My dramatic dash lasted all of thirty seconds.

The sky above thickened with darting parasites, their movement leaving behind a trail of putrid slime and rotted chitin. One of the chunks splattered across me, like the world’s biggest bird-poo. The rancid goop oozed into my hair, then beneath my tunic, working its way through every crack it could slide into. The stench had me retching while I frantically wiped my forehead. I would’ve rather been submerged in writhing cockroaches than dunked in blood-smeared pus.

Once the initial panic wore away, a more horrifying realisation dawned on me. Any unblooded exposed to this horrid mass of sickness would inevitably catch the plague. And they were dropping their wretched payload all over this side of the city. There couldn’t have been more than one-hundred of them, but each represented more danger than a thousand of the crawlers.

I was sure Ma knew this. But even so, how could we fight against hundreds of flying monsters? I couldn’t think of a way, yet even so, I wasn’t particularly worried about the rest of the city. Ma was Ma, after all. The militia, though…

They were going to die, weren’t they? Alongside Blake and Erin. Everyone fighting, besides me and the Foxblood. My hands shook, so I clenched them shut. There had to be a way. Ma wouldn’t throw so many lives away for a win. Despite my best efforts, the thought rung hollow.

Another pus-smeared projectile cut that line of thinking off. The middle of a battlefield wasn’t the place to begin questioning the chain of command. Even so…

A parasite screeched downwards. I barely managed to raise my shield before it rammed into me, sending me stumbling backwards. Only my preternatural sense for where my limbs were kept me upright. I hadn’t been the only one affected; the monster’s skull had crunched inwards from the impact, and it lay twitching on the ground. I drew my sword and wildly hacked at its head, each gouge sending a spray of yellowed gunk upwards, splattering my face. Its lifeforce flared madly, but it couldn’t heal faster than I could destroy.

I steeled myself against its death, gathering my will to stifle the ineffable link between me and it. As it died, its being surged against that barrier. I bit my lip and clenched my eyes shut until the tide passed.

The wake of the denial left me dizzied, with the beginnings of a migraine throbbing in my temples. Blood dripped from my nose. That wasn’t normal. I wiped at it, then blinked. The colour was far darker than it used to be.

Before I had enough time to make sense of that, I felt another creature diving at me. Stumbling forward allowed it to splatter against the dirt, but I couldn’t turn back and slaughter it myself; killing the creatures meant giving it an avenue into my mind, and denying it entrance wasn’t an activity I wanted to repeat.

Of course, just because I didn’t want to fight the monster didn’t mean it wanted to eat me any less. Behind me, it rose, bent wings flicking awkwardly, and began scuttling after me.

Its pace didn’t quite match the monstrous Bab’s, but-

Disgustingly tricky prey, ducking and diving, though I savoured the smell of its fear…

My stride stuttered as an alien memory overtook my own. I nearly tripped, yet managed to continue. Despite my quick recovery, the oversized pest managed to stab its mandibles into my calf. I swore ferociously, and used my still-drawn sword to sever the front of its head and brusquely yank the offending body-part out.

I barrelled into a nearby hovel. The interior was bereft of any furniture to block the doorway, so I slipped through a hole in the wall and continued onward.

That had been Bab’s memory. Suppressing a shudder, I breathed out, and focused on running.

Movement became an exercise in avoidance. I exerted more energy avoiding the flying parasites swooping down on me than moving forward. My route went from a disciplined, structured thing to one that swayed back and forth like a wine-drunk customer. I dipped through alleys; cut through buildings; hurdled windows; yet wherever I went there were more soaring abominations, ready to force me away.

It felt like they were operating under the order of some sort of malevolent general, but I knew the truth was far simpler. Isolated from the rest of the militia, I seemed an easy target. It wasn’t exactly a riotous endorsement of their intelligence – I had killed two other monsters, and every parasite after me was one that posed far less of a threat.

Yet what was once a single monster became two, then five, then ten. What once felt like a game of tag with Sash and Dash became more like hide-and-seek with a gang of stupid murderers. More time was spent waiting for them to splatter themselves against the ground than actually moving. Had Ma planned this? I couldn’t know.

