TWENTY THREE

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The crushing weight of the rubble that used to be the Howard Manor pressed down on Franklin, threatening to pulverize his mortal bones to mush. This was how it ended for him. In the body of a frail human child. Such was his mission. His duty. And he'd delivered what was asked of him.

That was enough.

It had to be enough.

Franklin could feel the consciousness of the boy who used to control his body, feel the panicked scrambling as he tried to find a way out. But there was no way out. Not for either of them. Not now.

But even as his ribs began to give way, he couldn't escape the simple truth of his being – it wasn't enough for Franklin.

Duty. Service. Honour.

Meagre, paltry things.

After everything he'd done for her... No. He could not resign himself to death.

As the breath was squeezed from his lungs, light appeared before him.

Hands dug into the rubble and Franklin was pulled, extracted from the debris and brought back into the world by the minions he'd helped create – Eidon and Celia, Nat Wick and Justin Heard. Changed now. Blank faces and distant eyes of a body overcome by the Whole.

They watched him, indifferent to the way he clutched his middle, to the grimace that betrayed the pain inside is body.

Franklin stood, standing on the rubble, and became aware of a hot, fetid wind above him.

He turned, and there she was – epic and awesome and immense and terrible and beautiful all at once.

The Third.

She towered over what was left of the Manor, a thousand feet high, the largest of her sisters.

The third stared down at him – well, stared in as far as she could. The Whole had no eyes to speak of. But Franklin could feel her focus. Feel the terrible concentration of her colossal brain power baring down on him.

But her thoughts – damn his inferior mind – they were silent as the grave.

Franklin stared up at his Queen, the only Queen of his heart, and trembled. Her tentacles, eight in all, rippled and billowed gently around her head like a crown. What she was thinking – thinking about him – was trapped behind the powerful wall all the Queens had built around their minds. Impenetrable as steel.

Whatever the judgement of a Queen, the Whole knew, would be rendered when she was ready.

At her base, stood Gaisgeil the unicorn – a gift to their majesties from the damn saber. Where was the cat?

There. Pacing at the edge of the woods. Ready for the next phase of their majesties' mighty plans.

Two figures stood on either side of the unicorn.

Nat Wick's companion, Andres.

And Kayla.

Franklin swallowed. He could feel the boy inside his mind, feel him pinging off the walls of his skull, more desperate than ever.

Seconds passed as eons. The Third gave nothing. Offered nothing. Only awful, loaded silence. For Franklin, the world was still. And terrifying.

You have done well. The message moved through Franklin like a wave, filling up his insides and tingling his skin from his head to his toes. He could feel her pleasure at what he'd delivered like sunshine, seeping into his pores.

"My life is to serve you, my Queen," he said.

Good. For our work is not yet done.

He knew this – all of the Whole knew – everything they had worked for, everything they lived for, would not be over until the whole of the planet belonged to them.

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