“How many?” Elijah asked, not bothering to look up from the blood-covered floor. People had already begun to clean the other parts of the hospital, but they’d not made it to Elijah’s area. Maybe because it was in one corner of the trauma center, but his presence might’ve been a more viable explanation.

  Because even though he hadn’t really acknowledged it, Elijah knew that his days of relative anonymity within Seattle were long gone. It wouldn’t be long before the residents began to look at him with suspicion and fear, just like the people of Ironshore had. Some of that perception had faded over time, but not completely.

  The same would be true with Seattle. Too many people had seen what he’d done outside the walls. Too many had witnessed his dragon form – and the carnage that came in its wake. Fear was the proper response to knowing that such a creature walked in their midst.

  Did it matter that he’d followed it up by healing hundreds of people?

  No.

  Not for most, at least. Because it wasn’t about his actual actions. Rather, their fear came from the potential he represented. They knew that if he wanted, he could kill them all. And there was nothing any of them could do about it. Not their army. Not Isaiah. Not even Gunnar, though the populace likely didn’t even know the sniper existed.

  The point was that Elijah was a threat, and one so far above them that the normal citizenry had no defense against him. Of course they would be afraid. That was a rational response to knowing just how outclassed they were.

  And to the knowledge that he wasn’t shy about using that power discrepancy against his enemies.

  What if he suddenly decided to shift Seattle into that column? What if he fell upon them with the full might at his disposal? They couldn’t do a thing to stop him.

  “On our side? Or total?” asked Isaiah through one of his drones. It had been there since Elijah had started healing, though it had remained ignored.

  “Either?”

  “We suffered nearly thirty thousand casualties,” he answered, feigning impartiality. However, Elijah could hear the truth of the man’s emotions, even through the drone. Isaiah played the role of an emotionless ruler, but he cared deeply about his people. He went on, “And outside of this hospital, every war elf has been killed.”

  “I thought some of them might have escaped.”

  “They tried,” Isaiah stated. “I tracked them, and our strike forces fell upon them without mercy.”

  The numbers involved were staggering. There had been many deadly battles in the course of human history, but Elijah struggled to believe that any single day had seen more casualties. But he was no student of history, so perhaps a couple hundred thousand deaths wasn’t without precedent.

  “None remaining?” Elijah asked.

  “None,” confirmed Isaiah.

  Finally, Elijah looked up from the blood-soaked tiles. He sat upon one of the disused gurneys, ignoring the bloody white sheets. The patient who’d used it was long since gone, moved to some other part of the hospital. Considering he’d been a war elf, probably somewhere secure.

  “What about the survivors?” Elijah asked. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “Execution.”

  “So, I healed them for nothing?”

  “I do not have the authority to tell anyone who they can and can’t heal,” Isaiah stated. “Ophelia has dominion over this hospital, and she would never turn away a patient.”

  “Ophelia.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was the head Healer whose name he’d not bothered to discover. She hadn’t introduced herself, and Elijah was focused enough on his task that he hadn’t asked.

  “Such a waste,” he muttered with a shake of his head. But in retrospect, it wasn’t so different from giving medical treatment to prisoners on death row. Perhaps it would be considered a misallocation of ethera, but Elijah hadn’t failed to notice that all of the war elf patients had been sent to his area. As such, they were considered the lowest priority, coupled with Seattle residents who’d been deemed lost causes.

  “We don’t have the means to keep them captive,” Isaiah stated, a little regret creeping into his voice. “And I don’t think anyone wants to burn resources on their well-being. Not without a return on that investment, and most are too powerful for confinement. We can’t keep their power contained.”

  Elijah didn’t outwardly react, but he understood the issue. Even in the best of times, caring for prisoners was a controversial subject. Some people fell on the side of punishment over rehabilitation, and they preferred harsh conditions over what they considered coddling those who’d already betrayed society by breaking its laws. Others took a more empathetic approach, adopting a goal of reintegration of those prisoners into society.

  But even they would struggle to justify such a concept when the prisoners in question belonged to a race whose only goal was to conquer Earth. They weren’t part of society, so rehabilitation wasn’t a realistic goal. And yet, just executing them felt wrong, even to Elijah.

  That was probably the point. It wasn’t an act to be enjoyed. No one was meant to revel in it. Rather, it was an onerous duty, necessary but distasteful.

