Sundered by Fate (Shadowbound #3)

Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

A ric stalked through the shadowed corridors of the military district, tracking Valerian's trail amidst the chaos of the city. Through windows and archways, he caught glimpses of the soldiers battling back the demonic horde: ordinary men and women, their armor dented and bloodied as they fought with desperate ferocity. But among them were figures that made Aric's heart freeze.

They wore armor that gleamed unnaturally in the moonlight, the metal shimmering with an oily iridescence that made Aric's skin crawl. As they moved, the armor pulsed with an unsettling violet light, sending out waves of a familiar, nauseating energy.

The same energy that had resonated from the Silver Tower's damned weapon.

Aric pressed himself against the stone wall, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He knew what Valerian had done; he'd seen the evidence scattered throughout the workshop. But seeing the results of Valerian's experiments in action, the horror he'd unleashed upon these soldiers—it was almost too much to bear.

Dark energy pulsed through the armor, the same energy he'd once felt in the Tower's weapon, in the rift anomalies that had plagued Thornhaven. The chaotic signature, twisted and corrupted, tainting and warping everything it touched until it collapsed into surreality.

Those soldiers—were they even still human? Aric's stomach turned at the thought. What had Valerian done to them, in the name of fighting back the darkness?

Aric followed the overwhelming waves of energy signature through the palace's lower levels, to a vast workshop complex nestled beneath the heart of the district. Inside, Valerian stood amidst a whirlwind of activity, directing a team of mages as they infused weapons and armor with the unstable energy.

"Careful, now," Valerian called over the ambient hum of magical machinery. "We cannot afford any misfires, not with our current schedule."

Aric ducked behind a stack of crates, watching the operation unfold. Crystalline focusing arrays channeled the energy, while containment fields struggled to hold its volatile nature in check. But what worried Aric most was the sight of dozens of elite soldiers standing at attention, their armor already shimmering with the tainted power.

The air in the workshop crackled with barely contained force, tugging at Aric’s own magic, the demon blood reacting with the foreign energy. He set his jaw and stepped out of hiding, his voice cutting through the workshop's noise.

"Stop this madness, Valerian. You have no idea what you're tampering with."

Valerian's eyes widened, but he quickly schooled his expression into one of polite neutrality. "Ah, the infamous mage returns," he said, folding his arms. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Aric?"

Aric pushed past Valerian and strode into the workshop. The soldiers watched him with wary eyes, their hands drifting instinctively toward their weapons. "You need to stop this," Aric said. "Whatever you're doing here—it's only going to make things worse."

Valerian followed him in, his footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. "I assure you, everything is well under control. If you'll excuse me, I have important work to attend to?—"

Aric whirled on him, and the guards immediately stepped forward, their armor clanking ominously. Valerian raised a hand, and they halted, but they continued to watch Aric with suspicious eyes. "Important work? You mean this—this butchery?" Aric gestured to the soldiers, their armor shimmering with the familiar, nauseating energy. "What have you done to them?"

Valerian's jaw clenched, but his expression remained cool. "We are simply empowering our elite forces to better combat the demonic threat. It is a necessary measure, given the rising tide of incursions."

Aric's hand drifted toward his hip, where his sword should have been. He cursed inwardly as he remembered it had been taken from him. "This energy—it's the same one that's causing the anomalies. You can't possibly think you can control it."

Valerian's mouth flattened, and he stepped closer to Aric, his voice a low murmur. "I am aware of the dangers. But we have made great strides in containment and control. These enhancements will give us the edge we need against both the demons and the rifts."

"At what cost?" Aric asked.

Valerian's eyes gleamed, a dangerous light sparking within them. "I am more than willing to pay it."

Aric shook his head, disbelief and anger warring within him. "You can't just play with forces you don't understand. You've already put the whole city in danger?—"

"And what of your demonic dalliances, Aric?" Valerian cut in, his voice razor-sharp. "How many lives did your little bargain with the enemy cost us?"

