Page 105 of The Sunlit Man

“Zellion?” Contemplation said, pushing forward, her black dyed locks spilling across her shoulders. “Is that a sunheart? We can fly to safety!”

He shook his head. “You fancy trying to get all these people on ships in the next minute or two? And even if you do, then what? The Cinder King will just stop them again. You’re far too vulnerable.”

“Then what?” she demanded. “If it pleases you, tell us your plan!”

Solemnity Divine tossed back the rest of the sunheart, then went running to install the sliver as asked. Zellion slotted the sunheart into a place he’d made on the back of the shield.

Please work,he thought.Please let this be enough. Please.

Power surged through the shield. Zellion planted it into the ground, then gave the command. It started to grow, expanding into a dome. Not transparent this time, as that would defeat the purpose. A large piece of metal, reflective on the outside. When he’d encased himself in this in the maelstrom, he’d been protected from the bulk of the heat. In this form, Auxiliary’s corpse should be able to provide some of the same protections as his armor.

“What…” Contemplation stepped closer to him as the dome continued to grow. “Could it always do this?”

“No,” he said, then tapped the sunheart embedded into it. “It needs Investiture on a grand scale. This is a superpowered sunheart,rechargedby the people inside the Refuge.”

She stared at it, then at him. “You canrechargethem?” she whispered. “How?”

“There’s very little time. You know the invocation that takes heat and puts it into a sunheart?”

“Bold one on the threshold of death, take into your sunheart my heat, that I may bless those who still live,” she said. “It’s a prayer.”

“Yes,” he said. “Fill a sunheart with some of your heat as a seed,thenleave it in the sun. It will respond like a person’s soul, burned away in a flash of power—and that will recharge the sunheart.”

“This means… This changeseverything.”

“Take it to everyone, Contemplation,” he said. “Tell them this truth and change the world.”

“So simple…” she said. “How did we never see it?”

“Many of the greatest technological advances are simple at their core,” Zellion said.

The shield began to grow to cover the ground, forcing everyone to step up onto it, to protect them from the impending magma below. Storms, he hoped it wouldn’t be so violent that they were tossed about and harmed. There wasn’t much he could do about that right now. He watched the dome near completion, bringing darkness upon them, save for a hole at the far end. He’d leave through that, then seal it.

“We will survive this,” Contemplation whispered. “Thank you. I knew you would come back.”

“That’s odd,” he said, “because I didn’t.”

“Adonalsium did,” she replied. “I prayed to him for this to happen.”

He grimaced, and Contemplation regarded him, their faces visible by the light of the nearby sunheart. His armor was glowing too, though not in either of its customary shades of blue. Instead it glowed with the light of embers—the sunlight might have damaged it, because little flecks of red-orange light continued to burn all across it—and when he moved, he trailed smoke.

“I’ve noticed your expression when we mention Adonalsium.”

“Contemplation,” he said. “I don’t mean to be contrary, but Adonalsium? He—”

“He’s dead?” she asked. “Yes, we know. Did you think we had no idea of the story? The Shattering? The Shards?”

“I…yes. So I assumed. Since you still talk about him and…well, you know, pray.”

“Our faith,” she said, “is that this is all part of some plan. It’s not about everything happening the way we want—but trusting that itishappening the waysomeonewants.”

“I find that a little naive.”

“And yet,” the old woman said, “here you are. Saving us.”

“That was because of Auxiliary,” he said. “My shield here, who gave up his last vestige of life so I could come to you in time.”

“And what was Auxiliary?”

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