Rachel Aaron - Spirit’s End

The demon’s struggles grew more frantic, and Nico bit down harder, her claws digging into the joint where the monster’s arm met its body. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the sky breaking apart as more hands thrust down toward the screaming spirits. The world was crumbling, collapsing under the weight of the demon’s hunger. Fragments of the sky fell like snow over mountains that rolled like waves in their fear. The only still peak was the one under their feet. The Dead Mountain stood as solid and black as ever, its empty husk a reminder of what was to come. Never loosening her grip, Nico’s yellow eyes flicked up to the ledge where Josef had fallen. There, too, all was still. All was lost, and yet she would not let go.

The demon was flailing now, his claws scrambling to pry between her teeth from his jaw. Nico snarled and bit down harder, feeling the demon’s furious scream through her grip. The scream grew louder as the demon surged up, his long, hideous arms wrapping around Nico’s torso. She panicked as his grip tightened, thinking he was about to crush her, but the demon did no such thing. Instead, he yanked her away with all his might.

Nico’s hold never faltered, but the demon’s own flesh was not so strong. He tore her off him, taking off a large chunk of his neck and one arm in the process. The demon barely seemed to notice the loss in his fury as he flung her away, his enraged roar shaking the Dead Mountain to its roots.

She landed hard, her claws grabbing the mountain’s peak to keep herself from falling into the sharp rocks below. Down the slope, the Demon of the Dead Mountain was growling at her, his black claws folded around the gaping hole she’d left in his throat. “You always were a dirty fighter,” he rumbled, his three yellow eyes narrowing.

Nico’s answer was to spit out the piece of him she’d torn away. The demon’s flesh was already turning to dust in her mouth. It dissolved completely as it struck the Dead Mountain’s bare slope, and the demon growled deep in what was left of its throat. “Why are you doing this?”

“To stop you,” Nico answered.

“Stop me?” The demon burst out laughing. “Look around, girl. I’m hardly the greatest threat.”

“I don’t care,” Nico snarled. “You killed Josef. I couldn’t stop them all on my own anyway, but I can kill you.”

“No, you can’t,” the demon said. “That was the same mistake your king made, the one called the Creator. He thought he could starve us by locking us away. Make us turn on each other. And I’m sure they did, those mad skeletons, but it didn’t work. Think, child. If demons could kill other demons, there’d be nothing left outside the shell. The Creator’s plan would have worked and the Powers would have led you out to recolonize the emptiness ages ago. But nothing created has ever understood us. Nothing that is born can know the truth of our kind, which is really tragic, because the truth is so simple. We cannot die because we do not live. We are nothingness, the reverse of creation. We are consumption, destruction, the darkness that persists with or without light. You can no more kill us than kill death itself.”

“I don’t care,” Nico said, digging her claws into the stone. “I will fight you.”

“I’m sure you will,” the demon sneered. “You always were a bit stupid that way.” He shook his head, torn neck sliding grotesquely. “What I don’t understand is why you give all that endless, idiot energy fighting for a world that will turn on you the first chance it gets. Even you can’t be foolish enough to still believe you’re human.”

“I am myself,” Nico snapped.

“Well, good for you,” the demon snapped back. “But let’s play a game, shall we? Let’s say you win. Let’s say I vanish, the shell is mended, the demons are pushed back, and everything comes up daffodils for you and your swordsman. What happens then?”

Before Nico could answer, the demon’s mouth opened in an enormous grin. “I’ll tell you,” he crooned, reaching down to caress the Dead Mountain’s slope. “You’ll end up here, right where I was. Because no matter how well you may think you control yourself, you’re not a spirit of creation anymore. You’re like me, like all of us. You’ll never die, even if you long to. You’ll never be able to rest, never be able to drop your guard. I’m impressed you’ve been able to keep your hunger at bay this long, but how much longer can you do it, Nico? A century? A millennia?”

The demon shook its head. “No one’s will holds forever, my child. The hunger will win in the end, and then you’ll be everything they already think you are—a monster, a predator, a devourer of spirits. Something to be stomped on and pinned at all costs.”

As he finished, Nico realized with horror that his throat was nearly mended. Her eyes widened. How? They were on the Dead Mountain. There should be nothing to eat. Then she saw that one of his long legs was arched backward, his biggest claw just touching the valley beyond the Dead Mountain’s border. Where it touched, the once-snowy valley was now as black and dry as the Dead Mountain’s own slopes.

The sight of it made her snarl, and she pulled herself to her full height, her broken wing hanging painfully from her shoulder. Nico ignored it. She stood on the mountain’s peak, glaring down at the demon. In her mind, Nivel’s warning was playing over and over. Don’t listen. He always lies, don’t listen. But he wasn’t lying, not this time, though Nico wished he were. A lie would be nicer than this ugly truth. But ugly as it was, hateful as it was, the truth was there, hanging between them, and she could not ignore it. Though she no longer needed air, Nico took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the sky, steeling herself to see the world break.

The breath caught in her throat. Above them, three of the six hands had vanished. For a second, she felt nothing but panic. If they were gone, what more would come through? But even as the thought slid through her like an icy spike, a flash of white blazed in the sky. For a moment, the whole, battered arc was illuminated, and then, with a demon’s jagged scream, one of the three remaining hands began to fall, dissolving to dust before it could hit the ground.

The second flash came a moment later, slicing the next arm through. She saw it better this time—a curved white blade biting through the darkness beyond the sphere, singing with pure, bloody joy as it sliced the demon flesh. By the time the final arm was cut, the shell itself was shaking, and the dome of the sky began to groan. Overhead, the cracks flashed and ground against one another, the shattered sections popping back into place like puzzle pieces.

As the edges came together, they began to melt into one another, the cracks fraying before weaving back together as though they’d never broken. It was beautiful to watch, more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. So beautiful that Nico couldn’t tear her eyes away from the world as it put itself back together, and that was her fatal mistake.

She felt the Demon of the Dead Mountain right before his claws closed on her throat. She roared and began to fight his grip, but he loomed over her, his strength infinite.

“You never could learn to pay attention to your surroundings, darling daughter,” the demon purred in her ear, his jagged teeth tearing the flesh on the side of her head. “Looks like your thief won his gambit. They’re repairing the shell as we speak. So it’s time for you to go.”

Nico’s feet kicked in the air as he lifted her. Holding her at arm’s length, the demon turned and raised his other arm, the one she had injured, and dragged his curved, black claws across the air. For a second, nothing happened, and then, with a horrible, unnatural ripping, the veil began to tear.