Blackness.

  Mikel, Ember and Shawn were surrounded by blackness.

  Submersio was up in smoke, a terrible and bright sea of yellow fire consumed the city. White stone columns and statues collided into red terracotta roofs, kicking up dust into the angry sky. Bodies littered the streets, plebian or legionary, tribune or rabble, the Maelim slaughtered them all.

  It was the Maelim who were the blackest of all, the essence was rotten and hateful. Ruth told them that Maelim were far from evil, just corrupted, twisted and abrasive. Mikel shook his head, be that as it may, it was clear to him that these Maelim were simply evil. Empathy cannot save them now.

  Their supply of marble long abandoned, Mikel and the others took refuge in a giant olive tree. A group of Maelim cannibalized their stock, cracking the stone in their oafishness. Ember’s concealment spell was ingenious, a breakthrough in the Adamite spirit. Yet they couldn’t move, lest they be spotted. They just had to wait till the Maelim left. Everywhere they saw red and black eyes. The Maelim had a mix of gear of both Republican and Murexen stock, likely scavenged. They whooped and cursed and hollered as they reveled in the carnage.

  Mikel closed his eyes as he heard the occasional distant scream. Yet another life lost, he prayed they didn’t suffer long before they received the kiss of death.

  “What are we gonna do?” whispered Shawn. “We can’t just stay here.”

  “Maybe we can blast our way out,” replied Ember. “Our power combined, we might be able to pull it off.”

  Shawn grumbled. “Why can’t we just teleport again?”

  Mikel raised his hands. “Patience, my students. We have to wait here. Teleportation draws too much attention, and I don’t want to risk getting off target again.”

  Ember pointed up ahead, her hand trembling. “You guys see this?”

  Mikel turned to see where she pointed, and his face paled.

  A Maelim much, much bigger and bulkier than the others was passing through. He wore a plumed iron helm of Murexen make, and his body was covered in obsidian plate and mail, a red plaid cape trailed down his shoulders. His arms were bare, covered in tattoos and wrapped in chains, ending in blood-drenched short swords. His face was rugged and scarred, two tusks jutted out of his cheekbones and his eyes were red.

  This Maelim towered over the others, and they instantly knew this one was the leader. Perhaps an opportunity had presented itself. Perhaps they could cut the head off the snake. Mikel turned to the others and nodded. All they had to do was wait for his party to get closer.

  “Are you sure we can’t stay here, my lord?” whimpered a groveling Maelim, careful not to look his master in the eye.

  “No.” The warlord’s voice was deep and gruttal, each word like the grinding of a mountain stone. “The city is on faulty ground. What did I expect from a place called Submersio? It is too unstable to build upon and too weak to defend. Primus will be sending more of their legions soon, we need a stronger position.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord, I thought this place would suit our people.”

  The warlord patted his underling on the shoulder. “It’s okay. You did what you could.”

  A third Maelim spoke up. “Perhaps we should head east? There is an island off the shore. Nothing but rabble there.”

  “Are you daft?” spat the first underling. “The humans there are strange and dangerous. They have glowing eyes and weird powers.”

  “But their leader is some deaf girl. Easy prey!”

  The warlord gave an eager grin, a mouth full of sharp, rotting teeth. “Sounds interesting, tell me more?”

  Mikel smirked. How about a demonstration? He finished his incantation. He reappeared and shot a fireball. The warlord caught sight of the light and ducked, the blast hitting the underling instead. He was engulfed in flames, wailing in agony before falling to the ground motionless.

  Mikel cursed, and with an incantation, he disappeared once more. The warlord was unbothered by the intruder, even as other Maelim quickly rushed to the tree. The warlord raised an arm, stopping their attack. He smirked. “I knew you were there, human. There’s no point in hiding. I do not wish to fight, merely to talk. Come down and you won’t be harmed.”

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  The Maelim stood in front of the tree. He shook his arms, unraveling the chains, twirling them in his hands. His grin faded. “Show yourself, or I tear down this fucking tree.” When only silence answered, he sighed loudly. He shot out his chain blades, wrapping them around the trunk and pulled. The wood snapped in a sea of bark. The tree came tumbling down. Mikel and the others rolled onto the ground in the process. They dodged the falling branches and leaves just in time. “There you are!” he chirped.

  Mikel staggered to his feet. “Who are you?”

  The warlord bowed dramatically. “They call me The Butcher.” He looked over the three of them and his head tilted. “Who are you? Or perhaps, what are you?”

  “We are Godshards,” proclaimed Ember.

  “Shards of the God Dominus Omnitus merged with human souls,” added Shawn.

