Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Proposition XXII: If we conceive that anything pleasurably affects some object of our love, we shall be affected with love towards that thing. Contrariwise, if we conceive that it affects an object of our love painfully, we shall be affected with hatred towards it.

—Spinoza, Ethics, Part III

The time was 05:02 ST. The sky was still dark.

“An hour before dawn,” Serph muttered to himself, as he’d come to do so often lately. In an hour, Shade Time would change over to Light Time. Sera called that the coming of dawn, when the sun (Serph still wasn’t quite sure what that was) would rise and shine its light upon the world. Here there was just a sickening magenta sky, and a light source that could really only be called an indistinct brightness. Still, Serph thought that “dawn” was a nice word.

Heat and Argilla were in hiding close by. Their objective, a set of black fortress walls, was roughly two hundred meters away. Heads were visible about fifty members up, near the middle of the third tier. There were several artillery emplacements along the edge of the walls, and now and then the personnel manning them would come into view. They were on a higher state of alert than anticipated.

This was the fortress at the heart of Anahata, the stronghold of the Solids—perhaps the most strongly defended headquarters among the tribes. Serph and the others had taken up position behind a building to the southwest of the base’s front side. The defenders had cleared away most of the rubble from the surrounding area to eliminate any cover for attacking forces; up until two or three days ago, there had been a Solids’ lookout post where Serph’s team was now hiding.

The building had been brought down and destroyed in a Maribel assault two days earlier, and it appeared that there hadn’t been time since then for the Solids to clear away the debris. The Maribel assault had been carried out in order to create a space for a small infiltration team, consisting of Serph and the others, to hide out until it was time for the operation to begin. As hoped, the Solids’ leader, Mick the Slug, appeared none the wiser.

The operation called for the incursion to begin at the transition from Shade Time to Light Time, during the faint “pre-dawn,” when visibility was rather poor. The acrid scent of charred steel still lingered on the air. Serph blinked once as he checked the time before bringing a hand to his ear, adjusting the reception on his new transceiver.

“Gale, do you copy? What’s your status?”

“No issues to report.” Given the close proximity of the enemy, they were using a double-layered encryption to prevent their transmissions from being intercepted by the Solids, so there was a slight delay in the response. “Cielo is heading up a flying Atma squad, which has already set out. I am in position two kilometers from the base. Jinana is in command of the Maribel troops. Everything seems to be going according to plan on their end.”

“Excellent.”

“We will start the attack at 06:00 LT. The incursion will commence thirty minutes later, along the route previously chosen. Blessings of karma to you, sir. Gale out.”

The transmission ended. Serph took his hand away from his ear, and then turned his attention to his objective.

The Embryon–Maribel operation against the Solids had so far proceeded according to Gale’s plan. First, a Maribel strike team had launched a small attack with the purpose of clearing a path and creating a suitable environment for the infiltration team to sneak in through. This was the group that had destroyed the lookout post. Now, a joint Embryon–Maribel force was preparing to launch an all-out frontal and aerial assault, and while the Solids were preoccupied with responding to that threat, the smaller infiltration team would make its way into the base itself to seek out Mick the Slug in order to either capture or eliminate him.

Combined, the Embryon and Maribel had a little over two hundred troops; after ensuring they had enough men left behind to protect their respective bases, they could field a primary force of just over a hundred. Ordinarily, an attack force of that size would have been insufficient for a mission this ambitious, but considering how the initial outbreak of Atma had culled the Maribel down to a scant fifty-odd members, Gale surmised that it was very likely that the Solids had sustained similar losses.

“If the primary goal of the attack is simply to disrupt the enemy, then our two hundred soldiers should be sufficient. The critical point is neutralizing the leader, Mick the Slug. The Solids’ stronghold is much larger than either the Embryon’s or even the Maribel’s, but if we launch a joint ground and aerial assault with a force consisting of a hundred Atma, then the enemy will be forced to neglect the base’s interior security. This will create an opening in their defenses and allow for a small team to infiltrate the base and strike at their leader directly.”

Gale really does know me all too well, Serph thought as he went over the plan’s write-up in the back of his mind.

Gale had selected himself, Heat, and Argilla to be the members of the infiltration team. Serph had removed Gale from that list and included himself instead. When he noticed this change among Serph’s revisions to his plan, Gale had glanced tentatively to meet Serph’s gaze.

“Is this because you have doubts about my combat prowess, sir?”

“It’s just a matter of having the right people in the right job. Don’t get me wrong—you’re a fine warrior. But bishops are innately well-suited to tactical analysis, and I’m certain you’d acknowledge that my actual combat abilities outclass yours. Besides, you’re one of the few remaining bishops in the Junkyard. If the worst were to happen to you, you’re not replaceable.”

“You are the one who is not replaceable, sir. If you die, then the Embryon—”

“We went over this last night, and I’m not arguing that point again now. The infiltration team should be made up of those with the best combat capabilities. I’m sure you understand that.”

Gale clearly had his own thoughts on the matter, but did not dissent. He was quiet for a while, and then finally said, “I have been thinking about what you asked me last night—whether I serve my leader personally, or whether I serve the Embryon.”

Serph set down the hard copy of the report and waited for Gale to go on.

“I did not reach a conclusion,” Gale said at last after a long silence. It was probably the first time Serph had ever heard him speak without his usual unhesitating steadiness. “I am a bishop. It is what I have been fine-tuned to be. I am still unable to fully comprehend what sort of effect my Atma has had on me. However, at least for the time being, I find no contradiction in both serving the continued interests of the Embryon and serving you as my leader. You are currently the leader of the tribe to which I belong and which I serve. That you would ever die or be absent are factors that do not and cannot exist for me. I cannot take such hypothetical factors into consideration, and I—”

“Okay, Gale, I get it,” Serph said, patting his lieutenant on the shoulder, stopping him before he could get caught up talking in circles. “That’s all right for now. Just see if you can figure it out bit by bit. There’s no rush. I depend on you—I trust you, Gale. From the bottom of my heart.”

At that, Gale’s eyelids fluttered slightly, but he said nothing further.

And right now, Gale was at Jinana’s side, carrying out communications between the two leaders as he oversaw the operation. Serph felt confident tasking him with that, and Jinana appreciated having a valuable bishop at her disposal. The time for the frontal assault was drawing near.

A dim light began to appear at the edge of the darkened sky, a pale fluorescent magenta. Serph wondered what a true “dawn” looked like, but forced the thought from his mind as he called to his people.

“Brace yourselves. It’s go time.”

