Chapter 81: The War Council

The siege engine collapses. It slides off the edge of the broken bridge with a wet grinding sound. It falls into the infinite dark below. Silence rushes back into the space where the battle just raged. It is a heavy silence. It presses against my ears.

I stand on the edge of the precipice. My chest heaves. The golden flame around my hands flickers and dies down to a dull glow. I am empty again. The rush of combat is fading, leaving only the cold ache in my bones.

Kizawa is beside me. He wipes black ichor from his face. He does not sheath his swords. He stares at the wall of rubble that used to be the gate to Torchlight.

"We are locked out," Kizawa says.

His voice is flat. It is a statement of fact. There is no panic in it.

Yogawa slides down the stone railing to the floor. He puts his head between his knees.

"We are dead," Yogawa says. "The gate is gone. The city is gone. We are stuck on a ledge over hell with an army of nightmares beneath us."

"Stop whining," Hachiro says.

He walks over to the rubble. He kicks a massive stone block. It does not move. He winces and shakes his foot.

"It is solid," Hachiro says. "The explosion fused the rock. We cannot punch through this. Not without bringing the rest of the ceiling down on our heads."

"Then we find another way," Erima says.

She is already moving. She scans the cliff face above the bridge. Her eyes are sharp. She is the Arrow. She finds paths where others see only stone.

"There," she points.

I look up. High above the ruined archway, there is a small, dark slit in the rock. It looks like a ventilation shaft.

"It is too high," Yogawa moans. "We cannot fly."

"We do not need to fly," Kizawa says. "We climb."

He sheathes his swords. He walks to the wall. The stone is rough, pitted by the Miasma. He finds a handhold. He pulls himself up.

"Move," Kizawa commands. "Before the second wave hits."

He is right. The Abyss below is churning again. The silence is breaking. The sound of skittering claws echoes from the deep. They are regrouping.

We climb.

It is a brutal ascent. My fingers bleed. My muscles scream. Kizawa leads the way, testing every hold. Hachiro helps Yogawa, practically dragging the scholar up the vertical face. Erima covers our rear, her bow slung across her back, climbing with the grace of a spider.

We reach the vent. It is tight. It smells of stale air and old dust. We squeeze inside, one by one.

We crawl in the dark. It is a narrow tunnel, barely wide enough for Hachiro's broad shoulders. We move on our hands and knees. The stone scrapes my skin.

"Where does this go?" I ask. My voice echoes in the cramped space.

"It is an exhaust port for the old forges," Erima says from behind me. "It should lead to the upper levels. Above the city."

"How do you know that?" Hachiro asks.

"I studied the maps in the Nexus," Erima says. "While you were busy posturing."

"I was not posturing," Hachiro grunts. "I was inspiring morale."

"Quiet," Kizawa hisses from the front.

The tunnel opens up. We spill out into a small, square room. It is carved from solid rock. There are slits in the wall that look out over the cavern. It is an old watchpost, long abandoned. Dust covers the floor in a thick gray carpet.

We collapse.

Yogawa curls into a ball in the corner. Hachiro leans against the wall, cradling his arm. Erima checks her arrows. Kizawa stands by the window slit, looking out.

"We are safe," I say. I try to sound confident. "For now."

"Safe is a relative term," Yogawa mutters. "We are trapped in a hole in the wall."

"We are in a defensible position," Kizawa corrects him. "And we have the high ground."

He turns to face us. The blue fire in his eyes is hard.

"We need a plan," Kizawa says. "A real plan. Not just reacting. Not just surviving."

"The Grak-ta are evacuating to the upper mines," Erima says. "That is good. The mines are a maze. The Hunters will have a hard time rooting them out. But they cannot stay there forever. They have no food. No water. And the Miasma is gone. The heat is fading. They will freeze or starve within a week."

"We need to kill the King," I say.

The words hang in the air. It sounds impossible. It sounds insane.

"The King is a concept," Yogawa says. He sits up, adjusting his glasses. "He is gravity. He is hunger. How do you kill hunger?"

"You starve it," Erima says.

We all look at her.

"The King feeds on the Hollow-God," Erima says. "The Hollow-God is dead. The food source is gone. That is why he is angry. That is why he is sending his army. He is desperate."

"Desperate enemies make mistakes," Kizawa says.

