CHAPTER 15

  "We're killing that bastard and getting Noah back." I clenched my fist, still tasting dried blood on my lips from the fight.

  "Forgeman Erik." Raine's eyes were hard as stone. "That thing isn't your brother. You heard it. That thing…what was it’s name? Astrifer? He was boasting about it. He consumed Noah's soul. Face reality. Also, you are not in charge. The Firebrand is. Protocol doesn't—"

  "Fuck your protocol." The words came out sharp enough to cut. "Does this look like something Cinders prepared for? A demigod just slaughtered our entire expedition. Three hundred of our strongest died in minutes. No protocol saves us from that.”

  "And how do you plan to fight them?" Raine flipped through her papers frantically. "That cursed sword of yours barely scratched Igi-igi."

  "He can teach us that thing.” I pointed at Jorik, who was wrapping my wounds. "You healed me with that green smoke. That wasn't normal. You can make us stronger, right?"

  "Not myself, per se. But I know who can.”

  Raine opened her mouth to argue, but Hakashi stepped forward. "Forgeman, breathe.” His hollow eyes studied me. "What… happened to your face?"

  "What?" I touched my chin and felt rough hair that hadn't been there this morning.

  Nanda placed a hand on my shoulder. "The sword... steals from him. Years drained."

  Hakashi brought over a water-filled bowl. My reflection stared back at me with a strange, older face. A beard covered my jaw, and my green hair now hung past my ears. The cursed sword had aged us years.

  I knew it, Fern said, anger bleeding through. How many years did you steal from my body?

  Not now, Fern.

  Remember your promise. He said flatly. Never again.

  "You aged at least three or four years, Erik,” Hakashi said quietly.

  “Boy,” Jorik interrupted, staring at my back. "Did I hear correctly? A cursed sword?"

  I pulled the black sheath off my shoulder and set it on the table.

  "It's true that no weapon can injure Igi-igi or any Siblings. Not one made of iron, steel, silver, or gold." His eyes gleamed with sudden recognition. "But a cursed blade made of Ashsteel..."

  “Ashsteel…?” I asked.

  He held up a finger and grabbed a towel, wrapped the hilt carefully, and pulled the blade free. His fingers traced slightly above the sword, and along the metal until they found a small notch where blade met hand guard. A hollowed square the size of a large coin.

  "Oh, wow.” He shook his head and chuckled. “If only Ana were here. How many signs does one need to believe the truth?"

  "What truth?"

  "This notch, you see here?”

  I leaned forward and nodded. “It meant to hold something.” He stood and pulled a yellowed scroll from beneath a cabinet. “Did you never wonder what kind of metal it was made out of?” He asked.

  “I was gifted it,” I said, remembering when Dog gave me the cursed sword. “I just figured it was made from some material in the Pillar.”

  “You’re not entirely wrong, but you don’t know the significance either. Your sword is made of Ashsteel, metal purified from the highest point of the Pillar itself. When you inlay soul glass into this socket and channel Breath through it, you create the only weapon that can kill a Sibling."

  "Soul glass?" Raine had her pen ready and her notebook open to a blank page.

  "Crystallized soul runoff, scraped from sides of the Soul Nexus, where all souls who die in Paradize are pulled to. You see, the Siblings aren't truly immortal. Each carries a fragment of the Urn where their father birthed them, embedded deep within their body. Behind their flesh, muscle, bones, and organs, a small shard of their birthplace holds all the souls they consume. This fragment lets them live off souls, regenerate from any wound, get physically stronger, and live forever."

  He unrolled the scroll, revealing faded text and crude drawings. "No normal weapon can break that fragment. But the Ashsteel Blades? Those powerful weapons, when infused with soul glass, can cut through their bodies and shatter the fragment itself. With a fragment cracked, pirced or broken by an infused Ashsteel Blade, the Siblings will die.”

  "And you know this how?" I asked. "Let me guess, prophecy?"

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Criers have passed down fragments of knowledge through generations. Even when so many have died, as long as one carries the truth with them, they can rely on the next generation to keep moving forward.”

  Jorik then turned the scroll around towards me and pointed to some lines of text. "Listen to this: 'When the green-haired warrior rises from below, when a warrior uses metal to replace flesh, when beast-souls walk as men, the Siblings' reign will crack like glass.'"

  I leaned closer. More text surrounded crude sketches. "The two-souled brings the black blade." Another line: "Warriors who transform will stand against the five.”

  “This is all way too eerie,” Raine looked up from her notes. “What does warrior uses metal to replace flesh mean?” She asked

  "I never understood most of the prophecy dear until you all showed up and then it all made sense, maybe it’s—“

  The door burst open. Nanda's fists came up and he slid himself into a crouched fighting stance. Hakashi rushed to the door, drew his blade in one smooth motion, and swung.

  CLANK

  "Whoa, buddy." Hyper caught Hakashi's sword between two fingers. "Easy there."

  "Hyper, you bastard. How’d you sneak up? How’d you find us?”

  “Followed your scent. Real question is how’d you let us sneak up? Don't you have your tracking thing?"

  Behind him, three cloaked figures lowered hoods. Mel, Silas, and Jessa. Relief washed through me seeing them alive.

  "Friends?" Jorik asked, suddenly nervous at the crowd.

  "Yeah. Friends."

