Page 88 of Children of Fallen Gods

We crept up the stairs and rounded a corner.

The first thing I saw was blood. It rolled from beneath the doors, creeping over floorboards.

“Fuck,” I hissed.

I shot Moth a look. What was better, for him to stay here alone or to come with me into what would almost certainly be a fight? He hadn’t even seen combat before.

“Stay here,” I said.

“You can’t go in there alone—”

“Stay here, Moth,” I said again, and I didn’t give him any time to argue with me before I was gone.

I conjured my magic to the surface of my skin, flames at my fingertips and simmering at the edges of my blades. In two steps, I was around the corner and pushing open the door. And just as it always did in times like this, my brother’s voice was in my ears:

Evaluate. Judge. Act. That’s all there is.

Evaluate. The first thing that hit me was the blood — there was so fucking much of it, spreading over white sheets, over wooden floors, so much that it took a moment for my eyes to find the source. There, crumpled on the floor near the foot of the bed, was a body. One of my soldiers. His throat was torn open, his sword clutched in his hand. A few feet away, another bloodied figure, a partially-dressed young woman, lay lifeless.

Judge. The blood was warm. The bodies were fresh. Whoever did this was still here. I backed out of this room and threw open another to see another body, another one of my dead men, this one looking as if he was killed so swiftly he didn’t even have the chance to fight.

And then, to my left, I heard a thump.

I turned. The sound had come from the next room over, and ended quickly, like whoever was responsible had hurriedly tried to cover it.

That’s where our assailant was. That room.

Act. I readied my weapon and backed out of this room, moving down to the next one. I opened the door—

—Only to see a soldier standing there, as if he had been about to open it at the same time.

He stared at me, wide-eyed. He was covered in blood, so much so that it was impossible to see what type of uniform he wore. He was young, barely older than Moth.

Time suspended for one split second, the two of us staring at each other.

And just as quickly, the spell broke.

He started to raise his sword, but I countered the strike quickly, sending him staggering back. His weapon went clattering to the ground. I pushed him against the wall, my staff against his throat

“Who are you with?” I demanded. “Aviness?”

The boy was afraid. I could see it in his face, even though he was trying to cover it up with hatred. His lips twisted into a forced sneer.

“I killed them,” he said. “I’ll kill you, too. In the name of the true king.”

Stupidkid. I wanted to tell him,Do you think Aviness has any clue who you are? Do you think your life is worth his crown?

Instead I loosened my grip on my magic. The edges of my blades were now bright with flames, unleashing a wall of heat over us.

“Do you know who I am? I’m Maxantarius Farlione, and those aremymen that you’ve murdered.”

The boy let out a ragged breath. His eyes widened, even though he tried to hide his fear.

“How many of your men are here?” I demanded. “Tell me that and you’ll keep your life. Think very carefully about how you answer.”

Hesitation.

“Jorge?”

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