Driving with the weight of death on his shoulders was apparently not a very difficult task. Riven only took his foot off the accelerator when the car went a little too fast and was in danger of hitting something and veering out of his control. Otherwise, he floored it. He found keeping the car on the road more often than not wasn’t that difficult, especially since there were next to no other vehicles on the streets. The buildings of Providence city swerved past, and he barely saw any people either. Everything was a blur, though it wasn’t only because of the speed.
He’d killed Tam. An Essentier of his own damn Demesne, someone who was supposed to have been if not a friend, then at least an ally.
Riven shook his head. “Supposed to have been” was key here. Tam had knowingly betrayed Father, betrayed Providence Demesne, and sided with Pendle. He had become the enemy. Riven had every right to kill the moustached bastard, just as he had to kill Pendle.
Yet it still stuck in his craw.
Riven’s eyes still fixated on the blood flecking the windshield, on the crimson streaking the front of the car. Tam’s blood. The blood of his enemy. A man he’d killed. He gripped the steering wheel tight to stop his hands from shaking. Maybe the shaking was why he couldn’t take his foot off the gas for too long. Any higher than a fingerbreadth, and he was likely to stomp down on the wrong pedal. That would be disastrous.
So too would be if anyone spotted the car and demanded him to stop. Thankfully, there were no guards in sight on Providence city’s streets. But it was worrying though. The city looked abandoned even though the sun was barely reaching its zenith, as though curfew had set in early, which could only mean one thing. Trouble.
Riven tried not to let it bother him too much. Those were Father’s concerns, and he didn’t need to bother himself about them. So long as none of it spilled onto his path.
He cursed himself for even thinking it, but the Scions must have taken pity on his poor, battered soul after the debacle at the hospital. Riven met no obstacles as he reached the city limits, and he was soon leaving the buildings of Providence behind. A good development, but frightening in a way as well. Was Father’s party successfully keeping Orbray’s Essentiers at bay or had he already been captured? Or worse, killed? Maybe they were all locked in some deadly showdown, too busy trying to stay alive to pay attention to what was going on at the hospital holding Glaven.
Who knew. What mattered was that Riven was free, and he had no one to stop him.
Once the city was past, an expanse of wilderness surrounded him like an ocean on all sides. He wasn’t lost at sea though. If his memory served him right, then he was on the road to Rennervation, heading straight for Lintellant research facility, where Nivi awaited him. He glanced back at his bag. Looking away from the road was a fatal sin, but Riven couldn’t help it. Why had he been so dumb as to not bring his own map? Sure, he thought he knew the way to Rennervation by heart, but what if he was wrong?
Glaven caught his eye, and Riven stared at his brother for a few seconds longer than was safe. He quickly turned back to the road—still a long track curving away in the distance, nothing on either side but broken, cracked ground dotted by a few lone pools here and there.
The engine thrummed, giving a slight vibration to the whole car. Riven stole a glimpse of the dashboard, where a dial showed how much fuel the car still had. Not much. Curse Rio to the Chasm, he could have stolen a car that could actually take him to Rennervation Demesne. But no, Riven ought to be thankful he had a car at all.
After all, Rio had willingly stayed behind just so Riven could get away. Still hard to believe he was capable of such self-sacrifice. Riven owed him one. He ought to be safe. Riven had run over Pendle’s legs too, and if Rio couldn’t take the brute down in that state then maybe h had no business being an Essentier.
But then, if the Sept in the car’s tank really did die, couldn’t Glaven simply use his Essence to keep it moving? Or did his Essence of Command not work that way? Not like he could use his Essence while he was asleep. Though that sent another stab of worry worming into Riven’s guts. What had that damn Sept crystal done to him? That piece of a Scion seemed to have sucked out his Essence, rendering him unconscious. Maybe for good, for all Riven knew.
He shook his head again. No point in worrying overmuch. He’d get his brother to the research facility where Nivi would fix him up. Or at least, that was the plan.
Could he reach it though?
Riven passed the Demesne border fence, and the gate was unguarded. Not a good sign.
