The Spirit Rebellion: The Legend of Eli Monpress: Book 2

CHAPTER 4

The sun was barely over the valley edge when Eli emerged, yawning and disheveled, from the house on legs. As he climbed down the rickety steps, he noticed with surprise that the house was about fifteen feet farther down the dry riverbed from where it had stood the night before. Eli paused a moment, wondering whether he should be concerned that he’d slept right through the move, but he let it go with a shrug. Such things were to be expected when you visited Slorn.

On the flat stretch of sand where the house had stood yesterday, Slorn was already hard at work. He was standing still, stroking his muzzle with long, patient fingers. All around him, laid out in a rough circle with the bear-headed man at its center, was an enormous collection of sewing materials. There were bolts of cloth, enormous spools of thread, skeins of yarn, scissors, buttons, needles, everything you could think of to make a coat. For the most part, Slorn just stood there, still as a statue, but every few minutes he would walk over to one of the objects, a length of silk, say, or a pin poked in a wad of dyed wool, and stare at it hard, like it was the only thing worth looking at in the entire world. He didn’t seem to notice Eli, not even when the thief walked up to the edge of his circle and cleared his throat. Eli, quickly tired of not being noticed, left the craftsman to his flotsam and went to look for his swordsman.

He didn’t have to go far. Josef was on the opposite side of the house, where the dry river had cut below the tree-lined bank. Nico was with him, as always, perched on a flat white stone with her chin in her hands, watching. She was wearing an outfit that must have been Pele’s at one point, a girl’s cut sleeve shirt and matching large-pocketed pants that actually fit, for once. It was a nice change from her usual threadbare attire, but her hard look warned off any compliments Eli might have made before she turned her eyes back to Josef.

For his part, the swordsman paid his audience no attention whatsoever. Despite the cold morning air, Josef was shirtless. He’d taken off the bandages as well, and the wounds from his fight with Coriano stood up in red, puckered lines against his pale, scarred skin. The Heart of War was in his hands, its black, dull blade like a hole in the morning light. He held it out in front of him, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight, as though he’d been holding it like that for a long, long time. Then, without warning, Josef pulled the blade back and swung. The enormous sword moved lightning fast, almost too fast for Eli’s eyes to keep up with it, flying toward the thin trunk of a sapling. Just before it hit, the blade stopped with a whistle of terrified air, its notched, dull edge quivering less than a hair’s width from the sapling’s smooth white bark. The tree creaked and shuddered, dropping a snow of tiny, white-green leaves to join the growing pile at its base.

“It’s a good thing Slorn’s on the other side,” Eli said, taking a seat next to Nico. “I don’t think he’d like you scaring his trees naked.”

Josef pulled back the Heart to its first position. “Daily training is the breath of swordsmanship.”

“Profound,” Eli said. “But can’t you breathe on something less excitable?”

Josef lowered his sword and looked at him. “Do you mind?”

Eli shrugged and leaned back on the warm stone, watching in silence as Josef prepared to take another swing. As the swordsman moved, Eli couldn’t help but notice how Joseph’s injuries seemed to be dragging on him. Though Josef never flinched or showed any sign of pain, there was a hitch in his movements at the point in the swing when his arm stretched too far, a certain pause in his steady breaths that made Eli supremely uncomfortable.

“Josef,” he said hesitantly, “we’re going to be here for another day at least; why don’t you take a break? Enjoy the scenery or something?”

“I am enjoying it,” Josef said as he swung his sword again at the poor, terrified sapling.

“Why are you training so hard, anyway?” Eli said. “Don’t most swordsmen let their old wounds heal before they start prepping to get their next ones? You beat Coriano. Can’t you let it go for just a little bit?”

Josef stopped midswing and plunged the Heart into the sandy creek bed.

“Eli,” he said, leaning hard on the hilt of his sword, “do you know how I beat Coriano?”

Slightly taken aback, Eli guessed, “Thoroughly?”

“I used the Heart,” Josef said, nodding to the blade. “So, though he is dead and I am alive, I lost. It was the Heart who beat him, not me.”

“But the Heart can’t move without you,” Eli pointed out.

“Don’t mistake the Heart’s power for mine,” Josef said bitterly. He straightened up, pulling the blade out of the sand and returning it to first position. “All my life, I’ve had one goal: to push myself as far as I can go. To be the strongest I can be. If I let the Heart win all my battles for me, then what’s the point of even holding a sword?”

