26. Malorg

twenty-six

Malorg

The tension coiled in Malorg's back loosened a hair when they reached the top of the stairs. From here, it should be a quick jaunt to the Citadel's exit, and then…well, Malorg didn't know. Nor did he care so long as wherever he and Sarilian ended up, they did so together.

"Should we duskwalk from here?" Sarilian whispered, peering down the hall.

"Not yet," Malorg replied just as quietly. "I'm not sure what effect it would have on our combined magic, and the entrance is close. Think you can manage another round of invisibility until we're outside?"

Sarilian bit his lip. "I think so. Hang on."

The Celestial repeated his earlier enchantment on them, rendering them both nearly invisible once Malorg reinforced the woven dawnflame with his own duskflame. Their disguises secured, they continued on, picking up their pace now that there were fewer guards and wider corridors.

They reached the antechamber at the Citadel's entrance without incident, weaving past columns enchanted to resemble dancing men and women in various states of undress. They were halfway across the room, less than fifty paces from the doors, when a shadowed figure appeared blocking their way.

"Hello, old friend," Pelorak said, his handsome face contorting into a feral grin.

More figures emerged from behind the pillars all around them—near twenty Infernals dressed for battle, wielding an impressive assortment of cursed blades. Malorg's heart sank. A trap. Pelorak had been waiting for them.

"I know you're there, Malorg," the Aspect called. He made an impatient gesture with fingers crackling with duskflame. "I'm not sure what kind of Celestial sorcery you're using to hide yourselves, but my touch lingers on you still. No matter where you go, I will find you."

"You'll have to get through me first," Sarilian shouted from beside Malorg.

Pelorak chuckled, his gaze flicking to Sarilian's general vicinity. "Ah, the wayward Celestial. Don't worry—I haven't forgotten about you. No doubt the Dawn Council will disavow your actions the instant I make a fuss. And when I tell them you died in a botched rescue attempt…well, they'll probably be relieved to have your disobedience so cleanly dealt with." He tapped a finger against his chin. "I've never had the opportunity to study a Celestial mutt in captivity before. I'm sure the results would be most illuminating."

Before Malorg could retort, an unseen command from Pelorak sent the Infernal guards advancing in flickers of shadow. At the same instant, a wave of dawnflame erupted from Sarilian in a blinding flash of pure brilliance.

Cries rang out around the chamber. For a terrible moment, Malorg was back on that battlefield of ash, battered by Uryqh's screams. This dawnflame, however, didn't burn or sear. Malorg felt it like a warm caress on his skin.

Fingers scrabbled for his, and he gripped Sarilian's proffered hand. Ablaze as the Celestial was with dawnflame, the touch was near scalding, almost painful. Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the dazzling light began to dim.

"I can't hold it much longer," Sarilian hissed, his voice trembling with exertion. "I'm already giving the spell everything I have left."

From somewhere ahead of them, Pelorak's triumphant cry rang out. "He's weakening! Attack , you Dark-cursed fools! He's only a single Celestial, pathetic and alone!"

"He's not alone!"

Inhaling a deep breath to brace himself, Malorg channeled his duskflame through their linked palms. He couldn't see well enough to shape the weave, but thankfully, granting it to Sarilian seemed to be enough.

This wasn't some finely crafted spell like the illusory shroud or the Celestial's spear—it was a raw explosion of unfocused power. As Malorg's duskflame mixed with Sarilian's dawnflame, lending it a darker but no less blinding cast, the shining beacon intensified once more, fueled by their shared magics.

"Merciful Light," Sarilian whispered, sounding awed.

He tugged on Malorg's hand. Unsure whether Sarilian could see him, Malorg gave an affirming squeeze in response and allowed himself to be led.

A surge of some dark curse swept through where they'd been. Malorg tried to quicken his own stumbling pace, as blind as the other Infernals amid Sarilian's light. Then, abruptly, the brilliant luminance cut out.

