Chapter 17 #4
I paced a few steps, boots scraping over ground that shouldn't have existed.
My body ached, and exhaustion was beginning to set in.
"You couldn't have just told me about this?
‘Hey Juno, by the way, I'm a rift too, and the Assembly imprisoned me for a decade, and now I want your help to punch a hole in the universe!”’
"I didn't think you'd believe me," he said. "Would you have believed me?"
I thought about it. About the girl I'd been six months ago, scrabbling for rent and her mother's medicine. "No," I said, because at least he'd earned a sliver of honesty. "But I might have appreciated the fucking effort."
Cypher held my gaze, not looking away from the accusation in my eyes. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to stay angry. But how could I, knowing what I knew now?
"I wasn't lying about needing the codex," he said. "But it's useless without a functioning rift who can control the void. And it can't be just any rift. It has to be someone who's been touched by the First Dark itself."
Me then. Specifically me.
"Where are the others?" I asked suddenly, head on a swivel as I squinted into the distance. But it was impossible to make anything out.
"The First Dark separates travelers if the bridge isn't controlled. It's a defense mechanism." Cypher gestured vaguely at our surroundings. "We'll find them if we head to the Genesis Engine."
"If we reach it," I said dryly.
"When," he insisted. "I've mapped the path as best I could from the codex's descriptions. It shouldn't be far."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "So we're wandering through this place with directions from some dusty tome that could be complete nonsense after several thousand years, and I'm supposed to what, trail behind you like a lost puppy? Put my life in your hands?"
Cypher's eyes darted to the shadows beyond my shoulder. "Standing still here invites trouble. This darkness looks empty, but it's far from it."
As if to emphasize his point, something moved in the shadows behind him. A ripple of darkness against darkness, like a predator swimming beneath murky water.
"What was that?" I hissed, instinctively approaching him.
"One of the reasons we need to keep moving." He held out his hand to me. "I know you hate me. You have every right to. But right now, we need each other."
I stared at his outstretched hand. This man who'd lied to me, manipulated me, violated my trust, my family. This man who'd survived horrors I couldn't imagine. This man who'd turned himself into a monster to save what was left of his people.
I didn't take his hand. But I did nod.
"Lead the way then."
Sound moved strangely here, sometimes echoing when it shouldn't, sometimes swallowed completely.
The ground beneath our feet shifted between solid and not, as if we were walking on squishy moss.
Cypher consulted a small compass-like device he'd pulled from his pocket.
It didn't point north. I doubted directions like "north" even existed here, but its needle swung steadily toward something.
"The Genesis Engine creates ripples in reality according to the codex," he explained when he caught me staring. "This detects them."
"What is it?" I asked, trying to peer into his palm. It was small, circular and made of brass, but the face glowed like an anchor crystal. I wasn't sure what to look for, or how Cypher had learned to make sense of it.
"It's called a wayfinder. It detects changes in gravity and realm distortion.
It runs on anchor crystals, ground up into a fine powder trapped beneath the glass.
" He held it out to me, and I took it, more curious than I was mad at him.
"When it finds a distortion, the powder condenses to one side and the needle follows, and indicates which direction we should be heading in. "
"Where did you even get something like this?" I asked as I studied the strange device. The powder inside swirled like miniature stars caught in a glass prison. "It's beautiful."
"It's a family heirloom, passed down through generations of Nytherian royalty. It was designed to help our people find their way through the Gallery when navigation was still primitive."
I handed it back to him reluctantly, trying not to think about how many hands had held it before us, how many lives it had guided home. How many of those people were dead now because of the Assembly's actions?
"How much farther?" I asked instead, eyeing the darkness around us. The shadows were thickening, coalescing into shapes that vanished when I tried to focus on them directly.
"The distortion is getting stronger." He tucked the way-finder back into his pocket. "We should—
A sound cut through the silence. A high, keening wail. It raised the hair on my arms and sent ice through my veins.
"What was that?"
"Denizen," he whispered, drawing his sword. It was curved, and made from steel with a golden pommel, the same sword he'd wrapped in shadows as he fought Gideon. "One of the First Dark's native inhabitants. They hunt anything that doesn't belong here."
