It was the second time thus far that afternoon that he had climbed out of the In Between and come to consciousness on the road to Cauthess. This time, he was still where he had been upon falling out of consciousness: in the back of the Regalia with Clarus keeping a sharp eye on him.
When Regis stirred, Clarus sat straighter. "A successful mission?"
Regis held out his sword and, this time through Somnus' borrowed magic, his blade leapt to his hand. Clarus leaned back in his seat to avoid being face-to-face with the point.
"Perhaps not in such close quarters," Clarus suggested.
Doubtless he was right. Regis banished the blade and tested the bonds that now ran through him, like a ring through which a hundred glowing strings were threaded and stretched out toward Insomnia. The Kingsglaives were restored their magic. The only bond not rebuilt was his tie to Reina. After so many years, the lack of connection to her left an empty place inside him. The place where she ought to have been.
But she would, by now, have formed a fresh bond with Noctis. Somehow it seemed more fitting that she shared magic with her twin than with her father, however much he hated letting go of that nearness. She was growing up and, as Crea was so fond of telling him, he needed to let her.
"All is in order," Regis said. "Let us make for the Disc with all possible haste."
Possible being the operative word. The roads in Duscae seemed to have fared little better than those in Leide, with the exception that Duscae had trees. Their progress was still frustratingly slow. And by the time they broke free of the trees and caught sight of the dazzling meteor, it was nearing dusk.
The road leading down toward the meteor was washed out, which forced them to park their cars at the top where the pavement ended and continue on foot. Even that held some precarious moments, with the eroded earth threatening to give way and dump them at the base of the meteor. While it might have been the fastest route down, Regis would have preferred that they all arrived alive.
Not far inside, they found the crumbling remains of a royal tomb. The tomb of the Mystic and one of the six Regis had already visited in his jaunt across Lucis as a prince. Still, he paused to lay his hand on the cold stone of Somnus' shoulder.
"We will undo this," he promised. "Together."
No sooner had he turned away than a rolling of power washed over him. And the earth shook.
"Regis!" Clarus seized his arm and dragged him away from the edge as the whole Disc shook. He stumbled back from the tomb of the Mystic as stone cracked and the meteor swallowed Somnus whole.
When at last the quaking subsided, the six of them stood crouched, exchanging looks ranging from curious to wary.
"I fear you may not need my help to wake the Archaean, Your Majesty," Sylva said.
"The Draconian has sensed your coming and awoken His kin," said Gentiana.
"Well. Let us not keep him waiting, then." Regis led the way, picking a path of crumbling stone and sandy dirt that led deeper into the meteor. Or so he hoped.
It was a winding path—not truly a walkway at all, but a thin curling of flat ground twisting lower and lower into the crater. Occasionally it disappeared entirely and they were forced to scramble across sheer cliff faces, burning their fingers on scalding stone. The ever rising heat, the occasional stirring of the earth beneath their feet, and the rolling of power, which pounded in Regis' skull, kept them from lowering their guard and becoming weary of the trek.
The red-brown stone crunched beneath their feet as the path levelled out and widened for a short time. It seemed impossible that but a few hours ago he had stood drenched and dripping with seawater in Insomnia. Now, not only had his cape dried, but it smoked and singed when it dragged too near the burning earth. His black suit was streaked with both soot and sea salt. And it was stifling.
He dragged off his cape and pauldron, and left them in a smoldering heap. At this rate, they would be ash in a few hours. Likewise, he discarded his coat and even his tie. With his collar loosened and his sleeves rolled up, he could at least breathe again.
The others had worn fewer layers to begin with, but Clarus had abandoned his formal robes and any other pieces he could part with. Cor's jacket was missing, as was Cid's, and Weskham stood only in his shirtsleeves, like Regis. Sylva fared worse; it was difficult to discard pieces of a gown, and more difficult still to navigate this terrain in one. More than once, he thought to turn her back, but the hardened look in her eyes kept him from suggesting such a thing. In any case, the way back would be no easier than the way forward; more than one boulder and slipped and rolled across behind them.
If Gentiana noticed the stifling heat, she gave no indication. She seemed almost to walk above the earth and even the soot did not touch her. And always she wore that placid and unnerving expression upon her face.
It was another few twists and turns before they caught sight of him. The Archaean, a small mountain of a creature, all built of stone and bearing the meteor upon his back. His form—or what they could see of it—was as a bald-headed, over-muscled man. Save for the fact that his skin was of stone and great rock formations jutted from his face and shoulder—like a parasitic growth that had overtaken fully half his face—one might have thought him of mankind.
