Lindon’s family waited.
“I don’t want to do this,” Lindon muttered.
[Oh, this is embarrassing. This is one of those things where he says one thing, but he actually means another, because he does have something he wants to say. Quite a lot, actually.]
Lindon looked back to his family and, after another moment where he desperately wished to leave, he allowed the words to spill out.
“I’m not a Gold. I’m a Lord. It’s an entire realm beyond.” His parents wrinkled their brows in confusion, but Kelsa nodded sharply.
“Even at that level, I’m…” He tried to think of a way to say it that didn’t sound too proud, but he was too tired for that. “…I’m very good. One of the best. If you took away my advancement, I’d still be a better fighter than you or anyone you’ve ever met. Did Orthos tell you why I left?”
It didn’t matter if he had or not, so Lindon just kept talking. “I saw the future. You were all going to die. Here. In this Dreadgod attack.”
Or maybe another one. The attack Suriel had seen was supposed to happen in thirty years, not three, but he didn’t think that was relevant enough to mention.
“If I got strong enough, I could stop it,” he continued. “I left so I could grow. I left for this.”
Lindon turned to his father. “You asked me why I didn’t come back. Why would I come back?”
No one responded.
Dross gestured for him to keep going.
“I’m only here now because you’re in danger. If I hadn’t come back, you would have all died without knowing anything. Stick with me, and I’ll protect you, because I can. While you’re with me, you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”
He turned his back to them and grabbed the door handle. “But first, I’m taking you away from Sacred Valley whether you like it or not. After that, if you want to crawl back here and die, you can do it on your own.”
Distracted, he pulled the door instead of pushing.
Lindon pulled the handle out with a snap. The entire door cracked down the side, and even the doorframe bent inward.
He almost apologized. Instead, he tapped into his soulfire and just blew the remaining door off its hinges.
Before the splinters had fallen to the ground, he was gone.
He didn’t realize where he was going until he found Yerin sitting with Mercy and Orthos, a spoon halfway to her mouth.
Dross may have said something to her without informing Lindon, or maybe she just read it on his face. She dropped her bowl, following him to a lonely corner just outside the Fallen Leaf School.
When he was sure they were alone, Lindon broke down and wept.
8
Tal’gullour, Fortress of the Mad King
Daruman clenched his Scythe and focused his authority, preparing to re-enter the Way.
He had to be careful. He couldn’t bring his fortress with him, and without Tal’gullour to contain his power, the entire Way would sense his movement. When he entered an Iteration, the very stars trembled.
With every step he took, the eyes of the Abidan would be upon him.
He could warp Fate by nature of his authority over chaos, and thus dodge the noses of the Hounds. If he could move without the Spiders detecting him immediately, he would have brought the Abidan system down before.
A dark voice laughed, unrestrained, in the depths of his soul. A voice so familiar that it was almost indistinguishable from his own.
You tried, once, the Conqueror reminded him.
Unbidden, the Fiend Oth’kimeth summoned up the memory of Daruman’s most painful defeat.
He had spent centuries gathering the right ingredients. He personally retrieved the Mask of the Unweaver from an Assassin Idol’s Temple in the fragment of a dead world. He traded with the Angler for an invisibility cloak she had woven with her own hands when she was a mortal. A world he conquered brought him tribute of the greatest artifacts ever forged in their Iteration, including a conceptual spirit of stealth who could hide from Fate itself.
And, in one of his greatest triumphs, he had raided the personal collection of the Third Judge of the Abidan Court: Darandiel, the Ghost. He had taken from her a band of silver bound with living runes, designed to allow even a Judge to veil their power.
His greatest craftsman, gathered from dozens of dead worlds, labored for years to break these items down to their conceptual essence and combine them together.
After thirty years, they forged his four priceless treasures into a device that would