Malorg blinked, taking in Twilight's familiar darkness. They stood on the Dusk Citadel's steps. Somewhere along the way, their shrouds had fallen apart, leaving them both visible. Sarilian's bronze face was paler than usual, his dawnflame glow almost entirely dimmed.

"Even with our combined magic, that won't hold them for long," Sarilian said. Malorg followed his gaze behind them to see the antechamber still awash in blinding radiance. Sarilian must have tied the spell to a location rather than to himself. "We need to—"

Sarilian's words cut off in a gurgled cry as a dark cloud enveloped him. Malorg spun to see Pelorak emerging from the light, his black eyes sunken into furious pits. He held a hand stretched toward them, duskflame dancing over his fingertips.

"A clever ploy. But did you honestly believe parlor tricks would work on a Dusk Aspect?"

Twin shadow blades appeared in Malorg's grip. He took a step toward Pelorak, but the Aspect of Ambition held up his crackling hand in warning. "Not another step, old friend—not unless you want to watch me rip your precious Celestial pet apart."

Malorg clenched his jaw, his fingers squeezing his daggers' hilts. Eternal Dark, how he longed to impale them in Pelorak's smug face.

As if sensing Malorg's train of thought, Pelorak twitched his fingers. A terrible shiver racked Sarilian's body with spasms as he whimpered. Malorg froze, his every muscle tightening with abject hate. Reluctantly, he allowed his conjured blades to dissipate.

Pelorak grinned. "There's a good boy. Soon enough, that little light show will fade, and my guards will come for you. Until then, perhaps some entertainment, hmm?" He cocked an eyebrow as he flexed the fingers on his glowing hand.

"Don't hurt him!" Malorg cried. Swallowing his pride and hate, he added, "Please. I'm the one who betrayed you. Take me but let him go. He's innocent."

"He's a Celestial," Pelorak hissed, eying Sarilian with open disgust. "I permitted their delegates to sully our halls out of necessity, but not even his own people will miss this one—not after how desperately he's whored after you. He is mine to do with as I please." Pelorak raked an assessing gaze over Malorg's body that made his skin crawl. "As are you. What do you think? One traitor fighting another—seems appropriate, doesn't it?"

The Aspect twitched his fingers. Sarilian's limbs moved with unnatural jerks reminiscent of a child's doll as he channeled dawnflame into a divine spear and twisted to face Malorg. Confronted with the horrifying sight of his lover ensnared by his former friend's vile magic, Malorg set his jaw, desperately racking his brain for any way to escape this madness.

He'd come close to overcoming Pelorak's magic in his apartment, briefly managing to raise his fist before Pelorak reasserted his control. Maintaining the enchantment must require Pelorak's entire focus. He could see the strain on the Aspect's face now, his muscles taut from exertion despite his mocking grin. Maybe all Sarilian needed to break free was a little push.

Roaring a wordless battlecry, Malorg charged. Pelorak's eyes widened. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a show of defiance. He recovered quickly, duskflame lashing out to envelop Malorg in the familiar curse. Malorg jerked to a halt as he lost control over his body, muffling a scream at the tiny needles piercing his flesh.

Pelorak shook his head and smirked. "You really ought to know better by now, old friend. I always—"

A golden spear impaled Pelorak's shoulder. Dawnflame and duskflame erupted from the wound in a darkened inferno as he screamed and staggered back.

The curse gripping Malorg vanished as Pelorak's concentration snapped. He stumbled and turned to see Sarilian panting as if he'd just run a marathon. Their eyes met as he lowered his arm, Sarilian's grim expression splitting into a radiant grin.

Off to the side, Pelorak roared. Malorg glanced over to see the Aspect rip the dawnflame spear from his shoulder and toss it aside. The wound it left trailed wisps of black duskflame. Behind Pelorak, the blinding light Sarilian had conjured in the antechamber continued to fade.

Out of time to think or discuss, Malorg raced to Sarilian, gripped his hand, and sent them sinking into the shadows. They flitted down the spine-like stairs of the Dusk Citadel and streamed into the boulevard beyond.

