In the end, fear shall not overpower them, and they shall stand strong when they face Oblivion.

-Excerpt from The Book of Eternity

Xanala waited for several hours for her father to free himself from the watching crowd. Most of those who got close were congratulating him, but a few were supporters of Tenedon, and they cursed and spat and yelled as they approached. One even tried to kill her father. The would-be assassin was swiftly disposed of, the gunshots barely audible over the chaotic chatting.

Chatting, at an arena stained with the blood of fallen men. It was wrong, but Xanala said nothing.

She didn’t spend most of that time waiting for her father, either. She’d been nervous for him, but now that anxiety had twisted itself into worry for her own well-being. Still staring at Tenedon’s corpse, mangled beyond recognition in the sand, she couldn’t help but wonder how long she had before someone caught her.

Not long, she decided. That coup needs to happen soon.

Finally, her father pushed his way through the crowd to them. He gave Xanala a curt nod, and held out his hand to help her mother as they made their way towards the exit. Eliminators with spears waved away the crowd as they passed.

“Are you alright?” Xanala’s mother asked.

Her father just grunted, nodding to the door. “Let’s just leave.”

Xanala’s mother’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, but she followed Lyrus as he made his way toward a private dressing room, which had a secret exit on the other side they could use to slip away. Eliminators followed them through the entrance, warding off the throng of people, then shutting the door behind them. They found themselves in a long hallway, lined with decorations, antique weapons, and proverbs in Ancient Meridian script engraved into the walls. As they walked, Lyrus ripped off his Masked Warrior robes, leaving him in a tight nylon-fiber jumpsuit. Soon, the hallway opened into a small atrium, with granite benches for the Warriors to change on. Lyrus threw his Surgeblade onto that bench, then sat down, burying his head in his hands. His breathing was shaky.

“Lyrus, are you alright?” Xanala’s mother asked, more firm this time. There was no reply, though his breathing was growing even quicker.

He’s panicking, Xanala realized. Just like me.

“Lyrus?” her mother pressed.

“I almost died,” her father spat.

“I know,” Xanala’s mother said, perfectly calm despite the outburst. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Well, thank you, but leave,” her father said, turning away. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.” He was shaking more violently now. “He almost had me… I’ll have to train harder.”

Xanala’s mother frowned, but nodded, softly touching Xanala’s shoulder. “We’re here, Lyrus, if you need us. We always are, you know.”

“Leave.” That was all she got in reply.

Xanala’s mother nodded, and they turned to go, then stopped. Someone else was coming down the hall — the Trett, followed by the Five High Priests, each wearing the colors of their respective Sect. She gave a curt nod to Xanala’s mother as she passed, then stopped before Lyrus, folding her arms behind her back.

“Lyrus. You have disappointed me.”

Immediately, Lyrus turned, eyes alight with anger. “Disappointed you? Tenedon is dead. Just as you asked. Tell me, my lady,” he growled, “how have I disappointed you this time?”

The Trett only raised an eyebrow. “I would advise more respect,” she said, “considering I am about to demote you.”

Lyrus went pale. “What?”

“You heard me. You’re demoted. From here on, you will be a trainer for the Masked Warriors. I will pay you a respectable salary and allow you access to a few Surges, but nothing more.”

Lyrus sneered. “You can’t do that.”

Oh no, Xanala thought. He’s not going to take this well. Not at all. And… the coup… this is a major setback. She began twitching her finger, praying to Okron that the Trett was simply exaggerating. Threatening him, to encourage higher performance.

“I am, actually, the only one in Delti who can,” the Trett said. Her voice grew softer. “You’re unfit for this, Lyrus. Admit it. You should have stepped back years ago.”

“I killed Tenedon.”

“You almost failed. Do you have any idea what a disaster that would be? The Khazath are already considering invasion, thanks to Larsh’s antics with the Talar. No one has passed the First Testing in five centuries. The uproar it would cause would throw us into disarray, and the Khazath would pounce. The entire galaxy hung on a thread, Erdor, all because of you and your men’s incompetence. Because you, in your pride, haven’t stepped down.”

“I saved us!”

“You did,” the Trett said. “And for that, I am grateful, I truly am. But it was too close. We need fresh blood in the Warriors. Especially now that two of you are dead, completely reassembling the team is the best option.” She met his eyes. “I’m giving you a peaceful retirement, Lyrus. All the funds you need for a comfortable life. All I’m asking is that you walk out of this. Lead a simple life here on Xeredon. You’ve earned it.”

“I’ll train harder. Please.”

“No. This is final. Your retirement has been long coming. I will issue the statement tonight.” Her voice softened even further. “This is no reflection on you, my friend. You’re almost in your fifties, and everyone’s body wears out with age. I will give you a position in the Assembly, if you truly wish to continue in politics. But I cannot risk invasion just for your pride.” She sighed. “We can discuss the details later. Right now, we both should be attending Veridon’s execution.” She shook her head. “I really didn’t need another traitor rearing their head, but here we are.”