But he was none of them. He was greater and deeper and more ancient than the tiny ant-like minds of humans could possibly comprehend. They clung to stone, holding tight to preserve their frail lives as Titan hammered home this point by pounding the cliff face above them. He did not try to crush them beneath his car-sized palm. He did not need to.
As the earth shook and rocks—large and small—rained down upon them, Regis broke his mind free from the thoughts imposed upon him by the Archaean. He thrust his magic up and out. In response, the soul of The Just stood for him, and granted him a barrier large enough to shield all his companions from the rain of stone.
So Titan thought himself greater than mankind, did he? He had certainly caused more pain and suffering than any human could have managed alone.
The quaking of the earth ceased. Titan withdrew his hand and a few more rocks fell harmless across Regis' barrier before he banished it.
Regis cast his eyes over those gathered around him. "Find stable ground. I will approach by sky and, with any luck, draw his attention from you."
"Regis—" Clarus cut off his own halting words, though the objection still formed on his face. "Be safe."
"I do not intend to fight a god today," Regis said. "Only to speak with him."
With any luck he would prove amenable and reasonable in the face of those other Astrals Regis had already allied with.
Clarus clasped his arm briefly. Cor gave him a curt nod.
"Godspeed, Your Majesty," Weskham said.
Cid spat soot onto the burning stone, which hissed in response. "Keep outta trouble, boy."
"I shall do my best."
Regis reached instinctively for the Armiger and found, with some surprise, that it came willingly to his call. Though Bahamut had severed his magic, for some reason this piece remained, unmarred by the Draconian. No time to dwell on it now. He let the power of the Armiger pour into him, fill him up, and burst out, lifting him off his feet as six spectral glaives materialized around him. For the second time that day he was weightless and climbing higher in the sky.
From above, he could see the Archaean clearly—he was buried in the earth up to his waist, as if the force of the meteor had pressed him deeply into the stone when he caught it. Even now, he held it aloft, resting across his back and supported by one arm. The whole thing wobbled as Titan lifted his head to watch Regis' ascent.
"Titan. Hear me." Regis' voice echoed throughout the crater as he cast it down to the Archaean. "You have woken to destroy a defiant king. Yet my purpose here is not violence or destruction, but an end to darkness. Already two of your kin stand beside me. Two who recognize your sins are unforgivable, but might be undone to grant you some fraction of redemption. Two who believe in the true path to light, without Caelum blood paving the way. I offer you the same. Stand with us. Let us undo the dark."
One blazing orange eye regarded Regis. The expression on Titan's face shifted through stages of fury and outrage, and even before he spoke, Regis knew what the answer would be.
"You claim to oppose the darkness, and yet you are steeped in it. You may have fooled my kin, but you will not ensnare me. Two, you claim? What of the third that you have corrupted and hold upon a leash?"
"Corrupted?" The response slipped from Regis' lips before he had even considered it. "I have no notion of what you speak. I hold no leashes. Those who stand behind me have done so of their own will."
"Ifrit, the Fallen. The corrupted. You claim ignorance of this fact? At worst you are a liar. At best a fool. Neither will I ally myself with."
"The Infernian has been corrupted? How?"
Dark mists swirled in the air beside him, as if the plague itself had localized and braved the light of the sun. And so it had: when the blackness receded, Ardyn hovered there in Caelum glory with an Armiger of his own. The spectral blades that surrounded him were unfamiliar—not those of the ancestors Regis was familiar with—and colored crimson as if the taint of the Starscourge had seeped so deeply into Ardyn's soul that it had even tainted his magic.
"Ah. Yes. That would have been me." He cast an unnerving smile down at Titan, who clenched one enormous fist in seething fury. "In my defense, he is such an obedient little pet. However could I resist?"
Regis fought hard against his own rising anger. He had allied himself with this man—if he could be called that—and set about to dismantle the Draconian at his suggestion. And yet, despite that, he turned around to find that Ardyn was toiling away, undermining him even now. He could not allow Ardyn to destroy his hopes of swaying Titan to their side, but neither could he distance himself from Ardyn in hopes that it would win the Archaean.
"We shall speak of this later," Regis said. "Archaean—"
"Shall we?" Ardyn twisted mid-air and placed himself between Regis and Titan. "Why don't we talk about it now. And while we're at it, why not discuss your choice in allies? Or did you think I wouldn't notice you building bonds with Somnus?"