Passing Infernals stopped to stare but otherwise gave them a wide berth. They wouldn't offer any help…but nor would they interfere. Malorg had never been so grateful for his people's callous selfishness.

He navigated the city streets as quickly as he could, but he could feel Pelorak's guards gaining on them, along with the Aspect of Ambition himself. Even at full strength, Malorg had struggled to keep up with Pelorak during their brief duel. Now, weakened and bearing a passenger, he had no hope of outrunning him.

Sudden light pierced their shadowy form, streaming over them and almost causing Malorg to lose his focus. Eternal Dark, what's happening?

As the light sank into the cloak of darkness enveloping them and their movement quickened, he understood. Once again, Sarilian had woven dawnflame with his duskflame into something new—something stronger.

It gave them the edge they needed to shake Pelorak and his goons, but not for long. Long enough to flee the city? Perhaps. But then what?

Pelorak would pursue them to the farthest reaches of the outskirts. Crossing the border to the Dawnlands might buy them a reprieve, but Pelorak's taunts bore a seed of truth: the Dawn Council would turn them over in a heartbeat if it meant easing tensions with the Infernals. Nowhere he and Sarilian went would be safe.

Not within the Immortal Realm.

Switching directions, Malorg steered them along a series of winding alleyways. He'd traversed this route countless times over the centuries, though all but twice he'd been alone.

As he canceled his duskwalking and deposited them before a bare alley wall, he remembered the last time he'd brought Sarilian here. Sarilian had walked away, choosing his mission to protect Allaria over a future together. Much had changed since then, but that didn't stop a tight knot of fear from gnawing at Malorg's gut. Would Sarilian make the same choice again?

He turned to Sarilian, but whatever he was going to say died on his lips when Sarilian silenced him with a kiss. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment of peace before Sarilian pulled back.

"You don't need to ask." Sarilian took Malorg's hand. "I already made my choice by coming here."

Swallowing, Malorg turned to the wall. "There's no guarantee this will work. So far as any Immortal knows, it isn't possible to return to the Mortal Realm in the flesh."

"Then, I guess we'll have to be the first." Sarilian squared his shoulders, his expression firming. "Besides, unlike those other Immortals, we won't be returning alone. We are Darkness and Light, united in harmony as they should have been from the start. I only hope that one day, our two peoples will reach that same realization."

Recalling their brief encounter with Qurth and Hiliaj on the dungeon steps, Malorg gave a small smile. "I think that someday they just might. Here." He sent duskflame flowing through their linked hands to imbue Sarilian's flesh. "Darkness and Light, right?"

Sarilian fixed him with a lopsided grin that did an admirable job masking his obvious nervousness. "Right."

With a brief squeeze of Malorg's hand, he returned the favor. Malorg shifted uncomfortably at the unfamiliar warmth of the dawnflame coursing through his veins.

This sort of direct infusion had kept Sarilian safe once before, bolstering his natural healing after their battle with the gliding voidspawn in the forest. Malorg only hoped it would be enough to protect them from the rift now.

Sarilian took a deep breath and faced the wall. "I'm ready."

There was so much more Malorg wished he could say, so much more he wanted to do to demonstrate the depths of his devotion. But with Pelorak bearing down on them, he settled for a nod and stepped forward, raising his free hand and pressing it against the wall.

A shudder raced through the dark stone as an azure tear rippled open along its length. Malorg studied the rift to the Shroud separating this realm from the mortal world, where their souls had originated.

He'd imagined this moment so many times, yet in most of those musings he'd been giving up. This wasn't giving up. This was taking a leap of faith.

"See you on the other side," Sarilian said, his molten eyes blazing with a love as bright as any sun.

Shoving down all his doubts and fears, Malorg focused on the warm fingers gripping his own—on the unbridled love that filled his heart and the impossible hope Sarilian had gifted him. No matter what happened now, Sarilian had been right: they had accomplished the impossible.

"Until we meet again," he said as together they stepped into the rift.