The question didn’t require an answer, and Eli didn’t offer one. Point made, Josef turned his attention back to his sword, preparing for the next swing. Seeing that any further conversation was pointless, Eli shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back toward the house in search of breakfast.

An hour later he was bathed, dressed, and helping himself to a plate of fruit, bread, and whatever else he could find in Slorn’s pantry when Josef and Nico finally came in. The girl took a seat on one of the stools along the wall, but Josef walked straight through the kitchen to the large water barrel, grabbing a bucket from the shelf as he passed. He dipped the bucket in the barrel, filling it to the brim with the cold water and, after a bracing breath, proceeded to dump the whole thing over his head. Eli jumped back with a yelp, dancing away from the flying water as Josef gave himself a shake.

“You’re a wonderful houseguest, you know that?” Eli said, wiping the water off the table. Josef just shrugged and helped himself to an apple from Eli’s plate. He leaned against the heavy wooden table as he ate, staring through the window. Outside, Slorn was still standing in his circle of sewing materials, his bear head warped to monstrous size by the wobbly glass.

“He gives me the creeps,” Josef said quietly, taking a bite out of what had been Eli’s apple.

“How so?” Eli said. “Is it because of the-” he made a gesture, outlining a muzzle in the air in front of his face.

“More than that.” Josef looked around at the small, tidy kitchen. “This whole place has been giving me the creeps since we came in. Rugs that slide out of the way before you step on them, cabinets shutting themselves when they’ve been left open. It’s not natural. And then there’s the constant feeling that we’re being watched.” Josef grimaced. “It’s like the whole house is alive.”

Well, Eli thought, munching a block of yellow cheese, it had been bound to come up sooner or later. He was only glad he didn’t have to give this explanation in front of Slorn. The bear-headed man was a stickler for particulars, and Josef explanations required lots of glossing over.

“Not alive,” Eli said, “awake. Like an awakened sword, only this time it’s cabinets and plates.” He held up his empty breakfast plate. “Awakening an entire house is pretty extreme, but that’s Slorn for you.”

Josef gave him a flat look that was dangerously close to not caring, and Eli tried again. “I know ‘wizard stuff’ isn’t exactly your forte, but try and follow me here. You know about awakened blades, right? Well, this is an awakened house. Unlike a sword, though, a house isn’t just one spirit, but hundreds, maybe thousands, all working together. That’s how it moves. The legs work with the supports, which work with the nails, which work with the hearth. None of these could move the house on its own, but together they’re far more powerful. The secret is getting them to work as a team. It’s called ‘spirit unity,’ and it’s a very secret and well-guarded Shaper wizard technique. Even I don’t know exactly how Slorn does it, especially with so many small, sleepy, mundane spirits. I’ve tried asking, but he bites my head off every time I bring it up, something about respecting Shaper secrets.”

“So Slorn’s a Shaper,” Josef said, looking out the window. “I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never met one.”

“And you’re not likely to,” Eli said with a shrug. “They keep to themselves. Of course, technically, you still haven’t met one. Slorn’s an ex-Shaper.”

Josef’s eyebrows shot up. “What, did he get kicked out?”

“Kicked out or left on his own.” Eli said. “I don’t know which for sure. But I do know it had something to do with how he got that head.”

They both looked out the window where the bear-headed man was still working, this time kneeling in the sand and drawing something with a long stick, muttering to himself.

“How did he end up like that?” Josef said softly. “Did the Shapers curse him or something?”

“Powers, no,” Eli said, laughing. “There’s no such thing as a curse. Slorn’s head is his own doing, though, again, I don’t know the particulars. I’ve known Slorn for a long time, but he’s tight-lipped about the past. He’s had that head the whole time I’ve known him, though. All I know is that it used to be the head of the great bear spirit that watched over these woods. The bear and Slorn made some kind of deal, and Slorn ended up with a bear’s head but a man’s body and mind. I don’t know why he did it, but I know one thing for sure.” Eli pointed two fingers at his eyes. “Those black eyes of his aren’t just for show. They’re bear eyes, real ones, and they can see as spirits see.”