The line Regis walked grew more and more narrow with every passing breath. If any of them survived this he was never allying himself with a madman again.
"The Draconian has cut me off from the crystal, as you well know," Regis said, as if by speaking reasonably he could convince Ardyn to behave rationally. "I cannot very well carry out any piece of our bargain without my magic, and so I went to the Lucii for aid. All of my bloodline stems from Somnus. Though he has done unspeakable things, to dismiss him outright would be folly."
"All of your bloodline? I think not." Ardyn's face hardened. "Did it never occur to you that I might share power with you? Or would you never have accepted the same from me? Corrupted as I am."
He held out his hand, just as Somnus had. But where the In Between had left Somnus glowing with the blue light of Caelum magic, Ardyn was surrounded by a crimson haze of his own corruption. To take his hand was to take the Starscourge. That it offered power—perhaps even power greater than the Caelum line—was undeniable. And yet what of the cost? He could not very well sacrifice himself all for the sake of greater strength. For the sake of his people, his kingdom, his children, his friends, and his fiancee, he could never make that choice.
Regis met his gaze levelly. His lack of response was all the answer Ardyn required.
"As I thought," Ardyn said. "Too pure. My brother's spawn. How could I have thought you might ever truly aid me?"
"I intend to aid you. But I intend to do so without sacrificing what I am."
"And what you are is a man willing to overlook the greatest sin ever committed on Eos… and ally yourself with the sinner, rather than his victim. You have shown where your loyalties lie, Nephew. And they aren't with me." Ardyn lifted himself higher in the air. "If you will not ally yourself with me, I will simply have to make new friends. Starting here."
He twisted in the air and thrust his hands out toward Titan. Blackness welled up and spilled over, shooting out in a stream that corrupted everything in its path. Though Titan lifted his free arm to shield his face, it struck his hand and spidery black lines webbed across the stone.
"No!"
Regis might have shouted the word. Indeed, he had meant to. But his was not the only voice in the air, and before he could even gather the magic for a barrier to protect the Archaean, a crash of power nearly knocked him from the sky. When he was sensible enough to turn his eyes downward, he could see the others below, now standing nearly at the Archaean's waist.
Gentiana stepped apart from them. And in a shattering of ice and sharp power, she was Gentiana no more. In her place stood a pale skinned goddess of ice. Perhaps the most human of all the Astrals he had thus far seen, Shiva might well have passed among them, if not for her icy blue skin painted with glowing ethereal patterns, and the crown of icy horns that ringed her head.
Gentiana. Gentiana was the Glacian. All that time, right under his nose, sheltered in his own home, was another Astral. One who was supposed to be dead.
She lifted off the ground and rose up until she was level with Regis and Ardyn.
"Oh there you are. I was wondering when you might show your face," Ardyn said.
"The Corrupted will not take another. The Glacian will not allow it."
"Is that so? Well luckily I have a friend to distract her for me while I go about dismantling her pretty little world. Perhaps you've met?"
A third stirring of power rolled over them. This one lanced through Regis like a red hot blade and he found himself a spectator as a third Astral dropped from the sky and landed in the crater in a blaze of flame.
The Infernian.
Even before he straightened and lifted his face, Regis could sense something amiss in the way his power thrummed. It was the strength of a God, yes, but in its patterns Regis felt corruption. Starscourge. When Ifrit rose to his feet and stared up at them, a blade nearly as tall as he was clenched in one hand, Regis could see the effects of corruption upon him. Fully half his body was taken over by black and seeping ichor. It transformed his skin into an infected sore—black and dead but animated unnaturally. Though his face was clear of the stuff—proud and stoic beneath a full mane of horns—his eyes glowed with an unholy light.
Just as Titan had said, the Infernian had fallen to the scourge. And Ardyn held his leash.
Regis dropped from the sky as Shiva rose higher. He had led his friends and companions into a war of gods and left them standing below, and yet he could not very well take them out of it now. If he fled from this fight, he allowed potential allies to turn upon each other and destroy any hope of peace. He had come too far. Ardyn could not be allowed to lay waste to his plans.
Nor could he be allowed to turn his back on Regis.
As his feet touched the ground, his retinue surged forward to meet him, all standing with weapons drawn, save Sylva who stood as far back from the conflict as terrain allowed.
"I fear my plans have gone rather awry," Regis said.
"That's what happens when you make friends with a madman," said Cor.
