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Back Into the Dying Light Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. BEFORE
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. BEFORE
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. BEFORE
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. BEFORE
  25. II
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. III
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. IV
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. AFTER
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. Newsletter Sign-up

He threw himself back along the platform, toward the stairs as the temple shook around him. He could feel the Sacred Word. A faint echo at first, and then building like a thunderhead. He felt like he was drowning again, his lungs straining against ice-cold water. He couldn’t breathe.

Jude was dying, and Anton couldn’t get to him in time to stop it.

And then the temple went still. The storm of Jude’s esha, of the Sacred Word within it, quieted.

Anton looked down, afraid of what he would find. His gaze sought Jude first. He was on his knees, one hand braced against the cold marble ground, the other clutching his chest as it rose and fell on a panicked breath.

He was alive. The Sacred Word still locked within him. The Wanderer had not finished unleashing it.

Because, Anton realized, his blood going cold, the god had stopped her.

The god, still in Beru’s body, was right beside the Wanderer and Jude, one hand outstretched. Tendrils of dark smoke trailed from Beru’s arms and legs, curling around her waist and up to her neck. They furled out, wrapping around the Wanderer, holding her in place as the god contemplated her.

“ANANKE,” the god said. “YOU WERE MY GREATEST DISAPPOINTMENT.”

“Greater than Pallas?” the Wanderer choked out. “Isn’t that why you made us, after all? The other Prophets? It was because you knew, even then, that Pallas was not the stalwart servant you thought he was. You sensed the weakness in him.”

“I WANTED YOU TO BE BETTER THAN HIM,” the god agreed. “BUT ALL HUMANS ARE WEAK. I HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN THIS.”

“And yet,” the Wanderer said, “there is something in us that was strong enough to overcome the will of a god. You didn’t understand it then, and it cost you your life.”

The Wanderer’s eyes met Beru’s, something fierce and unrelenting in her gaze. Anton recognized the expression—the same one she had worn over two thousand years ago, standing in front of Temara and facing down the other Prophets.

“YOU ARE WRONG,” the god spat. “THERE IS NOTHING IN YOU THAT IS STRONGER THAN MY WILL.”

The god raised its arms to the sky, light pouring from them, enveloping the Wanderer. The Wanderer choked back a scream. Anton felt the delicate, silver bell sound of her esha ring out and then stop abruptly, cutting into awful silence as she collapsed to the floor.

Anton cried out, his knees hitting the cold marble floor as he watched the Wanderer die.

38

BERU

Beru felt the Wanderer’s life flicker out like a flame. The god’s rage thundered inside her.

The Wanderer’s death did not satisfy it.

Beru’s own anguish, her fear and despair, lashed at the god’s hold on her. She could feel its resistance, its disgust for Beru’s human feelings.