As if those words had been the trigger, a series of explosions resounded from the other side of the Solids’ sturdy walls. The figures atop the wall panicked, scattering from their positions. Serph smiled grimly. He could almost hear Gale observing that their disarray was a mark of poor leadership. Once a leader assigned tribe members to a post, they were never supposed to abandon it without an order.

As the growing band of faint light stretched across the horizon, several winged figures soared into view. They were led by an elegant-looking Atma with a pointed head and wings like straight razors. It was Cielo’s alter ego, Dyaus. He made a wide loop above the fortress, then looked down to Serph and the others and let out a triumphant cry.

Lightning flashed above where Serph and his team lay hidden, a bolt fired off by Dyaus that was the signal for the other flying Atma to begin their attacks. One after the other they swept down toward the stronghold. One giant, four-legged beast with sharp claws breathed out a cone of fire as it descended; with a quick flap of its wings, it scattered feathers that turned into piercing needles of light that rained down on the enemy forces. Another released a flickering orb of light that blazed brightly for an instant before melting back into darkness; everything in its path was split in half, and then it struck the ground, causing a strong tremor that kicked up a cloud of thick smoke and dust.

The Solids began to meet the assault with their own flying Atma. Over the fortress wings beat against each other, claws met fangs, and lightning flashed. A pair of struggling forms tumbled out of the sky, but just when they were about to crash into a building, one of them pulled away, flapping its way back up to rejoin the melee, chewing on the bloody mouthful of flesh it had torn from its foe. The scent of burning meat filled the air, mixed with the strong odor of ozone from the storm of electricity.

Serph held his breath and watched the battle raging above as Gale provided him with a constant stream of status updates on the base assault through the transceiver in his ear. Despite their reputation for wariness, the Solids appeared to have been unprepared for multiple attacks over such a short span of time, and the fact that they were facing a combined assault by both the Embryon and the Maribel had them off-balance. There were far more troops for them to deal with than they had faced before, and they were attacking not only on the ground but also from the air—a kind of assault which no fortress in the Junkyard had been built to resist. This would hopefully give Serph’s infiltration team much better odds of slipping into the stronghold undetected.

The time had come. Serph flashed Heat and Argilla the go sign and stepped out into the rain. The three wore camouflage ponchos that blended into their surroundings to conceal their brightly colored hair; tiny raindrops glanced off of the water-resistant material. Some day, Serph thought, this rain will stop. Once there are no longer bodies left behind to become the rain, there will be no more rain to fall.

It took about five minutes for them to reach their destination, darting from one fragment of cover to the next. Then they were looking up at a sheer wall without any handholds—a formidable obstacle. But the advance team had already devised a way to scale the surface on their earlier sortie. No mere human could accomplish it, but Serph and the others had Atma.

“Heat.”

At Serph’s command, Heat transformed into the hulking, two-headed, crimson form of Agni. Letting out a low rumble, he slung the rope the team had brought over one shoulder, and then slammed the four claws on each of his fists into the wall. His huge muscles rippled as he began to climb the towering structure. Without a single pause for rest, Agni cleared the nearly fifty-meter high wall, slipped over the edge and disappeared from view. A few minutes passed, then one end of the rope came tumbling down. Quickly Serph and Argilla grabbed hold of it and made their way up the building’s side. When they reached the top they found Heat waiting. He had undone his transformation, and was crouched down, scanning the top of the wall in both directions.

Argilla was the last to reach the top. She rubbed her sore wrists as she caught her breath. “We couldn’t have at least brought a rope ladder? I’m going to have a hard time aiming if I have to shoot.”

“You still think guns are any use?” Heat sneered as he looked at the assault rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Aren’t they? I feel naked without this thing. And it’s like I said before—unlike you, I don’t want to activate my Atma unless I have to, even if we do have ampules with Sera’s blood on hand.”

Heat snorted and turned to look at Serph. “What about you? Are you gonna use the girl’s blood to avoid facing reality too?”

“No.”

Argilla blinked in surprise, and Heat peered at Serph curiously.

“I won’t kill anyone I don’t have to,” Serph said, “but I will kill whoever tries to stop me if it comes down to it. It’s not like we haven’t done it before. At this point, I can’t just hide behind a veneer of blissful ignorance anymore. I need to be strong, to protect myself and my comrades.”

“But, sir—”

“I won’t force you to do anything, Argilla,” Serph said softly. “You’re free to do whatever you think the situation warrants, just like always.”

Argilla started to reply, then bit back her words and simply nodded. She unslung her rifle.

“All right, then,” Serph said firmly. “No more time to waste. Mick the Slug is somewhere on this base. We probably won’t run into too many of his soldiers once we get inside, but the quicker we get this done, the fewer people we’ll have to hurt. Let’s move.”

The combat suits Serph’s team wore had the orange Embryon markings repainted with the yellow of the Solids on the off chance that they were discovered while inside the base, but that didn’t alter the fact that they were in very real danger.

They had managed to descend undetected from the top of the seven-story structure down to the third floor when they found themselves in a long corridor exposed to the sky; at its end loomed an empty gun battery. Far above, they could hear the sounds of their flying Atma clashing with the Solids’ airborne troops, and so they ducked into the relative cover of the open battery. For a moment, the sky was bathed in purple, and then, with a massive boom, everything went white as some type of electrical discharge streaked overhead. It seemed that the aerial battle was only growing more violent.

The only ways to exit the gun battery, aside from the way they had come, were a simple ladder down its outside face and a mechanical cargo loader inside. Descending the ladder would leave them dangerously exposed, and so despite the risk that enemies might be hiding inside it, they decided to use the cargo loader.

Serph activated the loader’s call button—a few moments later, its door opened. Argilla leapt forward, assault rifle at the ready. The coast was clear. Serph gave the go sign.

The three of them got in, and the loader began to descend. It wasn’t particularly comfortable to ride in, shaking and rattling them around like bullets in a tin can. Soon their view of the outside was obscured, but they could feel the building shuddering from the battle that raged outside.

“Can’t you get in touch with Gale?” Heat whispered.

“We’re under radio silence. We can’t risk the transmission being intercepted.” This time, they were on their own. All the more reason to get the job done quickly and efficiently. If they came across any hostiles, they needed to strike first and strike hard.

The cargo loader came to a halt. Heat took a quick look around before waving for the others to get out. The sounds of battle were closer now than before. A readout on the loader indicated that they were on the first floor.

“Guess the stairs are the only way to get further down,” said Heat.

“Maybe.” Serph looked from side to side. Prior to the operation, they had made several attempts to get their hands on the base’s interior schematics—they’d even turned up some data from when the fortress had been used as a base by another tribe before the Solids—but everything had turned out to be unreliable, either faked or simply out-of-date.

