Page 89 of No Greater Sorrow

“What do you want me to do?” Hellfire, the words hurt to say. Aleja was unsure whether it was because she was now a Dark Saint or because she’d lied to her fellows about her reasons for coming here. Another betrayal, perhaps not as grand as the last they’d experienced, but a wound nonetheless, added to their already bleeding realm.

“I need you to lay the groundwork for your side’s surrender.”

“Fuck that. Even if I wanted to convince them, they would never go for it,” Aleja said.

“Very well. Figure out how to keep your side from trying to snatch the Third back. When the time comes for us to meet again, you’ll recognize my signal.”

“What about the Third? There must be consequences for keeping him imprisoned.”

“He’s safe with us, albeit unhappy about his current situation. We will deal with any consequences that may arise. But Aleja, I…”

Watching the Messenger hesitate made Aleja uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t fully explain. She was used to Val’s expressive mask, but the Messenger had always been inscrutable.

“Despite what happens next, I promise you, I do need your help. I want to free us. We bothneedmy son. Only he can figure out how to draw out the First, so we can end her without killing ourselves in the process. The same goes for the Second. Lie to Val. Do what you must to wrench the truth from him.”

But Aleja’s thoughts were stuck on the first sentence.Despite what happens next. She whirled at the sound of falling rocks, drawing her fire around her hands.

“I’m sorry,” the Messenger told her. “Half of my soldiers are covered in burn scars from the last war. I certainly can’t let them think I drew you here alone without at least attempting to kill you.Survive this. We have no other choice.”

Aleja reacted without thinking, hurling a wave of fire at the Messenger. Her golden sword was already drawn, as if she’d known this was the inevitable result of their meeting. It was filled with enough Astraelis magic to deflect the stream of fire; it veered toward a boulder, fizzling out uselessly after creating a scorched ring in the stone.

The Messenger did not appear surprised by this attack, nor did she advance. “They’re going to have tobelieveit. On both your side and mine.”

Aleja knew then that her past self was not going to chime in with helpful advice as a group of Thrones appeared in the sky. Their shadows moved across the mountains, approaching too fast.

It was as if Aleja was in the Trials again. The Messenger stepped away, disappearing into a gap between the rocks, and leaving Aleja alone among the sudden onslaught of enemies.

I’m not ready for this, Aleja thought, praying her voice would answer.

But all she received in response was a simple:Yes, you are.

It was the first time she’d truly used her fire as a Dark Saint, and at that moment, she realized why the Astraelis hated her so damn much. With a surge of power, her fire grazed the bellies of two Thrones swooping low. Roaring screams filled the air as one of the Thrones—fatally wounded—tumbled out of the sky. The second was impaled on a spire of rock, giving a pained wail as it spasmed. Aleja did not see where the other fell, but she heard the sound of its bones breaking—heard the wet sound of its lungs as it gasped for one final breath.

“Shit,” Aleja hissed, as one of the remaining Thrones dove toward her. The wound in its stomach was a brutal mess of flesh and skin tangled together in a way that couldn’t be undone.

But there was another commotion.

An Authority rose over the ridge. Its hundreds of eyes were locked on her.

She’d defeated an Authority singlehandedly once; she could do it again if she was lucky. but this was no weak, newly revived Remnant that had spent centuries slumbering at the bottom of a well. This Authority had fresh memories of Aleja barging into its realm, stealing their war prisoner, and embarrassing the Messenger in front of her armies.

She briefly lost sight of it behind the hills, but it was too large to stay hidden for long. One of its great wings swept across a row of newly appeared Otherlander soldiers, sending their bodies flying across the rocks.

A weed growing from the side of the mountain unfurled and erupted as if it were a tree growing in extreme fast forward. Except this tree had jagged branches that snatched another Throne out of the sky and pierced its throat with a single, efficient jab.

Bonnie’s work.

As another group of Thrones rose over the mountains, Aleja remembered an off-handed comment Nicolas had made the first time she’d scried with him into a memory of the war.They’re difficult to deal with in large numbers. While the troops below focused on keeping the nearest ones at bay, it opened an opportunity for another Throne to flank them. But before it could reach them, the Throne did something so unexpected and nightmarish that Aleja couldn’t look away. The great winged lion thrashed and whipped its tail, but its ire appeared to be directed at itself.

Four of its enormous claws raked across its chest, opening a series of parallel wounds. But it wasn’t done after that. Its spiked tail punched holes in its wings, ripping away its ability to stay airborne, and as it fell, Aleja spotted Amicia directing its movements with her outstretched arms.

The Dark Saint of Lust had finally set her power loose, and the Thrones were desperate for violence—against themselves.

Amicia was so absorbed in directing the Thrones that she didn’t notice the enormous man in a winged mask sneaking up behind her with a golden dagger in his hand. Aleja’s frantic shouts were drowned out by the chaos of the battle. She watched in horror as the Principality stuck Amicia in the ribs; her shout of pain was enough to alert the Otherlander soldiers, who swarmed the Principality so quickly that Aleja lost sight of them both.

But the great mass of wings—the Authority—did not seem fazed as it continued toward Aleja. “I’m here,” she called, hoping this would keep its attention on her.

Aleja didn’t stop to look up once she began a desperate scramble down the other side of the hill. Even with the body of a Dark Saint, she’d had never been much of a climber. It was taking too long to find a proper foothold every time she wanted to drop a few inches, and the Authority’s shadow was already upon her.

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