5. Malorg

five

Malorg

Malorg scowled as he paced beneath the darkened boughs where he'd left Sarilian two days prior. His sanity had to be fraying—that was the only explanation for this rampant idiocy.

Bad enough he'd dedicated all those weeks to scouring this region of the Dusklands. He'd told himself it was because voidspawn would be more prevalent along the border. In reality, however, he'd been keeping an eye out for a particularly annoying Celestial who'd lodged himself in Malorg's mind like a splinter he couldn't pry loose.

Months had passed since he'd rescued Sarilian from that pack of voidspawn. There'd been no guarantee the Celestial would even remember him, let alone come searching.

And yet, all of a sudden there Sarilian had been, his dawnflame dimmed in the shadows of the Dusklands but the essence of his soul no less bright for it. Sarilian had proved precisely as intriguing—and infuriating—as Malorg remembered. Perhaps that's why Malorg had been foolish enough to invite him on a Dark-cursed tour of the Dusklands.

The entire situation was laughable. Malorg had spent centuries contemplating the futile nature of their existence. He'd gone over the Covenant from every angle, and no matter how he examined it, he saw no solution. Celestials and Infernals would suffer to protect undeserving mortals from the Void until one day, their efforts weren't enough, and everything vanished anyway. Why not skip the middle part and move straight to the inevitable conclusion?

Perhaps together, we'll find a way to do the impossible.

Somehow, Sarilian had brought Malorg's carefully cultivated indifference crashing down with that one sentence and a smile. And for what? For a hope not grounded in any observable facts or reality? Sarilian could preach all he wanted about finding another method to combat the Void—that didn't mean that one existed. The Celestial was still young. He hadn't witnessed the harsh truth as Malorg had. Give him a few centuries of ceaseless combat, and he'd learn soon enough.

Of course, Sarilian's overzealous optimism hadn't been the only thing that appealed to Malorg. There'd been something altogether more visceral as well—a connection he couldn't explain.

Together . Malorg clenched and unclenched his fist, a dagger winking in and out of existence. Sarilian had said they would search for a solution together . As though they were a team rather than two Immortals from opposing factions who barely knew one another.

He's not going to show up .

Malorg shoved the thought aside even as a tiny part of him wanted it to be true. If Sarilian ghosted him, he'd be able to put this ridiculousness behind him and move on—return to his unending quest to find a fight he wouldn't walk away from. Just like Uryqh.

Leaves rustled behind him, and Malorg spun to find Sarilian stumbling half-blind through the forest. "Merciful Light, is that you, Malorg? I swear, it's even darker now than it was before."

Relief eased muscles Malorg hadn't realized he'd tensed. "You're here."

Sarilian cocked his head. "Of course, I am. I said I would be."

Malorg snorted as he approached. "What a quintessentially Celestial reply."

Sarilian raised one arm, then the other, making a show of examining them even though they must have been barely visible to him in the darkness. "Yep. That checks out."

Malorg rolled his eyes and pressed his palm to Sarilian's neck. Or at least, he tried to. Sarilian shifted at the last instant, accidentally knocking Malorg's arm so that his hand ended up on Sarilian's cheek instead.

Malorg froze as heat seared his fingers, almost enough to burn. Sarilian swallowed. The motion flexed the soft flesh beneath Malorg's hand.

"You, uh, going to finish casting that spell?" Sarilian asked, his voice huskier than usual.

"Oh. Yes." Malorg allowed duskflame to leak into Sarilian as he had before. Once he'd imbued the last of the magic, he went to remove his hand, then hesitated.

Almost against his will, he allowed his lingering fingertips to lightly brush Sarilian's cheek. The touch was faint, but by the way Sarilian's eyes widened, he noticed all the same.

"It is done," Malorg intoned, snatching his hand back and facing away.

Behind him, he heard Sarilian clear his throat. "So it is. Much better. Thanks."