Perhaps he was right. Nevertheless, they would persist on this path. He could think of only one way to put an end to the clash above them, as Gods fought Gods. He fixed his eyes on Sylva.
"Sylva. I must beg your aid once more."
She took a step forward, casting a wary glance up as flames roared overhead. "I have no notion of how I might help, but if I can…"
"The Infernian," Regis said. "Can you save him?"
Her eyes widened. "Cleanse a God?"
"He has the Starscourge—a corruption he will never recover from. Only two ways out exist: death, or healing at the Oracle's hand. His death will bring nothing but war and strife."
"I don't know," she admitted. Her face hardened. "But I can try. If I can get near enough. I will need to lay my hands upon him."
A tall order, to be certain. Regis turned his eyes skyward, where Shiva and Titan battled Ifrit and Ardyn. Despite his obvious animosity toward them, both Shiva and Titan seemed disinclined to do any true harm to Ifrit. Perhaps that could be their saving grace.
Regis held out his hand to Sylva. "Then let us fly."
And fly they did. Once she had taken hold of his hand, he pulled her near enough to take hold of her with his magic and extend the weightlessness of the Armiger to her as well. Though she startled when their feet left the ground, to her credit she did no more than squeeze his hand more tightly.
They rose high in the air, above the quaking ground, to where the blizzard raged and fire rained down. The battle was punctuated by the enraged roars of Titan and the sharp, malevolent laughter of Ardyn.
"Will the Glacian aid us?" Regis asked.
Usually an endless well of answers, the Oracle was out of her depth in this war of Astrals and daemons. She shook her head. "I don't know."
Had she even known that Gentiana and the Glacian were one and the same? How long had the supposed Messenger lived under her roof? Nearly as long as Lunafreya had been alive. Had she always been a disguise of the Glacian's, or had the Astral taken refuge in another body once her own was destroyed by Niflheim?
More questions than he could answer right now.
"Then let us assume not but hope for the best," Regis said.
He flew them nearer the conflict, taking care to keep them beyond the reach of Titan's grasping hands and off the path of Ifrit's blasting flames. They could not, however, keep their distance from the blizzard if they wished to beg Shiva's aid.
The air grew colder. It whipped in sharp, howling blasts around them like an angry beast. All at once Regis was sorry he had lost so many layers of his clothing on the trek down the crater. They might have prevented the numbing chill from seeping so quickly into his bones. As it was, the freezing air slapped against the bare skin of his arms and face, rising gooseflesh across his body and stealing away all semblance of warmth. In moments his hands were burning cold, still clutching Sylva's icy fingers. In a few more, he could feel them not at all.
In the heart of her storm, visibility was reduced to nothing. He could scarcely see Sylva on the end of his arm, let along search for the Glacian. Movement caught his eye. Perhaps it was a mere figment of his imagination, but he thought he spotted icy blue skin through the frost.
"Glacian!" Regis shouted over the howling blizzard—or tried to, though the wind seemed to whip his voice from his throat and steal it away. "Shiva! Hear me!"
They hovered, adrift and struggling not to be buffeted by the winds and knocked from the sky altogether, while he strained to hear any response, save the howling blizzard.
"The Father King is heard."
The voice was Gentiana's—so near and so quiet she might have been whispering in his ear. He spun to look over her shoulder, but she was nowhere. Or else she was everywhere in this storm. It mattered little. All he needed was to be heard for a few moments.
"If you truly wish an end to the Infernian's suffering, then aid me. Help me bear the Oracle near enough to lay hands upon him."
For a time his words were met with nothing but the howling of the storm. His limbs ached in the cold and he fought to keep his teeth from chattering. The shivers that ran through his body, however, were unavoidable. He could only be thankful that his clothing had all dried during the hike down the crater.
At last the reply came.
"The scourge that grips the Infernian is powerful and deeply seated. To banish it will require overcoming the strength of the Corrupted's will. Is the Oracle willing to pay the price?"
"If I can set this one thing right on Eos and pave the way to an alliance and a brighter future… then I am willing to give whatever it takes," Sylva said.
"Then the Glacian will aid you."
The whipping of the storm around them faded and died. All at once they were plunged back into the heat of the meteor. In comparison to the freezing cold, the air outside burned and seemed to eat away at his skin.
