[That’s a prince,] Dross whispered. [He’s significant to the world’s Fate. One might argue that he was responsible for Cha’tur’niak being summoned in the first place.]
Lindon hovered in the air, but evidently the prince had exhausted whatever power let him fly up and help in the first place. He plummeted back toward the ground.
After zipping down first, Lindon controlled the air so that the prince would fall safely. He drifted down the last few inches, looking astonished as the wind deposited him gently onto his feet.
Lindon pressed his fists against one another and bowed. “Gratitude. If I had crashed into a city, many people would have died.”
The prince returned the bow but gave a wry laugh. “That doesn’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re all doomed. You might be the only one left worth saving.”
“If I thought so, I wouldn’t be here.” Lindon looked into the sky. The Devourer of Dimensions was growing closer, though it could be seen from much farther away than should be possible, thanks to the bending of space.
[We have about thirty seconds,] Dross informed him. [Give or take any teleportation shenanigans.]
“I saw your battle,” the prince said. “Can you…can you kill it?”
Through the despair in the prince, Lindon heard hope in the man’s voice.
Lindon turned to face him directly and placed his left hand on the prince’s shoulder. “That’s what I’m here to do. Once I kill it, we can return your world to what it was before. Even most of the dead can be restored. The story of this world is not over yet.”
The prince’s face crumpled as though he were about to cry, but he shed no tears. His hands balled into fists, and he seemed as though he were about to speak. Something over Lindon’s shoulder caught his attention, and the despair returned to his eyes.
“How can you face that?” the prince asked. “That’s not an enemy, that’s…the end.”
Lindon lifted into the air and turned to face the Fiend. Dark fire kindled in his hand.
“No,” Lindon said. “I am the end.”
the end
of the Cradle series
EPILOGUE
Information requested: the future of the Spiritual Origin test of Sacred Valley.
Synchronization possible.
Synchronization set at 99%.
Beginning report…
Iteration 001: Sanctum
The Grave
Lirin ran through the gray hallways of the Grave with reckless familiarity. The place was practically his home, and he could make his way around with his eyes closed.
He and his family didn’t live here all the time, but they could sometimes stay for months. He liked it here, even though the halls themselves were gray and boring. The people were interesting.
Today, he was excited for a different reason.
Today was his seventh birthday.
There was a party planned for him later, but in the meantime, his father had called him for a surprise.
Lirin couldn’t help looking forward to it, though he knew his father well enough to feel a healthy dose of skepticism. More than half the time, his father’s idea of a fun surprise ended up being ‘more training.’
He dashed through the halls, cradling the present he’d found sitting in his room when he woke up. While he should have left it behind when his father called, he was too excited. He knew who’d left it.
Lirin hurtled blindly around a corner and found something grabbing him by the back of the shirt and lifting him into the air.
His mother lifted him one-handed, raising him to a level with her red eyes. “Looking to crack your skull, are you?”
Lirin hung limply from her grip. There was no point in squirming. The most he might accomplish was entangling himself in his own shirt.
He sighed. “Apologies.”
“Where are you galloping to?”
His father’s voice echoed down the halls. “I called him!”
Lirin’s parents could hear anything from anywhere. He sometimes envied children who could get away with things. His instinct was to hide the present he carried behind his back, to keep it secret, but he didn’t bother. She’d have seen it.
He was gently lowered to his feet as his mother clicked her tongue. “It’s your time to burn. Already told you it’s a rotten trap of a test.”
She spoke at normal volume, as though she were talking to Lirin, but he knew better. His father could hear her fine. Of course.
“There are uses for it!” His father called back. The only reason he was shouting was so Lirin could hear. “It’s not a bad starting point for training if you do it right.”
Lirin froze at the word ‘training.’
His mother noticed and nudged him with an elbow. She gave him a lopsided smile. “Don’t twist yourself in knots. Wouldn’t call it training. If you put a sword to my neck, I’d call it a game.”
She was no better than his father when it came to training. She would call running up a mountain with a monster strapped to his back a fun game.
“Cheers and celebration for me,” he muttered.
“You don’t like that one? All right, then say he’s measuring you. Once you’re done, he’ll make you a gift.”
That brightened Lirin up.
His father made the best gifts.
“And now that we’re talking about presents…”
The wrapped gift Lirin had carried appeared in his mother’s hand, though he hadn’t felt her take it. She held it up, a small box sheathed in blue-green silk and tied with a ribbon that looked like it had been woven from the light of a summer’s day.
“Bet my soul I know where you got this,” she muttered. She held it up and shook it, as though to hear what was inside. Without ceremony, she untied the ribbon and opened the lid.
Lirin went up on his tiptoes to see into the box, but he wasn’t tall enough.
As soon as the package opened, a pleasant, familiar voice drifted out. “For shame!” the gift said. “Don’t you think he’s old enough to open his own presents? I taught you better than th—”
His mother shut the box again, grumbling to herself. She held it up to Lirin. “Give this back to you after I see what other tricks, traps, and trouble he left in here. Now go see your father, and don’t wear out your feet getting there.”
Lirin started to run off again, but after a step or two, slowed himself to a more reasonable trot to stop his mother from grabbing him again.
It took him another minute or two to reach his father’s workshop. The door was already open, and Lirin entered with a respectful awe.
He wasn’t allowed in here except on special occasions. Usually, it was locked to him because it was filled with dangerous things.
Which was exactly why he kept his eyes wide and looked in every direction. Dangerous things tended to be amazing.
The room was shaped like the inside of a giant ball, with dozens of mechanical arms folded up into the ceiling and floor. Shoved off to one side of the floor, eight spheres of light spun around one another like a flock of birds, resembling the model of a solar system. Nearby, a rack held guns and cannons of every description. Some were made of eye-twisting metals or sprouted eyes and watched Lirin as he walked by. Another rack held similarly strange swords.
Distant voices whispered from a sealed box. Half-finished suits of armor tried to animate themselves but were held back by glowing restraints. A spiritual pressure forge, a massive machine that took up one wall, groaned to life. It compressed energy into glowing gemstones, and it was the number one device that Lirin wanted to use himself one day.
His father sat in a chair nearby and didn’t interrupt, watching Lirin with a distant smile. His right arm rested on the surface of a desk, which had been cleared of everything except a shallow bowl.
“What’s in there?” Lirin asked. He ran up to the desk and stood on his tiptoes to see inside the bowl, but to his disappointment, it was empty.