Malorg didn't reply, too busy mentally berating himself for his weakness. Eternal Dark, what was wrong with him? None of this mattered. Everything he did here in the Immortal Realm was pointless: an unnecessary addendum to the real life he'd already lived on the Mortal Realm. He didn't care about anything that happened here…or anyone .

An image of Uryqh sprawled atop piled pillows came to mind, and Malorg thrust it away. He'd locked up those memories years ago—they had no business haunting him now.

"So," Sarilian said, interrupting his brooding. "Now what?

The question gave Malorg pause. He'd spent so much of the past two days scrutinizing their last encounter and wondering whether Sarilian would show up that he hadn't given much thought to what happened next. "That depends. What do you want to see?"

"Twilight," Sarilian said without hesitation, smirking when Malorg raised an eyebrow. "I've spent the past few years mapping every single one of Daybreak's spires, convinced it was the most wondrous thing I'd ever experience. But after witnessing the true majesty of this forest, I'm curious to see how the Infernal's city of perpetual shadow compares."

Malorg supposed he shouldn't be surprised. It wasn't like there was much else to explore in the Dusklands beyond more forest. The ancient mages who had created the Immortal Realm had done so for one purpose: to hold back the Void. Those Progenitors hadn't bothered fleshing out full ecosystems. Other than the Celestials, Infernals, and voidspawn, the realm stood devoid of any meaningful life.

"So be it." Malorg held out his hand.

Sarilian eyed it uneasily. "What's that for?"

"It would take hours to walk to Twilight on foot. I'm going to try duskwalking us."

To Sarilian's credit, he accepted the announcement in stride even though Malorg could tell the notion of being subjected to more duskflame unnerved him. Too bad. If he wanted to avoid Infernal magic, then he shouldn't have returned to the Dusklands.

"Will it hurt?" Sarilian asked.

Malorg opened his mouth to reply in the negative, then reconsidered. "I don't know. Not for me, but I've never tried it with a Celestial before." Obviously.

Sarilian gulped but nodded. "Awesome." He took Malorg's hand, clutching it tighter than was strictly necessary. Malorg didn't mind as much as he probably should have.

"Ready?" Malorg asked.

"Sure," Sarilian squeaked, his voice higher pitched than normal. "Why not?"

Malorg barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Against his better judgment, he gave Sarilian's hand a brief squeeze. "You'll be fine. Just hang on tight."

"What do you mean, hang—"

Sarilian's panicked voice cut out as Malorg sent them sinking into the shadows. For him, the sensation was little different from walking. He guided them with practiced ease toward Twilight, their bodies condensed into a pool of darkness that glided swiftly along the ground.

Sarilian, however, didn't seem nearly so calm. The Celestial's grip on his hand tightened to the point of pain, and he had a feeling Sarilian would be screaming if he could.

The thought of Sarilian in distress left a tight knot in Malorg's stomach, and he picked up his pace. When the forests of the Dusklands thinned around them, he jerked to a halt and canceled the duskwalking.

Sarilian instantly fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air.

Worry furrowed Malorg's brow as he looked the Celestial over. "Are you all right?"

Sarilian managed a shaky nod. "Peachy. Feel fantastic."

"That explains the trembling, then," Malorg replied, some of his tension fading.

Sarilian slowly craned his neck to stare up at him. "Did…did you just make a joke?"

A flash of annoyance morphed Malorg's nascent smile into a scowl. Not because of the Celestial's teasing, but because it meant that he'd once again forgotten himself and let down his guard. He strode forward. "Come on. We're close."

Sarilian staggered to his feet and stumbled after him. Without looking, Malorg held out an arm. Sarilian clutched it, steadying himself. He fixed Malorg with a grin. "You should try it more often—joking, that is. Humor suits you."

Malorg ignored the jibe. Eternal Dark, why had he suggested this asinine plan, let alone gone through with it? There was little chance this whole thing wouldn't end in disaster.

Another thought occurred to him then, and he jerked to a halt.

Sarilian, still dizzy from the duskwalking, almost lost his footing and fell face-first. He scowled at Malorg, swatting weakly at his arm. "Did I mention the mild vertigo and the less-than-mild nausea?"

