of the various Judges as though they were her own. Gadrael, the Titan, was astonished that his sponsor could have failed. Razael, the Wolf, wanted to test her own sword against the Vroshir. Zerachiel, the Fox, immediately ran to an Iteration farther away from the Mad King.
“By Makiel’s authorization and my own, I send the following command. All Judges, do not engage the Mad King. Abandon any world you cannot hold, and fortify those you can. The Vroshir will finish their raid, and many will die, but soon enough they will leave. We will retreat, and endure, and rebuild.”
The Spider and the Fox immediately sent their agreement. They prioritized their own lives and those of the Abidan above all else.
The Titan was next. Any world he was in would be well-fortified indeed, and he would follow any instruction of Makiel’s.
The Ghost sent no reply, but Suriel took that as agreement. The Wolf was the last to agree, frustrated that she couldn’t vent her frustrations on the enemy, but she satisfied herself with the knowledge that they would strike back someday.
The Hound and the Phoenix already agreed, so the Court of Seven was in accord. Their forces would pull back and let the Vroshir rampage until the pressures of chaos forced them to retreat back to their worlds.
Abidan would spread out more slowly this time, recovering surviving worlds and rebuilding others from fragments. From ten thousand worlds before Ozriel’s departure, they would be reduced to…a hundred, perhaps.
Even her Presence couldn’t speculate on the total number of lives that would be lost. At least those taken by the Vroshir would survive, but the Mad King and his allies would capture only those who could benefit them in some way.
Most would perish. And some of the worlds they lost would be vital ones.
She returned her attention to the map of the Way hovering in front of her. Sector 12 was entirely gray now, and other Sectors were darkening around it. Abidan had pulled back, leaving that region almost entirely undefended. One Sector in particular was surrounded, left entirely to the mercy of the Vroshir.
Sector 11.
With a heavy heart, Suriel reached out to the first world in the Sector: Iteration 110, Cradle.
Before the world was entirely closed off to the rest of the Way, she found a tiny piece of herself manifested in reality. She resonated with it, sending a message through the blue candle-flame inside.
It had to be simple. More simple impressions than words.
I’m sorry, Suriel sent. Hold on.
She spared an instant of grief for the world. The Mad King, who had once been the hero Daruman, knew the significance of Cradle. He knew it was the birthplace of the original Abidan, and—perhaps more importantly to him—Ozriel’s home.
Now, it was at his mercy.
Eithan gritted his teeth. “Cut it off.”
Yerin grabbed his hand too tightly. “Are you sure?”
“Do it!”
With the chime of a tiny bell, Yerin carefully used the Endless Sword. And Eithan’s glorious hair fell to the floor.
He gave a cry of pain, and Yerin patted him on the shoulder. “You looked like a yellow dog that climbed out of the fireplace. Your hair was suffering, and we eased it on its way.”
“A mirror,” Eithan croaked. “Bring me a mirror.”
He could see himself through his bloodline power, now that they were hovering in the cloud fortress outside of Sacred Valley, but there was still no substitute to using your own eyes.
Yerin handed him his pocket mirror, holding it up for him so he didn’t have to move his bandaged hands. She had left only two or three inches of hair. Barely enough to style.
He looked…well, he still looked great. A change in style could be refreshing sometimes.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t mourn the loss.
“Thank you. I just needed to see the damage for myself.”
She patted him again, and he could see her struggling not to make some comment about having real injuries to see to.
Eithan himself had a brace on his neck and all four limbs, as well as scripted bandages around his entire midsection and no less than three medicinal pills in his system. If not for the scripts, he would feel like beetles were eating him from the inside out at the moment, but at least he would be healed in a few days.
But he wasn’t the only one who needed attention.
Mercy and Ziel were both asleep, recovering from spiritual wounds. Little Blue had seen to them both, and Mercy would wake soon. She had strained her bloodline far beyond