After narrowly dodging four flying monsters, I scaled a wall of sandstone, finally sighting my destination. The third pit was in the most open area by far – four buildings had been demolished to make space. It was also the largest, having been dug by hundreds of labourers over several days. The buzzing in the back of my mind rose to prominence as I looked at it. The lure was buried underneath. Barriers of sandstone and mud surrounded the area, excepting the side facing northwest. It had been built at the city’s boundaries, and beyond the Foot were only the wastes. For leagues, there was only packed sediment and sun-scorched cracks. A dust storm flew away from us, blotting out everything but the approaching tide of monsters.

Nearly forty individuals faced outwards, equipped in a motley of padded clothing and nervously clutching pikes. One large man wore a pot on his head. Several others waited atop the barricades, dozens of bottles full of spirits sitting next to them. One of the more well-built militiawomen noticed me, giving me a quizzical expression. It was Erin. She moved to turn away, then jerked back as an impact smashed into my back.

Gawking was a bad habit.

I tumbled off the wall, barely managing to turn a broken neck into a head-over-heels roll. Half a second’s passing saw me raising my shield as the weight of several bugs pressed down on me. Despite their size, they were surprisingly light. That didn’t stop me from letting out a shriek as one wrapped its mandibles around my head. I shoved my shield in-between them, the pressure carving deep furrows into its leather. Still screaming, I frantically squirmed my way out of the dog-pile and through someone’s knees. Squelches sounded from behind me. I scrambled further and turned to watch a dozen bellowing individuals repeatedly stab their pikes into the pile. Something flew down, then the grating sound of breaking glass resounded as the pile was covered in flame.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

They continued getting stabbed. One middle-aged woman continued screaming.

“If you heard anything from me, it was a battle-cry,” I specified to empty air.

“Sure,” Erin’s amused voice responded from behind, “designed to pierce straight into the hearts of your enemies.”

“That’s right,” I said, ignoring her sarcasm. She offered a hand and I accepted, only briefly considering pulling her down with me.

Erin had joined the militia alongside two other adults. Despite their radically different appearances, they were apparently family – I took that to mean she was one of the lucky adopted children in the Foot. Each of them – including Erin – had duelled every other unblooded member of the militia and won. She hadn’t seemed that good when her and I fought, all those months ago. Had she been practicing?

I squinted at her. She grinned back. “You’re chipper.”

“Well, fighting a god is the stuff legends are made of.”

I squinted harder. “It’s definitely related to my mother.”

“She just looked really good riding-“

I waved my arms madly. “No. No!”

“You have to admit she cuts a pretty gallant-“

I grabbed a piece of gunk stuck in my hair and raised it a manner I thought intimidating. “I will smear this all over you if you don’t stop.”

She blanched. Belatedly, I realised I had essentially just threatened her with the plague.

“Alright, not really. But I do not want to hear-“

Erin exploded. “Come on, Orv, what’s the big deal?”

“I do not-“

“I’m just admiring!”

“Listen,” I hissed, “I’m fine with you ‘admiring’, but I’m sick of you ogling right in front of me.” I only had a vague idea of what ogling was, yet I remained certain that whatever it meant, Erin was doing it.

“But-“

“It’s weird! And stop gushing about my mother to me!” She’d rambled on about Ma every time they trained together.

“Orv…”

I opened my mouth to continue yelling, only to pause as the chunk of plague in my hand entered my vision. That wasn’t fair to her. I breathed in, and held the breath. Clenched my eyes shut. “Sorry.” I forced out. I owed her more words, yet I couldn’t seem to get them out.

Erin nodded. “I get it.”

I’d had her pegged as a strange girl. She was too well put-together to be anything else. However, what kind of adolescent was completely unbothered by the situation?

Maybe she could share the secret with me. “How are you-“

“Orvi,” a scratchy voice announced from behind, “I need you here.”

It was the Frond captain – the man in charge of this particular hole in the ground. The Frond’s onyx skin was marred by patches of tight scarring, and he was apparently the only Frond Godslayer to have returned alive. His name was something long that I continually failed to pronounce – full of ‘ach’ sounds – so I just called him Leek. The only person who didn’t take issue with that appellation was him.