Overhead, Shiva turned circles in the air, no longer embodied as a single being, but fully half a dozen identical Glacians. Together they dodged a blast of fire and a swing of Ifrit's blade. They swarmed about him, once more summoning a blizzard, though this time the ice was localized around the Infernian alone. He roared senseless fury and swung at them, but his movements were slow. Sluggish. His blackened skin turned frosted white. And he stopped, mid-swing, his face contorted in fury. Frozen solid.
All six incarnations of Shiva turned to face Regis and Sylva.
"The Oracle must work quickly." Again her voice sounded as near as if Gentiana stood beside him, though none of their mouths moved.
Regis had thawed enough in the heat of the air to move his limbs once more. Though his skin still burned unpleasantly at the rapid changing of temperature, he urged them forward. The air new Ifrit was cold, but not bitingly so. He brought Sylva near enough to touch the frozen Infernian.
"Land me on his shoulder. It will take some time and you cannot hold me aloft all the while," she said.
Regis nearly objected but bit back a retort. Much as he was disinclined to leave her standing on a frozen Astrals' shoulder, the alternative left him crippled in his ability to protect either of them. He did as she asked and rose up, twisting in mid air to keep his eyes on Ardyn.
If any of this worked, the Astrals perhaps would be calmed. If he was very lucky they might even be swayed to his side. But how was he to reverse damages with Ardyn? He could not very well cut ties and let it be. If the Draconian was ever to be defeated, they would need each other. And that, perhaps, was the pivotal point upon which a renewed alliance rested.
It did little good to postulate now, given the uncertainty of any outcome. For the moment, Ardyn was engaged with the Archaean. While Shiva held Ifrit encased in ice, Ardyn had renewed his efforts to corrupt Titan. The blackened patch on the Archaean's hand had faded back to neutral stone, as if true corruption required prolonged contact to take hold in an Astral. That would explain, then, Ardyn's steady approach toward Titan, weaving and dodging around the Archaean's fist as he drew ever nearer to his body.
"Quickly, Sylva," Regis called. If Ardyn was given the opportunity to corrupt Titan while they cured Ifrit, all would be for naught. They would be landed back precisely where they began.
"A little more time…" Her voice came out strained and cracking.
He looked down and found her with both palms pressed flat against Ifrit's frozen flesh. Shiva's ice was creeping up her wrists, but that was not all.
Black ran in her veins.
She had said she would pay any price to pave the way to his peace. Had she meant her life? Had he asked her to give up her life for this? And if he had known it was so, would he have done anything else?
Questions better left for another time.
"The Father King must buy the Oracle more time," Gentiana whispered.
Regis set his jaw and pushed himself higher in the air, drawing nearer to Ardyn and the enraged Archaean.
"Ardyn!" Regis shouted from just beyond Titan's reach. "Enough. Corrupting the Astrals will not bring you nearer to the justice you seek."
"Justice?" Ardyn twisted in the air, and yet, despite that, managed to drop just beneath Titan's swinging fist as it passed him. "Who ever mentioned justice? What I want is revenge. Revenge on the Draconian. Revenge on his kin, who hold the ties of the Scourge. Revenge on his puppets, who follow in the light of the crystal without thought or question. And, barring that, as my brother is dead… I will simply have revenge on the last of his bloodline."
Titan swung a grasping hand for Ardyn, forcing him to roll to one side to avoid being crushed in a rocky palm.
"If you take your revenge on me, there will be none left to aid in your revenge against the Draconian," Regis said.
"Are you not listening? If I corrupt the Astrals, I will have all the power I need to face Bahamut."
"And yet, you cannot. For if you kill me, two Astrals will be lost to you. Ramuh and Leviathan are bound to me—and only to me. If I die, so too do they." Regis gathered up all he knew of this man—this daemon—and took a leap. "And if you kill the last of the Caelums, there will be no one left to take you to the Beyond."
If nothing else, it gave Ardyn pause. Regis pressed on, offering a silent prayer to anyone listening.
"The purpose of the Chosen King: to bring an end to the darkness by silencing your cursed existence. Without Caelum blood to spill, you will be trapped in this deathless purgatory forevermore. But if you stand with us, we can work something out."
From below them came an unearthly roar. Regis hazarded a glance downward to see Ifrit breaking free of Shiva's ice with Sylva still clinging to his shoulder. His thawing skin was less blackened—the corruption was localized now near the shoulder on which Sylva stood—but he was not cured.
Before Regis could think to swoop to her rescue, Ardyn was before him, so near that their Armiger blades passed through each other.
"So. You would steal my little pet from me, would you? Some ally you prove yourself to be," he said.