"Exactly," Erima nods. "He is expanding his web. He is searching for a new source. He will try to breach the surface. He will try to reach the human world."

"We cannot let that happen," Hachiro says. He stands up. His face is serious. "If those things get to Tokyo, it is game over."

"We have to stop him here," I say. "In the dark."

"How?" Yogawa asks. "We are five people. We have no army. We have no magic."

"We have the Flame," Kizawa says. He looks at me.

"My flame is weak," I say. I hold up my hand. A tiny spark dances on my palm. "It is not enough to burn a god."

"It does not need to burn him," Kizawa says. "It just needs to light the way."

He walks to the center of the room. He draws a circle in the dust with his boot.

"This is the Abyss," he says. He points to the center. "This is the King."

He draws a ring around the center.

"This is his web. It connects him to the Void. It anchors him to reality."

He looks at Erima.

"You severed the chains," he says. "You broke his connection to the Hollow-God."

"Yes," Erima says.

"But he is still anchored," Kizawa says. "He is still here. Why?"

"Because he is heavy," Hachiro suggests.

"No," Yogawa says. His eyes widen. "Because he has other anchors. Secondary anchors."

"The Generals," I whisper.

"Yes," Kizawa says. "Kuro-Kiri was one. We destroyed him. But there are others. Krell mentioned them. The Weaver. The Tyrant. The Architect."

"If we kill the Generals," Erima says, her mind racing, "we destabilize the web. We cut his lines of support."

"And then he falls," Kizawa says. "He falls into the Void he created. He consumes himself."

It is a strategy. It is a war.

"We hunt the Generals," I say.

"There are seven," Yogawa says. "According to the lore Renn showed me. Seven Generals for seven chains. We broke three chains at the Spire. That means three Generals are weakened. Vulnerable."

"Kuro-Kiri was one," I say. "Who are the others?"

"The Weaver," Yogawa says. "And the Glutton."

"We split up," Hachiro says. "We take them out one by one."

"No," Kizawa says. "We stay together. We are stronger together. If we split up, we die."

"We need to find them first," Erima says. "The Abyss is massive."

"We do not need to find them," I say. "They will come to us. We are the anomaly. We are the threat. The King will send them to hunt us."

"So we are bait again," Hachiro sighs. "I hate being bait."

"We are not bait," Kizawa says. "We are the trap."

He looks at me.

"Mizuki. Can you flare your power? Can you make a beacon?"

"I think so," I say. "But it will drain me."

"Do it," Kizawa says. "Light a fire. Let them see it. Let them come."

"And then?" I ask.

"And then we kill them," Kizawa says.

It is simple. It is brutal. It is the only choice we have.

"What about the Grak-ta?" Hachiro asks. "We cannot leave them defenseless."

"We are not leaving them," I say. "We are drawing the fire. If the Generals are hunting us, they are not hunting the refugees."

"It is a diversion," Erima says. "A loud, bright, dangerous diversion."

"I like it," Hachiro says. He grins. "It sounds like a fight."

"It sounds like suicide," Yogawa mutters. But he stands up. He brushes the dust from his robes. "But it is a logical suicide."

"Then it is decided," I say. "We form the War Council here. We are the resistance."

I look out the slit in the wall. The darkness of the cavern is vast. But somewhere out there, the monsters are waiting.

"Yogawa," I say. "Can you map the leylines? Can you find the weak points in the cavern?"

"I can try," Yogawa says. "Without my grimoire, it is difficult. But I can sense the flow of energy. I can tell you where the Miasma is thickest."

"Good," I say. "Erima. Scout the tunnels. Find us an exit strategy. We need to be mobile. We cannot get pinned down."

"On it," Erima says.

"Hachiro," I say. "You are the vanguard. You keep them off us."

"With pleasure," Hachiro says.

"Kizawa," I say. I look at him.

"I am the blade," he says. "I strike the killing blow."

"We are the Moonlight Squad," Hachiro says. "Or something cool like that. We need a name."

"We are the Phoenix Guard," Erima says.

"I like it," I say.

I close my eyes. I reach down into the well of my soul. I find the ember. I feed it. I pour my fear, my anger, my hope into it.

I open my hand.

A pillar of golden fire erupts from my palm. It lights up the small stone room. It casts long shadows on the walls. It shines out through the slit, a beacon in the dark.

"Come and get us," I whisper.

Far below, in the deep dark, something screams.

It begins.