The road stretched out too far, and Riven’s exhaustion was beginning to catch up to him. And his pain too. His shoulder still throbbed after Pendle’s stomps and his face smarted with every breath. He had yet to look at a mirror, even the flat ones at the side of the car door, but he couldn’t have looked very pretty after Tam had repeatedly struck the floor with his face. In the waves of pain and exhaustion, the journey ahead seemed to go by like a dream that lasted for hours, and Riven had to fight to keep himself awake.
He blinked. No, he had to be dreaming. Before him, the vast plain was filled with Deathless. He was still distant so they hadn’t spotted him, but it was only a matter of time before they did if he kept going. Riven could floor the brakes, but this couldn’t be true, right? This many Spectres was unfathomable. An entire sea of them floated along, heading northeast where, Riven noticed as he stuck his head out of the window, a dark spot was gathering in the sky. A spiral of clouds, spreading out like a whirlpool. How hadn’t he spotted that before?
“You have quite the sense of timing your appearance, dear.”
Riven hadn’t realized when he’d stopped the car, and as much as he wanted to think otherwise, he really wasn’t surprised to see Mhell. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but…”
They both looked behind her where the flood of Spectres were floating towards the strange clouds.
“You see strangeness and you think I belong here?” Mhell asked, a little smile dancing on her permanently chapped lips. “Well, I don’t blame you. I’ve been following this pilgrimage for a few days now.”
“Where were you all this time?” Riven asked. He got out of the car. There was no point pretending he could drive on, not when the road was blocked like this. It was difficult to keep standing with all the pain and exhaustion, but he needed a break from being cramped up in the chauffeur’s seat.
“Out and about,” Mhell said.
“I imagine you know what’s going on here?”
“Of course I do, who do you think I am, Riven dear?” Mhell turned around, her purple dress whirling along with her. “This is the first step to the final confrontation. All these Deathless are gathering to one spot hoping for the same thing. Ascension. This lure draws them on, and it might just happen.”
“That is exceedingly vague.” Riven paused. Mhell had mentioned a final confrontation. “Unless you mean this war Orbray was talking about is actually happening. Do you even know who Orbray is?”
Mhell laughed. “Very well.”
Riven looked at her, and it was a while before Mhell spoke again. She stared out over the impending gathering like a painter does at their art, her expression fond as though this was her masterpiece.
“Orbray and the Arnish delegation are going to make a Scion appear again,” Mhell said, as though she was mentioning it was going to rain today.
Riven blinked. “What?”
“It’s true. I suggest you make your way out of here as fast you can and get to safety. This war he has planned will truly be a war. All the Deathless will gather for the chance to display their strength for the Scion, hoping one of them will be picked for Ascension.” Her voice dropped a notch. “Fools, all of them. Manipulated so easily. The Scion is only arriving to do what Orbray needs it to do, nothing more. Those Deathless will get nothing but true oblivion.”
Riven tried to let the message sink in. Orbray and his war was an ambitious plan, but it was still within the realms of possibility and comprehension. But summoning a Scion? Had he lost his mind? “How are they planning to summon a Scion? It won’t just… materialize, will it?”
“Not exactly. To form a Scion, you need three things—a Revenant, a Wraithlock, and a Cataclysm. Though it would be different if they had a piece of a Scion.”
Riven’s heart skipped a beat. “How would it be different?”
“A piece of a Scion can become a Scion, if the other three mentioned are present.”
Riven swallowed, his heart definitely thumping now.
Mhell saw the look on his face, her smile deepening. “Yes. You hold the key. The Sept crystal which you’ve been carrying so diligently all this while. That is what will allow them to give rise to another to Scion.”
Riven’s head was whirling at the implications and possibilities, but he tried to keep a grip on his thoughts. Tried to remember that he had a goal. “Please don’t tell me they’re going to come after me soon. They can’t know, right?”
“They didn’t, as of yet, so far as I was able to determine anyway. But things are changing rapidly. I can’t tell what clue they might find, or from whom. How many others know of it besides me, you, and your two dear friends?”
Riven’s mind whirred, the gears turning faster than the wheel of his car at full speed. “Rose. And Nivi. Damn.”
