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A Mere Number
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Shelly stood in the war corridor, a room she had never entered in her life prior to today. Her father, King Vitio, sat in a cushioned chair that had been dragged in from another room. Flen, meanwhile, stood at the front of the room, having just broadcasted the conclusion of the Still Kingdom’s battle.
For an excruciating few minutes, Flen had lost contact with his identical brother. The last they had seen before contact had been reestablished was the blizzard falling from the sky to reveal a haunting beast. And once the broadcast returned, they were met with a display of lightning that could only be seen if one were to visit the Intel Kingdom’s Thunder Alley—and not only that, but there was the strange encounter between Apoleia, Bryson, and Thusia.
The silence went on for maybe ten minutes. Even Flen had taken a seat on a wooden table behind him, staring somewhere in the distance, likely reflecting on what had just transpired.
The door opened. Shelly turned to find her mother peeking inside, baby Leon cradled in one arm. “What happened? It’s been silent for far too long.”
“We won,” Vitio said without turning to address his wife.
Delilah nodded slightly and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
They should have been celebrating, for this was a much-needed victory after the many losses suffered by the True Light alliance in the past couple weeks—the loss of the Adren Kingdom and its king, the death of Himitsu, and the failure to infiltrate Phelos via Flen and Joy’s teleplatforms, resulting in the death of General Lars. Shelly looked at her father. What was he thinking? For some reason, through all of these defeats, he had remained level-headed.
“You don’t know what’s going on, Shelly,” he had said when she last addressed him. “Everything will work out in the end.”
Was this what he had meant? That Himitsu and Lars might have died, but Bryson, Olivia, Toshik, and Vuilni proving victorious made up for it? No, even he couldn’t have relied on Jugtah performing a miracle and returning motor functions to Still Queen Apoleia’s father, nor could he have predicted someone as erratic as that woman joining his efforts even if Jugtah had been successful. That had all been chance—albeit, calculated chance, but still chance nonetheless.
“What are you thinking, Father?” Shelly asked.
He scratched at his scruff and slowly gazed at his daughter. “I’m thinking about the power I just witnessed.”
Shelly nodded in agreement. “That wasn’t of this world.”
“No,” he muttered. “No, it definitely was not. To weave a storm of lightning ... one that could have incapacitated a Branian or Bewahr.”
“We learn about Linsani when we’re young,” Flen said, catching the two royals by surprise. “In the Dark Realm, it’s sort of a necessary precaution because it is believed that they can travel between the kingdoms of the realm. It’s not something the Light Realm must worry about.” He glanced at Vitio and Shelly with narrowed eyes, placing a hand on his leg. “Do you know what they teach you to do if such an event were to occur, if a Linsani neared your city?”
Neither of them answered, so Flen said, “They tell you to kill yourself.”
Shelly raised an eyebrow. “What’s the point if that’s what the Linsani make you want to do anyway? I just witnessed a battle in which it seemed like more soldiers killed themselves rather than their enemy.”
“Do it without thought,” Flen said. “If needed, have someone kill you on your behalf.”
“Insane,” Shelly said.
“Is it?” he asked. “When faced with a Linsani, you’ll experience a rapid and torturous degradation of your soul. Depending on the Linsani sibling, a series of visions—ranging from concrete memories to falsified prophecies and mirages—will flash through your mind, each one designed to kill your will. Once again, it’s a special kind of torture—one that drives you to suicide just to end it. Wouldn’t you rather end your life on your own accord, without having to experience your greatest fears?”
“Or you can fight and kill it,” Shelly suggested. “Like Bryson just did.”
Flen let out a single laugh and shook his head. “No, you can’t—not any normal person at least. Come on, Princess. Even you just said it: ‘That wasn’t of this world.’ And you were right. It takes someone who wields otherworldly clout to defeat an otherworldly beast.” He shrugged and leaned back. “Still, even Bryson needed help. He had a Spirit Branian next to him, yet it was his Stillian mother who infused his soul with a reinvigorated spirit.” Flen sighed. “That’s the kind of thing that only a mother can accomplish.”
Shelly and Vitio remained silent. Flen slid off the edge of the table and stood up. “Well, I’ll be off then. That’s the last favor I do you guys, for I am now this palace’s permanent leech.”
Flen left the room. Shelly glanced at her father and asked, “Is this why you’ve been telling me not to worry?”
“Huh?”
“You keep telling me everything will work out in the end,” she explained. “Is this what you meant? Because if so, I don’t want to be anywhere near you and Bryson when you try to tell him that his best friend was killed by Elyol, and that it’s okay because at least we gained the Still Kingdom’s loyalties.”
Vitio placed his hand on Shelly’s. “Everything’s covered.”