  The Butcher smiled, a genuine fascination on his face that made them sick. “Even after centuries of slaughter, you encounter something new. I take it you’re the humans who my unfortunate underling was referring to?”

  “The island is ours!” snarled Ember. “You cannot have it.”

  The Butcher twirled his chains. “Well, I’m afraid it’s no longer up to you. My deal is this, you will leave now and go to this island, tell your masters to leave. In exchange, you will all get to live.”

  Mikel strode forward, his glowing eyes brightened. “You are no match for our power! Leave this city and never come back!”

  The Butcher’s grin widened as he spun his chain blades faster. “Make me!”

  Mikel muttered his incantations curtly and shot a fireball, the red hot blast surging like a meteor. The Butcher swirled his chain blades, and they sliced through it. Ember flanked the warlord, whispering a spell as her entire body glowed and morphed. In the next instant stood a large brown bear, which tackled the warlord to the ground.

  She brought down her claws, but the Butcher kept his wrists up, blocking the blows. With a headbutt and a slash from the chain blade, Bear-Ember was sent reeling back, a large red gash arrayed on her shoulder as she morphed back into a human form. A flaming sword from Mikel blocked the Butcher’s insidious blades before he could finish her off.

  Mikel quickly found himself on the backfoot, The Butcher’s chain blades were swift and hard to predict. Another spell conjured a translucent blue barrier, round yet small, like an ethereal shield. Mikel fought valiantly and swung his fire sword with all his strength, but he was no match.

  Shawn closed the distance from one flank, charging at unnatural speed, a sword in his hand. From the other, cannoned Ember with her second wind, in the form of a wolf. Ember leapt onto his back, biting desperately at his shoulder, while Shawn joined the swordplay with his own blade.

  Yet the Butcher was indomitable.

  His chain blades were inhumanly fast, and no attack could come close. With a fierce grapple, the Butcher yanked Wolf-Ember off him and threw her into Shawn. The two Godshards tumbled in the dirt, smashing through the bark of the dead olive tree.

  A great slash broke Mikel’s barrier and another sliced off his sword hand, trailing blood. Mikel groaned in pain as he fell to his knees. Fighting through it, he cast another spell with gritted teeth. The metal in The Butcher’s chain blades altering and warping before shifting back into place.

  “Nice try,” said The Butcher. “But my chain blades don’t degrade so easily. They are a beautiful mix of star iron and daemon stone. No attack, magical or mortal, can best them! Give up now, and the only thing lost will be your pride and your hand.”

  “Never!” shouted Mikel. He cast another spell, a fireball, white hot and larger than the others. The blaze was growing in his remaining hand. The Butcher’s eyes narrowed, and he lashed out with one of his chain blades. In an instant, the metal wrapped around Mikel’s neck. Mikel strained and rasped but he couldn’t speak! He couldn’t finish the spell! Mikel’s vision darkened, the last thing he saw was the fireball fizzling away like the final embers of hope.

  “No!” cried Shawn as he stammered to his feet. He muttered an incantation and shot forward a clutch of ice shards. The Butcher blocked them easily with his other chain blade. With a final constriction and a wet crunching sound, Mikel’s neck exploded in a fleshy mess of blood, tissue and bone. A blue flash shot out of his body like an angry lightning bolt. Mikel’s lifeless body hit the dirt with a wet thud.

  Shawn and Ember gasped at the sight. They gulped as The Butcher closed in. He knelt down to speak to them on their level.

  “I admire your tenacity, your power and your determination,” said The Butcher. “But I am among the first of the Maelim. Our make is not of mindless brutes, but princes of darkness and power. I am fury, I am strength. I am The Butcher! Consider this my warning. Go back to your island, tell them that The Butcher is coming. If they wish to be spared the same fate as your friend, your people will disperse. It is my island now.”

  He gestured to Mikel’s corpse. “Take him with you. Bury him with honor. Understand that this is nothing personal. I merely wish for a home for my people, and in this world, if you wish to survive, you must seize what you can.”

  Shawn cradled Mikel’s body. Ember glared fiercely, her glowing eyes brightened. She would have morphed to attack again, had Shawn not shaken his head. “This isn’t over,” she spat. “You’ll come to the island at your peril. Ruth will finish what Mikel couldn’t.”

  The Butcher rolled his eyes. “Such pointless defiance.”

  Ember muttered another spell, shapeshifting into a Maxime horse, white hued and strong. Shawn gently draped Mikel’s body on her saddle and mounted shortly after. Like lightning, Horse-Ember darted off. Even in her equine form, she couldn’t help but cry, and Shawn was little better. Despite their bluster, Ember was terrified. When was the last time a foe could take on any Godshard? Much less three? Would Ruth be strong enough?