“There probably is a more direct way to get there,” Serph concluded, “but we don’t have time to look for it. I guess we’ll take the stairs, and if we happen to come across an elevator along the way, great.”

The sound of frantic footsteps came suddenly from down the hallway. Serph and the others scattered, ducking out of sight. A group of four or five Solids, shouting as they ran, passed through the T-intersection at the end of the corridor Serph’s team had been following. Serph and the others waited until the enemy was gone, and then stepped out of hiding.

But Serph had no sooner breathed a sigh of relief at having gone unnoticed when a voice called out from the opposite direction. “Hey, what are you doing there?”

It was a pair of armed guards, approaching them from behind with their guns at the ready.

“Anyone who can hold a gun is to join the battle at the main gate. Didn’t you hear the order?” one of the guards growled, waving his weapon at them. “Hurry up, get—wait, hold on a sec.” He started to move closer. “I’ve never seen you three before. Which platoon do you belong to?”

The jig was up.

Before Serph could react, Heat sprang forward, blue light enveloping his body as he changed into his red, demonic form. One of the guards cried out in terror, firing blindly out of reflex. The bullets bounced off of Agni as if they were grains of sand, and the beast seized the man, lifted him overhead, and tore him in half as easily as if he were a piece of paper, raining blood and guts down onto his massive body.

Argilla looked away from the grisly sight. The gush of blood was absorbed into Agni’s skin on contact, leaving no trace behind. One of the Atma’s two rounded heads lolled out its tongue in satisfaction, then flashed a fearsome grin.

In a panic, the other guard activated his Atma and moved to attack, changing into a beast covered in thick, black fur. The claws on its four feet were wreathed in blue-white flames, and it breathed fire from its mouth. Heat, as Agni, let out a roar as he blocked a lunge from the creature’s snapping jaws. The huge, dark-furred beast let out a high-pitched shriek as it raked its flame-clawed forelimbs across Agni’s torso.

Against a god of fire, however, the flames had no effect. Agni barked out another laugh, and then seized his foe’s jaw in a powerful two-handed grip. Bone snapped, and blood mixed with the furred monster’s drool. Red saliva dripped onto the floor as the beast let out a mewling cry for help.

“That’s enough! Let him go, Heat!” Serph called out, getting a hand on Agni’s arm as he tried his best to fight off not only the nausea in his gut, but the fierce desire that ran counter to his disgust—the desire to reach out in hunger for that bloody, pulsating flesh.

“Why do you always have to stop me just when I’m getting to the good part?” Agni said; and though he shoved his prey away, he remained transformed. He stood behind Serph, menacingly brandishing his claws, showing every sign that he would be glad to finish what he started. The guard reverted to human form as soon as he hit the floor, fresh blood running from either side of his rent-open mouth, lips quivering as he crumpled to the ground.

“What are you? Who are you?” he managed to slur. “Wait—silver hair.” The man seemed to recognize Serph, and then a new kind of fear suffused his stricken face. “You’re . . . you’re the leader of the Embryon. What are you doing here?”

“Guess we’re just different than that coward you call a boss,” Argilla said, sticking the barrel of her rifle into the man’s mouth. “Now, where’s Mick the Slug? Tell me, or I will blow your head off right here and now. I’m betting you don’t have enough power to transform again.”

“Though if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine by me,” Agni added. “We’ll just go ask your friends who ran by. Would you prefer to be eaten after you’re dead, or while you’re still alive? The choice is yours.”

The man let out a faint whimper. Serph studied him through narrowed eyes. His fear didn’t seem to be an act—the way he trembled as he looked at his partner’s shredded remains was undoubtedly quite real. Serph signaled Argilla with a look, and she pulled her rifle from between the guard’s reddened teeth.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” the man stammered out between sobs. “The boss doesn’t stay in any one place for long, and he doesn’t let anyone know where he is. He gives out his orders by video or radio. A grunt like me almost never actually gets to see him in person.”

“He’s so damn secretive he doesn’t even trust his own people,” Argilla said, clicking her tongue. “These guys are a real piece of work.”

“It’s okay if you don’t know exactly where he is,” said Serph. “Just give us a guess. Some sort of clue.”

Both of Agni’s heads licked their lips menacingly. “I’ll be happy to bite his face off if he doesn’t talk,” the fiery Atma offered.

At last the man mustered up the will to speak. “The most likely place he’d be is the main control room. I think it’s down on the eighth sub-level. I’m not sure exactly where, but when he issues orders, most of the transmissions originate from down there. I’m not sure if the boss is there all the time or not—that’s just what I’ve heard.”

“All right. Thanks,” Serph said, and promptly delivered a quick stunning blow to the back of the man’s neck. The guard’s eyes went wide, then fluttered as he lost consciousness. Serph dragged his limp body back into the cargo loader and hit the controls. The loader began to rise, and Serph watched, waiting until it had risen up high enough. He then manifested his Atma in his right arm, extending his forearm blade and stabbing it into the control pad. It sent out a spray of sparks, and the machine went quiet.

“That should keep him out of our way for a good while,” Serph said as his arm reverted to normal.

“Still soft as ever. It’d be less of a hassle to kill him.”

“You already killed the other one, Heat. That was enough.” Serph paused. “But come on. You heard the man. Let’s head down.”

They proceeded deeper into the base with caution, taking care to spread out and get into hiding whenever someone came along. They encountered a number of guards along the way, but were able to avoid them all without being spotted. Luckily, the interior of the Solids’ base was quite dark, and there were a number of twisting corners and seemingly pointless byways that made it easier for them to remain undetected. The multiple branching pathways were probably a measure to stymie intruders, and the thick, sturdy walls created a sense of confinement that contrasted starkly with the brightness of the Maribel stronghold.

Every so often, the distant sounds of battle still reached them. “I hope that Jinana and the others are all right,” Argilla murmured.

“Focus on the mission, Argilla,” Serph cautioned. “The quicker we get this done, the better off the others will be. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Serph knew how she felt. Things were going far too well, and it made him uneasy. This was the stronghold of a mid-level tribe, on par with the Maribel. Even if the Solids had lost people during the first outbreak of their Atma, and even if their attention was focused on the attack at the main gate, should there really have been this little in the way of resistance deep inside their fortress?

As the Embryon team members made their way down the stairs, their wariness increased, but the further down they went, the fewer people there seemed to be. Serph wondered if they’d been misled. If Mick the Slug really was hiding down below, given what they knew of his personality, wouldn’t he keep himself surrounded by guards? Or would he employ that sort of ruse as a smokescreen while he hid alone someplace else?