Shelly groaned. The room’s door opened, and in walked Queen Delilah. Shelly got up and marched over to her mom, embracing her in a hug. Delilah’s eyes widened, surprised by a gesture only typically given to her by her other daughter, Lilu. She relaxed, smiling as she rested her cheek against Shelly’s temple.
* * *
Dev King Storshae sat on a step leading up to his dead father’s throne. He gazed emptily at the stone beneath him, having just watched a display of clout the likes of which he’d never seen before—not even from Bewahr Fonos when he had still been alive. All of the Jestivan were highly skilled; Storshae had come to accept this fact within the past year. But Bryson LeAnce was different. He now understood how Rehn could have been bested by Mendac.
Despite the loss on the Diamond Sea, Storshae remained calm. The many other victories his alliance had sustained recently allowed him such a luxury. The Archaic Kingdom was beginning to thrive, proving itself by stopping True Light’s sneak attack through the secret teleplatforms; Elyol had slain a Jestivan; Yama and Kadlest sat atop the Adren Kingdom; and, most important, Toono had acquired his eighth sacrifice, two away from the threshold needed to bring Storshae’s father, Dev King Rehn, back to life. Considering these gains, the loss of the Still Kingdom as an ally could be dealt with.
Storshae turned and stared at the throne. He would miss the festivities in Phelos to celebrate the aforementioned accomplishments, which was a bit disappointing. But it didn’t seem to matter that much when compared to the euphoria that would consume Cogdan after Dev King Rehn’s rebirth. In the end, that’s all Storshae felt deserved celebration.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the grand double doors opening at the far end of the throne room. He pried his gaze away from the throne, expecting to see a soldier or guard, for they were the only people who communicated with Storshae. He didn’t really have any other relationships; his life had been dedicated to his father.
Instead, a man in his mid-to-late twenties walked down the hall, a bandage circling the top of his head above his eyes. He wore white robes and carried a cane by his side, his clogs echoing against the marble floor.
Storshae’s forehead crumpled. “Toono, what are you doing here? You should be off looking for your Intel sacrifice.”
“Here’s the thing,” Toono said, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps. “I’ve decided that the Intel sacrifice should be last, not the Dev.”
The two men locked eyes for a few seconds. “Did you now?” Storshae shook his head. “Well, you know that is not how this plays out.”
“I know what happened on the Diamond Sea,” Toono said.
“How?”
“As I was strolling through the palace, I passed a corridor holding one of your intelligence personnel and a few of your less talented grunts. The intelligence officer was broadcasting the battle from a Devish officer’s perspective on the sea ...” Toono trailed off, placing his cane on the ground and leaning against it. “That lightning could come from no other but the son of Mendac.”
“You don’t think I’ve already connected those dots?”
“You have,” Toono said. “But have you connected others? You are not strong enough to beat that young man. I’m providing you with an ultimatum here. Either you hand over the Dev sacrifice now, allowing me to make quick work before moving on to the final sacrifice, or you continue with this stubborn game of yours, and I quit trying to achieve this resurrection of your father.”
Storshae stood up, the steps beneath him making him a bit taller than Toono. “Then I will plan for your replacement. I have options to choose from after all: Elyol Brekton, Vliyan NuForce, Sigmund Archaic.”
“You honestly believe that any of them have the ability to work an ancient as powerful as Anathallo?” Toono asked. “Not only that, but an ancient that requires a second piece: Dimiourgos. If you had planned for a replacement, you would have tried to keep Praetor Poicus or Mynute Senex alive; they are the only two who could possibly wield an ancient such as Anathallo. Anyone else would be a gamble, including my dear friend, Agnos.”
Storshae’s gaze became austere. “You kill the Intel sacrifice first.”
“Hopelessly doubling down on your commands makes such a threat seem weaker than before.”
After another pause, Storshae smirked. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t just end your efforts to resurrect my father. You want him alive nearly as much as I do, for you have your own plans, your own questions to ask him.”
“Then we fight,” Toono said. “And then you die. You will become my Dev sacrifice, and you will never get to witness your father rise from the grave.”
Storshae stepped down to the floor so that he was face to face with Toono. “And if you die—”
“Then you’ll be forced to find a way past Bryson Still.”
Storshae scowled at the last name. Why would Toono use that name rather than LeAnce?
Toono’s gaze remained placid. “I don’t know if you realize this, but the only sacrifice coming from the Intel Kingdom would be Bryson. He is not the kind of person who would have it any other way. If we don’t hunt him down, he’ll go out of his way to hunt us down. And I’m afraid—even if they miraculously had the skill to wield Anathallo and Dimiourgos—that Elyol, Vliyan, and Sigmund would fail miserably when faced with such an opponent, even if they were to fight together, and even if Sigmund used his Branian. Bryson has one of his own, too.” Toono paused, then added, “And don’t think you have what it takes, because you don’t.”
