His Ancient Heart by M. R. Forbes Page A

the last two days had grown to a strange yearning, an overwhelming desire to see the place again. Now he gazed down onto the crater. It had lost its obscuring mist, down to the patches of bones and the trees beyond, down to the mountain of stone and slagged ircidium that rested in the center. A true tomb within a tomb.  
    "We came all this way for some ruins?" Rose asked.
    Spyne turned, finding the man a few steps behind him. He rushed him, knocking aside his defenses and putting his hands around his throat, using it to drag him to the edge.
    "Ruins?" he whispered. This was where he had lived. This was where he had changed. This was his legacy, their legacy, and Talon had brought it to dust.
    "General. General, please." Rose's voice strained beneath the hands. "I'm sorry."
    It wasn't enough. Not this time. The anger burned and boiled in him, stealing away any sense of logic. He squeezed even tighter.
    "Do you know what I sacrificed for these ruins? Do you know what I gave?"
    He didn't remember all of it. He remembered enough. His eyes closed, his mind putting the tower back together, standing it upright. The reactor. He could remember the smell of the flowers that lined the corridors, giving off their natural phosphorescent light. He could remember the music and the children. The majesty of what they were building, the thrumming of the ebocite core.  
    It had been beautiful.  
    He remembered his wife. Simple, plain, and wonderful.  
    She had been beautiful, too.
    War had stolen her away. War stole it all away.  
    He remembered the pain.  
    The magic was untested. It was all theory and guesswork, based on what little they knew about the enemy. Creating them, creating the Nine, had been painful. Beyond painful. A pain he still carried with him. So many had died. So many had been incompatible. Why had he survived? Why was he here now?
    Rose's hands were on his, trying to pry them apart. His face was turning pale, his eyes beginning to bulge. The rest of the Historians were motionless, watching him, waiting for him to finish his work. They were hard men, and they were smart men. At least, smart enough to know when to stay silent. Most of them.
    "He took it," Spyne said. "He took my home."
    The promise. That's why he was here. He remembered the promise. He had to. It was the only thing that made sense to him. It was the only thing to hold onto, when nothing else brought him any feeling at all. It was the reason he had led the juggernauts through Genesia, slaughtering every man, woman, and child they discovered. It was the reason he burned the books, destroyed the past.  
    It was the reason he had murdered his wife and daughter.  
    Their bones were down there, mixed with all the others.
    The anger flared, a fire burning ever brighter. He lifted Rose off his feet, squeezing one last time with a strength that was beyond human. The man's spine crumbled beneath the pressure, stopping his pleading for good. He hurled the body away from him, dropping to his knees and burying his face in his hands even as it rolled down the slope to join the others.
    He had never remembered it before. Not until he had been sent here. Not until he had seen it. Who he was. What he was. He wasn't supposed to know this. The promise wasn't supposed to be broken. Not now. Not ever.  
    He hated Talon for that, too.
    The sound of boots on the ground in front of him brought him back to his senses. His head lifted, and he found Worm descending the slope, everything about him calm and steady. He felt the anger again, the internal sun that threatened to burn him alive from within. It had been cooled somewhat by the violence. It sparked at the sight of the Historian moving ahead of him. It wasn't enough for him to act on it.
    "Worm, hold," he said.  
    Worm stopped and looked back, waiting.
    He couldn't end him, the way he had Rose. Ash, Cain, even Peyn, yes. Not Worm.  
    "With me," Spyne said, straightening up and turning his face to stone. "Talon was here.