Page 107 of The Sunlit Man

Elegy looked to see Rebeke in his grip—his bare hand on her neck, leeching away her heat. Strangely itdidhurt Elegy—and anger her—to see that. Rebeke was…someone that should be protected. Elegy howled, but then was tackled from behind by one of the other Charred, her sunheart fragment slipping from her fingers and bouncing away.

“Yes, itdoeshurt you, doesn’t it?” the Cinder King said. “Curious. Well, perhaps it will hurt even more for you to know what I’m going to do to her. I’ll make her into one of you, take away her mind and her soul, and replace it with devotion tome alone. When you next meet her, she will try to kill you. Doesthathurt, Elegy?”

Elegy howled in frustration, losing control, battering at the Charred that had her pinned down. Then another one arrived and slammed his cudgel into her head. She withstood the pain, though, keeping her attention on Rebeke—whom the Cinder King released and pushed into the arms of an official. Rebeke sagged, most of her heat drained.

Another official whispered something urgent to the Cinder King, and he looked out toward the approaching Zellion. “We’ll need to go back to the old plan for dealing with him,” the Cinder King said. “Is it still ready?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Faith, go to the command center and put the city into lockdown—no ships leaving. I don’t want him slipping out of my grip. The rest of you, with me.”

Elegy threw aside the Charred holding her, then caught the cudgel as another tried to pound her head. She even kicked at the leg of a third one as he arrived to help. But she saw at least a dozen more running up the street toward them, summoned to the will of their master.

He walked off at a brisk pace, joined by his officials in white, who pulled a weakened Rebeke after them.

They left Elegy to die. But they didn’t realize. She could plan now. She had begun to care. She wouldn’t just fight until she was killed. So she broke free from the grips of those coming for her.

And she ran.

She ran with full strength of limb and determination. Away from the Charred. Behind, they howled in frustration at her escape. Though part of her longed to engage them, to fight and claw and batter and kill, sheraninstead. Farther along the rim of the city until she was able to vault herself up and grab the top of the roof of one of the smaller buildings. A frightened woman closed the window as Elegy reached the roof, then turned and leaped over the street to the next ship.

Below, Charred clambered over one another to try to reach her. But, not working together, they hampered one another’s efforts. Elegy moved back the way she’d come, bounding from rooftop to rooftop until she’d returned to where she’d started. Here, she hopped down and grabbed her sunheart fragment off the ground. Then she ran over two streets to a specific point she’d spied earlier: an open portion of steel deck with no buildings nearby.

Approaching Charred from all directions forced her against the edge. She backed to the very lip, growling softly, staring them down. Then she felt the city shake as something impacted it from below. A moment later, a figure sprang over the side—a figure in smoldering armor, trailing smoke. He landed in front of her, metal feet sparking on the metal street. Then he stood up tall, even more intimidating in the armor than he’d been without it.

“You all right?” he asked her, his voice projected somehow out of the armor. He glanced at her, and the slit at the front glowed a deep red-orange, the color of coals—or sunhearts. The suit seemed simultaneously archaic and modern. It was sleek, with no gaps at the joints that she could see. Yet it was also a reminder of a different time, when soldiers had gone to war encased like this.

“Yeah,” she said, breathing heavily. “I planned. I saw you flying toward this spot. Iplanned, Zellion.”

“Good.”

“They took Rebeke that way,” she said, pointing past the gathered Charred, who had retreated at his appearance.

“Was the Cinder King with them?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s the way I’m going,” he said.

“Do you have your weapon?”

“No,” he said. “It’s keeping the people of Beacon alive right now—and summoning it would mean instant death to them.”

“Then we’re both unarmed,” she said.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he told her as the Charred started to move in. “I’ll assume none of you have seen Shardplate in action before. Stand back and enjoy this next part. I’ll make us a path.”

He stomped forward, armor clanging against the deck, and met the first Charred head-on, swinging in a powerful uppercut. The Charred—still accustomed to powering through hits—didn’t bother to dodge. So Zellion’s punch connected and tossed the Charred like a doll over the nearby ships to land somewhere in the distance.

He spun and seized another, tossing her into several others coming his way. He moved like a demolition machine, using the Charred as weapons against one another. In an incredible sequence of destruction, he threw them, stomped them,brokethem.

Unlike before, however, the Cinder King wasn’t there to be frightened. So they kept coming. Elegy watched in awe, then noticed the cracks appearing in Zellion’s armor. He was a terrible force, with strength like a machine, but he couldn’t stop them all.They got in occasional hits with cudgels or machetes—and those blows left cracks in the armor, like it was made of glass.

Shaking free of her awe, Elegy ran forward and began to cleanse the wounded Charred’s cinderhearts, one at a time. They, once freed, tried to kill her. But she ducked away, leaving them to attack other Charred instead, increasing the chaos.

In an explosion of light, part of the strange armor actuallyburstbeneath a hit, spraying sparks and glowing metal chunks. It was one of the shoulder pieces, but Zellion kept fighting, breaking bones, and tossing Charred until—at last—the street fell still. Not silent—no, there were too many moans and screams from frustrated, wounded Charred for that. But the supply of attackers was depleted, like a gun running out of energy.

Zellion slumped forward, and she could hear him breathing deeply from within his helmet. Then his armor began to disintegrate, vaporizing to smoke, leaving him—in seconds—exposed. He struggled to his feet and picked up a fallen machete.

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