Heat drummed his fingertips against his thigh impatiently. He loved a good, down-and-dirty battle; all this sneaking around, hiding behind walls and trying to avoid a fight was clearly wearing on him. Having eaten the one guard earlier had probably only exacerbated his unsated appetite. Argilla, meanwhile, was visibly preoccupied with the situation outside, frequently glancing upward as if she might somehow gaze through the yards of steel and concrete to see what was happening above. She bit her lip anxiously at every distant explosion.

“Hold up. Guards ahead.” The tension in the air spiked. Heat let out a quiet grunt and Argilla brought up her rifle. Serph gestured for them to stay back, and then carefully peered around the edge of the stairwell.

They’d made it down to the seventh sub-level, one floor above their supposed destination. The few guards they’d come across along the way had been patrolling in well-armed twos and threes. Now they’d hit a half dozen standing watch in the wide hallway where the stairs ended. They appeared to be guarding some sort of room or facility.

“Looks like we found the place,” Heat whispered. “Whether Mick the Slug is in there or not, it’s definitely someplace important.”

“Argilla,” Serph said quietly. “Flashbang grenades. Now.”

Argilla gave a nod. The three companions quickly donned the gas masks and goggles they’d brought with them, then the sniper pulled a few of the flashbangs from her belt. She drew back her arm.

“Not yet,” Serph whispered. “Just a little more. Okay. Three, two, one . . . now!”

Argilla tossed three gleaming black spheres down the hall. They made a metallic clank as they rolled toward the guards. The six soldiers startled at the noise, and then the reality of what was happening dawned on their faces.

Just as the guards opened their mouths to exclaim a warning, there was an explosion of light, turning their screams into strangled curses. Not only would the flash keep them blinded for a good ten seconds or so, but the grenades also sprayed out an irritating white gas that filled the hallway. Serph and the others dashed out from the stairwell.

“There’s a door further down the hallway, Serph,” Heat said through the mic in his mask. “That’s got to be the place that guard was talking about. Let’s hurry.”

The groaning, staggering guards were silenced with a single strike apiece before they could mount any sort of resistance. A series of shouts echoed from above—other sentries had apparently heard the grenades going off, and from the sound of it, they were approaching quickly. Nonetheless Serph reckoned that he and his team would have time enough to get at Mick the Slug. Even if the Solids’ leader had of escape route prepared in advance, surely it wouldn’t buy him enough time.

The Embryon team made its way through the veil of smoke toward the door. It was about two meters across, and made of solid steel. It looked extremely sturdy, and there was no visible means of opening it.

“Heat,” Serph said, and Heat murmured in acknowledgment as his arm blazed to life. With a sound like an exhaled breath, a blazing fireball slammed into the steel door. The metal plating turned red under the searing blast, and Heat’s arm, transformed into that of Agni, pierced through it as if it were plastic.

Heat quickly enlarged the opening and the three made their way in through the smoking hole. No guards came to meet them. The chamber beyond was dark; in its midst they saw a large chair that probably belonged to Mick the Slug, but it was empty. Hanging screens and monitors around the edges of the room provided ample places to hide.

“All right, Mick, where are you?” Serph called out. “This is a joint attack by the Embryon and the Maribel. We’re here to accept your surrender. You have nowhere to run. Come on out!”

The only reply was a sound of creaking metal followed by something slamming into the concrete behind them. Serph whirled around, only to see that an even sturdier bulkhead had come down inside of the steel door Heat had destroyed. Argilla let out a quiet gasp, and Heat clicked his tongue. Several low voices could be heard somewhere nearby, chuckling.

“A trap,” Heat sighed. “And we walked right into it.”

Multiple figures stepped out from behind the hanging fabric and piles of equipment. Serph and the others stood back-to-back, weapons at the ready as they took stock of the situation.

There were somewhere between twenty and thirty figures surrounding them—and not all of them were human. All wore yellow tribal markings. Their snickering filled the air. A Solids ambush. Most of the warriors’ bodies bore glowing Atma brands. Many of these were identical, marking them as Lesser Atma, but if any among them had gotten the chance to build their strength by devouring others, they weren’t to be underestimated.

“Where is Mick the Slug?”

“Not here,” one of the Solids said with a sneer. The others laughed in concert, the eerie sound of it echoing off the walls.

“We’ve known you were coming for a long time, now. If you’re looking for the boss, he’s probably up on the roof by now, chowing down on the men you brought as a distraction. Either that, or he’s on his way to Embryon territory to take this ‘Atma-controlling medicine’ of yours. But that’s just a guess. After all, the boss only tells his underlings what they need to know.”

“Medicine?” Argilla said. “But only Jinana and the Maribel—”

“Well, that’s what the guy who came to tattle on you told our boss.” His sneering laughter was louder now, and his grin seemed to stretch to his ears. “The boss wasn’t sure whether to buy it or not, but then you guys did exactly what this fellow said you were going to. I gotta say, I’m impressed with him pulling off something so deliciously underhanded.”

Argilla’s face had gone pale. “There’s no way! Nobody would ever sell out their own tribe!”

“I wish I could’ve seen the look on that woman leader’s face when she found out one of her own sold her out like that. I bet the boss is feasting on her as we speak, savoring every bite.”

“You bastard!” Argilla screamed, and her body was enveloped in an explosion of blue light.

“Devour them!” the man commanded, his triumphant voice booming through the room.

A sinister smile crossed the face of the ambush leader as blue light surrounded his features. His smile blurred, but that ear-to-ear grin was the only thing that didn’t change as armor formed over his body, and his shape morphed into that of a skeleton wielding a blade in each hand. The undead creature laughed. The data readout in Serph’s eye identified him as a Turdak—a Lesser Atma, but one of the more capable ones.

The other soldiers let out a chorus of vulgar cheers as, one after another, they all transformed. The bulk of them were Nues, large yellow creatures with black faces and white manes, lightning dancing over their bodies. These were Lesser Atma as well, and not particularly powerful ones at that, but what they lacked in strength, they made up for in numbers. The Turdak took point as the roaring Nues shot out arcs of lightning in all directions, sending the whole room into chaos.

Serph pulled off his mask and goggles and tossed them aside. His cheek was hot, and he brought a hand up to his pulsing Atma brand. He let the command words, om mani padme hum, run through the back of his mind. In an instant, an exhilarating rush of energy surged through his body as blue light washed across his vision. He swung his arm; the light vanished, and the sound of his arm blades extending rang in the air. A low, raspy growl hissed out from between his pointed teeth.

