Those Who Would Not Be Gods

27. Meteoric: Raff

Sab grabbed him by the shoulder. A second too late. The spearhead shuddered across stone, cutting a thin line, barely visible. Thick enough. The circle was broken. Lightning crackled around the spearhead. Arced up the shaft. Raff released the spear as Sab yanked him backward. Seconds later, the shaft shattered, wood flying everywhere.

"Let go!" he demanded. Even to his ears, he sounded like a petulant child.

Edith stood. It was so sudden that even Raff couldn't see it happen; one second, she was contorted on the floor, the next, standing. She looked up. Black spilled down from her dark eye, a big, fixed smile spread over her face. The doll-half of her face was stiff, forced into the smile, the eye pinched as if she might cry.

The chains fell away. They broke, one clean snap from the collar, one from both cuffs. It happened in an instant; it happened in slow motion. He watched them fall. Watched the collar slide down her shoulders, her hair slide free, her hands lift as the cuffs broke, heavy metal falling away to the floor. Palms turned to the ceiling. Her face turned upward.

"Stop!" the guard shouted. Tenebrae gestured. The shadows lunged, and both guards were instantly bound to the wall.

"Raff, no," Sab breathed. His eyes were locked on Tenebrae.

Raff pushed away from him. "Cecile, take me to Cecile," he demanded.

Tenebrae lifted her foot. Stepped over the line. Nothing happened. Shadow danced over the bars of the cell, and they fell away, sliced neatly into pieces. She held out her hand.

Before he could grab it, Sab caught Raff's hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded, pulling Raff to face him. "Are you insane?"

Raff pulled himself free. He didn't need to answer to anyone. Cecile was in danger. Giada, too. She had been inside the Shrine as well. Every second they wasted was another chance they died or got hurt. He took Tenebrae's hand.

"Raff!" Sab grabbed his shoulder.

There was an odd sensation, as if he had plunged into water, but without the weightlessness. Vaguely, he felt the sensation of something slipping past, like water against his skin, but not wet, not cool. His vision went black. He tried to draw breath and found nothing. It was as if there was something over his face, sucking into his mouth when he breathed, too thick to let air pass through. Raff reached for his face instinctively, but couldn't. He was paralyzed. His hand was glued to Tenebrae's, locked in place. Someone shouted in his ears. Footsteps clattered, close enough he could reach out and touch the people making them. For a second, he could hear someone's breathing, their heartbeat, and then he was whipped past, or maybe the sound faded. Raff's chest was tight. He could feel his lungs seizing, no air, no air—

They were in the lobby, just inside the doors to the prison. Raff gasped in a breath, hands belatedly clutching at his face. What—what was that? He turned to Tenebrae, meaning to ask. Instead, he found Sab. He released Raff's shoulder and stumbled away, catching his breath as well. Raff stared. How? What? Why was Sab here?

"Hey, stop!"

The voice had come from behind him. Raff turned. The guards from earlier were running towards them. Ahead, the doors creaked open, ominous as ever; when he wheeled, he found Tenebrae pushing them open. He didn't hesitate, but sprinted after Tenebrae, through the door and out into the courtyard.

An army of undead stood before him. They massed in the cemetery at the back of the yard, slowly shambled through the wrecked back wall of the Shrine. There were so many of them. Enough he couldn't possibly count them all. He stumbled to a stop. No. This was worse than he'd imagined. How could anyone survive? Were they all dead?