Aric flinched as if struck, the words hitting too close to home. But he forced himself to stand tall, meeting Valerian's gaze with a simmering fury. "I did what I had to, to save my people. But this—this is madness, and you know it."

Valerian's eyes narrowed, and he took a step back, waving a hand at the soldiers. "Escort my wayward friend out of here, please."

But before the guards could move, the atmosphere in the workshop shifted, a palpable energy gathering around them. The soldiers tensed, their hands drifting to their weapons, but Valerian held up a hand, a wicked smile playing across his lips.

"It seems we have a visitor."

As the workshop's doors swung open with a resounding clang, the sounds of screams and metal clashing filled the courtyard. Aric turned to see a horde of demons breaching the outer walls, their eyes gleaming with a vicious hunger. And leading them was a terrifying figure, taller than the others, his obsidian armor drinking in the light.

Malekith.

Aric's heart clenched at the sight of him—so close, and yet so far away. But there was no time to dwell on the ache, the longing that had haunted him for so long. The demons were charging, their clawed feet scrabbling on the stone.

"Defensive positions!" Valerian shouted.

The enhanced soldiers under Valerian's command surged forward to meet the demons head-on. Their unnatural strength and speed were immediately apparent, but the demons fought with a savage ferocity, tearing through the soldiers like paper.

Aric and Valerian exchanged a look, their argument from moments before forgotten in the face of this overwhelming threat. Aric's hands itched to call forth his magic, to release the power welling within him—but the inhibitor cuffs on his wrists held him fast, their cold metal biting into his skin.

He strained against them, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Come on, damn you?—"

But the cuffs held firm, the dark sigils etched into their surface mocking him with their promise of suppression. Aric's magic was stirring within him, a caldera waiting to erupt, and he fought to reign it in, determined to bide his time.

Without thinking, Aric grabbed the sword from one of the fallen soldiers—a gleaming mithril blade that hummed with a familiar energy—and leapt into the fray. Even without his magic, his training kicked in, his movements fluid and precise as he went to work on the demons. The blade cut through their leathery hides with ease, and Aric let the rush of battle consume him, pushing all thoughts of Valerian's betrayal—and Malekith—away.

Valerian moved in tandem, crimson bolts of energy lancing from his gauntleted hands. He was a whirlwind of death, his spells tearing through the demons with ruthless efficiency.

"Behind you!" Valerian barked.

Aric ducked, and Valerian's blast seared over his head, striking a winged demon that had been swooping in for the kill. Aric grunted his thanks and rolled away, coming up in a crouch as more demons surged forward.

Despite the inhibitor cuffs, Aric found himself slipping into a dance with Valerian, their movements complementing each other as they fought back-to-back. Aric's sword sang through the air, while Valerian's spells crackled with lethal force.

But the demons kept coming. Aric was covered in the acidic stench of their blood, his muscles burning with exertion as he struggled to keep up. And with every strike he landed, more demons seemed to pour in through the rift.

Valerian glanced over his shoulder, his expression grim. "We can't keep this up. We need to close that damn rift."

Aric nodded, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. But as much as he wanted to stop the flow of demons, the cuffs a cruel reminder of his powerlessness.

A massive brute charged toward them, its horns gleaming in the low workshop light. Aric yelled a warning, but the demon barreled into Valerian, sending him sprawling into a rack of weapons and armor. The demon roared and lunged for Valerian, claws outstretched?—

Aric flung himself in its path, the sword feeling like an extension of his arm as he drove it into the demon's chest. The monster shrieked and toppled over, and Aric seized Valerian's hand, hauling him to his feet.

"Aric, I—" Valerian started, but the words were lost as more demons converged on them.

Aric pushed him toward the racks. "Climb up! We can funnel them!"

Valerian hesitated, his eyes searching Aric's, and Aric felt something coil tight between them, something he didn't want to name. He gave Valerian a shove, trying to ignore the pang in his chest.

Valerian nodded and scrambled up the racks, shards of broken glass crunching underfoot. He grabbed a wicked-looking axe with a blood-red blade and swung it toward the demons with a snarl.

