Aven fought against the pain as the Book of Sins seared into his soul. It felt as if every wound, every bruise, every scar he’d taken since that night at the tower was all opening up at once, ripping through his flesh. Part of him had hoped the new body would release the hold the Book had on his soul; that hope died as swiftly and violently as the bodies littering the courtyard.

  Yvris stood over the congregation, watching the writhing crowd. He spoke softly, “All of you will die for nothing. The Empire’s order will not falter against mere ants railing against the heavens.” His teeth bared as he looked around.

  “Mercy...please,” Esharah whispered, voice barely audible over the screams.

  “Mercy is for those who might still be redeemed,” Yvris kept his claws firmly on the book.

  Aven forced himself up onto one knee. The pain was relentless. So was he. Pain was as close as any friend Aven had ever had. The pain of Father’s blows during training. The writhing spasms when Mother injected voidblood into his veins. Burning in his muscles as he tried to break his body down to rebuild it. The sensation of dissolving in the void. This pain was no different.

  Without the Battle Mind, still weakened from fracturing and sticking his mind back together, Aven couldn’t shove the pain aside. Instead, he met it head on, and stood in the middle of it.

  Aven held Yvris’ gaze as he rose to his feet, willing trembling legs to bear his weight. They were his legs. He’d forged them in nothingness, woven the strands together with the threads of the void.

  Yvris’s eyes narrowed, the dezar stabbing the book again. Some of the surrounding screams faded as all the Executor of Hellfrost’s attention fell on Aven. The world burned white with the pain, but Aven refused to falter. Refused to flinch. He forced himself to meet Yvris’s gaze with a glare.

  “Erdrak said that he stabbed you through the heart before tossing your corpse into the pit,” Yvris said. “Another lie. When this is over, I’ll add his soul to the Book as well. You, though...you’re too dangerous to live. We’ll find other voidtouched.”

  Aven met his gaze. “You think the Empire is going to let you rule after this.” He jerked his head to the side, indicating the corpses, the blood spilled over the flagstones. “You’re-“

  Yvris tensed. The pain exploded again, stronger than ever, all of it solely on Aven.

  The words came through gritted teeth, Aven forcing them through, “You’re finished. Kill us all...you’re still finished. You lost. But...” he wrenched his gaze back up to meet Yvris’, “You losing isn’t enough. We’re going to win.”

  He fell to his knees again. Muscles clenched, locking in place, refusing to move. Parts of his body even felt as if they were splitting again, as if flesh would disintegrate back into void. Aven threw all his will against the pain.

  His will faltered. Until a new presence joined it. The touch of Esharah’s mind joined with his.

  * * *

  Esharah reached for Aven’s mind as he tried to stand. In all Esharah’s years in Hellfrost, she’d never felt Yvris focus this much of the Book’s power on a single mind. Not on any prisoner. Not on any vis. Aven’s mind fought, but it couldn’t stand against the power alone. Esharah joined him. Together, their minds bore the agony. The pain wrenched through her, but Aven’s mind was strong. She had never felt such raw determination in anyone, a determination that gave strength to Esharah’s will as well.

  As Esharah bore that pain alongside him, Aven stood. Leg’s still shaking, breath ragged. Black veins bulging and shifting beneath his skin as if the void threatened to tear him apart from the inside. Yet he still stood.

  Yvris’ eyes widened, and the pain rose higher still. Esharah took the pain into herself, as greedily as the Thorn had always drank from her own. She screamed. Tears of pain poured from her eyes as her own flesh burned, as she felt herself splitting open, falling into nothingness. But still she stood with Aven.

  Her hand found the Thorn where she’d stowed it away. The steel spike burned in her fist. It quivered, almost seeming to squirm in delight at the pain it felt. Esharah gripped the Thorn tighter, ignoring its struggles. She drew it, holding it hidden beneath her robes. Waiting. Aven would stand. Aven would distract.

  The voidtouched stepped forward.

  “Kneel, monster!” Yvris roared. His voice lost all its theatrical flair, all the false piety of a priest giving condemnation. This was not even a pretense of righteous. Only raw rage and fear.

  Aven stretched out his arm, and the voidhand lashed out. It stretched, covering the distance between them, and it seized the book. It yanked.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Book resisted, and Esharah felt a tether tying it to Yvris’ soul. Mere physical force could not remove it.

  “The Book is mine!” Yvris screamed. “I am the master of Hellfrost! You will kneel to me! Your judgement is mine! Your penance is mine!”

  The voidhand pulled, but the book did not move.

  “Now,” Aven whispered in her mind.

  He took the full force of the pain again, all Yvris’ will concentrated on him. The voidhand withdrew as Aven collapsed.

  Esharah rose. She felt Yvris’ rage. Hatred. Self-righteousness. False piety. Terror. All of it poured out on Aven in a single, overwhelming flood. He didn’t notice when she raised her fist.

  “My pain,” Esharah whispered at Yvris’ back, “is yours.”

  She drove the spike into Yvris’ back.

  Yvris screamed. One hand flew to his back while the other clutched at the book. Esharah slammed her palm into the spike, driving it deeper in. Yvris screamed again, and his body shuddered. He fell to his knees.

  “It’s all there,” Esharah said, kneeling herself. “All the pain you caused, the whole two years in Hellfrost. I’ve relived it every day, feeling the echoes every time it struck your will. Feel it, Yvris. Feel every second of torture that you inflicted to others. I’ve felt it every day for two years.” Her fingers curled, nails biting into her palms, “Can’t you take it for even a second?”

