Page 146 of Cage of Starlight
Sena sighs. “Please don’t name it.”
Iri smiles. “They already have a name.”
“Legion,” Tory says. “I know. It’s hardly cozy.”
“That’s your name for them, because you see them as threats. They’re called miokh in Arlune. It means—”
Heart. Soul.“Core,” Sena says. A lullaby word. An endearment whispered into his ear at night. The most essential part of a thing. It’s appropriate—so unlike the cruel Core Westrice plants in its Seeds.
“Sena,” Tory says. “You should touch it.”
“I—yousaw—”He stumbles back a step, vision full of the destruction he’s caused. Crystals fractured and blackened, dead vines brittle. If he loses control, it could happen here, too. “I shouldn’t.”
“You’re not just a weapon.”
He could be. Hehas been.
He doesn’t want to be. Not anymore. He’s alive, and he can create things, too. Sena, trembling, reaches for the sphere. The roots, as expected, contort themselves around his hand rather than allow his fingers to touch them. He pulls back.
Tory pokes the ball. “Hey,” he says. The roots return to their former shape. “Remember what you told me? It’s responding to howyoufeel about it. Try again.”
He’s healed. He’s not dying anymore, not struggling with a Seed gone haywire. His touch will only hurt this thing if he wants it to, and he’s spent a lifetime learning control. He’s so much more than his father created him to be. Sena hauls in a shaky breath and reaches out.
This time, the roots withdraw, slow, to expose the crystal at the center of the thing, bright with Tory’s colors. Sena lays his hand on the crystal, and his vision ripples crisp and clear. The light from the crystal burns blood-red for a moment before settling into a warm, steady purple.
Tory grins, unbearably smug. “It likes you, too,” he says.
Like sound through water, a series of explosions echo from inside the Compound, preventing Sena from forming a reply. A section of the building shifts—and with the groan of twisting metal and the crackling of glass and a sound like a sigh, it collapses.
In the center of it all, exposed and regal, stands the tree, damaged but alive, rooted deep and branches high, reaching for something impossible. Sena can’t stop smiling.
He turns to the group. “I have a plan.”
*
The ground is slick with blood. Bodies litter the grass, and the air hums with energy and violent intent—the kind of conflict that refuses to end as long as there are bodies to fight in it.
It helps that, as if in response to Tory’s determination, the Legion unit has made a threatening half-dome over his and Sena’s heads, restless vines shifting, ready to rain chaos down on anyone who gets the wrong idea.
Tory shoves Sena’s shoulder, grinning. “Told you it likes you! Look, it’s trying to protect you.”
Iri just stands there, looking smug. “I don’t thinkit’s the thing that likes him.”
Regardless, the looming, twisting roots shut everyone up quite nicely.
Helner speaks first, addressing the scattered collection of soldiers from the Compound. “This isn’t your fight. You can leave, now, or this little guy—” she gestures up at the serpentine roots, “—will help you leave. I suggest being speedy about it. If we ever face you again, you won’t know mercy from us.”
The soldiers make their decision with little pause, hurrying toward the front gate, which is barely more than rubble. When the first ones pick their way through and disappear beyond the wall, Tory turns back to the remaining group. Riese’s people.
He barely has to reach for Sena’s energy. It leaps to his fingers and expands in the direction he asks of it. All around, the energy from the rebel Seeds crumples. Tory releases it. If his experiment with Iri was any indicator, it’ll take around a minute until their abilities return.
“We’re not here to hurt you. We have a proposition.”
One of the rebels snaps a gun up and aims it at the departing soldiers.
“None of that.”
Jeffra ’ports in behind him with Prentice and squeezes the guy’s shoulder. He falls, and Jeffra nudges him with her foot until he’s face-down in a slick of gore. She offers the group a dry stare. “This was the carrot, dear ones. He’s only sleeping. If you want the stick, I’ll swap with Dr. Helner, who’s eager to bring some insides outside.”