Josef gave him a curious look, clearly not comprehending how impressive this was, so Eli explained further. “You know how wizards are humans who can hear the voices of spirits, right? Well, even the best wizards can’t see the spirit world. We can feel it sometimes, especially if the spirits are very strong, but we can’t see it. It’s like we as a species lack that sense, like our eyes are only half functional, seeing only half of the world. That’s why spirits are always complaining about human blindness, because to them, we are blind. Most spirits don’t even see as we do. Like this table.” He knocked on the heavy wood he was leaning against. “It has no eyes, no sense of vision as we think of it; yet to it, we’re the blind ones. But Slorn’s different.” Eli turned to gaze out the window. “He can see as they see, and that gives him a tremendous advantage as a craftsman. The things he makes are literally on an entirely different level from other goods, even other Shaper stuff, because Slorn is the only human crafter who can actually see what he’s doing.”

Josef pursed his lips. “Why in the world did the Shapers kick him out, then? If he’s that good, I’d think they’d be after him like mad.”

“They would be,” said an annoyed voice behind them. “If they could find us.”

Eli, Josef, and Nico whirled around to see Pele leaning against the doorway, looking cross. Eli relaxed when he saw her, but Josef looked put out, and Nico looked deadly furious. Neither of them was used to people being able to sneak up on them. For her part, Pele just crossed her arms and gave the three of them a sour look.

“Next time you decide to gossip about your host,” she said, “don’t do it inside his awakened house. When I tell you the walls have ears, it’s not a figure of speech.”

“Don’t be prickly, Pele,” Eli said. “If your walls were listening, they know I didn’t say anything to my companions I haven’t said directly to Slorn’s face. Have a little faith in me, darling.”

Pele looked skeptical. “Slorn wants to see you outside. All of you.”

Eli, Josef, and Nico exchanged a look, then stood up and filed out. Pele brought up the rear, but Eli hung back, letting the swordsman and the demonseed outpace them.

“So,” he said quietly, glancing at Pele, “it’s ‘Slorn’ all the time, now?”

“Shaper tradition requires distance between a master and his pupil,” Pele said. “Technically, as my father, he shouldn’t be teaching me at all, but it’s not like there’s anyone else.” She looked up as they exited the house, staring north at the distant snowcapped mountains. “I don’t even remember the Shaper mountain.”

“Well,” Eli said, putting an arm around her shoulder, “you’re not missing much. It’s dreadfully boring.”

Pele shot him a glare, and Eli removed his arm before she did it for him, hurrying down to the riverbed to stand beside Josef at the edge of Slorn’s circle.

Slorn himself was standing at the center beside the carefully stacked pile of materials that had passed his rigorous examination. His bear face was impossible to read, but his movements were anxious as he motioned his guests closer.

“I’ve finished material preparations for the coat,” he said gruffly. “But before I begin the cloth, I’ll need to take one final measurement.”

“What?” Josef said. “Did the girl miss an inch last night?”

“This measurement can’t be taken with tape,” Slorn said. “This coat doesn’t just hide Nico’s body; it hides the nature of her soul, and what lives inside it. For that, I need to take Nico up into the mountains.” His dark eyes flicked to Josef. “Alone.”

“Why?” Josef said, hand drifting to the Heart’s hilt. “What do you need that you can’t do here?”

“Those are the terms,” Slorn said. “If you don’t like them, you can leave.”

Josef looked supremely uncomfortable, and Eli was about to say something to deflect the tension when Nico stepped forward, her cracked-leather boots soundless on the packed sand. “I’ll go.”

Eli blinked in surprise. “Are you sure?”

Nico just gave him a scathing “of course” look over her shoulder before going to stand at Slorn’s side. The bear-headed man nodded and turned to Pele. “Bring these”-he pointed to the pile of materials at his feet-“to my workroom. Eli, you and your swordsman can put the rest back into storage.”

Eli gaped at him. “What part of our deal says we’re your grunt labor?”

But Slorn had already turned and started walking toward the woods, Nico following close behind him. Pele just grinned and started gathering the chosen materials. A moment later, Josef started picking things up as well. When it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one, Eli sighed and started lugging bolts of cloth into his arms, muttering under his breath about Shaper wizards and the dreadful decline in service. Josef, however, was ignoring him. The swordsman picked up the balls of yarn and yards of cloth with only half an eye to what he was grabbing. His real attention was on the trees, where Nico and Slorn had vanished into the forest’s shadow, and nothing Eli said could draw him away from them.

