Chapter 64 Sariel
SARIEL
A t last there was nothing left within Sariel to scream, and he gently lifted Iris’s body off him. That he had no time to give her a proper burial infuriated him further. He pulled Redemption free and shook the blood from the dragon-bone tip. The weapon gave comfort, where none else could be found.
Sariel turned, all the world flat and gray in his mind.
Only the Tower Majestic burned within it, aflame with radiance and ruled by a mad king at its highest peak.
The cavernous entrance loomed, an open mouth from which shrieked and squawked the twisted populace born of a staggering curse of radiance.
He lifted his sword. He hardened his heart.
There was no room for weakness. No forgiving the unforgivable.
A brother, forever lost. The debt must be repaid.
High above, the thin silver beam continued to pierce the heavens. The hole in the sky writhed with fire.
“Eder,” Sariel said, the name a curse upon his tongue.
No soldiers remained to guard the tower. Sariel did not wish to imagine what the radiance had done to those within, but that initial floor was blessedly empty. Up above he heard a chaotic mix of pain and fear, but let the people squabble and devour each other, for they did not matter to him.
There were many lifts at the edges of the hardstone, and Sariel knew them all.
He approached one in particular, wrapped his arm around the rope on one side, and then swung his sword to cut the other free.
The balance ruined, the rope shot him upward, carrying through the great empty expanse in the heart of the Tower Majestic.
As he rose, he looked upon homes that had once been simple wooden structures and saw them made of jade, bronze, silver, stone, and sapphire.
Denizens within them slaughtered one another, tearing apart flesh with clawed hands or biting with teeth now jagged and strong.
And then it was all below him. He passed through the gap into the rafters and then swung his legs while letting go to land on the enormous platform.
To no surprise, the liftmasters had abandoned the level, if they had even been allowed to remain while Eder performed his monstrous ritual above.
Sariel crossed the space to the only lift that continued higher, and he did not attempt to raise it on his own.
Instead he grabbed the side rope, climbed high enough to reach the floor, and then hoisted himself up to the Final Ascent.
Eder stood on the far end, beside the bowl blazing with radiance stolen from his slain brother. Nearby lay the corpse of—
No, don’t look at it, don’t think on it, not now.
Dozens of runestones shimmered around them, glowing with crimson light. The sight of them put a thorn in Sariel’s aching mind. Within their center, lying perfectly still, was the body of Isabelle Dior.
“Isabelle!” he shouted, and rushed to her side. His hands cupped her head, and to his relief, he saw her eyes flutter. Not awake, but alive.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Eder said. His gaze was locked on the hole in the sky. His arms stretched out, his palms tilted upward. “No one should witness this alone.”
“Halt this foul magic,” Sariel said. He glared at the sacrificial bowl, which even now burned away all that had once been Faron. “Stop it, while there’s still a world to save.”
Eder slowly turned. His skin was paler than usual, and dark circles ringed his eyes.
“Stop it?” he asked. “Why? Do you not feel it? How beautiful it is to be seen?”
Sariel gently lowered Isabelle back to the floor and stood, Redemption at the ready.
“Faron is dead because of you.”
Eder shook his head.
“You see only what is before you,” he said, approaching a long wooden box lying beside the altar. “But Faron is not lost forever. He has merely gone to the death we all should be given when our lives end. Once Kaus is made pure, we shall join him and be together in Father’s paradise.”
“Pure?” Sariel snarled. “Paradise? Do you not see the monsters all around us?”
Eder removed the lid to the box. Within was filled with purple velvet, and he dipped his fingers into the cloth.
“Monsters?” he asked as he withdrew Atonement, the velvet smoothly sliding off its immaculately sharp edge. “No, brother. I see no monsters. I see change, and the burning light of creation.”
Sariel stared at the sword and felt himself falling hundreds of years into the past. Not since their fated duel had they crossed blades.
He’d not even looked upon Atonement since the shattering.
Seeing it threatened to drown him in guilt, and he denied that guilt with his fury.
Redemption rose, and he braced his legs for the attack to come.
