Lightbringer (Empirium 3)

Never again. She swallowed hard. She said nothing.

Remy glanced fearfully at Corien. “Can I go to her?”

“Of course.” Corien gestured magnanimously. “Cherish this.”

Remy flew into her arms, but Eliana’s dreams had felt real before. She looked away, doing nothing, saying nothing. Corien was watching as he circled them, hands behind his back. There was a slight smile on his lips.

She would give him nothing.

“Where have you been?” Remy pressed his face against her arm. His thin body trembled. “I called for you, and you never came.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied distantly. “I’ve been busy.”

Remy pulled back to frown at her. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you care where I’ve been?”

Eliana refused to look at him. If she looked into the eyes of one more creation of Corien’s mind, he would win.

“Tell me,” she said, indifferent.

Remy paused, uncertain, and then said quickly, “It’s a place of many rooms. I don’t know how many. I can’t count them. It’s underground, dark and cold. I hear them all around me. Thousands of voices, screaming and crying and laughing.” He hesitated, glanced at Simon. “He brought me there, the first day he arrived. He put me in my room.”

Ah, and now Corien would bring Simon into the lie, try to draw her in that way. “I see. What room?”

“The place where I’m kept.” Remy stepped back from her, and now his voice turned fearful. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“Sad, isn’t it?” Corien approached, his face alight with glee. “To see her so changed? I suppose she doesn’t care about you anymore.”

Remy moved away from them both. “What have you done to her?”

“The question you should be asking,” said Corien, “is what will I do to you?”

Suddenly, Remy’s body seized where he stood. He jerked left, then right with choked cries, then fell, his jaw smacking hard against the floor, and began to scream.

For a moment, Eliana stared at him, frozen with horror as his screams tore at her and her blood roared.

Then she turned her back on him, looking instead at the closed doors.

“I won’t be your plaything anymore,” she said tightly.

Corien came around to stare at her, his expression one of mocking surprise. “And instead you will allow your own brother to be? I thought I knew you well.”

She stepped away from him. Behind her, Remy’s screams rent the air asunder. Her arms erupted in chills. She made for the doors. Any moment now, she would awaken in her bed, rested and triumphant, and Corien would be the fool, not her.

“The daughter of the noble Lightbringer,” he mused, keeping pace at her side. “Who would have thought you could be so cold?”

She reached the doors. When she spoke, her voice shook with anger.

“End this. Wake me.”

Corien leaned against the wall beside the doors. “Oh, Eliana. You don’t understand. Here, I’ll help you just a little. Every passing minute I remain in your brother’s mind is a year gone from his life. Maybe more. Every mind is different.” He shrugged. “Leave, if you wish.”

Eliana stared at the door, at her hand upon the bronze wing, and a slow, sinking dread came over her. A high whine sounded in her ears; she heard the sound of Remy’s skull hitting the floor. He was convulsing.

Corien’s face was full of pity she could not trust. He removed piles of gold from his pockets. “Here,” he said gently, and began to fasten the familiar thin chains around her wrists. The twin discs of her castings settled in her palms, smooth and cold.

Corien smiled. “There, you see? When the mood strikes, I can be most generous.”

She stared at him in horror, knowing this was just what he wanted, then turned back to Remy. Her castings were unblinking cold eyes against her sweating hands.

She crashed to her knees at Remy’s side, fumbled to lift him, held his head in her lap. His eyes were glazed; spit foamed at his lips. She held on to him, desperate to soothe his shaking, but he did not see her. He stared at the ceiling, clawing the air, and then he began clawing at himself, his fingernails tearing at his arms, his cheeks.

Eliana caught his arms, held him tight against her body.

“Release him,” she cried. “What are you doing to him?”

“I’m forcing him to relive the moment my body was torn from me,” Corien said calmly. He was close now, watching them from above. “When I was driven into the Deep by your ancestors and stripped of all physicality. My skin flayed, my bones crushed, my veins sucked dry by the universe itself. The empirium dismantling me in an abyss where nothing is allowed to exist save for its own raw power.” He drew in a slow breath, exhaled. “As you might guess, it was an agony I cannot possibly describe. No one who hasn’t felt it can know.”

He crouched for a better look, his black gaze fixed on Remy’s thrashing body. Eliana sensed a great focus within him, a terrible concentration that connected everything he was to everything Remy was, small and helpless in her arms.

A faint smile played over Corien’s face. “After this, perhaps Remy can help me describe it to you. Our little wordsmith.”

Sitting on the ground with Remy dying in her arms, she realized with a sick jolt of fear that this was a horrible parallel to that moment in Karlaine: Remy’s abdomen torn and bloody, her own vision a field of empirium gold, her hands submerged in his wound, knitting him whole once more.

And Simon behind her, holding on to her, an anchor in that savage moment of awakening. Against her cheek, he had whispered, I’m not letting go.

“You know how to end this, Eliana,” Corien said quietly. “You know what you must do.”

She sucked in harsh breaths, fighting with all her might to still Remy’s body, but it was impossible. She could not fight Corien alone, not without using her power, and if she managed to summon it, Simon might manage to summon his.

“I will die before I help you,” she said through her tears.

Abruptly, Remy’s thrashing subsided.

He was limp in her arms, drenched with sweat. Trembling, he stared at the ceiling, his lips moving soundlessly.

“Remy, can you hear me?” She held his cheeks, pressed her forehead to his. Against the cold chains of her castings, his skin was blazing hot.

“Talk to me. Please, say something.”