  By comparison, the surviving members of the Daughters of Deianira had a chance at rehabilitation. They could work off their debt to society and reintegrate. They had a chance to atone for their poor choices and earn their freedom.

  “I’m glad I’m not the one in charge,” Elijah admitted, finally pushing himself to his feet. For one of the first times ever, he wished he habitually wore boots. Most of the blood had congealed, but it was still sticky beneath his feet. After looking down at his gore-covered clothes, he asked, “Is there somewhere I can get cleaned up and rest for a few hours?”

  As it turned out, there was a hotel only a few blocks away. Isaiah didn’t lead him there himself, though that was likely because the man had many other issues with which to deal. After all, the city had been attacked from within as well as without, and he was stuck trying to make sense of the aftermath.

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  He did provide a guide, though, and soon enough, Elijah had checked in to his room. A thorough shower came next, and it was quite some time – and a lot of scrubbing – before he felt clean. When he got out, he used a generous dose of cleansing powder on his clothes, though he suspected that they were far beyond saving.

  Afterward, he collapsed onto the provided bed. It was softer than he would have preferred, but it was still better than nothing.

  For a while, he just lay there. He knew he wouldn’t soon fall asleep, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he focused on recent events. When he’d come to Seattle, he’d expected something far simpler than a battle that would claim a mid-six figures death toll. Yet, that was what he’d gotten, and he was still trying to wrap his head around the reality of his situation.

  Soon enough, he sat up and distracted himself with a few of his stored meals. His increased appetite demanded fuel, and as a result, his reserves had quickly begun to deplete. By all rights, he should have taken advantage of the hotel’s room service – or failing that, one of the local restaurants. But he just couldn’t bring himself to set foot outside and endure the reactions of the city’s residents.

  Justified though they might have been, Elijah still didn’t enjoy being an object of fear.

  He ate mechanically, barely tasting whale steak and some vaguely broccoli-like vegetables. Yet, it was satisfying enough that by the time he had finished, he felt his eyes drooping.

  Fatigue could be ignored. Elijah could go weeks without sleep, if he so desired. However, doing so came with consequences, usually to his mental state. Ideally, his sleep schedule would look no different than anyone else’s. So, in the wake of his enormous meal, he lay back and quickly succumbed to unconsciousness.

  His dreams were predictably gory, though thankfully, he recognized them as dreams straightaway, which robbed them of their impact. And eventually, even those faded into the nothingness of sound sleep.

  When he awoke, he was unsure of just how much time had passed, but when he looked out the window, he saw that the sun had long since set, and a blanket of darkness covered Seattle. Pinpricks of light dotted the cityscape, though from what Elijah could see, it was far more peaceful than he would have expected.

  For a long time, he just stared out the window, enjoying the harmonic illusion. If nothing else, he’d learned that beneath Seattle’s fa?ade were a host of problems. Some, like inequality, were more visible than others, but one thing was abundantly clear – Isaiah had his work cut out for him if he wanted his rule to last.

  Thankfully, that wasn’t Elijah’s problem.

  Briefly, he considered simply returning to the grove, but ultimately, he chose not to. He still needed to meet with Isaiah and Gunnar. The former, to finalize the terms of their coexistence and cooperation. The latter, to extend an invitation.

  Up first was Gunnar, who he tracked down at the safehouse.

  “Come in,” came the man’s voice when Elijah knocked.

  He opened the door and stepped inside to find that the place was largely unchanged, save that a foldable cot stood to one side. Clearly, Gunnar had been sleeping.

  “How did you know I was coming?”

  “The whole area is wired with sensors. Nobody else would be coming down here,” the sniper answered. “What do you want? The way I see it, our deal is done. I found out who hired me. Desdemona’s dead.”

  “True,” Elijah said. Gunnar sat on the cot, shirtless and with a laptop beside him. His rifle leaned against the wall within easy reach. “I came to invite you to Ironshore.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Elijah admitted. The man wasn’t attuned to nature, so he wasn’t a good candidate for inclusion into the grove. Even if he was, Elijah didn’t quite trust him enough to extend that benefit to him. “Maybe you can join their legion. Train a few apprentices.”

  “Pass.”

  “You will be well-compensated, both in leveling opportunities and ethereum.”

  “Still pass.”

  “Why? You’re happy living like this?”