"I will do what I must to bring peace to this war you have created," Regis said. "But for the breaking of our alliance you have only yourself to blame. If you desire any sliver of this peace I strive for, then lay down your arms and stand with me."
"I will stand on no side that contains my brother."
"Is your spite so strong that you would allow it to curse you further?" Perhaps it was a foolish question. Spite. Spite was all he had left in him. Spite had driven him to what he was now.
But that wasn't quite true, was it? Something else was buried, perhaps quite deeply down. Reina had caught sight of it when she Dreamed at his behest.
"I know you still remember a time when you held happiness," Regis said. "Has my daughter not made that all the sharper for you?"
"Everything is tainted by betrayal," Ardyn spat.
"Only if you allow it to," Regis said. "What happiness did she bring you back to? What life did you relive that was so intense you willingly walked into destruction after?"
For but an instant something showed through on his face—a distant stare, so far removed from any expression Regis had seen from him thus far that he seemed almost transformed into someone else. But only for an instant. Then his features hardened as hatred overcame whatever sweetness he had scented.
"Something too pure to put into words," Ardyn said. "One more peace Somnus shattered with his sword."
"Those memories are still there. You can revisit them at any time."
Ardyn fixed him with a bottomless glare. But a smirk broke through. "Or I could relive them."
Miasma began to swirl around him. Too late, Regis realized what he had done. After drawing all conflict away from Insomnia and his children, somehow he had contrived to send it back to them.
"Ardyn—! Leave my daughter out of this!" Regis surged forward, reaching out to grasp Ardyn's coat.
All he caught were handfuls of black mist as Ardyn dissolved. He swore. He was not even bound to Reina any longer. He could not hastily weave some protection for her. He had none to give. And he could not well return to Insomnia until the matter of the three Astrals was settled.
As if to give proof to his thoughts, a scream sounded from below. An entirely human scream.
Sylva.
He dropped into a dive, making for the Infernian. Ifrit was frozen once more; in an effort to remain fixed to him, Sylva had wrapped one arm around the nearest horn. In doing so, she had made it impossible for Shiva to avoid freezing her to him. Fully half her body was encased in ice; her arms were connected to the Infernian and frozen solid up to her elbows. Beneath ice and deadly pallor, Starscourge ran black in her veins. It dripped from her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears. And still he could feel her magic pulling more of it.
"Sylva!"
"Stay back, Your Majesty… you must be out of harm's way… if he breaks free again…" Her voice came out strained and thready with pain. Just those few words seemed a struggle to tear from her throat.
Against his will, he did as she requested. She struggled to draw every breath, fighting and crying out against the scourge, which even her light could not cleanse quickly enough. Her magic was distinct from his, yet if he strained he could sense her motions. She gave one final heave and, like a frayed rope snapping, her power broke free of the Infernian.
And Sylva fell limp, held upright only by the ice that froze her against Ifrit.
Regis lurched forward, but Shiva was beside him—or one of her was—and she held out an arm to stop him. Second by second the ice thawed, sublimating into a chill mist and bringing color back to the Infernian. The ice holding Sylva to him faded away, but though she slumped and began to slip away from his horns, he reached up to catch her, holding her gently in both hands and lowering her to the ground.
Shiva—all half dozen incarnations of her—shot forward to spin circles around the healed Infernian. The earth had stilled as even the Archaean watched Ifrit lay Sylva on the stone and kneel beside her. Regis could wait no longer. He shot down to the earth, landing in the crater beside her.
The mere look of her made him disinclined to search for a pulse. Her skin was deathly pale beneath a spiderweb of black veins. If she breathed, he could not tell. Nevertheless, he dropped to his knees beside her and pressed two fingers to her neck. Her skin was icy cold. And yet, against all odds, he felt a faint and thready pulse.
"She's alive," he said, half for his own benefit, half for that of his divine audience.
The sound of several thundering footsteps approached from behind him. Without looking he knew it was his retinue, come to stand at his side. They slowed and stopped short, just out of reach.
"The Oracle and the Father King have given much to return The Infernian to us." Half a dozen Shivas stood or sat spread across Ifrit's shoulders and horns. But her voice still sounded in his ears. "Only one boon is fit to give in return. For the cleansing of Ifrit, the Archaean, the Infernian, and the Glacian pledge themselves to the Father King. Against the Draconian we will stand. And when all is through, we will leave."
And that was everything he had come for. Though at what cost, he was not yet sure.
