Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (131)

“I can’t go down to Cradle, can I? I’m not from there.” She regretted that for a moment, then immediately felt guilty.

Her home world was a fine place, it had just been at peace for thousands of years. There were still the occasional petty squabbles over land or respect—there was no such thing as a true utopia, not as long as it was inhabited by humans—but she had no interest in descending as a mortal to influence trade disputes or border negotiations.

“You don’t need to go down there, just come over here and…” Ozriel made a disappointed sound. “Never mind, temporal sync is broken. Have to wait for time to catch up.” He shook a black-gauntleted fist at the planet floating beneath them. “Curse you, Vesper! Fix your time!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Suriel said, but she was relieved. She wouldn’t rush an actual job to watch something for her own entertainment, and now she could have both.

In truth, fixing the temporal stability of the world, making time run smoothly again, was a simple process. Barring actual damage from corruption, the world’s time would work consistently as long as it had a closer relationship with the Way. So restoring Fate and bringing people back to life also fixed the temporal laws at the same time.

Without Ozriel to distract her, she found the work soothing. While she worked to stitch reality back together, she could forget about the broader conflict and the scope of the damage in other worlds. Reconstruction was a purely positive action.

And it was gratifying to know that she was using her talents effectively. She alone could do the work of an entire squad of lesser Phoenixes, even including some of the more skilled and talented under her command.

Suriel was re-focusing her work while idly considering which of her subordinates might have the potential to succeed her one day when a sudden deviation from Fate flashed red in her vision.

Her own alarm spiked as her Presence spoke urgently into her mind. [WARNING: contact lost with Sector Thirty command. No warning from the Court.]

Suriel tied off her current working, stabilizing the world of Vesper for the time being. Then she informed Ozriel.

He looked irritated at the news more than anything. “If you’d let me have my powers back, I could have warned you in time.” Then he stood up, still floating in space, and stretched. He pulled one shoulder, then the other, tossing his long white hair out of the way with each movement.

His body had been perfected both genetically and conceptually. There was no way his movements were actually tight. He was just being theatrical.

Suriel’s eyes were already scanning Fate, but she found little she could read. She didn’t need her Presence to tell her that was bad news.

Ozriel sniffed ostentatiously at the vacuum. “Does it smell like a trap in here to anyone else?”

“Stop talking and help.” Suriel tore open a rift into the Way and stepped through, letting the pure currents of order push her, but she remained still.

This was a calculated action. They would be surrounded.

She sent out a message to the Spider. “Telariel. Telariel, can you hear me?”

When there was no response after a second or two, she knew they were cut off. Her Razor ignited in her hand, splitting into many branches.

[We are most likely to engage in a battle with the Mad King,] Suriel’s Presence reported. [There is only a one in sixteen chance of escaping with both of your lives. However, he must have left the other Vroshir behind to move undetected. In the case that he kills you, I project a two out of three chance that he is killed by the retaliation of the Court of Seven.]

“What are the odds that Makiel did not see this action?” Ozriel asked softly.

Her Presence remained quiet.

“Yeah,” Ozriel said. “That’s what I thought.”

Then he and Suriel prepared to do battle side-by-side.





Outpost 01: Oversight





Makiel watched the battle between Suriel and the Mad King unfold in Fate. He examined all the possibilities, and his mood was dark.

This was still the best course of action, but he regretted the necessity. At least, when Ozriel was dead, they could rebuild.

His Presence alerted him to contact from the Spider, which he allowed.

Telariel’s voice was as cultured as always. “I seem to have lost contact with Sector Twenty. There are interruptions in the Way everywhere, but the timing for this one is…not fortuitous. I suspect either Vroshir intervention or shenanigans from Ozriel.”

“I’ll look into it myself,” Makiel told him. “Nothing is as clear as it should be. Stand by in case direct action is required.”

Telariel acknowledged, and Makiel stayed true to his word and his purpose.

He watched.

On the violet screens in the air before him, Ozriel’s death grew clearer and clearer.





Iteration 110: Cradle





Across the Ashwind continent, through relays of constructs and messengers usually used to declare emergencies, Akura Malice personally delivered a message.

“By the authority of the Akura clan, let it be known that the sacred artist formerly known as Wei Shi Lindon Arelius has been corrupted by the power of the Silent King,” she announced. “He has forfeited his humanity and is but a shell of what he once was.

“To recognize his crimes and the extraordinary threat he represents, he is to be considered the temporary replacement for the Silent King. The fourth Dreadgod. As he is but a hollow mockery of mankind, let him be known as the Empty Ghost.”