Page 111 of The Merciless Ones

It’s all of us against Etzli, but the goddess just eats more and more deathshrieks until finally I feel it – the telltale gathering of power as the other goddesses stir. Anok is already stretching, her shoulders rolling as her body changes from gold to its usual dark colour. I glance over, my heart sinking. If Anok joins the fight, there’s no way we can stand against her. But we have no choice now. She’s rising, already awake.

Anok glances at our battle, thunderclouds gathering around her forehead as she takes in the chaos. Then she gestures, and a wall of clear glass thrusts up from the ground, separating White Hands and me from Etzli. “What is the meaning of this?” Anok asks calmly, glancing at Etzli.

“Our daughters have rebelled,” Etzli replies, enraged. “They seek to prevent us from consuming the army of the Idugu and gaining power.”

At her words, fury explodes through my being, and all my anger and frustration come to the fore. “I am not your daughter!” I shout. “I never was, and you know it!”

Eyes the unfathomable darkness of the deep earth turn to me. “So you know the truth,” Anok says quietly.

“All of it!” I rage. “I know that I’m somehow descended from the Singular, that you’ve been eating your own sons. I know that you are monsters, just like the Idugu! That all of you are corrupted!”

Anok nods solemnly. “Then you know enough to destroy us.” That said, she turns to Etzli. “Sister,” she says.

Etzli smiles. “Yes?”

Anok replies by gripping her by the neck and pinning her down on the floor. As I watch, shocked, she gestures to me. “Go, Deka,” she says hurriedly. “I will hold the others off long enough for you to escape the mountain!”

I gape. “I don’t understand—”

“The madness that consumes us will eventually destroy this world,” Anok declares. “Find the rest of your power and use it to end us. Your mortal mother will know the way.”

“My mother?” I thought what Father said about Mother being alive, about her telling him to come find me, was just a delusion. The last visions of a dying man.

Anok doesn’t seem to think so because she says, “You already know where to find her.”

Gar Nasim… Father’s last few words float into my mind.

“Remember, Deka, you are the key, and soon your power will awaken enough others to stand against us. Destroy us, child!” Anok cries. “Free us! Free this world from us.”

Etzli struggles against her sister. “This is madness, Anok. Release me!”

But the darker goddess holds fast. “Go!” she roars at me. “Flee!”

I whirl towards the other side of the room. “Ixa, transform!”

Deka! Ixa agrees.

As I run across the abyss using the bridge Britta swiftly creates for me, the screams of the deathshrieks rush past my ears, all of them so filled with pain and anguish, my soul aches. My stride falters. Even if we escape, those deathshrieks will still be trapped here, their bodies fodder for the goddesses to use as they will. They will remain here for an eternity, trapped in this endless cycle of suffering. I can’t allow that to happen. Can’t allow these deathshrieks to endure more misery while the goddesses grow ever more bloated and powerful.

Your power will awaken enough others… Anok’s words sing in my head, reminding me that I’m not entirely powerless.

I can’t free the deathshrieks in that pit by myself, but I can awaken the gifts of those who can. I turn to White Hands, who’s rushing up behind me. How many times have I heard of her power, of the devastation she wrought when she was in her prime.

“White Hands, what was your divine gift?” I ask – a question that’s also an agreement.

I can release White Hands’s power only if she agrees of her own volition. Free will, just like Keita told me.

The Firstborn seems to understand, because she removes her bone gauntlets as she walks forward. Underneath her gloves, her hands don’t look extraordinary at all – they’re the same dark brown as the rest of her, and they’re on the smaller side, almost stubby now that her claws have been removed. Still, I know they contain power, the kind of power that once levelled cities.

“Ash,” White Hands finally says, holding her hands out to me. “I once had the power to turn everything to ash.”

“And you will have it again.” I place my hands on hers and sink into the combat state, breathing out when I feel it, the ability hidden deep in her bones. The ability I hope to soon coax back to life.

I breathe again, concentrate, and within moments, it’s like I’m sinking into her. Her hands are already shining brighter than the rest of her, her ability rising up to meet mine. I send my power travelling through my fingertips, arcs of starlight twisting and twirling around her being, heat and warmth rising from deep inside me. This is what it means to awaken power; this is what it feels like to help a divine gift rise once more.

I don’t even flinch when I notice sores opening on my fingertips, the skin blistering, then splitting open in response to the power I’ve used. All I feel is exhilaration. White Hands’s hands are gleaming now, power concentrated in each one of her fingertips.

I smile, relieved: I’ve done it, I’ve brought her gift to life once more.

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