Lyrus blinked. “You’re doing that now?”

“Yes. It’s a reminder to our enemies, a show of force while they are weak. It will, hopefully, help convince the Khazath we are strong enough to repel an attack.” The Trett straightened. “I will give you some time to process your demotion, but I must leave.” She relaxed a little. “Good work today, Lyrus. And I am truly sorry about the others.”

She turned and left, ignoring Xanala’s mother completely this time, the priests following her. Lyrus’ eyes followed the Trett for a long time. Then, when she was gone, he broke down, tears of anger and sorrow streaming down his face, his breath long, ragged gasps.

Xanala recognized those symptoms. He was having a panic attack. Something he’d counseled her through a hundred times. Her heart ached, and she wished she knew how to return the favor, and help him.

Xanala’s mother placed her hand on Lyrus’ back. He shook it away.

“Go,” he hissed. “I’ll meet you at the execution. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Xanala’s mother hesitated. We shouldn’t leave, Xanala thought. We need to help him.

They didn’t stay, though. Xanala’s mother left, and she followed, trying to shut the soul-breaking sound of her father’s sobbing from her mind.

***

Veridon’s execution went smoothly, and Xanala was relieved to find that no inquisitive eyes rested on her during the event. The Trett gave a brief speech detailing Veridon’s conspiracy with Ireo and his crimes, and then he was killed. It was quick, simple, and brutal.

Xanala felt a strange guilt, though. Veridon, though gagged, had stared at her pleadingly the whole time the Trett had spoken. Part of her knew she should have helped him. He’d just been trying to save a burner. Someone just like herself.

She didn’t. She just watched silently as the executioner swung his sword, and Veridon fell to the ground in two pieces.

Her father had approached her shortly after the proceedings had concluded. He’d said only a few words to her.

“We will need to move up our plans for the coup. Tonight, we train.”

And so, a few hours later, Xanala waited in a private training room deep within the Undercity. It was a secret room, the walls shielded by metal and soundproofing and anti-muon scanner devices. The setup was simple, on the inside, the place was a large metal dome, no furnishings, no patterns on the floor nor the ceiling. Just dull steel all around.

“Again.”

Lyrus stood before her, his eyes still puffy, but his face now taut with anger. He stubbornly wore the white-and-silver robes of a Masked Warrior, and an Ever Surgeblade waited at his side. He’d have to turn it in before the day was through, but Xanala suspected he wouldn’t turn it in a moment earlier than he had to.

“I can’t do it for too long,” Xanala said. “I’ll wear out.”

“I know,” her father replied. “But you’re not worn out yet. Again.”

Xanala sighed, but nodded, then closed her eyes. She Reached for Ever first, burning the memories of those around her. It was difficult — this place was deep underground, in the farthest layer of the Undercity, and few lived near it even on the surface. But, Xeredon was still a highly populated planet, and with effort, she managed to pull some echoes from far away and burn those.

Her eyes opened, and she was now alight with Ever. She fell into an attack stance, throwing her hand forward, burning her Ever to heat the air above her palm, then shoot the resulting beam of concentrated plasma into the steel. It sizzled as it struck the metal. She thrust her other hand forward a moment later, sending a similar bolt into another section of the wall. She repeated that motion several times, alternating hands, practicing aiming while shooting them off as fast as she could, all while keeping the attack concentrated into as small a bolt as possible — a more dense attack would do the same damage while burning less Ever.

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Finally, she ran out of Ever. She closed her eyes again, this time burning Purity. That involved burning her own body — sort of. You didn’t actually burn yourself, just your connection to the Purityweb, but every person had a limited amount they could burn, and it usually depended on their physical strength. Burning stamina was the slang term for it. Immediately, her muscles quickened, and she lit up with white light.

While she was Infused with Purity, she could feel the physical world around her, a sixth sense much like memory sense, but one that, instead of showing her others’ thoughts, told her where every piece of matter nearby was, and what it was made of. Atom sense, it was called. Her memory sense, of course, shut off while she was burning Purity — each of the Three Powers attracted towards itself, and repelled the other two.

The Endowed was prophesied to unite those Powers, wielding all three at the same time. A feat most would deem impossible, were it not for the existence of Dawnbreaker.

But she didn’t have time to worry about that now. She knelt, touching her hand to the steel floor, then burned Purity. The steel melded with her skin, flowing into it, forming glowing, heavenly titrite armor. That was what burning Purity did — it allowed you to shift your body, either moving around the matter already inside you, or adding matter from outside, and using that matter to enhance your physical capabilities. You could use it to heal yourself, too, by shifting your body back into the shape it had been before the wound. And others, if they let you, though that was more complicated.

