Light in Dark Places

Chapter Fifty-Two

The soldiers, of course, immediately spring into action. The cadets of the Special Course are no less ready for action.

"Get to the shelter," Patrick yells.

"We can help!" Jude says. "Also, again, gods." He points, once again, rather emphatically at Halcyon and Hiraeth.

"The Kings can handle this," Patrick says, flicking his eyes to the gods but then back to the cadets.

They cannot, Beloved. You know they cannot.

It is a bit strange to have Hiraeth's thought in his mind when Hiraeth is right there next to him.

We can help, Hiraeth says. But then we would have to leave here.

Benedict knows that Hiraeth is acknowledging without acknowledging the epiphany that Benedict is still a little too terrified to confront.

The gods can help. Hiraeth can help. If Hiraeth does not help, a lot of people are going to die. But that means leaving them here. He closes his eyes, and braces himself against Hiraeth as the earth continues to shake. The echoes don't help. The echoes go in every direction.

"You should help," Agatha says quietly to his side. "I'll be here."

And she knows. Her Ash talent and Benedict's Ash talent are similar, even if they are nothing at all alike. Even if they could not be more opposite if some divine power actually planned it out this way.

"OK," he says, opening his eyes. He holds onto Hiraeth's arm. "Then let's go."

*

"Where are they going?" Patrick shouts indignantly when Hiraeth and Benedict disappear as if they had never been.

"They had better be helping the Kings," Jude mutters.

"In all fairness, I wouldn't blame him if he left to safer ground," Marco says glumly. "Although I would have liked it if they brought us with them."

"They're off to fight with the Kings," Schwartz says firmly. She has a lot of faith in people. She has a lot of faith in her friends. Agatha has always liked that about Bridgit Schwartz. "And we should, too."

Patrick reacts faster than the other soldiers do, clamping a hand down on Joan's arm so she can't disappear like Benedict did with her god. "You are staying here." He surveys the cadets. "All of you. You can't go rushing into battle half-trained, you'd be slaughtered. This is not the time to play teen hero. That kind of stuff only happens in fiction."

And with the Kings, everyone is thinking. Agatha watches all of them have the same thought. The Kings were not that much older than everyone here when they toppled a nation. But they are Prodigies, they were chosen by fate, special. This is a group of monsters and while they are very talented, they are not the Kings.

"Agatha?" Joan asks. "Are you OK?"

Agatha blinks at her. For a second, she has no idea what is happening. Then she realizes she's shaking. It is remarkable that Joan would even notice at a time like this— there is a soldier still holding onto one of her wrists like a shackle and a god standing behind her.

"I'm OK," Agatha says, her voice a slight whisper. "I'm just not looking forward to what happens next."

"What do you mean?" Joan says, confused. "What happens next?"

What does she mean? It's all happening now and Agatha should just keep her mouth shut.

It doesn't matter. She doesn't have to respond, because abruptly, Patrick releases Joan's hand and falls to the ground.