  "Erik!" Silas rushed over, eyes on my bloodstained clothes. "You fought that thing?" He reached out and grabbed my shoulders with both his hands and turned me left and right, inspecting me.

  "Course he did." Mel snorted. "Would've done the same if boss man hadn't stopped me."

  The kitchen suddenly felt too small. I noticed Jorik glance up at his children, who were watching from the stairs. The boy with an eyepatch stared at me, while his younger sister clutched a stuffed bear.

  "Too many. Too loud." Jorik hissed, his entire demeanor shifted. "My children are upstairs, and Igi-igi hunts you with bloodthirst. You are inviting death to my door." He looked at everyone. "Silence. Or leave."

  The room went quiet.

  "You." He pointed at Hakashi. "Leader?"

  Hakashi glanced at Hyper, who shrugged. "That's all you."

  "I suppose." Hakashi said to Jorik.

  The older man looked around at everyone and counted. “Are more coming?”

  "Let me check." Hakashi's face changed. His skin paled to bone white as his skull elongated into something between human and deer. Hakashi had mastered Fourth Form, allowing him to transform partially.

  He raised his skull-face toward the ceiling, nostrils flaring. A clicking like clockwork emerged from his throat. His eyes glowed blue, and he looked around as if he was able to see through walls.

  Then his clicking stopped. And he left his Fourth Form.

  "Two squads are west of, about a mile out. One north, moving fast. Luckily, they are all alive."

  "Good." Jorik seemed to relax slightly. Then he looked back over the crowd and then at the scrolls. “Hm.”

  Silas’s voice cracked. “I can’t believe it. It's really just us. A bunch of kids, and a few Firebrands. So many dead. W-what do we do?”

  Jorik eyed him and began to open his mouth.

  “With all respect sir,” Hakashi said to Jorik. “Our mission does not concern your prophecy. Erik, I understand your anger, we all do. We must retreat though, get to the others and figure out a plan.” He bowed at Jorik and turned around.

  “Wait,” I said.

  Hakashi stood still. “Forgeman Erik, this isn’t up to you, your revenge is personal, and I understand it. But as the lead, you will fall in line.

  I ignored Hakashi. I looked at Jorik. “Your prophecy talks about armies of beast-soul warriors? They're all dead. Every last one. How do you explain that?”

  He nodded. “The ones that will fight, still live.”

  “See?” Hakashi said, “Then we should leave, and regroup with the Cinders below, maybe even think of running.”

  Jorik shook his head. “You all do not understand.”

  I slammed my hands on the table. “Explain then!”

  Jorik held up a hand. “Three hundred of your strong warriors were killed yes?” He asked.

  I nodded.

  “Then you have fifty days to stop their souls from making it to the Soul Nexus.”

  Hakashi turned around. “We are not stopping anything we are leaving now! I’m so tired of this. We leave now and mourn the dead.”

  “If you leave now, in fifty days, they will come and destroy everything. The Siblings have fed off the weak souls of their enslaved for hundreds of years. What do you think will happen when they consume three hundred of the strongest souls they have ever consumed?”

  Hakashi shook his head.

  I leaned up. “How… how much stronger could they get? How much stronger would Igi-igi get?”

  Jorik looked down. “If you don’t stop them, they will conquer the world below for themselves, and you will have no chance to stop them.”

  “Shit,” Hakashi cursed and ran his fingers through his hair.

  Silas began to tear up. “It’s hopeless? All the dead, just used for fuel?”

  Mel's fists clenched. "Stop crying and get angry! That's how we honor them."

  "Not everyone processes grief through rage, if you read the handbook for team dynamics you’d—“ Raine started coldly.

  “If I hear Miss Rule follower say one more thing, I’m gonna—” Mel started forward.

  Nanda's hand caught her arm. "Sister. Calm yourself.”

  Mel must have felt the unsuspecting strength of Nanda and stopped in her tracks.

  The room fell silent except for Jessa's quiet sobs. One of Jorik's children, the little girl, walked down the stairs and tugged at Jessa's pants. She held up her stuffed animal. Jessa took it and buried her face in the worn fabric.

  I watched them all holding their grief in different ways. Silas, through tears. Mel, through rage. Raine through protocol. And me for me, I felt all of it. The desire for revenge for the three hundred deaths. The worry for my brother's soul. And the guilt my fault in all this.

  But Lucile's last words echoed in my mind.

  "We keep moving forward then,” I whispered, and the room turned its attention onto me. "That's what Spiderbane said before she died. We're not the end of the story. We're the beginning. We can’t let her sacrifice die. Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s a coincidence, but we become stronger through these… Criers. It we can stop these Siblings here, we would save all of those below.”

  Nanda nodded. "Well said, Brother."

  Hakashi let out a groan. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m deferring to a kid, but sometimes even adults get lost.”

  “Fine by me buddy,” Hyper said. “I’m always down to get stronger.”

  I looked at Jorik, “So, how do we do it? How do we learn that?” I pointed at his wrists.

  “We need to leave here first, Igi-igi is known to stay on the hunt. I’ll take you to—”

  Then came a knock on the door. A specific, patterned knock.

  KNOCK-KNOCK... KNOCK.

  “That old bastard, I should've known." Jorik laughed to himself.

  Hakashi peered out the window. “That’s… a lot of masked men.”

  “Is it Igi-igi’s guards?” Mel tensed up and raised her metal gauntlet.

  Jorik opened the door anyway.