James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“What do you think?” he asked Gellen.

Gellen continued as if he hadn’t heard for a few moments, then sighed. “I think even from here, there must be a way to use them. To turn their existence to our advantage. The Gifted have no idea of the powers they are meddling with, creating these sha’teth – I doubt they would be able to stop us taking their new toys away from them.”

Caeden nodded; he had been thinking much the same thing. “To do that, He would need to send one of us across.”

Gellen didn’t look at him, but Caeden saw the slightest tensing of muscles in the other man’s face. “Dangerous ground, Tal’kamar,” he said softly.

Caeden grimaced, but nodded. It was dangerous ground. Still. “Vote for me.”

“I’ve voted for you the last three times. People are beginning to talk. He is already suspicious.”

Caeden shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. We can’t create sha’teth ourselves, and won’t be able to until the power of the ilshara has been broken. When that happens, the attack will already be underway. The Andarrans have five of them. Five! If they still control them when the time comes, what do you think will happen to our forces?” He paused. “I am the only one who can do this, Gellen. You know that.”

Gellen grunted noncommittally, but Caeden knew his point had been made. They walked on in silence for a while, then Gellen said, “He thinks you are planning to overthrow him, you know.”

Caeden blanched. “What?” The exclamation rang out over the empty streets, and he clapped his hand over his mouth. Whatever lurked in Seclusion, the last thing he wanted was to attract its attention.

Gellen glanced around to check there was no-one nearby, though they both knew they were alone here. “All your trips Outside. Your neglecting your duties at the Cyrarium. And the incident with Nethgalla didn’t go over well, either.”

Caeden snorted. Inwardly, he didn’t know whether to be amused or fearful. “Where did you hear that?”

They had reached a black iron gate; with a gentle push Caeden opened it enough for them to pass through into the building beyond.

“Around,” replied Gellen.

Caeden frowned. “Needless to say, it is untrue.” In some ways, it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Of course,” said Gellen smoothly.

They walked inside without another word.

As Caeden’s vision cleared, his triumphant smile faded.

The sha’teth stood exactly where it had. Its hand was outstretched, and a black, translucent rippling bubble surrounded the creature’s body.

The sha’teth lowered its hand, and the bubble disappeared. It gave a rasping laugh. “You truly have forgotten, haven’t you, Tal’kamar,” it said to Caeden softly. Pityingly. “Aelrith was caught by surprise when you attacked him, and Khaerish and Methaniel were craven. But I am neither unprepared nor afraid.” It stood motionless, waiting.

Caeden hesitated, still shaken by the memory. Like before, aspects of it were crystal clear - but there was no further knowledge, no sudden rush of information to tell him who he’d been. He could picture Gellen and knew his name, but knew nothing more of him outside of that memory. And what he’d said about the sha’teth…

“Who do you serve?” he asked the sha’teth suddenly, muscles tensed in case the creature attacked.

The creature chuckled. “Are you not the one who set us free? Who do you serve, Tal’kamar?” it replied, quietly enough that the others could not overhear. “I can never keep track.”

Caeden felt the blood drain from his face. He dared not look back at the others. “I serve my friends, and Andarra. Whatever ties I had in my past life are gone.” He said the words with as much confidence as he could muster.

The sha’teth laughed again in its raspy voice. “You cannot escape yourself forever.”

Suddenly a glow surrounded it, and time seemed to slow. Bursts of light erupted from the sha’teth’s chest, streaks of power that headed towards the other four members of Caeden’s party. He knew instantly that should those bolts touch them, they would be dead.

There was only a moment to stop them; even with his newfound control of Essence, he couldn’t shield them all.

He couldn’t choose, though. He wanted to save them all. He needed to save them all.

Desperately, he willed the bolts to stop.

Dark bubbles, exactly like the one that had surrounded the sha’teth, sprang up around Caeden’s companions. The bolts sizzled into the surface of each one and simply vanished, gone as if they had never existed. The sha’teth gave an angry hiss as it realised its attack had been thwarted.

“So. You have forgotten some, but not all,” it said.

Caeden nodded, trying to hide the fact that he was as surprised as the sha’teth that the bubbles had appeared. “Not all,” he repeated grimly. He stretched out his hand once again towards the creature.

This time, though, he didn’t use Essence. There was something else there, the same thing he’d used to create his companions’ shields. The bubble appeared again around the sha’teth, but Caeden simply pushed at it. He felt it move, flex beneath his pressure. He closed his eyes, then imagined himself ripping the bubble away, tearing it like a piece of parchment.

There was a shriek, and he opened his eyes to see the sha’teth on the ground, writhing in pain.

“No!” it screeched, angry and despairing. “It is not possible!”

Caeden walked over to it, ignoring the cautioning cries of the others, who hadn’t moved since the sha’teth had first appeared. He stood over the creature, then leaned down and pulled back its hood.

Beneath there was a man’s head, but it was disfigured, pale and scarred. That was not what made Caeden take an involuntary step back, though. The creature’s eyes stared back at him with pain, with anger. Human eyes.

Aside from its glare, now, the sha’teth showed no further outward signs of distress. It had stopped writhing, and was instead staring up at Caeden. It wore an almost curious expression.

“You should know. I was the one who killed him,” it whispered. It wasn’t a confession; there was no trace of sadness in the statement. It was gleeful.

Caeden frowned. “Who?”

The sha’teth scowled. It tried to rise, but Caeden knelt on its chest, forcing it back down. For some reason, it seemed unable to use its powers at the moment. “And I had so looked forward to telling you,” it hissed, disappointed.

“You must finish it, Caeden!” called Taeris, his tone urgent. “Don’t let it distract you!”

Caeden hesitated, then leaned forward. “Who are you talking about?” He clenched his hand into a fist. “Why did you come for me?” he whispered, low enough that the others could not overhear. “Who wants me, and why?”

The sha’teth gave a rasping laugh. “I will tell you - but it will be so all your friends can hear. So they can know what kind of man you truly are.” It raised its voice, calling out the words. “Can you all hear me?”

Caeden moved without thinking. He drew back his hand, letting Essence flow through him and into his fist. Then he drove it down into the sha’teth’s disfigured face.

There was a blinding light, and a final scream from the creature.

When Caeden’s vision cleared, all that remained was a pile of ash.

He knelt there, silent and trembling, for what seemed like ages. Finally he felt a hand clasp him on the shoulder. He looked up to see Taeris watching him, concerned.

“Are you hurt?” the older man asked.