When he was done, he wiped his hands on his raincoat and looked up at the small specks of the Baba’ba’ksums, who had swam up into the red sky while Benno tore Neoline to shreds and now pulsed like two jellyfish, side by side, until all at once they disappeared.

Benno prodded at the shredded armor with his toe. Then he reached up and felt along the top of his head, touching the point of the first pyramid, then the second, and now the third. The third protruded more or less from the exact top of his head.

I’m growing a mohawk, he thought. A mohawk of dead Wardens.

He wondered if when he killed the Twins, one or two pyramids would appear, and decided to ask Onus his opinion.

“What do you think,” he started, turning around. “When the Twins are dead, will there be one, or…” He trailed off.

Onus stared at him with his mouth parted, his eyes bent with fear, his hands clasped at his chest. He took deep, slow breaths, as if to stave off an attack of dread.

“What?” Benno asked, glancing around.

Onus’ lips moved, though at first no sound emerged. Then, finally, his words issued forth. “The ease…” he said, blinking slowly. “The ease with which you tore her to shreds. A Warden of Sul. An immovable object, for a thousand years…” He wiped his eyes. “I hadn’t seen it yet. I wasn’t there when you killed August. Or Kerr. I didn’t understand.”

Benno took his own slow breath.

“You are so dangerous,” Onus whispered.

It’s not exactly obvious.

“I don’t know what to say.” Benno wiped his hands, again, on his raincoat. “I didn’t ask for this. You know that.”

Onus nodded, though it was as if at something else.

Benno watched him carefully. “I don’t know what to say,” he repeated.

Onus nodded again, and then straightened up and rubbed his face, and afterwards he appeared more or less composed. “It was just a shock,” he said, even managing to force a smile. “It’s all for the best. Now come on. We’re almost done.” He turned and started back to the Shenandoah.

Benno followed him. Do it now, he thought, within arm’s reach of the Lonely Son. Do it now and get it over with.

But Benno couldn’t. There was still hope for Onus. Benno wanted him to work through his doubts, to work through his traumas and arrive at a better version of himself. A version of himself that could lead in the image he and Edda had planned. He wanted Onus to rise into his potential. Though he knew it was too late. And it was only a matter of time.

As they boarded the vessel, Onus stumbled slightly, reaching out for Benno, who caught him and helped him back to his feet.

“Are you alright?” Benno asked.

“Yes.” Onus patted Benno on the back. “Just still a little lightheaded from the cake.” He continued onboard and positioned himself at the console.

Benno ran his fingers down the length of his beard.

#

Do it now. Get it over with.

“Let’s return to the Inn,” Benno said, finally, as Onus traced shapes on the console’s screen. Through the transparent walls of the Shenandoah, the red sky over Albeddon had begun to darken, and crows had descended on the Chieftain’s ragged remains. “We’ll regroup. There’s no rush.”

Onus, his back to Benno, did not respond or turn around.

Do it now.

“You’re still weak from the poison,” Benno continued. “You need to rest.”

Get it over with.

Onus turned then, and nodded. “I think you’re right,” he said, then turned back to the console and continued tapping shapes.

Benno nodded, an uneasy weight in his stomach.

Onus stood back for a second and checked his work on the screen.

“So, back to the Inn, then?” Benno asked.

“Yes.” Onus tapped the screen a few more time. “Yes, back to the Inn.”

“Good.” Benno watched Onus’ back.

“Alright.” Onus took a slow breath. “Off we go.” He tapped a triangle at the screen’s lower right corner, and the whirring started, and a moment later the bridge went dark.

Do it now, Benno thought in the moment before the bridge’s purple lights reappeared, casting dark shadows across the marble floor. Get it over…

For a moment Benno didn’t realize what was wrong, and started to stand, casually, as if to disembark. But then he noticed the total darkness of the Shenandoah’s walls, and the disorienting sense of weightlessness beneath his feet.

“What happened?” he asked, turning in a slow circle, peering at the black walls. “Did you get the Realm wrong?”

But Onus was not at the console. Instead, he stood at the mouth of the hallway. He looked at Benno, his face awash in purple light, and held both hands near his mouth.

Benno looked at him for a moment. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Onus did not respond.

“Onus,” Benno said. “Why are we stopped in the Lacuna?”

“This is the only way,” Onus said, his voice withdrawn. “Your existence is my salvation. And your defeat is my ticket back into the good graces of the Nation.”

Benno took a step toward Onus, and Onus stumbled back, his hands still raised to his mouth. There were two glints of light at his fingertips. One in each hand.