“Uh, yes sir.” I saluted smartly. Peeler & Ass-something were both bastards of the most unholy kind, but it was difficult to dislike Leek.

Leek stopped me a few paces from him. “Forgive me, Orvi, but I’d rather you keep away from me for now. You… are slightly unclean.”

I gave a grunt of affirmation, pretending that statement didn’t hurt.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his frizzy hair. “I’ll put it plainly: the explosives aren’t working.”

My stomach fell. “You’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“What about the back-ups?”

“We can’t afford to send anyone to retrieve them. Not with the ground-dwellers so close and the fliers running rampant.”

Our auxiliary explosives were deemed an operational hazard to have close by. Vernon and Miss Tran had put them together, and there was very few in the Foot who trusted that particular combination. That number had dwindled to none after the first few batches failed rather violently.

Leek was asking, but he didn’t have to. My role was logistical support. This was one of the many scenarios I prepared for. After a rather spiffy salute, I scaled a wall and headed out.

The cache of ordinance had been placed nearly two-hundred paces away. That distance had been a matter of considerable debate, however everyone had ended up agreeing that if it blew up, it wouldn’t damage any barricades.

Without my entourage of ravenous bugs, the trip was remarkably tame. I arrived outside the mud-brick building and barged inside. I grabbed a bulging sack – filled almost entirely with cloth used for padding – and waddled back onto the street again. It was then I realised that my commute had been a bit too care-free.

Three parasites chittered as they buzzed from above. The first one I managed shuffle aside, letting it smash into the building behind; the second I rolled underneath, shielding my package and hoping my attempts were enough. The third I batted aside. Unfortunately, by that point, the first was ramming into my back and lifting me several feet off the ground. The blow jarred my elbow and sent my fingers spasming. My grip loosened. The package fell. So much for vulpine reflexes.

The sack seemed to travel slowly. I craned my neck as I sailed through the air, believing for a moment that everything would be alright. Then a bug ran through it and everything blew up.

My ears rung and the world went silent. I noticed the dust whirling above. ‘How does Dure make everything travel towards it?’ I wondered. Everything tilted downward and immediately glanced off the corner of a roof and towards the street below. I flung out my arms and one folded backwards like wet paper.

The pain hit.

Reality condensed into three parts: the pain erupting from my arm and back; the horror of seeing my limb folded the wrong way; the unfathomable weight of what I had just screwed up. My throat hurt, and all of a sudden I realised that though I could hear nothing, I was still screaming.

Still bellowing, I staggered upright and tried to throw off my padded shirt, feeling the bones in my arm grind as I did so. My yells intensified as I tore chunks of skin off my back. Finally, I threw it on the ground. It was on fire. I attempted to work the shield off my broken arm. The limb bent backwards and the shield fell off. I looked away but the image stayed burned into my retinas; my body made wrong.

There was nothing that wasn’t wrong. My body. My mind. The agony. Would I die here? Picked off by an inconsequential gnat; a literal parasite? Thick tears rolled down my face. Would it matter if I did? All that I was revolved around taking. Take Ma’s time. Take other people’s possessions. Take House Esfaria out. Take Bab’s life. And now, finally, I’d taken whatever chance we had of saving the Foot.

Would I have been this person, if I hadn’t drunk Avri’s blood? The first time I’d laid eyes on the god, I knew it wasn’t what I had been promised. A seething mass of multicoloured darkness, a million multicolour eyes and a thousand gibbering mouths, all resplendent in its madness. Bleeding from a million cuts. It had fixed its gaze on me, and for a moment clarity overcame insanity.

It said: “You will know them. You will remember them. Then, you will come back to us. To them.” Affixed by the expectant gaze of every person I had ever known, I consumed its essence.

When I woke, the god had left. My parents had left. Most of the children had died before acclimatising, so I picked two that still breathed and started walking. I saw a monster kill my parents. A few days later, I saw her again. I knew Ma’d want to kill the babies and so I lied. I gave the twins names because I didn’t know theirs, and pretended we came from the hole.

I pretended the three of us didn’t have a god coursing through our veins.

And I’d maintained that lie from six years old. Until I’d decided to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.

I sobbed and keened and wailed.

I got up and ran.