“High Atma!” stammered one of the Nues as it backed away in fear. “It can’t be! Why would there be High Atma in a place like this? There’s three—”

“There’s three of us,” whispered one of Agni’s heads into the Nue’s ear as its words came to an abrupt halt. The fiery Atma had already transformed and darted forward to attack; now blood bubbled from the Nue’s mouth as its throat was crushed. With his massive red fists Agni quickly wrung his foe’s neck. “I’ve been real hungry. You’re gonna wish you hadn’t mouthed off.”

With a growl Agni sank his teeth into the Nue’s throat. The creature didn’t even have time for a death rattle as its limbs went limp, and Agni used both hands to stuff pieces of the corpse into one of his mouths. The sounds of rending flesh and crunching bone filled the air as blood dribbled across Agni’s muscular chest. His throat bulged, and his big tongue slid around his lips before he spat out a mouthful of bones with barely a scrap of meat left on them.

“Disgusting!” Agni roared. “Isn’t there anyone tastier in here? You there, let’s see how you taste.”

“Get them!” snapped the Tarduk, waving its blades. “And if any of you cowards try to run, I’ll eat you myself! Now get it together and stop them, fools!”

The Nues, which had dropped back upon seeing one of their comrades get eaten, closed in again. A blade too fast for the naked eye to see whipped out to meet them, and several of their number were sliced apart before they could react, spraying blood across the floor. Varuna swung his arm, shaking the rancid blood from his blade; his tongue tingled with the urge to lick it up even as the thick droplets scattered. Again the Nues fell back, then scampered to attack again, howling.

“The woman! Go for her!”

Several Nues rushed at Argilla—now Prithvi—who was standing by the door. She squared off and extended her whiplike arms, claws like razors sprouting from the tips of her fingers. She leaped forward and struck, and the Nue in front screeched as its face was slashed open.

The open mouths on Prithvi’s breasts let out a stream of staccato panting sounds, and the group that had advanced on her were lifted off of their feet, their bodies rising into the air and slamming together. Prithvi increased her gravity warp, focusing it on a point in their midst, and the deadly vortex dragged the Nues relentlessly inward. Flesh and bone strained as they were crushed, the creatures’ roars and snarls turning into cries of agony. Even the gobs of blood that were forced out as their bodies broke were captured by the gravity rift, seeping toward the unseen singularity along with the mass of twisted flesh. Finally, the blood-soaked knot of ruined bodies fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

“What the hell are these things?” one of the Nues cried out, recoiling as a ball of fire struck its shoulder. The wound was deep enough to reveal white bone; the scents of scalded blood and burnt fat mingled in the air.

“Dammit! We were told there were only going to be three of them, but nobody said we’d be up against heavy-hitters like this!”

“I am Serph, leader of the Embryon,” Varuna said. “These are my top lieutenants, Heat and Argilla. No matter how many of you grunts come at us, you cannot hope to defeat us. Surrender now! We’re in a hurry.”

“The leader of the Embryon?” scoffed one of the Nues. “No leader would ever venture out onto the front line.”

“Maybe not your leader,” Prithvi said. “Ours is different.”

“In the end, this sorry death is all you were ever meant for,” Agni said scornfully. “Your leader threw your lives away just to buy himself some time.”

“I’ve had enough of this!” One of the soldiers, on the brink of tears, changed back into human form and backed away toward the door. “I can’t take this anymore! We were just told to surround the folks who snuck in and devour them. There was nothing about three High Atma, or—”

Before he could finish, the man’s head flew from his body. A spray of red blood spattered the wall, and his freshly severed head rolled along the floor, stopping only when it bumped into the door, eyes still open. The pack of Nues shuddered.

“Don’t any of you maggots dare try to run!” the Turdak bellowed. He stomped with a skeletal foot on the back of the headless corpse of his former underling. “No one leaves this room until the Embryon are dealt with. Now kill them! End them! It’s your choice if you’d rather be eaten by the High Atma or by me.”

The Nues stirred anxiously. They were left with no way out, certain death in front of them and behind. After a few moments, one of them was driven to fury by the indecision, and it leapt madly at Varuna, its mane standing on end. A blast of freezing cold struck it in midair, turning its entire body into a block of ice that shattered into fragments when it hit the floor. But its headlong rush had spurred the others to action, and now the Nues showed no hesitation as they threw themselves at their foes in a single, reckless rush.

Frenzied Atma lashed out on every side. Somewhere in the back of his divided consciousness, Serph could see himself, his arms transformed into blades as he sliced his enemies apart, skewered them with spears of ice, and fired off frozen blasts of air. The hunger that made his throat quiver in anticipation grew stronger and stronger as the bloodshed went on.

He saw Agni hold a Nue above himself, ripping it in half and bathing ecstatically in its blood and entrails, and he shivered at the sight, as if he could taste the metallic tinge of the blood on his tongue and feel the warmth of the quivering flesh. He imagined that he was the one who was gorging on the meat from the Nue’s split-open belly. In that moment, a sight that would normally have made him sick was so wonderfully intoxicating.

The blood of his enemy. The meat. The power. Those sweet, sweet flavors. To fight. To keep on fighting. To win. And to eat again, and do it all over and over . . .

Varuna let out a roar of delight, his hands and mouth smeared with blood.

“I told you not to run!” the Tarduk snarled. Several Nues who had tried to flee amidst the chaos now rolled about on the floor. As they lay there, quivering and incapable of further action, a faint purple haze began to waft around them.

As the mist enveloped them, a rotten odor filled the air, and their flesh began to rot. Varuna let out a sharp warning cry and jumped back.

“Poison,” said Prithvi.

Outside the main gate of the Solids’ compound, Gale grimaced as he cut off another unanswered call. After three successive attempts to contact the Embryon leader, he could only surmise that something had gone wrong. Serph and his team should have checked in by now. Gale knitted his brow.

This is quite odd.

More than two hours had passed since the infiltration mission began. According to their initial timeline, there should have been word of the operation’s success thirty minutes ago. He had taken multiple possible delays into account, but even so, there had been no contact in nearly an hour.

“Bishop Gale.” It was a messenger from Jinana, who had taken command of the battle outside the Solids’ base. “The soldiers defending the front gate have been nearly wiped out. We’ll have the gate open shortly. Should we make our way into the base and provide support for the infiltration team?”

Gale was about to approve the order, but something held him back—a strange pricking of uncertainty. He shook his head. “No. Do not proceed inside yet. Wait fifteen more minutes, and I will have new instructions for you. The current battlefield situation is—”

“We have a clearly superior force,” the messenger said eagerly. “These guys had no idea that the Embryon and Maribel were going to gang up on them. That alone has them panicked and off-balance. Plus, we have one of our leaders on the inside. There’s no way we can lose.”

Gale didn’t respond. He dealt in facts and data—optimism and wishful thinking were irrelevant, as was his baseless sense of unease.

