Eithan drifted up next to them, and with the touch of the Ghost, he wiped those powers away.
He looked into the future, seeing and arranging Fate. With the vision of the Hound, Eithan twisted his destiny.
He and Daruman traded hits, and after every exchange, chips of bone flew off to return to the Void. But so did gleaming black metal.
Eithan’s fake scythe couldn’t keep up with his power, and in truth neither could he. Too much of Eithan’s strength had faded as he stayed under the Origin Shroud for so long. His armor was chipped and cracked from hits that he’d missed.
Red eyes blazed as the Mad King noticed. “You are not what you were.”
Eithan readied his scythe and focused his power.
Color vanished in the entire Iteration. Darkness and emptiness gathered on the edge of his scythe as he finally unleashed the power of the Reaper.
“Would you destroy your home to kill me?” Daruman asked quietly.
“Daruman, the Mad King!” Eithan shouted. “Oth’kimeth, the Conqueror! By the authority of Ozriel and the Court of Seven, I condemn you to die. No matter the cost.”
Eithan drew back his scythe, ready to swing, and the power of annihilation reached its peak.
Daruman had every intention of standing and facing this strike, Eithan was sure of it. But the Fiend within him had other plans.
It clawed open a rift into the Void, and Eithan allowed it. Oth’kimeth dragged his human vessel behind.
Daruman vanished before he could call Eithan’s bluff.
Eithan let out a breath and released the power of death that had gathered in his weapon. Color raced back into the universe. It was a good thing the Fiend had bought his act; unleashing a strike powerful enough to break the Mad King’s defenses while in Cradle would indeed have destroyed the entire Iteration.
And he wasn’t willing to do that. Not anymore. Still, he left wounds behind. Scars in space, missing stars.
Eithan had no power to heal them.
He let himself drift through the Way, the flows taking him down to the surface where he had started. Another piece fell from his armor, and his scythe creaked in his hand.
With an irritated flex of his will, he unmade the weapon. It was a crude imitation anyway.
That fight had taken more out of him than it would have, once. He had been veiled too long, and it would be some time before he could face the Mad King without fear.
If the Court ever allowed him to regain his power. They would have felt this clash and would be on their way. At least, someone would be.
Eithan hoped it wasn’t Suriel. He still owed her a debt, and he was feeling enough guilt as it was.
He blinded himself to the stares of hurt and shock on the faces around him, and he focused on the one-eyed spirit floating nearby.
“I couldn’t fit everything of…myself…inside a mortal vessel,” Eithan explained, without looking Lindon in the eye. “My Soulsmithing was one thing I left out, and I am now bound by the—an ancient pact. I am sorry, but I cannot repair Dross unless it would prevent further damage to the world. But with the labyrinth, you should be able to do it, if you act quickly.”
Lindon looked down to his own marble, his Abidan beacon. A fire from the Way now burned merrily at its heart once again.
“Who are you?” Lindon asked, and Eithan flinched. That was the question he’d always dreaded.
“My full name is Ozmanthus Tiberian Mereithan Arelius. Always hated it. Such a mouthful. My mother called me Eithan.” He looked from one face to another. “My power was restricted, but I was still…me. It was real, I promise! I—”
He cut off and looked down as Little Blue stared up at him.
Then she threw her arms around his shin.
His eyes filled with tears again. He hadn’t cried as Ozriel…maybe ever. His Presence could tell him for certain, once he recovered that from Abidan lockdown.
“Don’t know why you made such a secret about it,” Orthos grumbled. He tore up a bite of grass and began chewing. “We wouldn’t have known who you were anyway.”
[Give me your secrets!] Dross whispered. [Let me taste your power!]
Ziel looked Eithan up and down. “Can you tell me how to get to Sage?”
“I think you’re more likely to reach it on your own than anyone here,” Eithan said honestly. “Except Lindon, of course. That cloud has already drifted away.”
Then he looked to Lindon and Yerin.
Yerin’s left eye twitched. “Did you really…you…bleed and bury me, you let me think we were finally going to catch up to you.”
Eithan tried not to smile. It was a serious moment.
“It’s not too late,” Eithan said.
Lindon struggled with himself for a moment, then he stepped forward…and extended his Dreadgod arm.
“See you soon,” Lindon said.
Eithan clasped Lindon’s hand in his, and they shook. A handshake wasn’t a tradition from the Ashwind continent, but from Rosegold. Where Eithan had been born.
Something pulled at his gauntlet, and Eithan caught Lindon trying to Consume his power.
Lindon coughed and averted his eyes. “Apologies, it’s a…new arm.”
26
The sky was still starless above Lindon, and a ragged scar in the world ran from distant eternity all the way down to the ground, where Eithan had stopped a cosmic attack with the palm of his hand.
Lindon remembered Suriel reversing time and bringing the dead back to life. Could she have returned stars to the night sky?
Eithan saw him looking and his smile turned sad. “Someone will be along to fix that in just a moment.”
Yerin shifted uncomfortably, and Lindon saw questions writhing in her. She settled on a casual tone: “So we’ll see you on the other side, true?”
“It may…be a while,” Eithan said hesitantly. “I’m certain you will eventually! But for the Mad King to arrive here, in a world that should be protected, that means something has gone terribly wrong in my absence. I may find myself in quite a bit of trouble.”
The Mad King. Lindon stored that name away for future reference.
“You have to report to a superior even in the Abidan, do you?” Ziel asked.
Eithan tossed his long white hair. “Who do you suppose is superior to me? No, these are my peers who might imprison me for eternity. My peers!”
Before anyone could ask further questions, a subtle blue light slid over the scene. Lindon looked up to find sapphire energy spreading across the sky like a blooming sun.
“And it looks like you’ll get a chance to meet them now,” Eithan said. Some of the energy seemed to have gone out of him.
From the spreading blue light, seven figures descended. And as they did, Lindon felt everything change.
The world felt steadier around him, calmer. He found himself relaxing in their presence, like a child held in his mother’s arms. That trembling sense of chaos behind the world, and the otherworldly stillness that had come at Eithan’s transformation, both faded away for a sense of rightness like comforting music.
The ragged slash in reality nearby began to slowly crawl backwards, broken earth slid together, and even the snarling presence of Lindon’s hungry arm quieted.
But Lindon was only aware of those things as distant details. His attention was fixed on the seven newcomers armored in white.