"And we definitely don't belong here."
"No, we don't." His eyes scanned the shadows. "Stay close to me. If it attacks, don't run. They're drawn to movement."
The wail came again, closer this time. I felt the First Anchor pulse against my skin, responding to the threat.
My rift senses stretched outward, feeling for the source of that terrible sound.
And then I saw it. It emerged from the shadows like it was made of them.
A tall, elongated figure with too many limbs and a face rearranging itself into different configurations of horror.
"Cypher," I breathed, unable to look away from the thing.
"I see it. Don't move. Let me handle this."
The denizen tilted what might have been its head, studying us.
It took a step forward, its movements jerky and wrong.
It was so much worse than anything still living in Nytheris.
Cypher raised his hand, and that corrupted magic curled from his fingertips again—oily darkness that seemed even more at home here than in the Gallery. The denizen paused.
"What is it doing?"
"Deciding if we're a threat or food," he replied, not taking his eyes off the creature.
The denizen took another step forward, clearly making its decision, and Cypher's magic flared. The corrupted magic lashed out from his outstretched hands, wrapping around the creature like chains.
"Run!" Cypher shouted, his face contorted with effort as he held the creature. "I can't hold it for long!"
I hesitated for a heartbeat, torn between self-preservation and not wanting to leave him. Then the denizen began to pull free of his magical bonds, and I made my choice. I grabbed Cypher's free arm and yanked him backward. "Together or not at all!"
He cursed, but we ran, the denizen's howls following us through the darkness. Cypher pulled the wayfinder out again, checking it as we moved.
"This way!" he hissed as if afraid to shout, tugging me to the left. We ran and ran, and with every step I imagined being thrown to the ground with the denizen on top of me, clawing at my skin. "There!" Cypher pointed ahead.
At first, I saw nothing but more darkness. Then my eyes adjusted, and I realized what I was looking at—a structure rising from the nothingness. It was massive, and appeared to be made of the same fog-like substance in the distance, only slightly more solid.
"Cypher, what is that?"
He followed my line of sight, squinting to make it out. A flare of purple light streaked across the sky, illuminating it for a brief moment. That's when I understood what we were looking at.
It was a wing ship. Broken and abandoned, and it looked like an out-of-fashion ancient vessel. The wings were cracked and brittle, the hull pocked with holes and scars. In the strange half-light of the First Dark, it looked almost ghostly, a relic from another time.
"A wing ship," I breathed, barely believing my eyes. "But how—"
Behind us, the denizen's wail split the air again, closer this time. Much closer. We sprinted toward the ship, my lungs burning, feet pounding. The gangplank was down, as if waiting for us, though rust and decay had nearly eaten through it.
"It can't possibly still work," I gasped as we approached. "It looks ancient."
"We don't need it to fly," Cypher said. "We just need to hide."
We were almost there when I felt something cold brush against my back. I didn't have to look to know what it was. The denizen had caught up.
Cypher spun around, shoving me hard behind him. "Get on board! Now!"
I stumbled backward toward the gangplank as Cypher faced the creature.
This close, I could see details I wished I couldn't. I could see the way its limbs appeared to phase in and out of existence, how its face rippled, never settling on one configuration for more than a second.
It was as if the First Dark couldn't decide what creature it wanted to make, so it shifted between all of them.
"Cypher!" I screamed, one foot on the gangplank, unwilling to leave him.
He didn't look at me. His entire focus was on the denizen as he raised his hands.
The corrupted magic poured from his fingertips, but different this time, more controlled.
Maybe it was the panic. Maybe that's how it worked.
The tendrils of darkness wrapped around the creature, shadow sinking into shadow.
He was manipulating the very fabric of the First Dark itself, pulling it apart at the seams.
With a strangled curse, he wrenched his hands apart. The denizen split down the middle, its form shredding like mist in a strong wind. It made no sound as it dissipated, dissolving back into the darkness from which it had emerged.
Cypher fell to one knee, gasping for breath. His face was ashen, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Cypher!" I ran back to him, grabbing his arm, helping him to his feet. "Are you okay?"