But now, for reasons that he could not comprehend, some gut feeling was making him hesitate, although he knew that acting on hunches and instincts was in fundamental conflict with his fine-tuned bishop intellect. Wanting a clearer sense of the current situation on the ground, he stood up and made his way up the embankment to get a view of the battlefield.

The messenger followed after him, speaking hurriedly as if just remembering something he’d forgotten. “Jinana seems exhausted from commanding the battle. Maybe it would be best to have her fall back for now? She’s switching back and forth between Atma and human form as she fights, and every so often, she’ll double over in pain.”

Once again, Gale felt as if he were being pierced by thorns he could not see.

Just then the sound of an incredible explosion near the Solids’ main gate rocked them where they stood. The force of the blast was enough to make Gale stagger, and it knocked the messenger flat on his back.

“What the hell was that?” the messenger gasped from the ground, panting hard. “The Solids aren’t suicide bombing, are they—ah! Bishop, wait!”

Ignoring the man’s panicked shouts, Gale darted down the embankment, his transformation taking hold as he ran. Quickly the tall man with blue-green hair and eyes became a much taller creature with pale green wings and a head that split apart into a massive maw—the High Atma Vayu. He lifted himself aloft with a strong gust kicked up by his own powerful legs; the wind howled as he flew down to the front line in a matter of seconds.

“Bishop Gale!” One of the Embryon members, in Atma form, came running up to him.

“Tell me what happened. Where is Jinana? What was that sound?”

The man opened his mouth, but didn’t get the chance to speak before a blade of air came hurtling toward them. Being Vayu, the master of wind, Gale was able to defend against the attack, shielding himself with a twirl of his body as he quickly sidestepped the strike. The other Embryon member, however, was sliced cleanly in half, throwing a mist of blood across Vayu’s face. The green Atma’s massive tongue slid out subconsciously, allowing him to taste the shock and fear of the man’s final moments. On instinct, he let out a roar.

Snickering filled the air as a dark shadow descended from above. “Oh my, I only got the lackey.”

Membranous black wings flapped balefully, and needle-like fangs showed from a wide, sinister grin. Huge ears flicked about constantly, taking in the myriad sounds of the battlefield. Gale had never seen this creature before, but his leader had given him a description, and had told him the name of the Atma.

It was Camazotz.

Vayu unleashed a low, ferocious roar.

“The mist is toxic. Don’t breathe it in,” Prithvi called out.

Varuna shielded his face with his arms and let out a muffled growl. “You would sacrifice your own people?”

“I have no use for weaklings.” The Turdak’s deathly laughter echoed through the room, its bony teeth clattering together. “They’re all just food. And so are you.” It braced itself and opened its mouth wider, expelling another gout of the noxious mist toward Varuna.

Varuna’s chilling breath got there first, turning the toxic particles into purple shards of ice. But the Turdak’s laughter only grew louder; it brandished its swords as it rushed to close the distance. The air was filled with the sounds of four blades clashing.

The Turdak parried one of Varuna’s swings, then lunged inside his guard as their blades locked together. It belched out more poison gas, and this time, the frigid counter-blast was a moment too late. The gas made contact with Varuna’s skin, causing a tingling numbness and then an agonizing, acidic burning all over his body. He cried out and dropped to his knees.

Agni and Prithvi pressed in closer, looking for a chance to join in the fight.

The Turdak was effectively the only enemy left in the room. Pools of blood spread out from beneath mangled bodies, and everywhere there were charred and half-devoured corpses.

“What’s with this guy?” Prithvi asked as she watched the skeletal Atma cackle at her stricken leader. “The Turdak is supposed to be a Lesser Atma. How can it be this strong?”

“He must have eaten more than his fair share. Most of them people from his own tribe, I wager,” Agni said as he hurled a fireball. With even more maniacal laughter, the Turdak batted the flaming orb out of the air with its swords, and then leapt high, aiming one of his blades at Prithvi’s head.

Before it could connect, however, it bounced off of a wall of pure gravity. The impact spun it around in a full circle before it landed on the floor. Fires burned in the empty skull’s eye sockets as its teeth chattered angrily.

“You’re one stubborn son of a bitch,” Agni said. “I bet your boss Mick would be proud.”

“But of course. In the Junkyard, one does whatever it takes to win.” The Turdak thrust out its jaw in a taunt. “The boss understands that. He’s not a naïve child like the leader of you Embryon fools.”

Varuna’s legs shook from the poison that had enveloped them as he staggered back to his feet, and a faint, unnatural twitching ran through his shoulders. He gritted his sharp teeth, baring them wider and wider. The Turdak, not noticing this, let out another laugh, and once again the thick toxic mist came pouring.

“Underlings have always been tools to be used and then discarded,” the Turdak said. “Underlings, comrades, allies—food just needs to keep its mouth shut and accept being eaten. Entertaining foolish thoughts only leads to misery, and then—a horrible death.”

“Be quiet,” Varuna intoned, the very words freezing the toxic mist into an array of purple shards of ice that fell harmlessly to the floor. But Varuna was not finished. As his chilling rage grew, it gathered into a frigid sphere that he brought down upon the Turdak, encasing its bony right arm in ice. Varuna’s blade flashed forward, twisting his enemy’s frozen limb and snapping it off at the shoulder. The Turdak let out a mad shriek, its icy bones scattering across the blood-soaked floor. Varuna strode up to the upper arm bone and pointedly smashed it with a single stomp.

“You dare to wound me?” the Turdak snarled, clutching at its shoulder. “You’ll pay for this, you Newbie scum.”

“I told you to be quiet.” Again Varuna’s words were ice, and this time, it was the Turdak’s pelvis that froze. Off balance and unable to move its legs, the skeleton creature sprawled onto the floor.

“Sir, get back!” Prithvi shouted. She raised a whip-like arm and swung her claws at the Turdak.

An instant later the creature twisted its neck in surprise, peering up as a crack appeared in the sturdy ceiling overhead, as if the concrete had been struck by a massive hammer. Varuna hopped back out of the way, and the Turdak, forgetting its foes for the moment, scrabbled to crawl safety, true dismay showing in its eyes for the first time.

But its frozen body trapped it where it was, and as it struggled more violently to move away from the crumbling ceiling above, there was a sharp snap as its spine broke into splinters. All at once the death-Atma fell apart like it was made of brittle, corroded metal. Then the ceiling collapsed onto its feebly spasming form, raining chunks of heavy rubble down onto the gaping skeleton.

“Well then.”

