So he had already seen what was in the rest of the void key. As expected.
[We brought them along!] Dross said brightly. [All of them who wanted to come, anyway. Some of them had ‘lives’ and ‘families.’]
Yerin leaned out from around the Winter Sage. “How many countries did you pack away in there?”
“Ah, that reminds me,” Lindon said. “Would you mind if I made an addition to your…” He looked out over the floating mass of metal that orbited the planet. “…base?”
Eithan threw his hands up to the sky. “Lindon, my home is yours! And more importantly, your home is mine. Add whatever you like.”
“It will take up quite a bit of space,” Lindon warned him.
Eithan smiled broadly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“What did you bring?” Mercy asked.
“The labyrinth,” Lindon said. He started to stretch his spiritual perception to the end of the Grave, getting rough measurements.
Ziel stared. “All of it?”
[All of it,] Dross confirmed. [Bringing together the sections separated all over the world wasn’t as hard as you’d expect. The hard part was doing it without causing devastating local earthquakes.]
“There was still more I hadn’t explored,” Lindon explained. “I couldn’t just leave it behind. I wanted it all.”
Hours later, while the others were still catching up, Lindon slipped off by himself.
He left the Grave, flying up to perch on the outside. The external surface was rough and uneven, as though the hovering station had been torn free from a larger structure and then welded together afterwards.
Lindon settled himself onto a ledge with a view of Sanctum below. The planet stretched off into the distance, incomprehensibly large. And beyond it, above it, an endless black sky filled with strange stars.
He looked into that distance, taking in the reality. Everything here was new. He didn’t know how long he sat there dreaming, remembering…and waiting.
A woman interrupted him by drifting up, hair shining green and floating behind her. She wore a white uniform instead of armor, and she settled into a seat beside him.
“You found more uses for that than I expected,” Suriel said.
At some point, Lindon had found himself holding the glass marble containing her one blue candle-flame. He had turned it in his hand while he thought, and now he held itself up for inspection.
“Gratitude,” he said. “It gave me encouragement more times than I can remember.”
Suriel had her arms crossed, and she leaned back into the metal so casually that she almost looked mortal. “How did it encourage you?”
“I’m not sure I know the right words, but it gave me perspective.” Lindon held up the marble and looked through it, to the planet below. “It helped me believe that one day, I would be up here with you.”
Suriel smiled. “Then it served its purpose better than I could have ever imagined.”
Lindon rolled the marble in his fingers one more time, then handed it back to Suriel.
She took it and lifted it herself. “There were many times when I didn’t think I’d ever see this again with my own eyes.”
“There were many times I didn’t think I’d be able to make it. But returning it to you was…I’d say it was the one thing I had left to do.”
Suriel nodded. Then she tossed it back to him.
Surprised, he caught it.
“Keep it,” she said.
“Pardon, but surely you don’t need to keep track of me now.”
“What do you mean?” She gave him a look of exaggerated mock surprise. “Of course I have to keep my eye on you. You’re barely out of the Cradle.”
Lindon dipped his head and sat the marble next to him. Then he hesitated.
This next part might be pushing his luck; Suriel had given him hints that she was coming to meet him tonight, but he knew she was very busy. He shouldn’t try to monopolize her time.
But he was very curious.
“You know so much about me,” Lindon said carefully, “but I know very little about you. Would you mind telling me about yourself? If you’re willing, of course.”
Suriel gave him a smile he hoped was fond. “It will have to be the short version for now. We have very little time before Ozriel interrupts us.”
Lindon nodded eagerly, listening with rapt attention. The Phoenix spoke, and Lindon learned.
And all the while, a blue candle-flame burned merrily between them.
37
Iteration 074: Verge
[They call that a Class Two Fiend,] Dross said to Lindon. [I heard it would be ugly, but I was…I was not prepared. Do you think you could fight without looking at it?]
Lindon wished he could. The Fiend was a country-sized beast floating over the central planet of this Iteration, and it looked something like a living island with a million squirming limbs. Even that description implied a logic that this thing didn’t have; it was chaos made flesh, and it squirmed in a way that hurt Lindon’s eyes.
Ordinarily, Abidan Sector Control would deal with an incursion like this. But not only were they overwhelmed, this particular Fiend had been contacted by the world’s inhabitants. It was the natural fate of this world to be eaten one piece at a time by Cha’tur’niak, Devourer of Dimensions.
That fate was almost complete.
The Way felt distant here, and Lindon felt the emptiness and chaos of the Void pressing in close. The stars were already all gone from the sky, and the Fiend tore pieces of space out and devoured them. It defied all logic to see, as though the creature were snapping shards of existence off and cramming them into its mouth.
Half of the planet was already erased. The Fiend was closing in on the remaining population, leaving them for last so it could feed on the existence of their world as long as possible.
The endless darkness of the universe chilled Lindon. It reminded him of looking into the sky and seeing, knowing on a fundamental level, that there was no hope.
Eithan had done battle against the Mad King. Now it was Lindon’s turn.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t an opponent he could simply wipe out.
The Weeping Dragon Sword Formation spread out above him, and Wavedancer unleashed a golden dragon’s breath that pierced through space in an instant. Lindon supplemented it with bars of Blackflame from each hand.
Any one of those attacks would have been enough to scorch the remaining population of this Iteration. They only tickled the Devourer of Dimensions.
It turned to face him, shrieking an incomprehensible word.
Lindon felt the world peeling away from him as the Fiend tried to cast him into the Void.
“No.”
The Void rejected him, but now he had the Fiend’s attention.
Its attacks were strange. World-twisting. It couldn’t be seen in Fate, its alien willpower matched his own, and he had half a planet left to protect.
Their battle lit up the skies.
Finally, Lindon saw an opportunity and took it. The Dragon Descends smashed into the warped chaos of flesh that formed the Fiend’s body. Forged dragon-claws detonated, blasting Cha’tur’niak thousands of miles into empty space.
But Lindon wasn’t unscathed either. The creature’s return stroke cracked his armor and sent him plummeting into the planet’s remaining atmosphere.
“Stop!” He slowed, but his working couldn’t counteract the effects of the Fiend’s attack enough.
Someone leaped into the upper atmosphere and caught him. It was a young man wearing a gold crown and a blue-and-silver cloak.
The force of Lindon’s fall still pushed the native down, but the man strained to stop him. His face turned red with effort as he pushed, and Lindon was impressed. This native hero had strength comparable to a Herald.
The man helped enough that the remaining will in the Fiend’s attack faded, and Lindon righted himself.