  There was no reply. No threats. No sermon. Only screams. When Esharah looked into his mind, the pain wasn’t even a fraction of the worst the Thorn could do.

  Aven’s voidhand grabbed the book again and yanked it free of Yvris’ grasping claws. It flew toward Aven, then stopped an arms-length from Yvris, dangling in midair. A thin, nearly invisible gossamer thread still connected it to Yvris’ chest, like a lifeline to his heart.

  Janaya was there an instant later, holding Zadrine’s dagger. Hellfire blazed along the edges of the knife, shifting black amid the white flames.

  “It’s your turn to face judgement!” Janaya slashed, and hellfire seared through the thread.

  All eyes in the courtyard saw Yvris fall as the book rose, flying up in an arc and thudding to the ground in the center of the courtyard. All the pain of Yvris’ command ceased, and the only sound remaining was Yvris’ sobbing screams.

  For a moment, no one seemed able to move.

  Janaya moved first, pouncing on the book with a roar that might have been triumph and might have been madness.

  “Wait!” Aven called out.

  Janaya didn’t wait. The hellfire blade stabbed into the book. Esharah glimpsed the alarm in Aven’s mind a second before understanding hit her. The hellfire in the knife met the black blood of Aven’s handprint imprinted in the book. As voidblood met Hellfire, the book exploded.

  * * *

  If not for the fact that Janaya’s own body smothered most of the explosion, everyone near the book probably would have died. As it was, Aven slammed into the flagstones yet again, body protesting at the impact. He was about to learn what flesh formed from the void looked like when it bruised.

  The thought brought up a hysterical laugh that probably made Aven look mad, but he didn’t care. The pain was gone, and the Book of Sins was finally destroyed. Scorched and shredded paper scraps fluttered down like snow.

  Turning his head, Aven saw Janaya groaning from where’d she flung herself, maybe a dozen yards away from the explosion. Watching hellfire sear closed the wounds and heal itself in real time was a horrifying sight. Maybe enough to make Aven lose his lunch, if he’d had lunch. Or anything else left in his stomach after the aftereffects of the splitting maneuver he’d done. The void was supposed to make his new body stronger and better, right? Aven groaned and hauled himself to his feet again, wondering why, if this body was made of the void, he couldn’t simply command the pain to go away.

  No, he supposed he didn’t want that. The pain kept him here, in this reality. Pain kept him grounded. Pain made it all real.

  Yvris did not seem to share that sentiment from the way he still writhed and clawed impotently for the Thorn imbedded in his back. His robes were scorched from the explosion, but it didn’t seem to have harmed him. Pity.

  It wasn’t until Ouron’s distant, semi-muffled voice reached him that Aven realized a bit of black blood was trickling from his ears.

  “-et up, Aven,” the veteran tried to pull him up with his good arm. “On your feet.”

  “We got him,” Katrin spoke from his other side, glaring at Yvris’ writhing body with hatred.

  “Yeah, we got him,” Aven groaned and let the others drag him up. Again.

  All around, other prisoners rose to the feet, cheering as it set in. Yvris and Erdrak both down, one unconscious and the other writhing in the torment he’d given to others. Katrin rushed over to Gretchen, helping her up. A few others approached Logash. To Aven’s shock and relief, the zhagra stirred. Alive.

  A glance over found Wally kneeling at Ko’jan’s side. Shad was there too, a number of Ko’jan’s other friends from Hellfrost joining them, kneeling by the sides of the dead. So many dead.

  But they’d survived. Dozens of deaths had bought them life. And now, perhaps, freedom.

  “What now?” Katrin glared at Yvris. “We kill him?” Vili voiced agreement at her shoulder, the spirit vibrating with unmistakable anger.

  “No!” a voice came from the entrance to the keep, and the disheveled, emaciated figure of Publicar Etrani staggered out. “His...his testimony. We need him alive for-”

  She stumbled forward, and Aven moved to catch her. She jerked at the touch like a frightened rabbit but still leaned on him for a moment before she steadied herself.

  “If...if we’re invoking the precedent of the 8th Legion’s mutiny,” Etrani said, her voice still hoarse and weak, but growing a bit stronger as she spoke. “We need to expose what he did here to the Empire. Governor Iraias will need to preside over a formal investigation.”

  “What? We’re relying on the Empire’s justice? After all this?” Gretchen swept her arms to indicate the general mayhem, bloodshed, and death of the courtyard.

  “If you want to live? Yes,” Etrani said.

  “She’s right,” Ouron organized others into a group to carry the former captain and former executor of Hellfrost away. “Fighting Yvris was a waste if we just get hunted down by the legionaries.”

  Speaking of said legionaries, a call from the wall came a moment later. Both reserve companies marching on Hellfrost Keep. Two hundred soldiers ready to enforce the empire’s order.

  Aven gave the orders quickly, “Get the wounded inside. Manacles on any of the guards who resist; the rest can go in the barracks. Esharah, Etrani, come with me.” He took a deep breath. The battle was over, but survival was very much an open question. “We need to parley.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  If you're enjoying the story, please comment, rate, or review. That all helps the story's visibility, so any interaction is very much appreciated.

  patreon.com/OrpheusDAC