What was left of the fortified room was now an unrecognizable mess. Here and there amidst the rubble, parts of the charred remains of Nues could be seen, along with blood and scraps of unidentifiable flesh. The three High Atma—Varuna, Agni, and Prithvi—stood atop the ruins, rivulets of blood streaming past their feet. Prithvi used her elongating limbs to lift up and dangle the Turdak, who had lost all of its bones from the waist down, as well as its right arm and its left arm from the elbow forward.

“If you were able to come straight down here, then that must mean there’s an elevator that heads directly to the roof,” said Prithvi. “Where is it?”

“Why should I?” Despite being unable to move, the Turdak remained stubborn. “You’d never make it in time, anyway. The boss has probably long since devoured your comrades by now.”

“Tell. Me.” Prithvi hissed. The Turdak’s skull began to creak, and true fear showed in its eyes. The end of its severed spine flailed about like the tail of some desperate animal in a futile attempt to get free. “I will crush your skull right here if you don’t. You do not want to mess with us. You’ve seen what we can do.”

“Damn you, you bitch! Damn you all!” The Turdak’s body writhed, and his eyes rolled about in their sockets. “Do you fools even know what you’re doing? All this nonsense about an alliance, and fighting together—you still eat people. Just look at what’s happened since the Atma came. There isn’t anyone standing here right now who didn’t turn to the person next to them during their first transformation and tear out his throat, and gorge themselves on his flesh and blood.”

Prithvi’s arms twitched. The end of the Turdak’s spine flapped about like a crazed worm as it thrashed its head. “You know I’m right,” it said. “It’s kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. When the hunger strikes, then ally or not, you’re going to sink your teeth right into the nearest person. There’s no point in trying to deny it. And what’s wrong with doing what you need to survive? You’ve eaten your share of people, too. Even the Embryon slaughter and rend, drink the blood and fill their bellies with the meat of—”

The Turdak’s words were cut off as Prithvi’s long arms tightened around him. His few remaining ribs creaked as they threatened to snap. “Enough of the prattle,” Prithvi hissed. “Tell me where the elevator is. Now. This is your last chance.”

A number of cracks began to appear in the skull as it was slowly crushed. “Wait, stop!” the Turdak cried. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Just don’t kill me.”

“Tell us where.” It was Varuna who spoke this time.

“In this room, there’s a secret door,” the Turdak stammered. “That big monitor over there, it’s just a decoy. Push it aside and you’ll find the elevator. It leads straight to the main gate in about a minute. I swear! You have to believe me. Take me with you even. Just don’t kill me—don’t eat me!”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Prithvi said coldly. “Goodbye.”

Before the Turdak could speak, its skull shattered. Fragments of bone skittered across the floor, and the bones from the rest of its ruined body followed soon after.

“As if anyone would want to gnaw on your brittle old bones. How disgusting,” Prithvi said as she glared down at the remnants of their enemy, dusting its fragments off her claws.

“Argilla—” Serph began.

“Let’s go, sir.” Prithvi turned around and headed toward the back of the room. Behind a dusty drape cloth they found a burned-out monitor. “We don’t have any time to waste,” she said. “Jinana, the Embryon, and even Sera might be in danger.”

There was indeed an elevator behind the monitor. The team climbed into it and closed the door, and the lift began to ascend all on its own. There was no display indicating what floor they were on, or even a control panel of any kind; it was just a dark, cramped, gray box.

As they rode upward, the three transformed back to human form. Nobody said a word, not even Heat. Argilla fumbled in her waist pouch with a shaking hand and pulled out one of the ampules of Sera’s blood. It was a struggle just to twist its end open; when she finally managed it, she quickly gulped down its contents. She gasped, then held her breath and patted herself on the chest before leaning forward wearily, pressing her head against the elevator wall.

Serph reached out to help her. “Argilla, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. She let the empty ampule fall to the floor, where it shattered into bloody fragments. Serph felt his mouth water at the sight, and then felt shame because of it.

“Please, don’t talk to me now, sir,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m fine, so just—don’t say anything right now. Please.”

Argilla shut her eyes tightly, and pushed her forehead even harder against the wall. “Please.”

Serph took back the hand he’d extended. Heat was silent; he stood in the middle of the elevator, gazing up at the ceiling. He looked as though he were imagining the battle that was raging on, beyond those plates of rusty metal and the darkness ahead.

The doors opened, revealing the magenta sky. It was after 12:00 LT, and Serph’s eyes, which had grown accustomed to the darkness, found the light of midday to be almost blinding. All of three them were dazzled by it briefly, and as they stood there letting their eyes adjust, something slammed down in front of them with a dull thud.

It was a person—a member of the Maribel, judging by the crimson markings on his uniform. He’d lost the ability to maintain his Atma, and now that he was back in human form, he was in visible pain. His face and body were covered in blood.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Serph asked.

“It . . . it was Bat,” the man said after a while, his voice hard to hear. “He told the Solids about our attack. Mick the Slug’s High Atma . . . Rahu. He . . . our leader, Jinana . . .”

His head went limp as he breathed his last. Serph lowered him gently to the ground, then stood back up.

The scene before them was brutal. In the glare of the magenta light, bits and pieces of chewed-up corpses appeared to float in a sea of blood. There was an occasional flash of lightning or gout of flame still flaring overhead, but the battle was effectively over. It was an all-out defeat for the Embryon and their allies. Most of the fallen bore crimson or orange markings; Serph could only see a handful wearing yellow.

Argilla stepped closer to Serph and gasped. “Where’s Jinana? Where are Gale and the others?”

Before Serph could answer, they both shuddered as a strange chill washed over them. On pure instinct, Serph reached a hand up into the air and unleashed a blast of chilling cold. An ear-piercing shriek filled the air, followed by a gust of wind. He heard the sound of flapping wings as a dark shadow descended from above.

“Greetings, fools.” The words came as a rasping laugh. “Looks like those good-for-nothings downstairs failed. Still, they bought us more than enough time. I’d prefer to kill you all myself, anyway.”

“Bat.” Argilla’s hand clenched into a fist. “So you’re the traitor.”

Bat’s only response was a high-pitched, sneering laugh as he flapped his wings—Camazotz kicking up a whirlwind. Serph and the others ducked back, shielding their faces.

Rage and regret burned in Serph’s chest. Half of the anger was directed at himself. He knew now, seeing the glare the dark-winged Atma directed at him, that he should have given more consideration to what Bat might have done. Hatred. Malice. Such things had never mattered before. But now Bat’s malevolence had set off a chain reaction that had led to something that was once unthinkable in the Junkyard: betrayal.

Heat ground his teeth together. “You bastard!” He glared up at the huge, black-furred Atma hovering overhead, eyes full of pure rage. “I should have eaten you when I had the chance.”

