Pieces of Eight

Chapter 21

Areli knew.

He thought, perhaps, he'd always known how this would end, and he was only delaying the inevitable. He felt it in his bones, felt it in his magic, felt it in the air, felt it as he breathed it in and let it invade him and poison him and take him over. The truth was a great and terrible thing, he decided. He ought to treat it cautiously and gently. He did no such thing.

It was Grys who stormed the house where Themba, Marque, Tiana, and Marese were guarding him; it was Andor who killed all four of them with a pulse of magic so strong that the truth was undeniable. Grys thumped across the room and roughly pulled him to his feet, cutting the rope around his wrists and clapping him on the shoulder with one enormous, meaty hand as he led him from the scene of the dreadful slaughter. Areli walked through the city in a haze, deaf to the raucous cries of victory from the Ecretian soldiers who had rallied around the perfectly-reunited Pieces of Eight. He'd left Phoebe in Paradiim to prevent this inevitability: that even if the worst should happen, she should still be far away, weakening the rest. He knew now that wasn't the case any longer.

He was escorted back through the city, blood running like rivers between the cobblestones. He marched through the demolished gates, decorated with a number of fresh corpses. He trudged across the field where the ground was so soaked with blood it welled up around his boots with every step. He paused outside the tent he was led to just long enough for Grys to poke his head in and say something to Verrina, and then followed, numb and empty. He'd always known this would be his fate. He'd known when he walked away that this was truly the only way to stop it. Tehraiza had known, too, he thought: but in the end, she would have rather sacrificed everything than face the hopelessness that awaited her. She knew that both of them were married to this fate; she and Altan had simply decided to perish first, so they did not have to watch the rest unfold.

Phoebe ran to him as soon as she saw him, sobbing and clinging to him and trembling as he fell to one knee and wrapped her up tightly in his arms. He could not keep his eyes open anymore; to hide his anguish and despair, he laid his head against his daughter's shoulder, and drew strength from her presence. Everything he had done, he pondered, and still, it was not enough to save her. He ought to have known that everything Urai had done, she'd done to damn them all.

Verrina and Andor were speaking; they sounded muddy and underwater and far away. Areli paid them no mind. Whatever they were saying, it didn't matter. The only thing on his mind right now was the inevitability, the knowledge that now he was truly only procrastinating, that his time had run out and he had to act. So when Phoebe stepped back and dug her fingers into his shoulders, it was easier for him to raise his head and meet her eyes and give her a smile that he hoped contained every ounce of love for her that he possessed. "My child," he whispered, taking her face in his hands even as he knelt before her. Already, he could feel the power building behind his sternum, as if even the Gryphon he harbored within him knew and was rising to its fate, and it made it easier to bear.

"Forgive me."

Lightning ripped through him, and the last thing he saw was his daughter's face.

***

Mimi had wept bitterly when she heard the news. Tobias had sat with her for hours, consoling her and eventually crying with her. As soon as Phoebe had vanished right in front of him, he'd known, he explained. He and Loreley had scrambled to put together a portal to follow the magic that had pulled Phoebe, and while they were successful, they were late.

The battle was over by the time Tobias had arrived, with a paltry escort of four other elves who had looked kindly on Phoebe. The first thing Tobias saw was the body of a massive red dragon, splashed across the middle of the field like the sun fallen to earth, and he withered at the sight. It only meant one thing. As he reeled, struggling to compose himself around the knowledge of the death of the most powerful and temperate Mother Asfic Higj had ever known, he turned away from Altan's corpse and saw instead the enormous charred earth stretching across the entire field of battle that was absolutely piled with the remains of the deceased.