Chapter 49 A Good Scholar #2
It is a ten-foot ring, composed of several cylinders.
As Nugau’s magic funnels into them, the cylinders come alive.
An otherworldly glow begins to pour out of the center of the ring.
Faster and faster they turn, casting an eerie breeze around the room.
Around it sit weapons ready to be wielded: mortars, howitzers, another nova-cannon—artillery that could annihilate an army.
“For six years, my research has focused on how humans can enter the Darkworld. We believed that the Dark was too cold for us, but I have recently discovered that it is only the passage between our world and theirs that gets dangerously frigid. With the prince’s power—his magic, as you so love to call it—my machine can shape a permanent door that will eliminate this issue,” Carr says. “A Darkgate, if you will.”
A whine of pain trickles through Nugau’s clenched teeth as his magic is siphoned out of him. Trembling, Sascia struggles to keep the prince upright.
“But despite my best efforts, the prince’s power alone does not work,” Carr continues.
“Like any door, it requires a key. You and your moths are that key, Miss Petrou. You will open the door for us. You will show us the way into the Darkworld. And in exchange, I will let your family and your friends leave this place unharmed.”
The nova-sword shakes in her hands. She glances down at Nugau—he warned her, just minutes ago: violence and loss, and violence again.
She might not have chosen the blade in Times Square, but someone else will always be right there, to choose the blade instead.
On and on, a circle with no ending in sight.
But what else can she do? What other choice does she have, if not the blade?
She holds Nugau’s gaze and whispers, “Forgive me.”
His eyes grow wide. “Sascia?”
Her movements are fast, focused. If she pauses, she’ll rethink. She’ll cower. She lets go of him. She marches through the silo to the Darkgate. She splays her palm.
Mooch extricates itself from her hair and lands on her fingers. Sascia studies the shape of its wings, the swirling patterns of its Darkprint, the now familiar way its feathered antennae nibble at her skin.
“We have come far, you and I,” she whispers, low enough that only Mooch can hear.
“But we need to go a step further. To become a key that opens the door between worlds. But you and I, we’re a pair.
If you refuse, I will not force you. If you find another way, I will follow you.
What do you want, little guy? What do you choose? ”
On her palm, Mooch taps once. Yes.
Sascia takes a step forward, her index finger extended. Mooch dives into the Dark.
Before them, the Darkgate begins whirring in earnest. Black spins in its center. It has begun. The door is opening—
“Stop!” Nugau cries out. He’s on his knees, shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright, his features raw with emotion.
“Please, little gnat. It’s not knowledge he wants. It’s not research and study. Scholars do not march into a new world clad in military uniforms and armed with weapons. Look around us—that right there is a cannon identical to the one that killed the Queen!”
“I know,” Sascia says, dragging her gaze to the nova-cannon facing the Darkgate. “I was the one who fired it in the Battle of Feathers. The Queen-killer, the Darkhumanoid-lover, traitor to humans and aesin alike. Right, Professor?”
Carr’s composure is infallible. Yet Sascia doesn’t need to see the emotion on his face any longer. She knows, and for the first time, she trusts herself: before her lies evil.
This cube design is based on one of my own blueprints, Tae said a few minutes ago.
Like all my designs, it’s meant to be remotely controlled.
It was such an offhand comment in such an anxious moment that it had barely registered.
But now Sascia knows what it means. Remotely controlled, like all of Tae’s designs. Like the cannon.
“It was never me, was it, Professor?” she calls out.
“It was never a mistake. You had remote control of that cannon. You shot the Queen. Because it’s not knowledge that you want, or study, or research.
What you want is war. The kind that will make you and your funders rich.
The kind that will make you the most powerful man in the world. ”
Carr pushes his glasses farther up his nose.
“You have always been obsessed with fairy tales, Miss Petrou. But I assure you this is not one of them. I am not the villain of this story. My decision to fire the killing shot that day ensured the survival of an entire city. And my actions tonight will ensure the survival of humankind.”
There it is, clear as day. It’s not just war he wants. It’s annihilation.
But this is the thing: Sascia really is a clever girl. If it’s war he wants, war is what he will get.
She plunges her hand into the gate of writhing Dark and pulls them out, one by one. Orran, framed by his enormous wings. Thalla, arrow already notched in her bow.
And behind them, the entire battalion of the Jagged Blade.
Let blades meet blades.