Nico and Slorn moved silently through the forest. They followed no path, but they did not need one. The trees parted for them, the young hardwoods creaking softly as they lifted their branches. Slorn nodded his thanks as he passed. The trees rustled in return but then grew still as Nico walked by.

They walked without speaking until they reached the foot of a steep, leaf-strewn slope. There, Slorn began to climb, his heavy boots moving surely over the slick leaves. Nico followed more cautiously, digging her hands into the wet leaf litter to keep from slipping. They climbed for a long time, and as they got higher, the trees began to change. Slender oaks and birches gave way to heavier, darker trees Nico couldn’t name. They clung to the slope in great knots of root and stone, looming enormous and dark, their black leaves blotting out the sunlight until the ground was a dim patchwork of shadows.

As they climbed in the dark, the need to flit ahead through the shadows was overwhelming. Why, something inside Nico whispered, should she crawl like an animal? She could have been at the top ten times over by now. But Nico forced the feeling down. Such thinking was dangerous. Shadows were the demon’s highway, and moving through them, even for a short jump like this, always made her feel like a shadow herself. Without her coat, it was easy to lose focus, to forget to come out of the dark. Easier for the thing inside her to go places it shouldn’t, the places in her mind where she hoarded her humanity. A cold, clammy feeling began to wrap around her, and Nico shook her head, focusing her attention to a dagger point on Slorn’s back as they trudged on. To stay with Josef, to stay human, she needed to keep her mind clear, sharp. It was only a little longer. She would see what Slorn wanted her to see, and then go back. Easy, simple. She repeated those words again, and deep in the dark behind her eyes, something began to snicker.

Finally Slorn stopped. They were high now, the air cold and heavy with the smell of snow. The strange trees were shorter here, thinner, and Nico caught glimpses of blue sky through the branches. Yet the sun seemed to shy away from them, leaving the thin woods at the top of the slope darker than ever. Everything was quiet. Despite their height, no wind rustled the trees, and no animals moved in their branches. The slope was still, a heavy, unnatural stillness that pressed down on Nico like deep water, and she had the strong feeling she should not be here.

“What you are feeling is the will of the valley,” Slorn said softly, turning to face her, his gruff voice grating against the silence. “We woke it years ago and tasked it with keeping things away.”

Nico looked around, confused. She didn’t see a valley, just the slope and the strange trees. Slorn saw her confusion, and he motioned for her to look at him, his voice becoming deathly serious.

“What I am about to show you,” he said, “you must tell no one, not even your companions. If you cannot promise me this, I cannot make your coat. Will you promise?”

Nico looked up at him hesitantly. No one, not even Josef, had ever asked her to promise something. She thought about it a moment, weighing the weight of a secret against the necessity of her coat and her own growing curiosity, and then she nodded.

Slorn turned and walked up the slope, motioning for her to follow. Nico did, slowly, fighting against the growing certainty that she should turn around and run while she still could. She was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that she almost didn’t see Slorn’s shape flicker ahead of her, as though he’d walked through a curtain of water. A step later, Nico felt it rush over her as well, intensely cold and strange, as if the air itself was moving to let her pass. It was only for a moment, and then the world around her changed. She was standing beside Slorn, still on the slope, still surrounded by the strange trees, only now she was balanced on the edge of a knife-sharp ledge looking down at a valley that had not been there a moment before. It was a small, narrow thing, barely fifteen feet across and maybe thirty feet long, more like a fissure in the slope than a valley. There were no trees growing nearby, yet the light was somehow dimmer than ever. When she looked down into the cleft, shadows flowed like a river, making it impossible to tell how far down the crack in the stone went.

Nico frowned. She wasn’t used to shadows hiding things from her. But as she leaned forward to get a better look, a familiar, terrifying feeling crashed into her. It took her over, passing through her senseless body like a spear and landing hook first in her mind. No, deeper. This feeling, the sense of grasping claws, of an endless, gaping, ravenous hunger, of being trapped, of being crushed, was deeper than mind or thought. For an eternity, it was all Nico could do to hold on to the tiny flickering light of herself until, inch by inch, the darkness subsided. Rough, warm hands were shaking her shoulders. She didn’t remember falling, but Slorn was helping her to her feet. Already the feeling was fading like a dream, but deep inside her, something curled closer, drinking it in.

