the air over the heads of the Mog soldiers.
“This way!” I shout. “We can’t let these Loric bastards escape!”
A few of the tunnels we go through have partially collapsed from whatever it is Nine and Four are doing, but it’s no matter. The adrenaline in my system sends my Legacies into overload. I’m moving boulders left and right and jetting through the tunnels. The Mogs do their best to catch up to me, but I’m moving too quickly for them. I shoot from corridor to corridor, my mind trying desperately to remember, from my downtime spent exploring, how these passageways all fit together, until I come to a fork in the tunnels that I don’t remember. Time is of the essence. If we’re going to stop Four and Nine, I have to take action.
But I don’t know where to go.
My troops start to catch up behind me. I split their ranks down the middle with one hand as I float in front of them.
“Half of you that way, the other half follow me. As fast as you can. They can’t be far ahead of us now.”
They don’t hesitate this time—just charge onward. Ethan follows the other group, again tapping on his earpiece. I know he’ll alert me if they come across anything on their side.
And of course, that’s what happens a few minutes later.
“We’ve spotted them,” Ethan’s voice crackles in my ear. “They’re headed for a bridge. We’re going to try to cut them down.”
“Shit,” I mutter. I halt the Mogs who followed me. We race back around, into the other tunnel. The sound of Mog weapons firing bounces off the corridor walls. We’re almost to the bridge when I hear Ethan screaming in my ear in a way I’ve never heard before: primal and full of pain.
I speed forward until I think I may go supersonic. When I fly out into the cavern where the bridge is, it’s a madhouse. Half the team I sent has been reduced to ash. The other half is missing limbs or is in other ways wounded by the acidic green lava that pools under the bridge. Nine or Four must have used their powers to somehow turn it into a weapon. I feel stupid for never realizing what powerful offensive capabilities the lava could have when paired with my telekinesis.
But I forget about all of that when I see Ethan. He’s staring at his right hand. Or, rather, the place where his right hand should be. Now it’s just a stump, charred and cauterized by the green ooze. He looks up at me, one eye wide and full of desperation. The other is hidden by a smoking patch of green gunk. Then his good eye rolls back in his head and his legs give out, and he’s falling back, plummeting towards the lake of deadly green sludge below.
“No!” I shout, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m flying after him, diving and catching him right before he hits the surface of the bubbling green lake.
I float back up to the bridge with Ethan’s body in my arms. He’s still breathing, at least. Maybe he’s in shock. The Mogs from my half of the group stare at me, awaiting orders.
“Why are you standing there?” I shout. “Go get them.”
And then they’re off over the bridge and into the tunnels after Four and Nine. I should be going with them. But I can’t leave Ethan behind like this.
I fly us both back through the tunnels the way we came. Towards the central hall, where there’s a med lab that’s probably swarming with injured Mogs already.
It’s in the grand hall that I see him. He’s tall—maybe eight feet. It’s hard to tell exactly from my place floating above him. The surviving Mogs back away from him, bowing. His hair is short and black. His skin is pale. Something about his face reminds me of a gargoyle—maybe it’s the grayish tint to his skin or the way his sharp teeth are bared behind dark, snarling lips. He’s got a thick purple scar on his neck. Three pendants shine on his chest.
“Our Beloved Leader,” I whisper.
He turns his head, and his eyes bore into me. He raises one hand. There’s a crackle of blue across my vision, and
“This way!” I shout. “We can’t let these Loric bastards escape!”
A few of the tunnels we go through have partially collapsed from whatever it is Nine and Four are doing, but it’s no matter. The adrenaline in my system sends my Legacies into overload. I’m moving boulders left and right and jetting through the tunnels. The Mogs do their best to catch up to me, but I’m moving too quickly for them. I shoot from corridor to corridor, my mind trying desperately to remember, from my downtime spent exploring, how these passageways all fit together, until I come to a fork in the tunnels that I don’t remember. Time is of the essence. If we’re going to stop Four and Nine, I have to take action.
But I don’t know where to go.
My troops start to catch up behind me. I split their ranks down the middle with one hand as I float in front of them.
“Half of you that way, the other half follow me. As fast as you can. They can’t be far ahead of us now.”
They don’t hesitate this time—just charge onward. Ethan follows the other group, again tapping on his earpiece. I know he’ll alert me if they come across anything on their side.
And of course, that’s what happens a few minutes later.
“We’ve spotted them,” Ethan’s voice crackles in my ear. “They’re headed for a bridge. We’re going to try to cut them down.”
“Shit,” I mutter. I halt the Mogs who followed me. We race back around, into the other tunnel. The sound of Mog weapons firing bounces off the corridor walls. We’re almost to the bridge when I hear Ethan screaming in my ear in a way I’ve never heard before: primal and full of pain.
I speed forward until I think I may go supersonic. When I fly out into the cavern where the bridge is, it’s a madhouse. Half the team I sent has been reduced to ash. The other half is missing limbs or is in other ways wounded by the acidic green lava that pools under the bridge. Nine or Four must have used their powers to somehow turn it into a weapon. I feel stupid for never realizing what powerful offensive capabilities the lava could have when paired with my telekinesis.
But I forget about all of that when I see Ethan. He’s staring at his right hand. Or, rather, the place where his right hand should be. Now it’s just a stump, charred and cauterized by the green ooze. He looks up at me, one eye wide and full of desperation. The other is hidden by a smoking patch of green gunk. Then his good eye rolls back in his head and his legs give out, and he’s falling back, plummeting towards the lake of deadly green sludge below.
“No!” I shout, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m flying after him, diving and catching him right before he hits the surface of the bubbling green lake.
I float back up to the bridge with Ethan’s body in my arms. He’s still breathing, at least. Maybe he’s in shock. The Mogs from my half of the group stare at me, awaiting orders.
“Why are you standing there?” I shout. “Go get them.”
And then they’re off over the bridge and into the tunnels after Four and Nine. I should be going with them. But I can’t leave Ethan behind like this.
I fly us both back through the tunnels the way we came. Towards the central hall, where there’s a med lab that’s probably swarming with injured Mogs already.
It’s in the grand hall that I see him. He’s tall—maybe eight feet. It’s hard to tell exactly from my place floating above him. The surviving Mogs back away from him, bowing. His hair is short and black. His skin is pale. Something about his face reminds me of a gargoyle—maybe it’s the grayish tint to his skin or the way his sharp teeth are bared behind dark, snarling lips. He’s got a thick purple scar on his neck. Three pendants shine on his chest.
“Our Beloved Leader,” I whisper.
He turns his head, and his eyes bore into me. He raises one hand. There’s a crackle of blue across my vision, and
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