Rachel Aaron - Spirit’s End

How? she demanded, her lips curling back to reveal her sharp, white teeth. Where are you getting all this strength? Her white eyes flicked to Miranda. It can’t be the human. No human can stand against me. I created them. They cannot—

You created them, the Lord of Storms said, raising his blade. And in your arrogance you gave them a fraction of your will. It’s not just me you’re fighting, Benehime. It’s everything. Everything you’ve betrayed, everything you’ve cast aside in your selfishness.

You are still a Power! Benehime screamed. You cannot touch me! That is the law!

If you hadn’t killed your brother, that might still be true, the Lord of Storms sneered. But you upset the system. I may bear the Hunter’s essence and power, but I’m still a storm and a sworn spirit. I’m no essence of the Creator, no part of his balance. I am my own will now, and you cannot stop me anymore.

The Shepherdess’s eyes went wide at that, and she screamed, charging forward. The Lord of Storms brought his sword down, biting into her arm, but she did not stop. She ran into him, and though she was smaller, it was the Lord of Storms who went down with her on top, the demonseed clutched in her hands as she raised it over his head.

Miranda watched, helpless. Everything she had was already flowing into the Lord of Storms, but as good as he was, the Shepherdess was still older, still stronger, and fueled with such mad hatred Miranda couldn’t bare to look at her eyes. She could only stand there as the Shepherdess brought the crude dagger down, the tapered point flying down to stab the Lord of Storms’ throat.

And then, just before the point pierced the new Power’s skin, the Shepherdess stopped.

It happened so suddenly that Miranda thought it must be a trick. Or maybe the world had ended at that moment and she hadn’t noticed. But her heart was still beating. Time was still flowing, and the Shepherdess still did not move. No one did. At last, the Lady’s head turned. The movement was painfully slow, but her expression was pure horrified fury as her eyes slid past Miranda, past the Weaver, to land somewhere behind the crumpled sphere.

And that was when Miranda realized she hadn’t seen Eli in a while.

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in her throat, Miranda forced herself to turn as well.

Eli was standing beside the broken sphere. His posture was casual, like he just happened to be there. One hand was in his pocket; the other was tossing something small, round, and beautiful up and down, up and down.

“What?” he said, catching the tiny, beautiful sphere up between his fingers. “Lose something?”

For a long second the air seemed to turn solid, and then the Shepherdess lurched off the Lord of Storms.

She moved faster than light, appearing on top of Eli instantly, but it still wasn’t fast enough. The moment she lunged, Eli slammed his foot down, cracking the veil like rotten wood. He was already raising his arm when the hole appeared, and the second the veil was breached, Eli threw the tiny, perfect world down as hard as he could.

Benehime’s hand flew out, her long, white fingers brushing the sphere as it passed, but it wasn’t enough. The tiny world tumbled through the hole in the veil, and the moment it touched the real world, the fragile sphere cracked.

All at once, the air was filled with ringing, glorious shouts as the stars burst into freedom. They flew from the crumbling sphere in a shower of color so beautiful, so brilliant, Miranda couldn’t bear to watch. Instead, she focused on the reflection the colors cast against the white world, each one sparking and vanishing until, in a heartbeat, it was over.

As the Between faded back to white, Benehime lay frozen on the ground at Eli’s feet, her hand still flung out after her lost paradise. Her face was a mask of loss more bitter than anything Miranda had ever seen, but the look was gone in an instant, replaced with absolute fury.

Without a word, without a warning, without even a sound, the Shepherdess shot up. Miranda caught a glimpse of black in the white rush before the Power wrapped herself around Eli. She saw him tense, his smug expression falling away to one of shock, then resignation.

For several seconds, Miranda wasn’t actually sure what had happened. But then she saw the Shepherdess’s hand pull back with deliberate slowness, the black dagger dripping crimson before she slammed it again into Eli’s chest. He grunted as the blade entered, and then Benehime stepped back, letting Eli fall face-first onto the white floor at her feet.

“Eli!”

Miranda didn’t recognize her own voice as the scream echoed across the crumbling white nothing. She scrambled toward the thief’s crumpled body, so desperate to get to him that she didn’t even feel the Shepherdess’s foot in her ribs until she was flung backward. Miranda landed hard on her side and lay stunned for a moment, watching helplessly as the Shepherdess threw the black dagger down.

It landed with an echoing, metallic clang that went on and on as the dagger’s uneven surface rocked back and forth against the veil. The Shepherdess fell to her knees beside the thief, her white eyes empty as she took him in her arms.

Why, she whispered. Why? Why? Her voice grew louder with each question until her scream filled the Between. Why did you make me do this?

The scream faded to a choked sob as she wrapped herself around Eli’s bloody body. You didn’t have to break it, she whispered, turning his face toward hers. There was no paradise without you.

And then she kissed him, her lips pressed hard against his even as the Lord of Storms’ hand wrapped around her neck.

She did not struggle as he lifted her, not even to pry his fingers off her throat. She merely hung from his hand like a limp doll as he carried her to the edge of the white world. When he reached the wall of the shell, a black portal opened in front of him, and Miranda gasped as the air of the Between began to pour out in a great gale.

Beyond, grasping hands shot out, grabbing the Lord of Storms and the Shepherdess, struggling to pull them both into the blackness. The Lord of Storms ignored them. He walked into the dark, carrying the Lady at arm’s length until the darkness swallowed them both. The wind died as the door closed behind them, and Miranda felt her connection to the Lord of Storms snap like a cut thread.

The backlash nearly made her black out, but she forced herself to stay conscious, dragging her body across the floor toward Eli. Wincing with effort, she yanked her hand up and held her fingers under his nose. For several long seconds, nothing happened, and then she felt his faint breath on her skin. Relief flooded through her, and she turned back to the Weaver to see him sitting up, his eyes closed, his hand out toward Eli.

I caught him, the old man said, his voice impossibly tired. He won’t get any worse, though whether or not he gets better is up to him.

Miranda looked back to Eli, her face as pale as the white world around them. “What do we do now?”

The Weaver opened his eyes with an incredulous look as he pulled himself to his feet. We fix the world, he said, spreading his hands out in front of him. What else?

Miranda had no answer to that, so she sat back, watching in wonder as the Weaver flexed his fingers and began to weave.

The Demon of the Dead Mountain’s roar echoed off the cliffs. His claws tore long rents across Nico’s wings, lacerating her shadow-wrapped body and breaking her teeth. Nico ignored the pain, even as one of her wings tore free. Though the demon was much larger than her now, Tesset’s training gave her the edge. Her front teeth were still locked around the demon’s throat, still chewing on the tender black flesh, and though he slammed her against the mountains over and over, she would not let go. She was the master now.