65. Siege

  It was hard to sleep with the light and the thunder of the world-defenses going off every few hours, but somehow Hien Ro managed. That he had his daughters in his arms helped immensely, and those girls proved that children can sleep through just about anything.

  Two weeks had passed since the lights in the skies had started, but little had actually changed. Morning came as it always did, except that their were pillars in the sky and lines of orange and read throughout the blue of the heavens. During the day, you couldn’t see the large maw. During the day, you couldn’t see the hammering energies that crashed against the shields that kept the small people of Atla safe except when they struck.

  But strike they did, and one such strike caused Hien Ro to jump as he was shaving and cut his cheek. He sighed, even as the wound healed a second later.

  He stepped into the dining room where his grandmother was reassuring his girls after that latest strike that everything would be alright and that Lord Little Bug would protect them all no matter what.

  Just like he had before.

  Hien Ro sat at the table and thanked his wife as Yara served him porridge before sitting next to him with her own breakfast. They ate listening to Quan’s reassurances and wished that they could be so certain in matters.

  When he had finished eating, he kissed the women in his life goodbye and flew off to the command center, where the day of patiently waiting through the assaults would continue.

  There was nothing to do while the shields held. There would be nothing to do if the shields failed. All they could hope for was that the empress of the Divine Fates Empire grew bored and left, it seemed.

  He sighed as the mortals detailed the readings from the various arrays and formations that were set up to monitor the defense network.

  Atla could hold for years.

  How long could Nadia sustain her assault?

  The sky lit up with cataclysmic energies once more, and Hien Ro cursed as it caused him to spill his drink.

  He cleaned up the liquid with one of the papers from the report and threw the rest of them down on the desk. “If the world is ending today, then I’m going to spend it with my family. If not, well, it’s not like my presence here is helping anything.”

  He walked out of the command center.

  The mortals in the room exchanged looks, then looked to the next most powerful cultivator in the room.

  Thaseus sighed as the weight of the local command fell onto his shoulders. “Bring me the reports,” he said.

  Meanwhile, the world continued to shake.

  ~~~~~~~~

  “How are you feeling, Atla?” I asked.

  “I can do it,” Atla answered. “I can last. Whatever she hits me with, I can endure.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” I said.

  My world-son looked up at me from where he sat crosslegged on the floor. He hadn’t been very active since the siege had begun, hadn’t played or peppered me with questions. I’d gotten reports that the statues of Matla had stopped working.

  “I always wondered what it would be like to fight for your life,” Atla said quietly. “Now I know. It’s not as much fun as I thought it would be.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s really not.”

  “And it’s even worse for me than the mortals who live on me. Because if I die, so do they.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted.

  “Father. Please. Help.”

  “I need a little longer, Atla,” I said, reviewing the progress of my contingency plan. “How much longer can you last?”

  “A few months,” Atla admitted. “But...I hate this. It’s scary, and I’m worried that if I slip for even one second that the shields will fail and something will die because I wasn’t strong enough.”

  “It’s not fun being a god.”

  “No,” Atla said. “It’s not.”

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  ~~~~~~~

  Sora lay on the roof of the dormitory with the boys and girls who had enrolled in the Thunderous Illumination Academy with her. They were pretending that the lights in the sky were fireworks, and that the energies were harmless and not world ending.

  “Sora, what was Majeesha like?” one of the boys asked.

  Sora sighed, because eventually everyone from Atla asked that. “It was terrible, but it also wasn’t so bad. You had to fight to live, but so did everyone else. You didn’t know that there was any other way to live, so you didn’t know how softness felt or that you were missing it.”

  “You couldn’t have babies until you came here.”

  “I still can’t have babies, I’m too young,” she pointed out.

  “But in a few years you can.”

  “If the world doesn’t end, yeah,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to though.”

  “Me either,” the boy said.

  They fell back into silence as the sky lit up once again.

  “That was a bright one,” the boy commented.

  “Yeah it was.”

  “Do you think there will be class tomorrow?”

  “There was yesterday.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  They continued to talk about nothing until they fell asleep.

  ~~~~~~~

  Jumper squawked. The Tunrida had been silent since the lights in the sky had begun, and Little Bugs hatchlings, which weren’t hatchlings any longer, had nestled in close to feel each other’s comfort. But suddenly their massive caretaker had launched himself off the tree above them.

  Jumper jumped into the air and flew after her ancestor. She flew swiftly, aiming to catch up with the ancient spirit beast.

  She wasn’t fast enough.

  ~~~~~~~

  Mai Mai screamed, and she pushed , and it was over.

  A little cry signaled the changing of her world. She squeezed the hand of the Avatar of her husband, for he couldn’t be there himself, and she sobbed with so many complex emotions that it would take her years to name them all.

  And then the thunder of the world-ending attack came again, and the newborn cried a little louder.

  “Hush, hush,” Hien Quan said as she bathed the child. “Everything will be alright. Your father will see to that.”

  “I wish you could be here for real,” Mai Mai whispered to the avatar.

  “I do too,” he said. “With all of my heart.”

  “How much longer?”

  “Soon,” the avatar answered.

  Hien Quan passed the babe into Mai Mai’s arms, and the avatar held her as she held the child. “Why won’t you tell me how you plan to break the siege?” she asked.

  “Because if I told you, then someone besides me would know. And then it wouldn’t work,” the avatar answered. “Don’t worry. I promise. My daughter will live knowing that her parents love her more than anything and she’ll grow up in a paradise where lights in the sky mean nothing more than celebration.”

  They lay in the birthing bed together until Mai Mai fell asleep, still holding her child.

  The Avatar picked the child out of his wife’s hands and held it carefully. “I’m sorry, Hope. This might be the last time you ever see me. If it is, know that this is all for you. Please, grow up safe, strong, and happy.”

  Then he passed the child to Hien Quan and dissipated.

  ~~~~~~

  “Hope is born,” I said, opening my eyes as the memories of the avatar returned to me. I smiled with the joy at having held my daughter for the first time. That it might be my last was something that I dreaded, but did not give voice to except in the corner of my soul reserved for doubt and fear.

  It was a very large corner, but not one that I could look into right now.

  The war council turned to me. I hadn’t spoken much during the recent meetings, and everyone was more or less simply waiting for the day when some crack formed in the shields. When entropy gave way to chaos, and the siege would end with destruction and chaos.

  “What does that mean?” Shisuke asked.

  “My daughter. That’s her name,” I said, smiling. “And it’s the last thing that was holding me back. Not holding her would be a regret that I couldn’t have let go of. Hien Ro, seeing you with your daughters, I always had a sliver of envy in my heart. I’ve been a parent before, in other lives, but those memories aren’t ones that I’ve lived in this life. I needed that joy before facing Nadia. And now that I know that I’m leaving Hope behind, I’m ready.”

  I smiled. “It’s time for me to face Nadia.”

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