The Seventh Stone

Chapter Ten

Fight, damn it... Got to fight it. Fight my own damn body. I can't pass out, not now—not like this. I won't.

My fingers slide against the dirt as I sway back and forth for a moment, trying to steady myself—and not throw up. I look up at Loki, amidst the few people standing dispersedly, and staring down at me. I watch them step away reluctantly, recoiling at my slightest movement as I try to lift myself up—while Loki steps over to my side.

He kneels in front of me, peering down with a solemn look as he grasps both my shoulders and lifts me up. "Are you alright?" he asks quietly, leaning over to meet my eyes.

"Yeah, I..." I pause, regaining my composure. "Loki, the stone—I... I think I know where it is."

All movement ceases for a moment as Loki narrows his eyes, processing the information. "Alright," he nods. "But let's talk about it later—not here."

I bob my head in agreement, parting my lips to speak. Though before a sound can manage to rise in my throat, four large, metal spikes send tremors through the earth, plunging into the ground around us with terrible force, and caging us in the middle of the path. My pulse shoots upward as my eyes dart from side to side—trying to summon all halves of my brain to figure out what's going on, and what to do with the rest of my body, to avoid being impaled. A cylinder of dust kicks up suddenly between the stands ahead, drawing my gaze back over to the path—where a large ship materializes slowly in the air. It takes a moment to realize that it resembles the ships from the fleet, and dread accompanies the fear in my chest as I watch it descend down to the ground, inch by inch.

Loki steps in front of me, eyeing the ship and saying nothing as people continue to scurry past us. The ship finally begins to hover with a hiss, and a pair of round, sliding doors rotate open at its front. I squint—trying to see what's inside, but hardly anything is visible from the height it's at. Save for the blinding lights—and finally, a cloaked figure contrasting against them as it slowly emerges. With a subtle click, a ramp slides out from a hidden component beneath the entryway and slides to the ground, allowing the hooded figure to stride over it—with the hood covering everything but a pair of pale, thin lips.

"Not ominous at all..." I murmur quietly as it steps down to the ground.

With a wave of the figure's hand, Loki flies from my side between the metal spikes, and crashes into one of the stands. I turn my head sharply, trying to find him in the rubble as white-hot nervousness bleeds back into my chest. My eyes dart to the figure as the spikes suddenly dissipate into thin air—as if they were never there to begin with.

"Who are you?" I growl at the figure.

He continues to stalks toward me, fingers curled amusedly in the air, "My name," the figure purrs, with a voice split into multitude of pitches that seem to echo in my mind. I slide a foot backward as it steps in front of me—ready to jump away. "Is Seron."

The voice smooths into a soft, stable tone—matching the eerily bright pair of beady, violet eyes peering darkly at me from beneath the hood.

Seron...

I know the name, but no—it can't be. 

The first bearer of the god stone was a creature born of the dark realms... Olen's voice threads across my thoughts. Absorbing Soren's armies, along with the life force from his body, was a feat that the bearer could not withstand...

Heat and color melt from my face. "Seron?" I mutter, forcing the sound out of my tense throat. "Seron is—"

"Dead," he interjects, holding my gaze as his head tilts slightly to the side. "That's what you told everyone, wasn't it?" An unsettling hint of admiration resonates in his tone. And with the intensity of his gaze, I'd bet he caught the subtle shake of my head.