“What is it?”
“Orbray was attacking the other Essentiers of Providence. Rio said Rose might already have been captured. Shit.”
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“Calm down, dear,” Mhell whispered. “Things aren’t as grim and forlorn as they appear. There is still hope. I can help you.”
Riven swallowed. He couldn’t stop his head from summoning every damn image it could, visions of dead Rose and Viriya, of a mangled Rio, of a never-waking Glaven all crowding his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. In and out. In and out. Nice and easy.
A hand fell on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to stare into Mhell’s glowing white ones. They were large as the full moon, filling him with a strange light. A comforting one. The cracks lining her face seemed to have disappeared and melded together, forming a face that could almost pass for human if it hadn’t been the shade of basalt.
“I’m fine,” Riven whispered, taking a hesitant step back. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel off in any way at all. That touch from Mhell had been gentle, had been familiar. He shook his head. “How can you help me?”
“Bring the Sept crystal to me.” Her face and posture was back in their usual positions, cracks lining everything. “I will safeguard it. I will prevent it from being used by the likes of Orbray and the Arnish. We cannot allow their plans to actualize.”
Riven looked down. Need, she said. Need always had a reason attached to it, a strong reason. He ought not to say the next thought that had popped in his head, not after everything that had happened, but it needed to be said. His strong reason was that he had to be sure. Trust was a rare commodity after all. “Why does Orbray need to be stopped, Mhell?”
She didn’t look offended. Well, she might have, but the Necromancer had turned her head to stare at Deathless, row after row of ghosts making their way over the plain. “What he intends to do will have disastrous consequences for everyone in this world. You might think this will be localized in this small region but in truth, having a Scion in the mortal realm will create a distortion that will affect life everywhere. We cannot allow this to continue.”
Riven pushed away the nagging questions. “You haven’t told me the real why though.”
She looked at him then, her icy eyes sharper than daggers made from icicles. “The reason why Orbray is doing all this? A Chosen.” The word sent a shiver down Riven’s spine. “He is being guided by one or more of the Scion’s Chosen.”
“Which one?”
“If only any of us knew.”
“And how do you know?”
“How do you think?”
“Scion’s Chosen,” Riven whispered.
There was no other way those words could be said. They held an immense gravity, and the very mention of them made Riven want to sit down and give up. Images of the Scion’s statue back near the Invigilator’s Office popped in his head, and that star-shaped statue of the Scion with four tiny figures standing at his feet. Four tiny impressions of the Chosen.
Riven gasped all of a sudden, his legs going rigid. “I saw one of the Chosen, didn’t I? Back with the Cataclysm, that man in the white armour. He’d been a damned Chosen.”
“Clearly, you’re more blessed than most other mortals, dear.”
That wasn’t reassuring. What were the Chosen doing here? Not that it didn’t make sense, of course. As the select servants of the Scions, they were supposed to be here, especially when one of their masters was about to be summoned into this world. Though that line of thought made Riven stare at Mhell. “A ghost, a demon, and a witch have to be gathered, just like that poem said, and then a piece of a Scion. They can’t be creating their own Scion, right?”
Mhell sighed. “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? I fear whoever has been making the Deathless act up everywhere has intended to create a new Scion all along.”
“Why do you say whoever? It’s the Chosen who are doing this, right?”
“Even the Chosen are separate. Seven Scions, yes? Each has their own followers, and all of those goals can sometimes conflict. Except those conflicts tend to be… apocalyptic.”
Something else struck Riven. “I wonder if Knightforger knows anything about this.”
“I would assume he might be the one behind the whole thing.”
“I thought it was Orbray. Well, Orbray and the Chosen guiding him.”
“Do you really think that old and odious Orbray could have come up with something like this? A man who’s been sitting like a plump duck in its coop for the past decade?” Mhell scoffed. “And who says Knightforger isn’t a Chosen in the first place.”
Mhell’s words jolted into his head like a spoke into a gearwheel, halting his train of thought completely. He stared at her. Not that he had any words to say. Knightforger could be a Chosen? It seemed preposterous.
