Chapter 40
FORTY
CYAN
“It hurts you. I feel it. When you accept your purpose, I will let you forget. You will be my red thread, Cyan Orlogsson.”
The Architect tempted him with the dark promise of surrender. Letting it all go—everything and everyone. Elaina. The warmth of her presence, the way she fit, in dangerous synchronicity. The way she had sent ripples of chaos through his ordered world. The fear that invoked in him—not of her, but of how right something so wrong could feel.
Now here he stood at the edge of oblivion, and it was still she who held him back.
The Architect’s mind-voice turned sharp with displeasure. “Your attachment to her is an aberration. A glitch in my design. She was meant to be isolated, pure in her seeking. But instead you corrupted her, creating disorder where there should be perfect function.”
Cyan’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, which had slipped down in the Architect’s crushing embrace. “What do you mean?”
A cold laugh rippled through the void. “My essence runs through her veins. A shard of me within her heart, her hands—it makes her the perfect vessel for my will. She looks, questions, disrupts. Relentlessly. But she was meant to serve my order through that curiosity, not destroy it by joining with you. Every moment you spend together is a glitch in the system.”
“Why her?”
Fate’s solidifying embrace grew constricted, morphing into a restraint.
“I am in all of my creations. Yet only a few dare to look with raw wonder beyond the veil. She takes things apart to understand them, rebuilds them anew, and, when the time is right, destroys them in just the way I need her to. You distract her from her purpose. Together, you create too much… chaos.”
Cyan struggled to breathe against the clench of the Architect's envelopment.
“But it is enough now. You will bring her to me,” it continued. “She will be purified, stripped of these emotional entanglements. Her mind will seek only what I direct it to seek. Together, we will repair what has been fractured by such… unauthorized connections.”
“You want me to help you destroy everything she is.”
“I want to restore her to her intended purpose,” the Architect corrected, its tone sharp as ice. “She is my vessel, and she must not be allowed to malfunction. Her spirit must be reigned in. And let us face it, Cyan Orlogsson… you have already started the job.”
This was what fate wanted? To take the light of Elaina’s curiosity and bend it to its will? To erase everything that made her uniquely, wonderfully herself ?
“No,” Cyan whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t.”
His heartbeat surged, blood roaring in his ears. The Architect’s voice droned on, but Cyan's mind had already sharpened, drawing back from the edge of temptation. Every moment he'd spent with Elaina flashed through his mind—her clever hands dancing over broken circuits, the light in her eyes when she discovered something new, that relentless drive to understand. He’d only glimpsed what they could be together, but even that glimpse had shaken him.
No. He would not let fate destroy that beautiful chaos.
Cyan shifted his weight as the Architect’s hold squeezed tighter. The sword was pinned low, caught between them, but he forced it upward, inch by agonizing inch. His muscles screamed under the strain, each movement painfully slow. The cold steel scraped against the dark mass enveloping him. With all his strength, he swung upward, aiming for the heart of the void, for whatever lay at the center of this shadowed force.
The blade met nothing.
Cyan stumbled back as the Architect dematerialized, its hold dissolving into vapor. His legs gave way and he fought to steady himself, his chest heaving as he gulped for air. The shadows before him regrew, intact and unyielding.
A low, cruel laugh reverberated through the blinding space. “Did you think you could destroy me, Cyan Orlogsson?”
Cyan staggered, eyes wide and heart pounding. He crouched low, regaining his bearings and lifting the sword to attempt another blow. The dark form shifted closer, its fuzzy edges elusive, voice dripping with disdain.
“You are nothing, human. A tool. A vessel. Your Gaian toy holds no power here. Your fate rejects you.”
The void shattered around him and Cyan plummeted— collapsing through space, through time, ejected from fate’s presence.
After an eternity, he slammed into something solid, the impact jarring through every bone. Cyan’s gaze darted, disoriented.
“Priad?” he rasped and coughed. He pushed himself onto his elbows, each movement a battle as his muscles screamed in protest. Cyan blinked into the haze until he heard it—a soft whine. A cold nose pressed to his cheek, and relief coursed through him. He reached out, clutching the thick fur of the warg’s neck and pulling him in tight.
The sword—where was it? Cyan scrambled across the sandy rock beneath him. Coarse grains bit his skin until his fingers met cold steel. The blade lay next to him, half-buried, and he grasped it tightly, not even searching for the hilt. He gripped the blade itself in his hands, hot blood sliding to skin and stone as the edge cut his trembling palms.
With a groan, Cyan rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. A dim, unfocused glow blurred into view, colors bleeding together as he fought to focus. He blinked dust from his eyes, face stinging as a gust of wind sent another spray of sand across his cheek. Slowly, the realization settled in.
Earendel.
He had failed to restore order, the purpose that had led him here. He was back on this godforsaken planet with nothing to show for it but the knowledge that the universe itself was unraveling.
And Elaina was part of it.
Cyan pushed himself to his feet, his body protesting every movement. He had to find her. He had to protect her. He had to stop whatever was coming, somehow, before it was too late.
Before she was consumed.