Meanwhile, Aric spun around and lunged back into the fray, teeth gritted as he fought against the inhibitor cuffs and the demons' advance.

Valerian reached for a long staff with a crystalline head, currently dark but thrumming with energy. He twisted a series of rings on its shaft, and the crystal flared to life, a violet glow suffusing the workshop. The air grew thick with static, and a high-pitched whine filled Aric's ears.

"What have you done?" Aric shouted, but his words were lost in the rising cacophony.

The crystal's glow intensified, the violet energy arcing around the workshop in a web of crackling lines. The air rippled like water, and pressure built beneath the surface, threatening to tear him apart.

Valerian turned toward him, a mad gleam in his eyes. "This is the culmination of our work. The Silver Tower's weapon, perfected."

He slammed the staff's butt into the stone floor, and the world exploded in a burst of violet light.

The world skidded sideways. Equipment twisted and melted, the walls of the workshop rippling like they'd turned to liquid. The air itself roared with energy, and the sound was deafening, a keening wail that drove into Aric's skull like an icepick.

"Valerian!" Aric shouted, but the air tore the name away.

The rift was shredding the demons with brutal efficiency, the violet energy ripping them apart, but it was also warping space, reality itself folding in on itself. A surge of panic clutched at Aric's chest as he watched the soldiers' armor twisting and mutating, their limbs elongating, bones cracking as they cried out in agony.

The workshop's stone walls shuddered, and the air was a rainbow of shifting colors, the ground bucking and heaving beneath Aric's feet. He stumbled, his vision blurring as the world lurched around him.

Valerian let out a triumphant cry and struck the tip of the blade against the ground. The energy surged again, the rift widening, the fabric of reality tearing with a sound like paper shredding.

A section of the ceiling began to collapse, and Aric tackled Valerian out of the way. They tumbled to the ground, the energy ribbons swirling around them in a dizzying array of colors.

"Valerian!" Aric shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the rift. "You have to stop this—we can't control it!"

Valerian's eyes were wild, his pupils black pinpricks in a sea of white. "No, you don't understand! This is it—this is what we were searching for all along!"

The workshop's fabric buckled around them, the air vibrating with an awful tension. But while Valerian saw only the power at his disposal, Aric felt the rift's resonance with the other anomalies throughout the city. The Silver Tower's weapon, the breach at Thornhaven, the ley line surges they'd encountered on the way here—each one a node in a vast, interconnected network of unstable energy.

A weapon, yes, and a terribly tempting one at that. But it was a blade with no edge, no point; only a chaotic, destructive force that would tear apart anything it touched. The thought of tapping into that network, of using it against their enemies, sent a shiver down Aric's spine. But the destruction it would unleash—he couldn't even begin to fathom it.

No, they had to find another way.

Aric gritted his teeth and struggled against the inhibitor cuffs. If he could just get free, then maybe, just maybe?—

But before he could act, a wave of raw energy slammed into him, hurling him across the workshop floor. He skidded to a stop against one of the racks of weapons, the metal digging into his back.

Aric spotted the replica of the divine sword, the Blade of Sun's Dawn, in the corner of the workshop. With all the movement and chaos, it had fallen off its rack, the intricate sigils carved into its head glinting in the violet energy suffusing the air. And despite the pure chaos happening all around, the hammer seemed to be glowing with a soft golden light. It called to Aric, almost magnetic in its pull. Aric's heart twisted in his chest. A weapon of unimaginable power, Valerian said, and he'd taken great pains to try to infuse it with some of the power of the original—power, Aric suspected, that could close the rift, or destroy everything it touched.

Without thinking, Aric surged forward, his hand outstretched, the inhibitor cuffs searing at his flesh. The demons snarled and lunged at him, their claws raking against his armor, but he ignored the pain, the chaos, the threat of the rift.

He just had to reach it.

