Page 72 of Of Sockets Of Stitches
There was a reason this mother had stitched my shoulder. “I will be with you, Richalle.”
“Yes, daughter, you will. And I with you. We show no mercy tonight.”
I reflected her smile. “None.”
There was a roar of noise and otherwise utter darkness. I wasflat on my back, and my champions were in a crouch, savagely shouting and bellowing at the blackness pummeling from above.
The stitch from my shoulder wiggled free, and it exploded as surely as blackness had. Not into a feasting snake, as I had encountered until now. Richalle erupted into a giant version of herself. She glowed with an inner molten fire, and yielded a great shield.
That was exactly what she had been in life and living death—a shield. She had tried to shield her daughter from every hurt and pain in life. But now she used the shield for what it was designed for.
Against ruin.
Richalle filled the very sky.
My mouth hung ajar as she slammed the shield down and split the land. Ruin turned its focus from me and my champions to the greater threat, and my champions were quick to return to their feet.
As Richalle cut through the darkness, my champions directed the pieces to a yawning funnel in the sky that they had whirled into being.
The Raises, still locked hand in hand, were lifted high.
Richalle crashed her shield in a booming blow against a wall of sickness, and it careened back under the surface. The sky was clear night again, the stars and moon present once more.
I expected the shining and giant mother to dive into the black sea and into the heart of the frayed seam, but she switched direction.
She dove at the Raises.
Throughthe Raises.
The duke and duchess’s mouths locked in silent screams, and Richelle’s giant form enveloped them.
Their hands finally unlocked.
The duke’s eyes roll back in his head. The duchess was screaming.
They toppled into the black sea.
“Catch them,” I cried out, lashing forward my own power in a net.
They fell through it.
They fell through my net, and the net hurtled forth by my remaining champions.
I watched the Raises crash through the surface of the black sea, and I was barely aware of my knees crashing to the dirt.
But Richalle was surging after them, shield held before her.
She did not cut through the black and disappear beneath the surface. No, she battered at the black, pressing down and down. The dark water had nowhere to go. It attempted to curl around the sides of Richalle, but as it touched the night sky, it evaporated into screaming oblivion—for this mother had claimed the very air.
Richalle bore down, face determined and shouting behind her shield. She dug her shoulder behind it as the black started to press back.
She had to win. My monsters were in there.
I crawled to the edge of the sea, scanning for any hand or face or shout. Where were they?
A great crater was forming, and the crater was as enormous as weaker human eyes might see. The crater was a mythical country. The crater had once been thriving land until this powerful force of ruin had ulcerated the surface of the world.
Richalle turned her head and looked at me. She smiled, and then shoved one last time.
