Page 84 of No Greater Sorrow

“You’re a fucking?—”

“Hush,” the Messenger scolded. “Our time is short. I’m sure your Knowing One is on his way here if he’s not already watching from his shadows.”

“Just execute me and be done with it,” Aleja said, sagging with resignation. She wondered if the Messenger would recognize it as the plea it was. If they killed her before Nicolas could attempt a rescue, perhaps the Second would spare him.

“I’m not going to execute you. At least not now. I’ve already sent my best troops away, as well as any commanders who can fight worth a damn. When the Knowing One shows up to slaughter them, he’ll make easy work of it.”

Aleja felt her past self’s shocked numbness. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because I need you to survive this and my comrades—whose names will doubtless appear on the Knowing One’s blade before nightfall—are expendable. You are the only one among all the Dark Saints and Astraelis who might be willing to listen to me. Who might understand.”

Aleja tried to speak, but her mouth was full of blood from a cut on her lip that had opened again. Her information while scrying was limited; she couldn’t recall what had caused the wound in the first place, just that it never seemed to heal.

The Messenger took advantage of this momentary silence. “You’re not going to believe what I have to say, but you will, in time. Now,listen. There is something wrong with the First. She no longer speaks. She no longer channels her magic into our realm. And if I were to die, it is doubtful she would appoint a new Messenger. Our attack on your realm was ill-timed. I argued against it, but in the end, was forced to relent lest I stoke doubt in my underlings. I’m sure you can understand that, Lady of Wrath?”

Aleja spat blood at the Messenger’s feet, but the other woman did not react.

“This little skirmish will have appeased them, so I can focus on the truly important matter. I am going to kill the First, and I… I appeal to you, Aleja. I need you to help me do it. In exchange, I will help you kill the Second.”

This time, Aleja couldn’t help but react. Her head shot up, causing a wave of dizziness that would have made her topple over, had she not been secured by chains. “Are you insane? What the hell are you talking about?”

“There is something you know deep in your heart, isn’t there? Something you dread. When Nicolas arrives here and paints this camp in the blood of my commanders, he will be breaking a pact—something the Second will not tolerate. How do you think the Second will choose to punish him?”

“You don’t know shit about us,” Aleja spat. Yet it wasn’t thoughts of her death that’d haunted her over these past few days of imprisonment, but thoughts of what would happen to Nicolas when he did the inevitable.

“I know more than you think. I know that the Second taught his devotees to value their knowledge, their will, and their freedom—that he taught them not to accept the corruption of their leaders. Yet, you fear him, don’t you? You fear his authority. You fear him so much that you’ve been begging my soldiers to kill you every time that gag is ripped from your face because you know what will happen to Nicolas if you’re still alive when he gets here.”

“Nicolas knows exactly what he’s doing,” Aleja said, even though the Messenger was right on every count.

“Your kind taught humans how to protect themselves from the Otherlanders. How to fight back against them. And yet, you allow yourself to squirm under the Second’s thumb, hoping to escape his notice whenever you decide to bend a rule.”

“What the hell does any of this have to do with the First?”

“Listen to me,” the Messenger said in a very low voice. “Yes, the First, the Second, and the Third are powerful. Very powerful. But they too are subject to the laws of the universe, to the laws that demand all things exist in cycles of creation and destruction. They could not stop what is coming even if they wanted to.”

“What’s coming?” Aleja asked. There was blood in her mouth again, but it was too thick to spit out. She swallowed, wondering if she would die before it made her stomach hurt.

“An end. An apocalypse. A period of destruction before rebirth can begin. What we call an Avaddon.”

When the Messenger looked at Aleja again, there was a tense expression on the visible half of her face. A dangerous expression. It meant they were about to share some secret they’d be forced to carry together, because it was too heavy for one of them to do it alone, and it couldn’t be allowed to fall.

One of the Messenger’s hands grazed her stomach, and Aleja realized it was slightly rounded—maybe not enough for someone else to notice, especially not through her armor, but the Messengerwantedher to see. Pregnancy was incredibly rare among both the Astraelis and the Otherlanders, but not unheard of. Confusion joined Aleja’s anger.

“Explain,” Aleja said.

“I already lost my husband. I am not going to birth my son into a world that kills him,” the Messenger hissed, leaning in close.

“Even we can’t stop the forces of nature.”

“Perhaps not. But if weknewa storm would be caused by a butterfly flapping its wings, and we knew where and when to find the butterfly, then we could crush it before it had the chance.”

“I don’t understand what you’re proposing,” Aleja said, wondering if her light-headedness was from blood loss or the understanding that whatever the Messenger said next was going to change everything.

“Yes, you do. Just as Nicolas would do anything to save you, you would do anything to save him. That’s why you’re going to listen to me. And that’s why, when the time comes, you’re going toaskme to let you help.”

“What are you proposing, Messenger? You’re going to try and kill the First?”

“Yes. I have theories. If it’s done properly, the Avaddon can be avoided.”

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