She stood up, now covered entirely in a suit of titrite, even her eyes, though she could still sense everything around her through her atom sense. She threw a few punches in the air, then shifted into a collection of training stances, practicing what it felt like to use her amplified muscles.

After a minute, though, she let the Purity dissipate from her body. The metal seeped out of her skin, then fell away in pieces.

She stepped back, careful to avoid stabbing herself on the shards, panting. She’d been doing this exercise for two hours now, and it was taking a toll on her; using the Powers for too long always did. She hesitated. This was an exercise in switching between each of the Three Powers quickly, designed by her father, and the next part of it called for using Void.

He has called the Eliminators, Oblivion said suddenly. They are almost here. I can see them, in the third layer. You don’t have much time…

She froze. The voice wasn’t usually so specific. She paused for a moment, considering if it could actually be right. But no, it was Oblivion speaking. He was lying to her, as he always did.

“Void,” her father growled. “You’re getting slow. Switch faster.”

She hesitated, then shook her head, pushing away the voice. Then she closed her eyes again. It wasn’t technically necessary to do that to Reach, but most burners did so anyway. It only took a couple seconds to light up with one of the Powers, and shutting off your senses helped you focus more on connecting to the proper Realm.

Burning Void, though, was a far different experience than Ever or Purity. Using the other two could be traumatic — you were seeing other’s thoughts, or temporarily draining your life force, but there was still a peace that came while Infused with them. A rightness.

Not so with Void. In fact, it felt the opposite. As Xanala Reached for emotion around her, everything turned wrong. Pain prickled across her skin. Unnatural fear pounded in her heart, a sinking, endless pit of it. And, though she could not see who it was, she felt as if someone — or something — was watching her, eyes boring into her very soul.

Emotions flew through her mind. Emotions of people in the city, tired as they went to bed, some thrilled about the results of the Testing, others resignedly realizing that they’d been wrong to hope again.

And other emotions. Emotions of two Eliminators, seething with hatred. Hatred directed toward a young girl named Xanala Erdor.

He is turning you in, the voice whispered. It was much, much louder now. Louder than it should have been, even if she was wielding the Third Power. He has betrayed you.

Run, little one. Kill him, and run, while you still can.

The fear suddenly became more intense — her own natural fear, not a projection of the Void. The emotions of those around her fled as she caved, failing to summon Void. She returned to reality on her knees, gasping for breath, a cold sweat running down her back.

“There’s Eliminators,” she gasped. “I felt them.”

A brief flash of panic crossed Lyrus’ face, so brief that Xanala would not have caught it were it not for the paranoia caused by Oblivion’s constant warnings. A snort quickly replaced it.

“I covered our tracks well, daughter. We will be fine.”

Xanala hesitated, focusing. No, there were two Eliminators, at least -- there could be more. Seething with the desire to move that often came before a fight. “I think I’m right, Dad. I can feel them really well. We need to leave…”

“We will be fine.” Lyrus’ voice was just a little too loud. He let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t have the patience to deal with your nonsense today, Xanala. Continue your exercises.”

He is lying. Do not pretend you cannot see it.

She hesitated, her emotions twisting and churning and raging within her. Oblivion had to be lying. This couldn’t be. Her father had always… had always…

He has always been more abusive than you were willing to acknowledge, Oblivion hissed. The coup is just a plan for him to gain more power, little one. Do not be deceived. He blocks your way to true freedom. Do you not remember the night when he held you back from it? The Talar would have welcomed you…

Her father growled. “Get up. I almost died defending you. You have no right to be lazy.”

He berates you. Denies you your humanity. You are a tool to him, a sword to remove his opponents. He threatened the Trett, you know. She is fully aware of your powers, but she is afraid of your father’s madness, and your loyalty to it.

But you do not have to be afraid. I can set you free. All it takes is a word…

Trembling, Xanala slowly stood. She checked again with her soulsense, and still she felt the Eliminators rushing toward them.

Sense your father, little one. He is Infused, but I will assist you.

Cringing, she pushed harder, Reaching for Lyrus’ emotions. She felt a strange resistance as she did, but, as promised, it puffed away as she pushed firmly with her willpower.

And there, she found a tempest. Of sickening hatred and fear, though very little sorrow. Most of all, though, there was cold, unholy determination.

She stepped back, heart pounding. “You’re lying,” she said. A part of her could not believe she was saying those words. A part of her knew they had always been true. “That’s why you have the Ever Surgeblade. You wanted to be Infused, so I couldn’t read your thoughts. All so you can hide your thoughts and lie to my face.”