He did, in a whisper so faint she had to ask him to repeat it. “Kill me.”

again. She swallowed hard. She said nothing.

Remy glanced fearfully at Corien. “Can I go to her?”

“Of course.” Corien gestured magnanimously. “Cherish this.”

Remy flew into her arms, but Eliana’s dreams had felt real before. She looked away, doing nothing, saying nothing. Corien was watching as he circled them, hands behind his back. There was a slight smile on his lips.

She would give him nothing.

“Where have you been?” Remy pressed his face against her arm. His thin body trembled. “I called for you, and you never came.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied distantly. “I’ve been busy.”

Remy pulled back to frown at her. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you care where I’ve been?”

Eliana refused to look at him. If she looked into the eyes of one more creation of Corien’s mind, he would win.

“Tell me,” she said, indifferent.

Remy paused, uncertain, and then said quickly, “It’s a place of many rooms. I don’t know how many. I can’t count them. It’s underground, dark and cold. I hear them all around me. Thousands of voices, screaming and crying and laughing.” He hesitated, glanced at Simon. “He brought me there, the first day he arrived. He put me in my room.”

Ah, and now Corien would bring Simon into the lie, try to draw her in that way. “I see. What room?”

“The place where I’m kept.” Remy stepped back from her, and now his voice turned fearful. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“Sad, isn’t it?” Corien approached, his face alight with glee. “To see her so changed? I suppose she doesn’t care about you anymore.”

Remy moved away from them both. “What have you done to her?”

“The question you should be asking,” said Corien, “is what will I do to you?”

Suddenly, Remy’s body seized where he stood. He jerked left, then right with choked cries, then fell, his jaw smacking hard against the floor, and began to scream.

For a moment, Eliana stared at him, frozen with horror as his screams tore at her and her blood roared.

Then she turned her back on him, looking instead at the closed doors.

“I won’t be your plaything anymore,” she said tightly.

Corien came around to stare at her, his expression one of mocking surprise. “And instead you will allow your own brother to be? I thought I knew you well.”

She stepped away from him. Behind her, Remy’s screams rent the air asunder. Her arms erupted in chills. She made for the doors. Any moment now, she would awaken in her bed, rested and triumphant, and Corien would be the fool, not her.

“The daughter of the noble Lightbringer,” he mused, keeping pace at her side. “Who would have thought you could be so cold?”

She reached the doors. When she spoke, her voice shook with anger.

“End this. Wake me.”

Corien leaned against the wall beside the doors. “Oh, Eliana. You don’t understand. Here, I’ll help you just a little. Every passing minute I remain in your brother’s mind is a year gone from his life. Maybe more. Every mind is different.” He shrugged. “Leave, if you wish.”

Eliana stared at the door, at her hand upon the bronze wing, and a slow, sinking dread came over her. A high whine sounded in her ears; she heard the sound of Remy’s skull hitting the floor. He was convulsing.

Corien’s face was full of pity she could not trust. He removed piles of gold from his pockets. “Here,” he said gently, and began to fasten the familiar thin chains around her wrists. The twin discs of her castings settled in her palms, smooth and cold.

Corien smiled. “There, you see? When the mood strikes, I can be most generous.”

She stared at him in horror, knowing this was just what he wanted, then turned back to Remy. Her castings were unblinking cold eyes against her sweating hands.

She crashed to her knees at Remy’s side, fumbled to lift him, held his head in her lap. His eyes were glazed; spit foamed at his lips. She held on to him, desperate to soothe his shaking, but he did not see her. He stared at the ceiling, clawing the air, and then he began clawing at himself, his fingernails tearing at his arms, his cheeks.

Eliana caught his arms, held him tight against her body.

“Release him,” she cried. “What are you doing to him?”

“I’m forcing him to relive the moment my body was torn from me,” Corien said calmly. He was close now, watching them from above. “When I was driven into the Deep by your ancestors and stripped of all physicality. My skin flayed, my bones crushed, my veins sucked dry by the universe itself. The empirium dismantling me in an abyss where nothing is allowed to exist save for its own raw power.” He drew in a slow breath, exhaled. “As you might guess, it was an agony I cannot possibly describe. No one who hasn’t felt it can know.”

He crouched for a better look, his black gaze fixed on Remy’s thrashing body. Eliana sensed a great focus within him, a terrible concentration that connected everything he was to everything Remy was, small and helpless in her arms.

A faint smile played over Corien’s face. “After this, perhaps Remy can help me describe it to you. Our little wordsmith.”

Sitting on the ground with Remy dying in her arms, she realized with a sick jolt of fear that this was a horrible parallel to that moment in Karlaine: Remy’s abdomen torn and bloody, her own vision a field of empirium gold, her hands submerged in his wound, knitting him whole once more.

And Simon behind her, holding on to her, an anchor in that savage moment of awakening. Against her cheek, he had whispered, I’m not letting go.

“You know how to end this, Eliana,” Corien said quietly. “You know what you must do.”

She sucked in harsh breaths, fighting with all her might to still Remy’s body, but it was impossible. She could not fight Corien alone, not without using her power, and if she managed to summon it, Simon might manage to summon his.

“I will die before I help you,” she said through her tears.

Abruptly, Remy’s thrashing subsided.

He was limp in her arms, drenched with sweat. Trembling, he stared at the ceiling, his lips moving soundlessly.

“Remy, can you hear me?” She held his cheeks, pressed her forehead to his. Against the cold chains of her castings, his skin was blazing hot.

“Talk to me. Please, say something.”

He did, in a whisper so faint she had to ask him to repeat it. “Kill me.”