Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV by Hodges, Aaron (most important books to read .txt) 📗

the rosy hue of hope, of joy and love. And looking upon their friends, the Sovereigns realised their mistake.

We must focus on the light.

Gathering their power, they swept back into the chaos, immersing themselves in the surging emotions, feeling the hatred that had torn them asunder, that had led humanity to slaughter helpless children, that had unleashed the Tangatan rage upon humanity. But it was not those emotions, those memories they sought this time. They were entrenched, experiences that could not be ignored, would never be forgotten.

Yet there were other emotions amongst them, buried deep by Maya, smothered by her hatred. Buried, but not destroyed. One by one, the Sovereigns dredged them from the depths. Images flickered through their minds as they passed above the battlefield: a Tangatan man and human woman in one another’s arms; a human spear raised above a helpless Tangatan child, withdrawn; even images of themselves as they walked the streets of Mildeth and Ashura. Memories still fresh, suppressed but not forgotten. Now they returned at the bidding of the Sovereigns, to remind the people of what could be.

More and more, the images of hope rose from the past, of families left behind, of children and loved ones waiting, praying for their return, of joys forgotten in the depths of their darkness. The reasons they had first taken steps down this path, but which had been forgotten in the pursuit of Maya’s conquest.

Amidst it all, the Sovereigns felt their own joy swelling, their memories sweeping outwards to join with the others: the warmth as Lukys danced with Sophia in the courtyard of New Nihelm, the joy of the children in the streets, the hope they’d felt, watching their peoples protect one another, and a future they had once envisioned.

Of peace between their kinds.

Atop the walls of Mildeth, Lukys opened his eyes, sensing a change had come over the battle. Beside him, Sophia stirred too. Blinking, he struggled to adjust to the return, to separate the links of his mind from their union. Relief touched him as he found Dale back on his feet, Keria at his side. And Travis too, standing nearby, an enormous smile on his face.

Lukys frowned at the sight, and straightening, he stepped cautiously to the edge of the wall. And only as he stood there, looking out across the battlefield, did he realise the change that had drawn them back, the impossibility that had come to pass on the walls of Mildeth.

Silence.

* * *

Erika screamed as the energy gathered in her fist, burning, boiling, blinding. With another cry, she threw out her arm, directing it at the blur in the dark that was the Old One. The figure staggered, but the Old One’s momentum still carried her clear of Erika’s magic.

Laughter whispered from the shadows as the figure straightened and Erika panted, struggling to gather her strength. The harsh thunk of blows on flesh carried from elsewhere in the dark, as Cara and her half-sister did battle.

She caught a glint and rustle of feathers as the two darted past. In the narrow corridors, Cara’s wings were only a hinderance against the maddened Amina. Light flashed as the queen snarled and unleashed a burst of her own magic. Twisting, Cara somehow managed avoid the debilitating effects of the gauntlet, her smaller size and agility at least aiding her against the larger woman.

A crack followed as Amina’s fist collided with the Anahera’s cheek, sending her crashing back. Erika winced and in her mind the voices that aided her rose to a cacophony, the Anahera’s terror swelling.

Clenching her teeth, Erika forced herself to ignore them, to turn her back on Cara’s plight. She had to believe in her friend, trust she would survive, would distract Amina long enough for Erika to do what needed to be done. There was only way to win this fight—by killing the Old One.

With Darien down and Maisie vanished, somehow, impossibly, that task had fallen on Erika’s shoulders.

She balled her gauntleted hand into a fist, allowing the power to grow, to light the dark. Its brilliance revealed Maya standing a few feet away, smile still stretched across her lips, eyes glimmering in her magic’s glow.

“You know you cannot win, human,” she rasped, “and yet you fight on.” She shook her head. “Such is the arrogance of humanity.”

Abruptly she flickered, darting forward. Erika screamed, hurling herself to the side and bringing up her fist, unleashing the power. Light flashed from her, silhouetting the Old One, tearing a scream from Maya.

Then Erika collided with the wall of the tunnel and tears of pain sprung to her eyes. Stumbling, she struggled to see, to spot the Old One before she attacked again. Laughter sounded in the narrow confines, but Erika’s magic must have had some effect, for the Old One retreated again, merging with the dark. Words echoed through the tunnel and Erika swung this way and that, chasing shadows.

Nearby, Cara screamed and hurled herself at Amina, catching the queen about the waist. Amina stumbled but did not fall. Instead, she bared her teeth and clenching her fists together, brought them down on Cara’s back, driving the Anahera to her knees.

A snarl tore from Cara as she released the queen and tried to leap away, but the half-blood was faster still, catching one of the Goddess’s wings as they fluttered outwards. Cara screamed as the queen dragged her back, before several feather tore loose, freeing her.

She staggered away from the queen, spinning, eyes wild as blood dripped from the ends of one wing. Glimpsing the beginnings of madness in her friend’s eyes, Erika cursed, but there was nothing she could do for Cara, nothing she could say to draw the Goddess back from the edge.

Instead she turned and sought the Old One.

“It is not arrogance that makes fight,” she whispered, more to herself than in answer to Maya’s whispers. “It’s hope.” Raising her gauntlet, she swung it in an arc, seeking out her foe. “Maybe I cannot win. Maybe you’ll kill