wave, hitting her all at once. It was unavoidable—all the horrific events flashed in her mind, refusing to leave her alone until she processed them.

It was too much. Zaina’s head, crammed with terrible images, grew lighter, like it was floating away. Her insides were churning—she ejected her guts on the grass, bile stinging the back of her throat as harsh spasms gripped her stomach. Then she collapsed on her side as darkness crept over her.