Underlord (Cradle #6)(2)

The teeth scrabbled on the solid edges of the blue cube for a moment, trying to find a purchase.

Then her barrier began to break.

Panic threatened to swallow her from the inside. She had yet to catch a glimpse of the enemy, and they had already shrugged off her best attack and casually broken her defense. This was not a probe or a scout; it was a true assault.

And she was alone.

Pariana reached out for her formations again, turning them onto her enemy, but a spike of pain lanced through her brain and suddenly she could feel the defenses no more.

[Your authority has been overridden,] her Presence told her.

Impossible. She had designed and placed those circles herself. How could someone take them from her this easily?

But even to her eyes, the truth was clear. The golden formations were shot through with red light, and as she watched, they turned to focus on her.

The jaws stopped chewing on her barrier, the column of smoke slithering back to its summoner. Only then did she get a look at her attackers.

Four enemies of the Abidan floated in the air before her.

The first looked to be a standard human with dark brown skin, wearing a helmet with a pane of transparent red glass covering his face. Red light streamed from his fingertips, and its signature matched what had taken over her formations.

The second was an aquatic-adapted human, with slick blue skin, no hair, and gills at the side of her neck. She carried a pair of sickles that looked as though they had been torn off of a giant purple mantis, each of which carried a dark power that suggested they should be sealed away in an Abidan vault. The woman looked at Pariana with clear hatred, as though the Abidan had personally offended her.

She could see nothing of the third figure. He, she, or it was covered in a mechanical suit of synthetic fabric and steel. They carried a rifle, and even without examining it carefully, Pariana could tell the weapon carried far more power than her formations had. It felt like the sealed form of one of the Judges’ weapons; it terrified her.

The final invader was another standard human, with pale skin and long, black hair tied into a tail that fluttered in the wind. She wore furs and leathers that looked as though they had been taken from a dark-furred lion, and they gave her a barbaric air. The black smoke drifted around her palm.

Her dark eyes surveyed Pariana with absolute disregard.

The Abidan’s Presence whispered, [All four match descriptions of tenth-generation Vroshir.]

Pariana didn’t ask for their names. It wouldn’t help.

The first generation of Vroshir had worked for the Abidan, long ago. They lived to shatter the Eledari Pact and see the Court of Seven cast down. It was not a grudge that she could resolve.

In the face of her death, Pariana reached out to the Way. The touch of its absolute order soothed her.

But she couldn’t fight the despair. Everything she had worked for, everyone she loved in this world, was coming crumbling down.

“Relinquish your Presence into our keeping,” the black-haired woman ordered, drifting down to hover over Pariana’s cracked barrier. “You shall be taken as a prisoner of war, and all others will be liberated.”

Did Sector Control respond? Pariana asked her Presence.

[No. I cannot confirm whether they received our report or not.]

Pariana closed her eyes. In truth, it wouldn’t matter even if Sector Control had heard them. No one else was close enough to respond, and even if they had been, it would be too late.

Destroy yourself before they capture you, she ordered.

[Of course. I am sorry I could not serve you better,] the Presence added, its voice tinged with sadness.

Smoke boiled out of the fur-clad Vroshir’s palm again. “Too late,” she said.

The mouth shattered Pariana’s barrier.

At the same time, the formations she’d created turned on her home. Impossibly hot pillars of light carved furrows through the crops, spearing into the bunkers beneath.

Pariana could feel the Way weakening as people died. She threw everything she had into a barrier to protect them, and a blue dome flickered into existence over the smoking hole in the colony, cutting off the weapon’s beam.

The gilled woman swept one of her sickles through the air, and a violet slash tore open a canyon in the earth. It split Pariana’s protection in half.

Earth blasted upwards as though a volcano had erupted underground, spewing fire and debris all the way into the atmosphere. The four Vroshir were surrounded by invisible barriers, protecting them and Pariana.

The Abidan Titan collapsed to her knees, soaked in tears. The smoky maw had left her alive. For now.

The armored figure had its rifle trained on her. Pariana surged forward—the Way was too distant for her to manipulate now, and her specialty had never been violence, but she had nothing left to lose.

He shot her.

The sound of the gunshot somehow pierced the deafening sounds of exploding earth. It drilled a hole through her white-plated armor, through her personal barrier, through her chest, and out the back.

Slowly, Pariana toppled to the ground.

She could feel her Presence trying to eradicate itself when it was seized by red power and dragged out, a mass of colorless light like a ghost. The Way had never felt more distant.

As she died, she desperately cast out her mind, trying to feel someone alive. Without her Presence to guide her powers, she was left with only her mundane senses. It was like going suddenly blind.