Storshae snatched Toono’s throat, squeezing with an iron grip. Toono, however, stood casually, one hand tucked in his robe pocket and the other still leaning against his cane. He eyed Storshae with disinterest, allowing the king this moment of power.
“There have always been two qualities of yours that have sickened me,” Storshae muttered, leaning in close to Toono’s face. “Your arrogance and tranquility.”
“No use in working myself up, especially not when this close to my goal.” Toono lifted his chin and tilted his head, stretching his neck in Storshae’s grasp. “You have one avenue to bring your father back, and it goes through me. I am the only one who can defeat Bryson.”
Storshae sneered. “Do you know what else has always bothered me about you?” After a short silence, the king answered his own question, reaching for Toono’s forehead. “What is it that you hide beneath your bandages?”
Storshae pinched the bottom of the bandage and began to peel it back, but a palm struck his chest, sending him flying backward, up the steps and into his father’s throne, which was obliterated by the force of the collision. Storshae finally hit the floor of the stage, lying in the wreckage of what he had considered the most important memento of his father. Had Toono really packed that much strength behind a single palm strike?
Storshae stared at the wooden rafters and stone archways of the hollow ceiling. A tear trickled down the side of his face before staining the wooden debris beneath him. He’d spent his life respecting his father by refusing to sit in his throne; now he lay in a bed of its wreckage. He heard footsteps climbing the few steps that connected the main floor and the stage.
Toono placed a foot on the wreckage, one hand still in his pocket. He gazed over the king and said, “Show this orphan where the Dev sacrifice is.”
* * *
Toono followed Storshae toward a building that looked like nothing more than a gray block of stone. He had noticed it long ago, and despite its peculiarities, he had never tried entering or asking about it. As they reached a pair of guards standing at the foot of the building, a section of stone slid upward, revealing a doorway that couldn’t be seen before.
Toono stepped inside after Storshae. The building had no rooms, just the floor below them, three other walls in the distance, and a ceiling high above. There were no windows for sunlight, but there were hundreds of torches scattered throughout. Prison cells stretched across the floor and stacked on top of each other toward the ceiling.
Toono made it a point to conceal his thoughts, his mind feeling vulnerable the moment he had stepped inside. “This is a building of Permanence,” he said.
“Yes,” said Storshae. “The Confines of Consciousness.”
“Interesting.”
Ever since the quarrel between the two men earlier that day, Storshae had mostly remained silent.
They reached what seemed to be the building’s farthest corner, where a distant cell held a single woman. Toono took notice of the damage in the Permanence walls of her cell.
“This is Homina, your Dev sacrifice,” Storshae said.
Toono immediately spotted a resemblance between this woman and someone else he knew. Besides the long black hair, it was the way she wrapped it around her wrists and grasped onto it.
“Do you know Illipsia?” Toono asked.
The woman’s head rolled to the side, resting loosely atop her shoulder. Her hair curtained her face in greasy strings. “You are different,” she whispered.
After a pause, Toono asked, “How so?”
“I’ve never met someone like you.”
Taking a knee, making himself eye level with Homina, Toono asked, “And what am I like?”
“Me.”
Toono paused and glanced up at Storshae. The king shrugged and said, “She’s always been crazy.”
Toono gazed back at the prisoner. “And what are you?”
“A primordial remnant.”
This woman was strange, but in a way that interested Toono. He wished he had asked about this place before.
“But you seem to be a more direct line,” she noted, each statement becoming more cryptic than the last. “You scare me.”
“Well, that’s a first,” Storshae said, arms crossed as he leaned against a bar. “Somehow, I’m still not surprised, though.”
Toono stood up. “Is this woman related to Illipsia?”
“She’s her mother.”
Gritting his teeth, Toono’s gaze fixed on Homina, recalling a conversation he’d had with Illipsia when they first met. “Illipsia believes her mother was killed long ago, after she had finally succumbed to a wound given to her by Mendac four years prior.”
“A lie I told her,” Storshae said, an air of disinterest in his tone.
“And now you want me to kill her mother?”
“You needed someone power—”
Swssh! A dagger was jammed upward into Storshae’s chin before he could finish his sentence. Toono gripped its handle, blood spilling over his fist and along his fingers. Storshae’s breaths were ragged and heavy, his eyes wide with forlorn shock. He gagged, his open mouth revealing the dagger’s pointed tip, impaled through his tongue from below.
Toono twisted the handle, then pulled Storshae close, using his other hand to simultaneously thrust a blade into Storshae’s chest. He twisted that one, too. As Storshae’s irises and pupils slowly faded to white, Toono leaned in and whispered, “You viewed me as an orphan, thinking that I could never see you as anything less than a king.”
Toono pulled both daggers free, and Dev King Storshae dropped to the floor. The Rogue Demon wiped his blades with the sleeve of his robe.
“This whole time, I’ve only seen you as number nine.”
