{Enki | Cinder’s Shrine}

Xelan felt the eyes of the people he loved on him. Each of them wondered what Celindria’s last words meant.

“Father, you should have told her what you taught me of Hell.”

Why couldn’t Celindria understand he tried—Elden, did he try! Xelan loved her like a daughter, and she continued to punish him for a mistake he could never take back—

No.

This doubt and heartache was exactly what Celindria wanted. For Tameka and for Pax—for the entire Vast Collective—Xelan needed to maintain his composure more than ever before.

The Prince of Cinder turned and faced the people he loved and refused to give them explanations or excuses. Xelan met them in the eye. Korac straightened from where he leaned against the wall, unfolded his arms, and almost stood at attention. Nox was right. The best soldier. Beside him, Sagan’s tear-stained face hardened to the pitiless expression she wore when the Seamswalker split Gait apart. Ready to do what was necessary. Andrew’s eyes said he knew already, invaded Xelan’s mind and read his intentions. He didn’t look sorry about it. He simply looked primed to address it. Kyle’s eyes were clearer and a little brighter after his memory walk with Silence. The good it did him would rally him through the rest of the fight to figure things out with her. A worthy cause. Lamassau donned his Pil platinum gauntlets, prepared for this battle. Even though Tritan faces were near-featureless, resolution wasn’t hard to decipher from Lam’s expression.

Tumu.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

The thirteen-foot tall Primary stared at Xelan not with pity, but with mercy. In that deep voice of his, he said, “The past asks us to pay for mistakes of its making. What will you do, Prince Xelan? The Icarus, once so young when he first came to me for help, looks at me now with old eyes from a life of harsh lessons. What will you do?”

Mid-stride, Xelan said, “I’m finishing it,” and walked back into the fray.

Imminent had stolen so much from Xelan, and the more connections he made to the underground organization, the less like a person he felt. An experiment, like everything else—

No.

This experiment went rogue long ago, and Xelan would not let his family pay any further for the sins of someone else’s past and futures. Imminent could swallow his life, but he’d make certain they’d choked on it.

The Collective Generals waited at the glass view of Torrentus. They stepped back to make way for Xelan and his people. Standing in the shrine closest to the Torrentus continent, he peered through the glass and waited.

The signal.

“If we do our jobs right, my signal will be a lot of non-responsive static and clear skies, but I know I’ll deliver.”

Xelan whispered into his mic to try once more. “Fury—Tameka, come in.”

Nothing but static.

Out of his periphery, Sagan gave him a thumbs up. She was right. This was part of the plan. Xelan needed to trust the plan and trust his partner. Tameka was capable, amazing—a force of nature, really. With beautiful skin, cute freckles, the most fun hair, and a radiant smile. He was so happy to love someone who let it shine so freely, so often. Perfect in combat with the strongest kick ever delivered to Xelan’s sternum. He couldn’t wait to beg Tameka for more children with her eyes and maybe his hair. He’d teach them and Pax all how to grin—

Sagan pointed at the storm and drew Xelan from his reverie. As planned, the storm pulsed.

Pehton shouted, “Fury’s got it!”

Someone else cried, “The Shadow have done it!”

Again Torrentus pulsed, and Xelan loved his fierce warrior on the ground battling a storm which had raged for thousands of years—

Orange.

Orange and red.

The once gray storm clouds whirled in a blaze—a hurricane of fire no one could survive.

“Ta—Tameka…”