“I’m sorry.” Slorn sounded genuinely upset. “I didn’t know it would affect you like that.”

“What is it?” Nico whispered, shrinking away from the ledge. Yet even as she asked, she knew. She knew the demon hunger as well as she knew her own breath. Slorn’s answer was to step aside, and very slowly, Nico looked again. The gully was the same; so were the shadows, but the overwhelming wave did not come back. Relieved, Nico stared into the darkness until it gave way, and the dark bottom of the valley came into focus. It was a dry, dead place. The bottom was sandy, as if water had flowed there once, long ago. Now there was nothing but rocks and the scattered leaves of the dark trees lying dry and brittle on the sand. And at the farthest, deepest end, sitting cross-legged on a large, flat stone, was a woman in a long, black coat.

She sat very still, her head bowed so that her hair, wispy and dark, fell to hide her face. Her hands, skeletally thin and pale, were folded in her lap, while at her wrists, gleaming dully in the dark, a pair of silver manacles trembled. She wore a silver collar at her neck as well, and rings on her ankles. All of them were shaking, buzzing like bees against her skin so that, even this far away, Nico could hear the faint, hollow clatter of rattling metal.

The woman gave no sign that she saw Nico and Slorn on the ridge above her. She sat as still as a doll, the shaking bindings at her wrists the only movement in the gully. Yet the more Nico stared, the more the woman’s very stillness seemed to move and crawl. The cold feeling began to gnaw at Nico again, and she was forced to look away.

“Is she alive?” Nico said, looking back at Slorn.

“Oh yes,” Slorn said, looking down at the woman with a sad look in his dark, animal eyes. “Very much alive.”

“She’s a demonseed.” It scarcely needed to be spoken, but Nico said it anyway, as if having it out clear and simple like that could somehow make the woman in the dark less terrifying.

“That she is,” Slorn said softly. “Her name is Nivel. She is my wife.”

“Your wife?” Nico’s voice was trembling now. She knew very little about things like wives, but it seemed wrong that the woman should be alone here in the dark under the open sky, miles away from home.

Slorn must have followed the same line of thought, for his answer was fast and defensive. “It was her choice,” he said. “She chose to live here in the valley so that when she awakened she could not hurt her husband, her child, or anyone else. The valley helps her by keeping innocent spirits away. No rain falls inside those walls, no trees sprout, no wind blows.”

“Nothing to feed the demon,” Nico finished softly. “But how does she live? Humans must eat.”

Slorn clenched his fists. “In the five years since I lowered her down there, Nivel has taken neither food nor water. She doesn’t sleep and she doesn’t move. But her will, her human will, is still there, still fighting. So, in the only way that truly counts, she’s still my Nivel. Still human, even now.”

Nico didn’t see how someone who never ate or slept could be called human, but she held her tongue. Slorn looked down at the woman in black again and his voice grew very sad.

“Over the last decade I have pledged everything: my life, my work, my place as a Shaper”-he raised his hand to his furry face-“even my humanity to finding a way to bring Nivel back from the brink. Yet for all my work, all I’ve managed is to slow the inevitable. The coats I make, the manacles, these are all just stopgaps, ways to starve the demon, to restrain it and keep it distracted.” Slorn bared his teeth. “Ten years and I am no closer to finding a cure than I was at the beginning.” He looked at Nico. “Do you understand why I am telling you this?”

Nico shook her head.

“Because, unlike your swordsman, I refuse to give false hope. That’s why I brought you here.” Slorn took Nico’s shoulders and turned her to face the dark gully again. “Look sharply. What you see down there is your future, the unavoidable end. I’ve heard about what happened in the throne room of Mellinor. I know you’ve gone over the edge and come back. It’s a trick not many can pull off, but no one returns unscathed.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “No one is strong enough to play with the demon and come back every time. No one can hold off the demon forever. Even if you resist with everything you have, a demonseed is something outside of human or spirit understanding. It is a predator, and we, all of us, humans and spirits, are its prey. Just as the sheep cannot fight the wolf, we cannot fight the demon. Eli brought you here for a coat, but I cannot make one for you until you understand completely that it is only a crutch, not a cure. No coat or shackle, no human implement, no magic, no spirit can stop the thing that is inside you.”