The world narrowed to the point of the hammer as he dove through the demons, ignoring the shouts and cries of the soldiers, the churn of the rift behind him. The air rippled and tore around him, the violet energy lashing at his skin, but he commanded himself to keep moving, to keep reaching.

He clawed his way through the demons, boots skidding on the glass shards and energy residue.

With fingers slicked with demon blood, Aric grasped the sword's hilt.

Power surged through him like a dam breaking, divine energy flowing through his veins in a golden rush.

A crunch.

A blinding, searing pain as if Aric had plunged his hands into open flame.

And then the inhibitor cuffs shattered, the metal disintegrating into motes of light. The golden radiance poured out of him, illuminating the workshop with withering light.

Aric roared as pain lanced through his back, the force of the magic tearing through him. A moment later, golden wings burst forth, unfurling with a mighty flap. He rose into the air, the sword blazing with holy fire, as the demons scattered before him.

Their cries were drowned out by the thundering of his heart, the wild rush of energy singing in his ears. Aric felt the divine power coursing through every fiber of his being, a force of nature made manifest.

He turned his new eyes to the rift, and saw the threads of magic that wove through it, the currents that fed its violent expansion. He could feel the resonance of the anomalies scattered across the city, a web of unstable energy that threatened to tear their world asunder.

Aric soared into the air, wings beating with divine fire. The inhibitor cuffs fell away, clattering to the ground. With each swing of the sword, he sealed another tear in reality, cutting off the demonic reinforcements before they could pour through.

He tore through the workshop's ruins and hurtled into the sky over the palace. Below, the courtyard roiled with chaos, soldiers and demons locked in battle. Aric's heart twisted at the sight, but he had to focus on the larger threat—the rifts themselves.

He dove toward the rift in the courtyard, the sword's golden flame searing through the air. With a single swing, he sealed the tear, the demonic energy dissipating into nothingness. The demons' cries of rage and despair echoed in his ears, but he ignored them, his mind a singular focus.

Another rift beckoned, this time along the streets of Astaria. The demons were pouring out of the tear, clawing their way through stone and flesh alike. Aric banked hard, his wings straining as he tore through the air, and brought the sword down in a sweeping arc.

The rift snapped shut with a howl of displaced air, the demons caught on this side of the tear screaming in despair. Aric didn't stop to watch their fates; there were too many more rifts to close.

He soared through the city, sealing rift after rift. The sword felt right in his hand, as if it had been waiting for him all this time. And as he fought, he felt something stirring inside him, like a long-dormant part of himself awakening.

As the last rift sealed shut, the remaining demons fell back in disarray, leaving only Malekith and his personal guard. Aric descended to face them, his angelic wings shedding feathers of golden light. The sword in his hand—no, a hammer, now—thrummed with power, begging to be unleashed.

But seeing Malekith here, now—after all they had been through, all the memories that had haunted Aric's dreams—he faltered. The words he had sworn to Malekith all those months ago burned in his mind; the promise of vengeance, of retribution, that he had made so long ago.

And yet, looking into those dark eyes now, Aric felt none of it. Only a raw wound, a dull ache that he longed to soothe.

"Malekith," he said. The name was a benediction, a curse, a plea. "Why are you here?"

Malekith raised his spear, the weapon's blade glinting in the moonlight. "For you, Aric."

Aric's wings sagged, his heart thundering in his chest. "And if I won't go?"

"Then I have no choice." Malekith's voice was a razor, each word slicing into Aric's heart. "This ends here, one way or another."

Aric nodded, his vision blurring with tears. "Then let it be so."

He surged into the air once more on a blazing gale. The courtyard was a darkened tomb beneath him, his city a distant memory. Only the rift remained, an open wound in the heart of the capital city, and Malekith was its keening wail.

Aric dove for it head-on, the sword's radiance shielding him from the rift's pull. The portal was jagged, chaotic; the edges shifting and undulating like molten glass.

The demons howled and surged toward him, but he was not afraid. The sword's power coursed through him, and he knew that he was invincible.

Only Malekith could stop him now.