"We can't go to Twilight," Malorg said. "Not yet." Sarilian frowned, and Malorg could sense more questions or complaints brewing. He cut them off before the Celestial could get started. "We're in the heart of the Dusklands, where thousands of Infernals reside." He raked his gaze meaningfully up and down Sarilian's body, trying not to linger on his broad chest or bunched biceps. "And you're not exactly inconspicuous."

Comprehension filled Sarilian's face, his expression clearing. "Ah. Right." He scratched at his cropped blond hair. "I don't suppose Celestial emissaries are a common sight here?"

Malorg grimaced at the mention of emissaries, the word conjuring memories of past failings he'd sooner forget. "So far as I know, you're the first Celestial to set foot here in centuries."

"I'm honored." Sarilian tapped a finger against his chin, his eyes eventually lighting up. Malorg bit back an answering grin at the Celestial's infectious enthusiasm. "I got it! Duskflame works well for illusions, right?"

Guessing what Sarilian intended, Malorg let out a grunt. "That might work. Here."

Conjuring more of his duskflame, Malorg leaned in and pressed both palms to Sarilian's chest. No armor , he realized as his fingers encountered solid muscle beneath Sarilian's thin tunic. He considered chiding Sarilian on his lack of caution, but who was he to judge anyone else's reckless behavior?

As with the darkvision, he let his duskflame flow into Sarilian and course over the Celestial's flesh. This time, however, the enchantment had a tough time taking hold.

Malorg frowned. "It's not working. I think your magic is stopping the illusion from stabilizing."

"I could try adding dawnflame to the spell. It's not particularly great for crafting illusions, but it still concerns the manipulation of light. Besides, it amplified your magic before. Maybe it'll do something similar now."

"As I recall, last time we combined our magics, it blew up a voidspawn."

"Only because that was our intent!" A slight crease appeared in Sarilian's brow. "Though, I suppose it pays to be cautious. Here." He conjured a small ball of dawnflame that hovered in the air between them. Although the Dusklands left its light dim and flickering, the orb managed to sustain its form. "Try imbuing this with duskflame."

Malorg considered the floating orb for a moment. Then, he shrugged and did as requested, shaping his magic so that it aligned with the weaves of Sarilian's spell. The light's golden hue instantly darkened to a deeper shade as black duskflame infused it. At the same time, its glow intensified until its previous dim light shone bright enough to illuminate the nearby trees.

"It worked!" Sarilian said, sounding delighted. A wave of his hand sent the orb circling them.

Narrowing his eyes, Malorg kept his gaze riveted on the orb. "The conflicting magics appear stable." He shook his head. "Even though they shouldn't."

Sarilian halted the orb with a twitch of his fingers, returning it to hover in front of them. "According to whom?"

"According to everyone! You know the Immortal Realm's origins as well as I do. The Progenitors might have intended to create a unified bastion against the Void, but when tensions arose over how best to combat the threat, even they recognized the need to divide the realm between the Dawnlands and Dusklands." Memories of jagged screams floating across a silver field echoed in Malorg's ears, and he clenched his jaw. "Such a separation is for the best."

Appearing unperturbed by Malorg's pronouncement, Sarilian dismissed the ball of light with a shrug. "No amount of ancient history can change what I saw when you aided me against those voidspawn. Maybe dawnflame and duskflame have always had the potential to empower one another, but no one ever bothered to try before." His golden eyes twinkled as he grinned. "Or perhaps it's simply us that fit so well together."

A scowl split Malorg's face. He turned to stare at the gnarled trees surrounding them, trying to ignore the sudden, uncomfortable jittering in his belly. "One successful experiment doesn't guarantee nothing will go wrong if we attempt to replicate the results on you."

"You're right," Sarilian agreed cheerfully. "But that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Malorg hesitated. Neither of them fully comprehended the unusual fusion of their magic. As he'd warned, it could be dangerous. However, one look into Sarilian's bright, eager eyes had him ready to agree to anything. "Very well. But the instant you feel anything amiss, tell me."