Nico looked him straight in the eye, shrugging her shoulder out of his grip.“That may be,” she said, “but your wife is still alive, and so am I. So long as we’re alive, we can fight.” It was the first thing Josef had taught her.

“Still alive, as you say.” Slorn sighed. “But as for the fight…” He looked down into the valley, and the look of grief on his face was the most human expression Nico had seen him make. “The only way for you to understand is to ask her yourself.”

Nico’s eyes widened and she turned back to the dark valley. The woman, Nivel, sat still as ever, but then, almost imperceptibly, Nico saw her fingers twitch. Her hand rose from her lap, lifting straight up like a marionette’s hand on a string, and the thin, limp fingers curled in a beckoning motion. Beside Nico, Slorn stood perfectly still, watching the woman as her hand fell back to her knees.

Nico swallowed. “Is it safe for me to go down there?”

“Of course not,” Slorn said. “Nothing is safe in your condition, but you have less to fear than anything else. So far as I know, demonseeds don’t eat each other.”

That didn’t make her feel any better about dropping into the dark, but Slorn was settling down on the ground, obviously not going anywhere. Realizing that this was what he’d brought her up here to do from the beginning, Nico decided to see it through. She took a deep breath and then, very carefully, stepped off the cliff edge.

It was a shorter fall than she’d expected, another trick of the unnatural shadows that filled the valley. She landed badly in the sand, but righted herself automatically. Now that she was down in it, the valley was darker than ever. She could see nothing, not even the stone walls of the cliffs that boxed her in. The only sound was the metallic rattle of the woman’s buzzing manacles. Nico could feel her own restraints trembling against her skin in answer, matching the rhythm. As the sounds merged, her vision began to sharpen. Not lighten, for there was no more light than before. Even so, she could see clearly now despite the dark. And there, in front of her, was Nivel.

The woman was closer than she’d realized, her bare feet almost touching Nico’s legs. Nico jumped back, and the woman in the chair made a thin, hollow sound, like sand blowing over metal. It took Nico a moment to realize Nivel was chuckling.

“You have good instincts.”

The woman’s voice was a rasp, a mere shaping of breath, as though she’d long since screamed her throat away. Her eyes, bright as lanterns in the unnatural darkness, glittered behind her long, matted hair. Behind them, shapes and shadows flickered in unnatural forms. Even so, meeting the woman eye to eye, Nico felt a strange feeling of kinship and, with it, a strong urge to run away as fast as she could.

“Heinricht gave you the speech, did he?” Nivel said. “He gives it to every demonseed before sending them to me. Still, you are the first I’ve seen in a very long time. I thought maybe he’d finally given up.” She sighed, a cutting, rasping sound. “My poor, faithful bear.”

“Other demonseeds?” Nico said, startled. “He’s sent others here?” It seemed impossible. Surely the League of Storms would shut any operation like that down in an instant.

“A few,” Nivel said, waving her hand. “We’d hoped to learn something, but the demonseeds we could get were too small and weak to be any use. The League never lets them get too big, you see. But you”-her eyes locked with Nico’s-“you’re different.”

Fast as a shadow, Nivel’s hand shot out, grabbing Nico’s wrist and dragging her closer. Nico fought by instinct, but the woman’s grip was filled with a demonic strength even greater than hers, and Nico found herself on her knees beside Nivel, her face inches from the woman’s own. This close, she could smell death and rocks and something else, a sharp, acidic bite that tugged at memories she didn’t want to recall.

Nivel’s eyes glowed brighter as she looked Nico over before releasing the girl with a suddenness that made Nico stumble.

“You’re no usual seed, are you?” Nivel said as Nico picked herself up. “Old, far older than you look, and with a seed that appears to have blossomed many times, yet never freed itself.” She tapped her fingers against her knees and a purely human look of inquisitive interest passed over her face. “Tell me, how did you get that way?”

“I don’t know,” Nico said. “I don’t remember anything before Josef found me.”

Nivel looked supremely disappointed, and the light behind her eyes flickered. “So it told me before I’d even asked the question. I hate it when the bastard is right.”

Nico looked at her, confused. There was no one else in the valley save themselves. Not even a spirit. Nivel caught her surprised look and smiled a pleased smile.

“Well, child,” she said, “if you don’t know what I’m talking about there might be hope yet.”

Nico’s heart beat faster. “Slorn said there was no hope. That was why he brought me up here.”