Riven parked his arse on his car’s bonnet. It was getting more and more difficult to stand, though that might have been the bullet still lodged in his thigh. Hot though the bonnet was, it felt good to let his legs rest. The stream of Deathless was finally abating, and Riven stared at the horizon. His path was opening back up, but it was difficult to muster the effort to move. Everything Mhell had said hung over his led like an array of guillotines strung up with tripwires. One wrong move, and he’d have his whole body severed to bits.
“It’s the Sundering, isn’t it?” Riven asked. “Those three strongest… a Revenant, a Wraithlock, and a Cataclysm. We already have the Cataclysm in the Sundering Pit, but what about the other two?”
“They will be there,” Mhell said, still staring out into the horizon.
“Very reassuring. You have no idea who it might be?”
“For the Revenant, no. For the Wraithlock, perhaps one of the Deadmages still at large. I can’t say for certain.”
Riven rolled his shoulders. “Why are you helping? Are you really helping? I still don’t know what you’re after, or what you gain from all this. You’re a Deathless like them all, but you’re different.”
“Remember something you were told once, dear.” Mhell looked at him with those icy eyes of hers again. “Essentiers are doomed to be Deathless.”
“You’re… you were an Essentier? Is that the secret to resisting the Beyond? You need to have been an Essentier when you were alive?”
“It’s an interesting process, but again, I can’t say for certain. I believe all Essentiers are in one way or another, connected to the Beyond through their Essence. It’s not something natural to this world, because what is of this world cannot break its laws. Essence can.”
“And this connection is what allows Deathless like you from being drawn to the Beyond like the rest of them?”
“I am still drawn. You know this. I am simply much better at resisting, and I attribute that to my Essence in my previous life.”
Riven looked down at his own hands. They had a light crust of red after he’d rested his palms briefly on the bonnet and Tam’s blood had finally stained him. Long time coming in truth. He’d killed Tam after all. And if Tam was now dead, had he turned into a Deathless already? Was he haunting the hospital as a Spectre, or roaming it like a Fiend on the hunt? Or perhaps he’d become a Necromancer. Like Mhell.
And one day, maybe Riven would meet him again, in the Beyond when they were both Deathless.
“You seem awfully troubled, dear.” Mhell’s voice was careful and soft, as though Riven was a deer who’d bolt at the slightest sign of provocation. “Has something happened?”
There was that familiarity again, like she’d known him all his life and was a close confidante to boot. Like she’d heard his deepest fears, knew his most inner inklings and thoughts, was privy to all his darkest secrets. Disconcerting didn’t do it justice. Maybe it was part of being a Deathless, a certain ethereal lure about her that made him feel that way. That had to be it.
But all the same, Riven found himself spilling everything anyway.
“I killed someone today.” He looked down at the blood-coated bonnet of his getaway car. It took a while, but he told her most of the story in Providence. How Father was countering Orbray, how the High Invigilator was taking his own measures against Father, how he had gotten into a fight at the hospital, injured his leg, and barely escaped. “I’ve never killed someone before. It—I don’t understand. I didn’t even mean to do it. It just happened without me meaning to do it, and I mean, I hated him so I don’t understand why it feels so… why it hurts me.”
Mhell’s eyes softened, as much as it could soften given her stare. Her hand reached out, palm hovering over the hole in his leg. “Why have you not taken care of this yet?”
“I never got the chance.”
“You have the chance now,” she pointed out.
It made sense. He did have the chance now. Instead of continuing with the excuses—and he had plenty of those since it had just been one flabbergasting thing after another with the Deathless parade and Mhell’s bomb drops of news—he went into the car and pulled out his bag.
“Yo—you have someone else.” Mhell’s voice was hushed as though she had just discovered the treasure she’d been seeking her whole life.
“That’s my stupid brother who got himself knocked out. I need to get him some help.”
Mhell was staring at him strangely. “I hope he isn’t hurt too much.”
“Me too. You seem surprised.”
She shot back up straight, a little smile curling on her lips. “I didn’t think we would have an audience.”
