I sprinted across the cobblestone as Malakai's silver light grew dim behind me, my breath tearing raggedly through cold air. Above the Market District, the Moon Towers rose high and high, a jagged silhouette against the bleeding sky. Each step fell heavier than the last, heavier than exhaustion-the weight was oppressive, unnatural, crawling like an octopus over the city.
The streets were chaos: cries of panic echoed between the buildings, mixed with the guttural sounds of the twisted ones as they hunted. The once-lively Market District was a battlefield. Where vibrant stalls once stood, overturned carts and shattered goods littered the ground. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, ozone, and something sweetly cloying-the scent of corruption.
I dodged into an alley, backed against cold stone, and set my heart to a frantic listening; the thunder in my chest laboured to drown the thudding of blood in my ears. Louder grew the echoes of shuffling feet, low grating whispers. There was one of them near.
I swallowed hard and risked a glance around the corner. Hunched over what used to be a man, it was tracing patterns with his elongated fingers over the still form. The flesh under its touch seemed to ripple and shift, reshaping itself into something monstrous. The sight sent bile rising high in my throat.
I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my dagger, the starfire within it dim, yet constant. Steeling myself, I slipped from the shadows and threw the blade. It struck true, embedding itself in the creature's back. The starfire flared, burning away the corrupted flesh, but the thing turned to face me, its black void-like eyes narrowing. It let out a keening wail that made my head throb.
"Stars above," I swore, drawing the other dagger. It held no starfire, just cold steel, but it would do.
The creature lunged forward in jerky, unnatural motions-I rolled to the side just in time to narrowly avoid its claws-and slashed at its leg. The blade bit deep, and black ichor spilled onto the cobblestones as it stumbled, giving me time enough to retrieve my first dagger and drive it into its neck. The starfire flared again, and the creature collapsed, its body dissolving into ash.
I didn't tarry. The noise would attract more of them.
The Moon Towers loomed closer now, their pale stone glowing faintly under the crimson moonlight. The greatest of these, the Celestial Spire, held the chamber Malakai had spoken of. If his words were true, the knowledge within could save the city-or at least explain what had gone so horribly wrong.
A scream cut through the air: high-pitched, desperate. I hesitated, instinct warring with training. There wasn't time for this. I couldn't afford to waste one second-but I couldn't ignore that sound. Tightening my grip on my daggers, I followed the noise.
I found her in a small courtyard, no older than ten huddled between two of the twisted ones. She clutched a wooden toy to her chest. Her tear-streaked face frozen in terror as the creatures moved closer, relishing her fear.
"Hey!" I shouted drawing their attention. "Over here, you ugly bastards!"
They spun, their heads cocking at unnatural angles as they regarded me. One of them let out a low growl and charged. I met it head-on, my dagger slicing through its outstretched arm. Black ichor sprayed but the creature didn't stop. It slammed into me, sending us both sprawling to the ground.
Its claws scraped against my breastplate, feeling for that opening. I stabbed the dagger over and over again into its side, my strength increasing with every blow, until it fell to the ground, dead. The second would be upon me in a matter of seconds, but before anything could, the courtyard flushed with starlight.
The creature shrieked and recoiled, and I looked up to see an older man standing at the entrance to the courtyard-a staff glowing with starfire in his hands.
"Get up!" he barked, releasing another burst of light that sent the creature fleeing.
I didn't need telling twice. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the girl, who clung to me like a lifeline.
"Thanks," I said, nodding to the man.
He grunted. "Get her to safety. I'll hold them off."
"But—"
"Go!" he snarled, raising his staff as more creatures emerged from the shadows.
I didn't argue. With the girl in tow, I ran.
But let no watchful guards. Distorted ones had breached the entrance; their bodies were strewn all over the grounds. The interior reeked of charred human tissue and blood, and its magnificent halls, standing to testify to the greatness of the city, had been reduced to charnel houses.
I went further inside, the little girl still clutching my hand. She wasn't talking now, and her eyes had wide, staring fright. The bodies of scholars and guards littered the hallway, twisted and rigid in their lifeless grasp of death. Whatever happened here, it had been both violent and sudden.
Finally, we entered the Celestial Chamber. The great double doors were ajar, their seal broken. I pushed them open with a creak, my stomach roiling, the girl remaining right behind me.
Large the chamber was, with its domed ceiling; large it stretched out, painting constellations across and shifting in that crimson light. A pedestal graced the room's center, and on it was an equally small, intricate box. And such was the taint in the air: heavy with the scent of power, enough that the hairs along my arms raised with chill bumps.
"Stay here," I said, pushing one of my daggers into the girl's shaking hand. "If anything comes through that door, use this. Don't hesitate."
She nodded, small hands shaking, as she took the weapon.
I stepped forward toward the pedestal, my every step echoing in the silent chamber. Malakai's family seal was carved into the box's lid-just as he'd said it would be. I reached out, my hand hesitating only once before I lifted the lid.
Inside, on that single piece of vellum, was Malakai's fluid handwriting, over the entire face. It was as if pieces were falling into place as I read it. The Old Ones, the twisted ones, Kaine's betrayal-it was one grand design, one set into play centuries ago.
It was a ritual on the parchment, one that might close the breach and stop the invasion, but it needed to be sealed with a sacrifice-a life given of free will to anchor it. I felt my blood run cold when I realized what Malakai had meant by saying he could hold them off.
"No," I whispered, the weight of the revelation falling.
"We have to go," she cried from the doorway, her voice shaking. "They're coming."
I spun and saw flickering shadows dance in the corridor beyond. The Twisted Ones had found us.
With the parchment clutched in my hand, I grasped the girl's hand and ran. The only thing in my head was Malakai's words: "Promise me."
And when the city was aflame, and the stars rained tears in sympathy, I would know that promise would be kept no matter what the cost to me.