Two Gemstokes.

Benno jammed his hands into his pockets, finding nothing. He glowered at Onus.

Do it now.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Benno lunged.

“Gemma! Luridia!” Onus rattled off, his voice spiked with terror, and then, before Benno could reach him, he was gone.

Benno stood on the empty bridge. He felt through his pockets again, but they were, of course, empty. Benno went to the console and touched the screen. Nothing happened. He touched it again, and waved his hands in front of it. But Onus had done something. He’d broken it, or rewired it. It was as dark and inert as the walls of the vessel, looking out at the infinite, empty expanse of the fabric between Realms.

You will end up suspended out there in the nothingness, Edda’s voice played in his mind. For you, in particular, I imagine, that would be an unfortunate fate.

Benno sat down at the table.

It’s not exactly obvious, Onus had said.

Benno had known something was coming. He had known ever since Mother revealed to Onus that it was Benno’s fault his sister was dead. Whatever goodwill had existed between Benno and Onus had died at that moment, and never return. But Benno had assumed Onus would wait, at least, until the remaining Wardens were dead. But he was wrong. And now, in an instant, it had all been for nothing.

Should have done it then, he thought. Should have gotten it over with.

He thought about Mara.

The ones he’d saved from the Bathhouse.

The Haruspex.

Even Christopher Ryan.

All doomed.

He thought about himself.

It’s not exactly obvious.

“I guess you figured it out,” Benno said to the empty bridge, his heart beating fast, his body still. “I guess you figured it out.”

Holes poked his petals out of Benno’s collar. “Everything okay?” it asked.

Benno set the little flower on the table. “Yeah,” he said, and at the same moment he realized there was no access to water on the disabled vessel, and he stroked Holes softly, and nodded. “Everything’s fine.”

#

The sky was a wash of pink and blue, a smeared mockery of the perpetual autumn canopy below.

Mara approached the mansion’s front steps, her shoes scrrrching on the brittle grass. The pink neon light filled the top quadrant of her vision like bright, rushing rain. Her hands were balled into fists, and she took slow, trembling breaths.

Do not be afraid, Benno had told her. Tell them who you are. Tell them why you’re there.

“Do not be afraid,” Mara whispered to herself. Then she stopped at the bottom of the steps as three figures emerged from the mansion’s doorway. “Easy for you to say…”

The three figures looked down at her from the mansion’s entrance. They were all dressed in black, their ashen skin blinking with the smoldering pink light. One of them, a hairless man with an enormous septum ring and a bag in his hand filled with reddish liquid, stepped forward and peered down from his dark eyes, waiting.

Mara took a deep breath. “Sad longs,” she projected, hoping she was remembering the phrase Benno had told her to say.

The hairless man and the other figures did not respond or react.

“My name is Mara Greenwald,” she went on. “I am here on behalf of—”

“The Warden Killer,” the hairless man finished, his voice like dry leaves.

“Yes,” said Mara as a shiver ran through her, either from the man’s voice or the cold wind that rushed out from the trees. “He sent me here with terms. A generous offer.”

The hairless man’s shoulders rose and fell. “This is a sad miscalculation,” he said. “The Warden Killer and the Lonely Son murdered our Mother. They pilfered our property. They fractured our relationship with Luridia. They have caused a cascade of unspeakable misfortune for us. We have no interest in terms with them. In fact, our interest is in punishing them.” The man licked the bottom of his septum ring. “Perhaps you can help with that.”

Do not be afraid.

“The Warden Killer is offering you a gift,” she said. “A… a sad peace offering. For your collection. He is also offering you your survival.”

The hairless man was quiet.

“As we speak,” Mara went on, “the Warden Killer is eradicating the remainder of Sul’s Wardens. The Chieftain is likely already dead. The Twins will be next.”

A pair of dark birds tussled overhead and disappeared among the canopy.

“And with the Twins’ deaths,” Mara said. “Luridia will fall.”

The hairless man hefted his bag—a colostomy bag, Mara realized, with a wave of nausea—from one hand to the other. “Luridia has never fallen,” he said. “Not since the first sad notes of the bottomless Ensemble sang to life with flame. If the Eyes of Horus are ousted, the Lonely Son will inherit the Nation. Or some other member of the lineage. This has been the way forever.”

Mara took a step forward, so that one foot was now planted on the bottom step. “But things are about to change,” she said. “It is the Warden Killer’s opinion—and here I am sure you will agree—that the lineage has gone on long enough. And the Lonely Son, despite his talents, has no real interest in ruling. He wants only revenge, and revenge comes and goes.” The wind whipped Mara’s hair across her face. “With the Twins’ death,” she said. “Luridia will fall.”