Her father chuckled. He was a good actor, Xanala admitted. He didn’t look the slightest bit concerned. “Perhaps we need to be done. Unfortunate, but it seems you’re cracking. I have always wondered what your mother sees in you…”

“You’re not answering the question.” Xanala was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. How long had she pent up this anger? The stress of hiding, all these years? It was all coming to the surface now. “The Eliminators are coming, aren’t they? You’re having me train so you can weaken me. So I won’t be able to burn for as long when they arrive.” She stepped forward, closing her eyes. She burned Purity this time. Armor would serve her best, if she was right about this. When she opened her eyes, she was glowing white.

“We’re training because you need practice,” her father said flatly. “Nothing more.” He was still maintaining his act, and doing so well. But there was just the slightest flicker in his expression. The slightest twitch of his finger toward his Surgeblade as Xanala stepped toward him, titrite rushing up her leg and forming into a suit around her.

He was lying. Her gut told her that much.

Kill, the Void whispered. He deserves it.

No, not father. He always backs me. He’s always loyal. He…

He had betrayed her. The one person she had trusted, the one person she had loved, was the same as the rest. Oblivion’s touch finally began to overcome her.

She stretched out her hand, closing her eyes and burning more Purity to summon a titrite spike jutting out of her wrist. Then, she swept at her father’s neck.

He reacted instantly, drawing his Surgeblade and blocking the blow in one fluid motion. For an instant he closed his eyes, and Ever flowed from the Surge into his veins, then spread through his blood into his skin. Stepping back, he raised his hand, burning his newfound energy.

A wave of force slammed into Xanala, but she was ready — she knew her father’s tactics as sure as she knew his ruthlessness. She burned Purity, turning the metal floor into her armor, then extending her footplates and melding them into the floor for just a moment. The force of Lyrus’ attack whipped against her, and she was forced to lean forward to avoid toppling backward, but she held her position. Then, stepping forward, she batted away her father’s Surgeblade, snatched him by the neck, and pinned him against the wall. Desperately, he burned more Ever, summoning a burst of flame that roared into Xanala, but her titrite absorbed the heat easily. Soon, he was no longer Infused with anything.

Kill him.

“Tell me you’re not lying,” she hissed. “Tell me they’re not coming, and I’ll stop.”

Kill him.

Her father gasped. “I’m… not… lying.”

But the act was gone, and she could see his face. His eyes were wide with fear, but his shoulders also sagged with guilt. She trembled, dropping him to the floor. He lunged for the Surgeblade, but she stepped on his back, pinning him to the floor with unnatural strength. She stood there, shaking, for too long.

Kill him.

She was angry. She was afraid. Most of all, she wasn’t sure what to do with the voice in her head.

He deserves it.

She released Purity, letting it flee without burning it, then immediately Reached for Ever. She burned her father’s thoughts as she did.

They’re almost here, he was thinking. They’ll have Surges.

We can still kill her.

But she saw other things in his mind, too. The Trett knew. She’d known for years now, and the only reason Xanala had been spared had been her father’s repeated, careful blackmail, made possible by his position within the Masked Warriors. Things suddenly made more sense. Her ability to walk into Raerok and kill a political rival undetected. Her father’s panic over his lost duties. Even now, she was only alive because the Trett feared Lyrus would try to have Xanala kill her at the last possible moment.

It was just as Oblivion had said.

I warned you, he rumbled. I truly tried to stop this. I still can, if you give in. But if you do not give yourself to me, there is nothing I can do, and you will die.

Xanala hesitated, but pushed the thought back. The god had been right, but it was still the Void speaking. It was right about one thing, though — right now, she was alive because of her father’s efforts. And, if she didn’t run, she would die because of them, too.

Okron, she hated him. And Etheri, she loved him. The duality of those emotions clashed so strongly inside her it took an intense display of will to even move.

But move she did. Her eyes opened, and she was now alight with blue Ever, her mind sharper, though the voice still whispered incessantly in her mind.

Kill him. He betrayed you. There is no reason not to.

The voice didn’t understand.

She needed to run. All of Xeredon would know about her by now; there could be no covering up such a scandal. She hadn’t been able to get an exact picture of how many Eliminators were coming — soul sense could only read one’s emotions and Intent, not their physical vision — but there was likely at least a single kill squad, numbering two dozen men. Combine their expertise with the Surges they wielded, and they would best Xanala easily.

Still she stood there. Staring down at her father’s face. Hating him.

She raised her hand, forming a ball of flames within it.

Good. Do it.

Her hand trembled. She hated this man, and yet she loved him. Deep down, she disagreed with everything he stood for, yet for the last decade she had spent every minute of every day trying to please him.

Yes, she needed to run. Not just from the Eliminators, but from this.

She burned her Ever to throw her father backward, then snatched the Surgeblade from the ground, then dashed away, out into the stiff wind of the Undercity. She ran as fast as she could, but still she heard her father shout behind her.

“You won’t get away. You’re weak. You always have been!”

He was deranged. Evil. Yet his disapproval still cut her to the bone. So she just kept running, tears and sweat running freely down her face, until his screams faded into echoes, then into silence.