Page 115 of Destroyer

“Fen,” Ru said, choosing her words carefully. Knowing that any misplaced question, any wrong move, could be disastrous. She asked, though she already suspected she knew the answers now. “Why did you take the artifact? Why did you bring it here?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, the gesture so familiar yet so strange in this place. “The longer I watch, the less sense it makes. I was looking for answers. I thought if I came here, with the artifact, returned it to its place of origin… but watch.There. He places his hands flat on the ground. He says the words. And in a minute we’ll be consumed with darkness again, and for what? Surely there is something I missed.Surelyhere, with me, the artifact… surely what I felt inherethe moment it was found, it was for a purpose.”

At the wordherehe pressed a hand to his chest briefly, grimacing as he did.

Ru’s heart sank further into her gut, upended. With every word he spoke, the more certain she was of the truth.

“Speak clearly,” Archie said, just as the darkness enveloped them again. “Ugh, can’t you make this horrible illusion stop? It’s making me ill.”

“Shutup, Arch,” Ru snapped, never taking her gaze from Fen, even as the darkness choked them. “Are you that thick? It’s the Destruction. Taryel, kneeling in the square. And Fen… he’s…” her conviction wavered. What if she was wrong? To accuse Fen of something like that, something so terrible, so impossible; she would have to be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Fen stepped toward Ru, eyes shining. He looked almost mad, lost in some labyrinth of the mind. “I know you feel it,” he said, his voice low, just for her. “The artifact speaks to you in the same way it speaks to me.”

She clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself to remain strong, to breathe. Just the sight of him made her want to melt, to crumble. A harsh sea wind whipped at her, catching at her overcoat, stinging her face. The spectral buildings did nothing to block the chill. “I knew it affected you,” she replied, shivering, trying not to show how cold she was, how afraid. “That night in my room. But I thought… I thought I was the conduit.”

Fen turned away, watching the cloaked figure perform his strange ritual again.

“There are some things in this world that make sense,” he said, loud enough now that Archie and Gwyneth could hear. “That can be explained by science. That are easily quantified, calculated, represented by numbers and facts, and organized into the correct categories. Most things are like that. But this…” he held up the artifact, its blue-black surface shining darkly in the moonlight. “Centuries ago, it was taken from me. Stolen from my body. Wrenched is probably the most accurate term. And only now, only since meeting you, Ru… only since growing close to you, have I been able to discover what it is. Though what itmeans… another matter entirely.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” spluttered Archie.

He and Gwyneth had huddled close together, arms around each other, as much to protect from the cold as for comfort. She felt painfully alone then, standing between Fen and her friends, the wind whipping at her body like a punishment.

“The artifact isn’t yours, Fen,” added Gwyneth, just as the darkness spread to engulf them again. “Is it?”

“No,” said Ru, and as she spoke her hair slipped from its bun, falling loose around her face as the wind picked up, carrying it aloft. She gazed through the darkness at Fen, daring him to admit it. Daring him to speak the truth. “It’s not his. It was dug up here, in the center of the Shattered City, where it had been buried since the Destruction. Isn’t that right,Fen?”

Let him correct her. Let him speak his true name. Ru knew she was right.Wrenched. He had said it had been wrenchedfrom his body. It was some part of him, an extension of his being…

The artifact, Taryel, Festra, Fen… one and the same.

“Exactly as she says,” said Fen, unmoved. “The artifact was discovered in the earth, resurrected after centuries lying dormant. I hadn’t known it was there, that it even existed. I couldn’t have guessed what it was, except that for some reason my mortal form persisted… I thought it was a remnant of my soul, perhaps…” he trailed off, turning away to stare at the kneeling figure in the square.

His mortal form.

He’d given himself away. The one question that had lingered in her mind, one doubt — Taryel was centuries old, a figment of legend. Fen appeared to be young. But Fen had no home to go to, much of his life a mystery to Ru. His accent was strange, impossible to place. Fen’s wisdom was that of a long-lived man, his eyes far older than his supposed twenty-six years.

“I know it’s you,” she said. Her words cut through the wailing wind, piercing their target.

Fen spun, eyes locked with hers. The truth was written on his face so plainly that her knees weakened, and she had to fight to stay standing. A smile tugged at the edge of his lovely mouth as if daring her to say it.

“You’re Taryel.” She spoke louder this time, the truth falling into place as heavily as a crumbling castle wall.

Archie and Gwyneth stared at Ru and Fen, their expressions warped in twin horror.

“He what?” Archie said at last.

“Don’t be insane,” said Gwyneth in an accusatory tone, as if Ru was making some kind of sick joke.

“She’s perfectly sane,” said Fen, thumbing the artifact with a familiarity that made Ru shiver. “You were right, Ru. Fen Verrill isn’t my name. I suppose you understand why I would change it.” Then he snapped a finger, and with it, the spectral Taryel vanished, though the projection of the city remained.

“The artifact kept you young,” said Ru, shaking — with cold or fear, she couldn’t tell. “But I can’t seem to make up my mind about what it is. Your soul? Or simply a stone that you’ve cursed with your magic, tethered to your life in some ungodly way?”

He laughed, and the sound was utterly mirthless, devoid of joy. “Ungodly? On the contrary, the gods have everything to do with it. One god in particular.” He moved toward her then, closing the distance in a few long-legged strides. “I’m over five hundred years old,” he murmured, the wind carrying his voice away across the ghostly city as he spoke. “The artifact’s doing, as you guessed.” His face softened. “No… as you meticulously calculated, using every piece of evidence to come to a statistically accurate conclusion.”

She stared icily up at him, hating him as much as she was drowning in relief just to be near him again. The way he spoke should have sounded like mockery, if his words had not been laced with an unending sadness.

She pushed windswept hair from her eyes, refusing to stand down, to cower. “Tell me what the artifact is.”

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