Again the hairless man licked his septum ring. The tall, pale figures behind him glanced at one another.

“Why are you telling us this?” the man asked.

“There will be chaos across the Ensemble in the vacuum of Luridia’s dominion,” she said. “You will have a role in maintaining order. With the Warden Killer’s permission, the Everson Family can inherit a portion of the Nation’s assets. It can help establish a new course for the Realms and their inhabitants. With certain… sad conditions, of course.”

The hairless man turned his head and whispered something to the pale woman behind him, who nodded. Then he looked back at Mara. “What if Sul frees Horus?” he asked. “What if Horus returns?”

“Then Ben—then the Warden Killer will deal with him, too.”

The hairless man looked down at Mara, and for a long time there was only the scrape of the leaves in the wind.

“What are these sad conditions?” he asked finally.

“We will get to those,” Mara said, her lungs flooding with relief. “But first, the Warden Killer has a gift for you. To show his goodwill at your new sad arrangement.”

The hairless man nodded.

Mara glanced around at the empty lawn. “Um… I’m just going to need you all to close your eyes.”

The hairless man tilted his head. “What?”

“Just for a minute. Just, go ahead and close your eyes.”

“Is this some kind of attempt at a sad trick?”

“No,” Mara outspread her hands. “Trust me, if the Warden Killer wanted you hurt, or dead, he’d be here himself.”

The hairless man glanced back at the figures behind him, and together they conferred in whispers, then shrugged in unison. “Alright,” the hairless man said.

“Great, thanks.”

Slowly, one at a time, the Eversons closed their dark, shaded eyes.

Mara brought her Gemstoke to her lips. “Uh, are you there?”

Silence.

“Right. Okay. I’m closing my eyes now, too. So, whenever you’re ready, you can show up.” She lowered the Gemstoke, glanced up the steps, then closed her own eyes, for just a moment, and when she opened them again, there was someone standing next to her.

She exhaled. “Wasn’t sure that was going to work,” she said.

D’doak Michol stared, unmoving, from their swollen eyes.

“Okay!” Mara called up the steps. “You can look now.”

The Eversons opened their eyes slowly and blinked in the gloom. When they saw D’doak their dark eyes widened, and the hairless man descended the steps toward them, slowly.

“Is that…” he said. “An Outlooker?”

“Their name is D’doak Michol,” Mara said. “They were a member Edda’s crew, and now have sworn their allegiance to the Warden Killer.”

Mara stepped aside as the hairless man arrived at the bottom of the steps and inspected D’doak with wide eyes.

“Incredible…” the hairless man peered closely at D’doak’s eyes. “I have never seen one in person. I had heard they were close to extinction. Remarkable…” He looked up at Mara. “This one is ours?”

“A gift from the Warden Killer,” Mara said. “To mark the beginning of a new relationship.” She looked up the steps, where the other Eversons were gathered, gawping at D’doak. “But there are rules.”

The hairless man licked his septum ring. “Yes? What rules?”

“No cage,” Mara said. “D’doak moves freely through your mansion, or beyond, if they please. And you will provide them with whatever they need. Food, lodging. You will treat them like a guest. Like you would the Warden Killer himself. In exchange, D’doak’s services will be available to you, as long as they see fit.”

The hairless man nodded.

“And I will be back,” Mara said. “At intervals of my pleasing, to confirm that you are upholding your end of this arrangement. If at any point I find that you are mistreating D’doak, or engaging with them in any way that is to their detriment, they will leave with me. And there will be additional consequences.”

The hairless man bowed low.

“And,” Mara continued. “The Warden Killer himself may wish to procure D’doak’s services from time to time. His arrival here will take precedence over services being provided to any member of the Everson Family at the moment of the Warden Killer’s arrival, regardless of time of day, nature, or intent. In other words: the Warden Killer gets dibs.”

“Tell the Warden Killer we accept these sad rules,” the hairless man said. “And tell him we are grateful.” He bowed again, then returned his attention to D’doak. “What a beautiful creature… What an extraordinary thing…”

“But wait,” Mara said.

The hairless man straightened up.

“Now we must discuss the sad conditions of your other gift.” She looked up the steps, the wind raking her hair.

Tell them they have a labor ahead, Benno had said, smirking.

Mara couldn’t help but smirk herself. “Your family has a labor ahead.”