Page 17 of The Immortal Covenant

Withdrawing his hand from the armor, Sarilian turned to face the Infernal. Determination thrummed through him. “I meant what I said about accomplishing the impossible. But that could take years. I don’t want you to throw your life away on unwinnable battles in the meantime.”

Malorg’s mask returned, his expression hardening. “War is all I know. Besides, you were right.” He gestured to the room, a flicker of sadness lost in the smoky depths of his eyes. “In the end, none of this matters. We exist to fight the Void—nothing more. And when we eventually fail, the rest of this will crumble to ash. Just as we will.”

Sarilian silently cursed his big mouth as Malorg started to drift away into the crowd. Merciful Light, why hadn’t he kept silent? Instead of offering Malorg hope, all he seemed capable of doing was bolstering Malorg’s own hopelessness. So what if some Infernals wasted their time on frivolous pursuits? As long as they maintained their defense of the Dusklands, let them do as they pleased.

Desperately, he tried to think of a way to cheer Malorg up—to shock him out of this fresh melancholy. His eyes returned to the wares, and he blurted, “Wait! I want one.”

Malorg froze, casting a disbelieving look over his shoulder.“Youwant an Infernal trinket?”

Sarilian nodded, raking his gaze over the assorted baubles. His eyes stopped on one, and he smiled, pointing. “That one!”

Malorg hesitantly followed Sarilian’s finger. When he saw what Sarilian had chosen, a surprised chuckle escaped his lips.

The pendant hung on a black chain so thin the entwined wisps of shadow seemed to disappear. The pendant itself was circular and bore the Celestial crest in shifting grays: a triangle pointing upward with five diagonal lines slicing through it from different angles on the left like rays of light, all meeting in the triangle’s center.

Why an Infernal merchant was selling a Celestial crest forged from duskflame, Sarilian hadn’t a clue. Perhaps it was part of his theme, what with the spires of Daybreak on display. Either way, Sarilian couldn’t imagine a more appropriate gift to represent his time here.

Sensing a potential sale, the merchant wandered over, eyeing Malorg warily at first until he confirmed his instincts had been correct. They briefly haggled over the price, but Malorg didn’t much seem to care, handing over the requested coins with hardly any argument.

Within moments, Sarilian was following Malorg toward the Market’s exit. Sarilian rested a hand on the pendant around his neck. He’d worried how it might react to his dawnflame, but for now at least, it was a soothing pocket of cold against his breast.

Like Malorg’s hand when he touched me.

Sarilian hastily buried the thought and asked, “So, where to now?”

Malorg glanced over at him. “You haven’t had enough yet?”

“This might be my only chance to explore the city. I want to see all I can before I go.”

An almost mournful expression flitted over Malorg’s face that made Sarilian worry he might have overstayed his welcome. But to his relief, Malorg didn’t protest. “Very well. Follow me.”

Anticipation building for their next stop, Sarilian was only too happy to obey.

seven

Malorg

I want to seeall I can before I go.

Sarilian’s words rattled around Malorg’s skull as he shoved his way through the crowded Market. He’d known this was only temporary. As a Celestial, Sarilian’s place was with his people in the Dawnlands. His interest in Malorg and Twilight had never been anything but idle curiosity.

Still, the thought of returning to his lonely hunt, yearning for release at the end of a voidspawn’s claw, filled Malorg with dread. Such was the price of hope. The more you gave in to its seductive call, the greater your pain when it eventually crumbled apart.

They exited the Market into a narrow, winding corridor. Malorg glanced back to make sure Sarilian still followed. He could only imagine how confusing Sarilian must find Twilight’s haphazard layout. Malorg had spent literal centuries traversing the city’s streets, and evenhesometimes got lost. To Sarilian’scredit, however, he didn’t complain, trailing after Malorg and exclaiming over each new sight that caught his fancy.

The Celestial stopped to examine a duskflame mural that transformed the side of a building into an erupting volcano. Malorg smothered a grin at Sarilian’s awed expression. It was oddly refreshing watching Sarilian admire things that Malorg himself had long since come to take for granted. It helped give him a fresh perspective on his city—made everything feel new and exciting again.

None of this matters,he reminded himself firmly as they resumed walking. Neither Sarilian’s visit nor his inevitable departure changed the overall futility of their existence. Sarilian’s own comments in the Market had drilled that harsh truth home. Malorg’s old friend Pelorak might find purpose in the scramble to accumulate as much wealth and prestige as possible, but none of it would mean a Dark-cursed thing when the Void finally won.

And yet, Malorg found the bleak thought lacked its usual bite thanks to Sarilian’s comforting presence. He turned down an alleyway and halted before a thin crack at its end.

Behind him, Sarilian groaned.“Pleasetell me we don’t need to go in there.”

Malorg raised a brow at the expression of sheer horror on Sarilian’s face. “I thought you wanted to see more of the city?”

Sarilian sighed. He gave the crack a long, mournful look. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I want to explore every hidden nook and cranny.”

“This is the easiest way to reach our next destination.” Malorg thrust out a hand. “Are you coming or not?”

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