“Heinricht’s doesn’t believe in false assurances,” Nivel said, smiling. The expression softened her face until she looked almost human again. “He’s always been a realist. But there’s a difference between being a realist and being a defeatist. Just because no one has ever beaten their demon doesn’t mean you’re going to give in, does it?”

Nico shook her head.

“I thought so.” Nivel chuckled, the same dry sound as before. “In that case, strange little demon girl, let me give you some hard-learned advice.” She caught Nico’s eyes with her glowing gaze. “There will come a time when my words mean something to you. I may not have Slorn’s eyes, but even I can see you’ve been using your seed too much of late. It’s quickening, growing like a babe in the womb. Someday, possibly very soon, it will wake. When that happens, if you remember nothing else, remember what I tell you here.”

Nivel leaned forward, lowering her voice to a bare, scraping whisper, and Nico leaned in to listen.

“Demons,” Nivel said, “are predators. Creatures of power and control. But as a human, you are unique among all spirits. Your soul is your own, and you must never give your control over, no matter what. When the voice speaks, do not listen to it, do not take its advice, and do not talk back to it, no matter what it says. Do you understand?”

Nico shook her head.

“You will,” Nivel said. “I’m glad I could tell someone. Though we won’t meet again, I would feel guilty if I never warned you.”

Nico’s eyes widened. “Never again? But I’ve never met someone else like me. I’ve never had-”

Nivel shook her head. “There are no mentors in this life of ours, child. Even now, the demon inside me is trying to find a way to use you to free itself. In a few minutes, I won’t have the strength to keep it back. I have fought this battle of inches for ten years, but it will be over soon. The demon is now as strong as I am. We are perfectly balanced. Yet it can get stronger, and I can’t. All it would take is a bite of a spirit. A wind, a few drops of rain”-Nivel’s glowing eyes ran over Nico’s body-“a little girl, and the demon could shed me like snakeskin and fly free. That’s why I told Slorn to put me in this valley, where all the spirits have withdrawn, leaving nothing to eat. Here, I can keep it in check. But,” Nivel’s rasping voice cracked, “it’s been five years since I sat down on this stone, and I’m tired. So tired.”

“But you’re still alive!” Nico said. “So long as you have that, you can fight.”

Nivel laughed, a sad, empty sound. “No one’s will is strong enough to hold out alone forever. Just staying alive isn’t enough. You need something to live for. A purpose. Mine is Slorn. I left him and Pele alone, and yet he still kills himself trying to find a way to bring me back. I thought that if he was willing to fight for me, to attempt the impossible, then I owed it to stand strong for him. That belief has kept me going far beyond my time. Even so, everything ends.”

As she spoke, the manacles on Nivel’s wrists began to rattle more incessantly, and Nico winced as the cold, dark feeling began to creep over her again. Nivel took a breath and closed her eyes tight. “You should go now,” she said quietly.

Nico clenched her jaw. “I won’t say farewell,” she said, standing up. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed Nivel’s fingers. “We’ll meet again, so don’t give up.”

With that, Nico released her grip and turned around, marching toward the stone wall. When she reached the sheer cliff she began to climb, her impossibly strong fingers finding grips on the most minute cracks and wrinkles in the stone.

Nivel watched her go, cradling the hand Nico had seized, savoring the surprised feeling of the unexpected contact.

I hope you’re happy, a deep, smooth voice said in her head. You just let the death of your world go on her merry way. We should have eaten her when we had the chance. It sighed deeply. You’ll regret this. Mark my words.

Nivel just smiled and ignored the voice, as she always had, watching as Nico pulled herself over the edge of the cliff and vanished into the sunlit world above.

High overhead, Nico spilled herself out onto the dry leaves, panting and letting her eyes adjust to the light. Slorn was waiting where she’d left him, sitting solemnly on the dirt.

“So,” he said slowly, “you have met the truth of demonseeds face to face. Do you still want me to make your coat?”

Nico stood up, brushing the leaves off her clothes. “Yes,” she said. “Nothing has changed.”

Slorn grinned, showing a great wall of sharp yellow teeth. “You have passed the final measure, then. Come,” he said and stood up. “Pele and the rest should have things ready by now.”

Nico nodded and followed him back down the slope and through the strange, black trees, stopping every few steps to look back over her shoulder, even after the valley had long since vanished from view.