  Gunnar shrugged. “I don’t spend much time in the city. But when I’m here, I help people. Which I’ll remind you that you still need to do as well. That was part of our deal.”

  “Saving them all from war elves doesn’t count?”

  “No.”

  Elijah had expected as much. “The Hartwood Foundation should have a presence here soon,” he said. Then, he explained the organization’s purpose. “That should satisfy you.”

  “It’s a start,” Gunnar conceded. “But I’m still not moving. I like it here.”

  “That’s a lie,” Elijah countered. From what he could tell, the man hated much of what he saw in Seattle.

  “Well, maybe. But I want to like it, and I’m willing to put in the work to make that happen,” he stated. “So, thanks for the offer, but no. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Elijah could recognize a losing battle when he saw one, so he just nodded and said, “If you change your mind –”

  “I won’t.”

  “If you do, the offer still stands. You know where to find me.”

  With that, Elijah took his leave. The trip back to the surface was accompanied by eerie silence. The riots had spooked everyone, and the war elf attack had only exacerbated the situation, and to the point where everyone had opted to remain indoors. He had no idea how long that would last, but as he’d already established, that wasn’t his problem to solve.

  By the time he reached the surface, the sun had begun its steady rise. With dawn’s light, the damage to the city was far more evident. The Warcaller-induced unrest had claimed quite a few lives, and in the resulting battles, the once-pristine buildings had suffered. However, Elijah was surprised to see that crews were already out and about, cleaning and repairing the destruction.

  Even though he bypassed the tram system, it didn’t take Elijah long to reach the city’s center, where he saw that the capitol had become a hive of frenzied activity that befit the crisis.

  Thankfully, he didn’t need to announce himself. Instead, he was greeted by one of Isaiah’s smaller drones, which led him across the plaza and into the building. After a few twists and turns, he found himself entering a fairly mundane office containing little more than a few chairs and a desk.

  And Isaiah, who rose to his feet upon Elijah’s entry.

  He looked little different than he had in New York, though there were bags beneath his eyes – evidence of his fatigue. He clearly hadn’t slept, and judging by the activity outside, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

  “I expected you to leave during the night,” Isaiah stated.

  Elijah shook his head, though he was a little unnerved by how close to the mark the man had come. “Not without a little talk. We still haven’t settled everything.”

  “I am well aware. But I want to make something abundantly clear,” Isaiah said, gesturing for Elijah to sit, which he accepted. Isaiah took the seat across from him. “I intend to do whatever it takes to ensure this planet survives. So long as our aims coincide, I have no problems working with you.”

  “Your history says otherwise.”

  Isaiah amended, “Perhaps I misspoke. I can push my personal feelings aside and focus on doing what’s necessary. I do not have to like you to work with you. I assume you feel the same.”

  “Not one to mince words, are you?”

  “I find that being straightforward is usually better. I do not like you. You do not like me. That needn’t keep us from working towards the greater good. The agreement in New York is evidence of that.”

  “Fair enough,” Elijah said. He certainly didn’t care for Isaiah, but he could at least respect the fact that the man wanted to do the right thing. How he went about it was often frustrating, but the desire was there. “But don’t try to use me. I don’t like it, and I won’t stand for it.”

  “Clearly. And I would caution you not to dismiss Seattle. For now, you are stronger than us. I won’t dispute that. But you still need our cooperation.”

  Elijah nodded. “So long as you don’t work against me, we won’t have any problems.”

  “I trust that you understand that the opposite is true as well.”

  Elijah did, and what’s more, he had no interest in opposing Seattle’s interests. He said as much, then added, “If there’s nothing else?”

  “If there is, I will go through your intermediary in Argos.”

  Elijah was tempted to make a quippy comment about how much that hurt his feelings, but he chose a more dignified route. “That works for me,” he said instead. Then, he asked about Lucy. Thankfully, the Silo – which contained the vertical farms that fed most of the city – was one of the best protected places in Seattle, so she had been unharmed. A relief, if ever there was one.

  Once he’d established her well-being, Elijah rose, then said, “Then I’m going to go home.”

  “Have a good journey.”

  Elijah stood, then turned to walk away. However, he stopped himself a second later. He turned and said, “And Isaiah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get your shit together, man. This city was a powder keg even without the war elves. You need to fix that.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Good.”

  Then, before Isaiah could say anything else, Elijah used Roots of the World Tree and teleported back to his grove.

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