“Destroy it,” he said, and nodded toward the bowl. “Or I will.”
Eder placed himself in the way, Atonement held in both hands.
“There is no stopping this,” he said. “Let it end, Sariel. Let it all end, so we may become something new.”
Sariel dashed toward him, his sword swinging.
Eder blocked, barely needing to move his arms. As the dragon-bone weapons connected, it felt like a fire ignited within them, calm words and stances exploding into a frenetic back-and-forth clash.
The long reach of their weapons allowed them to dance as they circled each other, testing each other’s defenses.
A slash here, aiming for a leg. Another for the throat.
Sariel kept light on his feet, and he struck at Eder as if trying to batter down a wall.
Every swing, blocked to perfection. Every thrust, easily parried.
Anger pushed Sariel harder. He leaped closer, sword up in an overhead slam.
Eder blocked, his legs braced and arms up.
Sariel struck again, and again, forcing his brother to deepen his stance.
On the third, he feinted a hit and then leaped to the side, Redemption angling around for a slice at his brother’s waist. Eder twisted, reading it perfectly, the edge of his blade shifting positions and then deflecting Sariel’s swing harmlessly above his head.
And now Sariel was out of position. Eder closed the space between them with blinding speed, Atonement’s hilt cracking into Sariel’s ribs.
He cried out, swung a punch with his off hand, and missed.
Eder twisted, his shoulder slamming Sariel to gain separation, and then came the killing slash, with power and sharpness to cleave Sariel in half.
With strength born of desperation, Sariel managed to pull his sword in the way just in time, but it was weak, and his weapon was easily shoved backward.
It robbed the attack of momentum, though, so when it hit Sariel’s side it only cut through his coat and opened a thin slash across his skin.
Sariel batted it aside again, this time harder, and then retreated a step.
His sword rose, its tip hovering in the air mere inches from Eder, whose stance mirrored his own.
Sariel’s heart hammered in his chest. Sweat dripped from his brow.
He felt so exhausted by the day, and his wounds from his fight against Aylah ached with fresh pain.
His only hope was that Eder appeared to have fared little better.
Their bodies were both pushed to their limits, but then again, there was more to them than their bodies.
Radiance permeated the air to a sickening degree, but it need not solely be a curse.
“Stop debasing yourself,” Eder said as he calmly parried a series of thrusts. “This time, I will not turn my back to your blade. Cowardice and dishonor were your only path to victory, and they shall not work here.”
Sariel heightened his aggression, needing his brother’s attention preoccupied. Their swords slammed through the air, colliding with such loud cracks they were like boulders crashing together on their way down a mountain.
“Do you think I have not improved?” he asked, drawing closer with every swing. “Do you think I have wasted my exile?”
The air was so thick, it felt difficult to breathe, but Sariel pushed onward.
He was tiring, and Eder knew that, too. His brother kept defensive, waiting for Sariel to make a mistake.
It’d work, too, if Sariel’s tactics remained unchanged.
His next thrust was too shallow, and Eder risked a counter.
Sariel twisted away from it, his long hair flailing behind him.
Eder’s edge sliced a significant portion of it, and it fell to the hardstone.
Sariel came out of the turn swinging, the low edges of their swords colliding, and he pressed closer, strength against strength, weapons rattling, their faces so near.
Stars burned within their eyes, and shadow swept away the whites.
They clenched their teeth, the effort taking their all as their weapons locked together.
A thousand steps had led them across this journey to this moment, but in Sariel’s mind, the rise of the Astral Kingdom and the Church of Stars began in a small cave in the far west. It began with fire, and it would end in fire.
Blue flame flicked across his knuckles as he pushed, testing his brother, demanding he use all his strength to keep that dragon-bone blade from cutting him in twain.
“Don’t do this,” Eder said, pretending to wield greater strength than he possessed. “Stay with me, so we may witness rebirth together.”
A shift of Sariel’s feet. Closer now, their faces nearly touching, Redemption and Atonement vibrating between them. Sariel stared into those eyes, and for the first time in all their long, long lives together, he saw madness. His brother was gone.