Chapter 44 Samson
SAMSON
Only fire can banish the shadows. Only love can unburden grief. The Great Serpent is made of both, so take care of Her dualities, and you will fare through the deep.
—from the hymns of the Great Serpent
Her Agni hit him with such force that Samson did not know whether to laugh or to scream.
Heat surged through his veins, ignited his nerves, filled him with a luscious, vicious intensity.
This wasn’t just power. It was life, a puissance so ripe he could feel every sinew and cell of his body thrum in wonder.
What an irony, then, that he, the Prophet who could heal burns, could only heal himself by being burned by another.
For so long, he had lived in the absence of such power and called it normal. He had almost forgotten what it felt to live wholly. But now…
He wanted it all.
Samson looked down, a grin spreading across his face, and was struck by the bright, acute fear in Elena’s eyes.
It slammed him back. His ravenous desire juddered like the body of an arrow vibrating upon impact.
His hold faltered, and her Agni began to slip.
He could still take it. She did not know how to close the connection and guard her spark from him.
He could see the map of her: the beacons of her chakras, the glowing channels of her nadis. He could devour it all.
But Samson hesitated.
His own desire would destroy her. And for some reason, that knowledge and the thought of holding her cold, lifeless corpse in his arms, of feeling her stolen fire buzz through his veins as hers went dark, seized him with a terror like no other.
Elena wheezed, her grip on him slackening.
She gritted her teeth and closed her fist, and he watched, a bit in horror, a bit in awe, as a flame bent to twist around his.
Impossible. That she could still control her Agni even as he diverted her prana from her nadis.
That she could still stand, her eyes burnished with fear and stubborn strength, as she raised a shaking finger and pointed behind him.
“Sam,” she said. “It’s… getting… closer.”
He turned and saw waves bend around the beast. If he took all of her Agni now, he could banish the monster himself. He could cut back time. Free Seshar, win back the years its freedom had cost him. But at the cost of her death?
No.
The answer struck clear in his mind, like a singular note. And as it grew, he found his resolve emboldened, strengthened.
He released her hand, retreating from her chakras, and tamped down his hunger.
“Move with me,” he said.
She grunted but raised herself to mirror his movements. He whipped his urumi and called their Agni. He felt a slight, instinctive resistance from her, but with a gentle tug, it gave way, and their Agni surged forth, blue and red flames licking down his twin blades.
In his mother’s stories, the Great Serpent was betrayed by Her sister.
Hollowed by grief, She had splintered into shadows.
Ravenous, wraithlike beings that had grown twisted and wrong in their anger.
The pit became their home. Their prison.
And the monster before him now howled with a mad, frothing fury that made him feel the weight of its grief, of its bitter sense of injustice.
He had no gems. No lives to sacrifice. But he had Agni, and Agni always found its path.
He surged to the right and Elena followed in step, their arms rising in unison as he thrust his blades and she extended her arms. Their inferno roared forward like a bolt of lightning hurled from the hands of a god.
It struck the dark shape. A high, uneven keen cut through the storm, ripping his eardrums.
Samson gasped, staggering back. Pain sliced up his sword arm, and he would have dropped his weapon if not for Elena as she stepped forward, wrapping her hand around his, and raised the urumi.
“Together,” she said.
Elena swung back his arm, and he followed, their bodies fluid and smooth, their Agni bright and seething, and hurled another volley of flames toward the shadow.
It screeched. An awful, racking crack. The shadow flailed, its edges shriveling back to its mutilated core.
“We have it!” he cried.
He raised his urumi once more when the shape snapped.
It split in two, and he saw the dark tendrils of the monster lancing through the air before their ship tilted, and the sea rushed to meet them.
“Sam!”
Her hold on him loosened, dropped. He twisted to catch her, her name ripping through his throat as their fingers brushed. And for a moment, just for a cruel, singular heartbeat, he thought he had caught her, her hand warm and sure in his. But then her fingers slipped.
Elena Aadya Ravence plummeted into the dark sea, and he could only hang there, heart heaving, screaming her name.
“ELENA!”
The ship pitched wildly. The waves swirled, faster and faster, tossing their ship. With a sudden, vicious rage, Samson surged forward. He slung his urumi and sent a flare of charged flames. They bolted through the air, a brilliance of light, and slammed right into the being’s core.
It crashed into the sea with a howl. Waves swelled, and Samson had one last glimpse of the dark tendrils flailing at the edges of the ship before something hard smacked into his head and he toppled to the deck.