"Aw," Sarilian teased as Malorg approached and rested a hand flickering with duskflame on his chest. "Are you worried about me? I'd think concern for a Celestial would violate some sort of Infernal code of conduct."

Malorg didn't reply, his left eyelid twitching. The Dark-cursed Celestial certainly knew how to get under his skin. When he'd finished applying the illusion, he stepped back. Just like before, the duskflame continued to roil instead of settling. "Your turn. Be careful."

Sarilian grinned as the faint glow of dawnflame rose around him. The Celestial's magic mixed with Malorg's own, golden threads twining throughout the enchantment. All at once, the stubborn illusion snapped into place.

Malorg released the spell, his eyebrows raising as he studied his handiwork. Huh.

"What?" Sarilian asked, shifting from foot to foot. "Did something go wrong? Am I horribly disfigured?"

Malorg slowly shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away. "You look like an Infernal."

If anything, the effect was better than Malorg could have anticipated. Illusion wasn't his forte, so he'd hoped to obscure Sarilian's features beneath a shadowy cloak, maybe darken his glowing skin to pass a cursory examination from afar. But the finished product standing there appeared indistinguishable from a true Infernal.

"Are you certain dawnflame isn't meant for illusions?" he asked as they resumed walking toward Twilight.

"Definitely." Sarilian hesitated, his brow furrowing.

It was odd to see the Celestial's familiar expressions on a stranger's face. Malorg found himself missing Sarilian's squared jaw and noble brow—not that he'd ever tell him that.

"Though now that you mention it," Sarilian continued, "I got a good sense of your enchantment when I infused my magic. It was almost like you'd given me a template to follow. All I had to do was slip my dawnflame into the cracks. I might even be able to replicate something similar on my own, though I doubt it would turn out as well." His eyes—charcoal now instead of gold—danced. "It's almost like I was right, and our magics were made to mix."

Muttering under his breath, Malorg quickened his pace, forcing the Celestial to lengthen his own strides to keep up. Soon enough, the last of the straggling trees broke around them, revealing the city proper nestled within.

"I've got to say, I'm a little disappointed," Sarilian murmured as they approached Twilight's gates. "I expected something a bit grander."

Malorg understood the Celestial's reaction. From the outside, Twilight resembled little more than a dark dome—a great blemish in the middle of the forest that enveloped it. Its outer walls lacked even the shifting patterns that decorated the rest of the Dusklands. But such external austerity only served to heighten the effect within.

Not wanting to ruin the surprise, all Malorg said was, "Follow me."

Infernal guards stationed at the gate gave them cursory looks as they approached, appearing more bored than vigilant. Though Twilight had been built as an impenetrable fortress, its defenses had never been tested. For that to happen, the Infernal forces would need to have failed drastically enough that voidspawn passed all the way here to where the Dusklands most closely abutted the Shroud that separated them from the Mortal Realm.

Still, it never hurt to be prepared. As he'd told Sarilian, it was a matter of when , not if .

You don't really believe that, Mal . Uryqh's voice echoed in his head—or at least, how he remembered Uryqh's voice. It had been so long since he'd last heard it, he had no idea how close his recreation was to the truth. His back trembled as he willed the errant thoughts away, so tense that he almost lashed out when a gentle hand landed on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Sarilian asked, his voice filled with concern.

Malorg glanced over to find Sarilian's kind eyes studying him, recognizable even behind his disguise. "I'm fine." He breathed deep and focused on the present. Sarilian's presence helped. It shouldn't—he barely knew the Celestial. Yet somehow, having him there put Malorg more at ease.

Striding forward, he passed the bored guards and walked beneath the gates into the city proper. Sarilian followed close at his heels. Satisfaction curled through Malorg when the Celestial's eyes widened, his shocked mouth hanging open as he took in the vista before him.

Suppressing a smirk, Malorg swept his arms wide. "Welcome to the city of Twilight."