Riven laughed, though it died as he winced. The Sept medicine he was applying to his injury to staunch the blood flow stung like fire ants nibbling on his flesh. It hadn’t hurt this much the last time he’d applied it. “Well, a knocked out audience but yes.”
“Careful,” Mhell said. “You ought to take better care of yourself.”
“I am being careful.” There was little he could do. He wasn’t exactly a surgeon who could take out the bullet in his leg, and as long as it remained there, he wasn’t going to get much better. But at least he could stop losing any more blood. His leg had gone quite light and numb. The best he could do was take a clean bandage and wrapped it over his wound. “Can I really trust you?”
Mhell stared at him, and Riven did his best not to wilt under her gaze. “I don’t know. I can given you no more proof than my own word, tell you my intentions which I know to be true, but there is no evidence I can provide. It’s up to you if you want to put your faith in me or not.”
Faith. Didn’t Mother always talk about faith? About how he needed to believe in his family? Well, Mhell wasn’t exactly family no matter how strangely familiar she tried to act, but maybe Mother had meant something more. “And what will you get out all of this, Mhell? What’s in it for you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Freedom from the Scions. As I said, I still have to expend great effort to resist their call to the Beyond, and I wish to be free of it. No more struggling. No more bending to serve them. My life was mine, and I want my Deathlessness to be mine as well. Enough is enough. No more.” Her voice had grown in conviction with every word, the heat in it rising until every syllable could leave a burning brand. “What about you, dear? What do you hope to find when you’ve finally defeated Orbray?”
“You assume I’m bent on taking sides in this madness.”
“Aren’t you?”
Riven opened his mouth to say he had no stakes in any of this, but then, what about Rose and Nivi? What about Viriya? What about Rio who’d betrayed his Invigilator? They’d all gone to other Demesnes to serve Father, and he had his own task to complete, but that wasn’t what mattered. He needed to make sure they were all right. If Orbray’s Essentiers were so open about killing him and Glaven, where he was on the lower rungs of power and danger and Glaven was outright comatose, then Viriya and Rose were in orders of magnitude greater danger.
Orbray would have them killed.
“I just want us all to come out alive,” he said.
“It’s all right.” Mhell had drawn closer, her voice soft again. “No need to become overwhelmed.”
“I’m not.”
“Regardless. I see the death of your enemy weighs heavy on your heart. Leaves a burden on your soul. And I’m afraid further death may be unavoidable, given what is to come.” She sighed. “But not all choices are black and white. When harsh times come, sometimes it does well to remember what exactly we’re striving for. What exactly we’re fighting for. Because it is that which provides us with strength, with the impetus to keep going forward. To keep on struggling to the end, even when—no especially when—the situation turns dire and all hope seems lost.”
Riven blinked at the Necromancer. She had turned quite evocative over a few words, which was one more mark of weirdness he’d been witnessing throughout their whole encounter. There was something quite off about her. Something not quite right, and not so easy to put his fingers on. “I’ll bring the Sept crystal to you after I’ve gotten some help for Glaven.”
“Isn’t it with you, dear?” Mhell asked.
For just a second, Riven considered if Mhell could sense its location somehow. For just a moment, his heart quavered at the lie at the tip of his tongue. She’d helped him through a lot, and was willing to help even more, yet here he was about to deceive her.
But then, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being strange. Hiding something important.
“No it’s not,” Riven said. “I need to retrieve it from the research facility at Lintellant.”
“I see.”
It was impossible to gauge much from her cracked face, but Riven supposed she was doubting him. He wasn’t exactly convincing. But no matter. She couldn’t call him out for it either.
“Where will I find you?” Riven asked as he got back into his car and restarted the engine.
Mhell pointed at the sky. “Follow the brewing Septstorm.”
Riven nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”
He meant it. She had been invaluable presence at his side, and he appreciated it. She ought to know that he wouldn’t have made it this far without her help.
“You’re welcome, dear.” Mhell smiled at him, head turning to follow him as the car trundled off. “See you soon.”
With a final wave, Riven drove off, the lie he’d told her driving a bigger stake through his soul than even Tam’s death had.