Just then a massive shape appeared at the top of a small hill nearby, looking down towards them. It was nearly four meters tall, more than twice as massive as Serph and the others even in their Atma forms. At its feet were the bodies of various tribe members—whether they were alive or dead was hard to tell—and its hostile gaze was filled with triumph. It held one of its arms up high, a slender body dangling limply in its grasp.

“Jinana!” Argilla screamed. She was off and running before Serph could stop her, blue light shimmering as she turned into Prithvi. She roared as she leapt towards her giant foe.

A moment later, a black whirlwind cut across her path. Prithvi nimbly jumped out of the way. On the return pass, the black-winged Atma circled in front of her more slowly, making a point to show off his fanged grin. “Careful now, Embryon,” he snickered, voice dripping with contempt. “The Solids’ boss has quite the long fuse, but if you make too much trouble, you might just lose the head of your precious ‘alliance.’”

Without a word, Heat transformed into Agni, and Serph followed suit. Hatred coursed through Varuna’s being; the blades in his arms twitched with readiness to spring forth and strike. He wanted nothing more than to hurl himself at his foes with everything he had, to settle the score with his enemies—but as he stared at Jinana’s unmoving form, he knew he couldn’t do anything reckless.

“How dare you show your face here, Bat! You miserable traitor!” Prithvi’s voice was shaking with fury. “And you,” she wheeled on the towering foe atop the hill, “you’re dealing with us now, big guy. And after what went on downstairs, we’ve got a pretty good idea of what weak-willed scum you are. Let Jinana go!”

“You’ve got guts, girl,” the giant smiled. “All right, then. Here you go.” He hurled Jinana with frightening ease, as though he were tossing a ball. She rolled when she hit the ground and then lay slack and lifeless. She’d already reverted back to human form.

“Jinana!” Prithvi hurried to her side. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing—shallow, pained breaths, but breaths all the same. She was still alive, but she had a number of broken bones and dislocated joints. Her tribal suit had been torn open across the chest, and her exposed breasts were covered in blood. Her shoulders and limbs were bent at awkward angles, and her once-beautiful face was marred with cuts and bruises.

“Hang in there, Jinana. It’s me, Argilla.”

“Argilla . . .”

Her green eyes opened, and she looked blearily at the three Embryon members gathered around her before fear clouded her face. “No! Get away from me! Hurry!” She struggled feebly, brushing Argilla’s hand aside as she tried to crawl away. “Get as far away as you can, quickly, or I—”

“What are you talking about?” asked Argilla. “We’re your allies. We won’t leave you.”

“Allies?” the giant Atma said to no one in particular, as if the events playing out before him were no more concern than an idle joke. He was an intimidating sight to behold. His massive form was covered in blue armor. His head had a mouth, but the rest of his face was featureless. He had four arms, two thick and sturdy, and another smaller pair that attached to his torso near his neck. There was another mouth in the center of his chest, a gaping maw big enough to swallow a man whole. It opened and closed rhythmically, as if overeager for its next meal.

Abruptly, this fearsome figure disappeared amidst a flash of blue light, and in its place stood an enormous man with dark skin: the leader of the Solids, Mick the Slug.

He stood only half the height of his Atma, but he was so fat that he looked almost wider than he was tall. His dark hair had been arranged in braids that draped down over his round shoulders, and a scraggly beard clung to the bottom of his flabby cheeks. His beady little eyes, almost obscured by his fat face, looked around keenly, and a cunning smile came to his thick pink lips. On his shaven forehead was his Atma brand, glowing faintly.

“Oh, this little scene is enough to move you to tears, isn’t it, Bat?”

“Yes. Jinana was always the sort of leader to think of her allies first,” Camazotz snickered through his fang-filled muzzle. “She even had the medicine that would keep her Atma under control, but rather than take it herself, she went into the ruins and gave her capsules away one by one to those who had been banished, without even caring that she wouldn’t have enough to use on herself. Even here, she kept babbling on about how she didn’t want to devour people or kill anyone she didn’t have to—and now that she’s wound up like this, well, she can’t say she didn’t bring it on herself.”

Varuna knelt down next to Jinana, reeling inwardly from surprise. “Jinana, you didn’t take any? If you just take some now, then in just a little—”

“No . . . My people, they . . .”

Varuna—Serph—didn’t know what to say. Even after he’d assured her that the blood wouldn’t work on those who had lost their grip on their humanity, Jinana had refused to let go of that ray of hope. But if she’d been using her Atma to fight, and she hadn’t taken a capsule or devoured anyone, then there could be only one result.

“I think it’s about time we cleared out,” Mick said, rubbing his hands together. “The fun’s over, and my men are probably hitting the Embryon hideout right about now. The secret of your Atma-controlling medicine will be ours for the taking. We’ll be sure to put it to better use than you fools have. Of course, I don’t intend to stop eating people—it’s just so much fun, after all.”

“Your own people,” Prithvi snarled, voice tinged with rage. “You ate them, didn’t you? Your fellow tribe members.”

Mick leaned back and let out a resounding laugh. “But of course! What other purpose could they possibly serve to my Rahu once they were too beaten down and broken to act as my troops? Beaten and broken, like the woman you were just mooning over.”

Prithvi turned with a start. Serph, still in the guise of Varuna, let out a gasp. A blue light was beginning to emanate from Jinana’s body. Veins of light spread over her body like expanding fissures. This was no ordinary transformation—something was obviously very wrong.

“Get . . . away.” Jinana tried to stand, but she fell back down. Her voice was no longer human. “I . . . can’t. You have to . . .” Her words broke off into a rough screech. Her white skin blackened, and lines of blue light webbed over her entire body. Her slender female silhouette distorted and grew bigger while Mick’s laughter echoed in the background.

“You bastard!” roared Agni, raising up his arms. Countless wisps of hellfire whirled their way toward Mick, but before they could engulf the enormous man, a pair of black wings intercepted them, scattering the flames into harmless sparks.

“Bring it on!” Camazotz smirked and wheeled overhead, as Agni stared back in shock, seeing that his black wings showed no sign of having been burned. “I may have been off my game before, but I will not play the fool forever!”

Agni growled. “You’ve been eating.”

“Oh, yes. A veritable feast.” Camazotz laughed, shielding Mick with his wings as the large man grinned with glee. “And now you’re going to be my next meal. You see how your pitiful little attacks no longer even faze me. I haven’t forgotten what you did to me before. I have longed to see you suffer.”

“You’re the one who’s going to be the meal, you—”

“Now, now, are you going to ignore your ally during all this chit-chat?” Mick’s thick voice was oily with sarcasm. Serph, frozen in place, looked over to see Jinana stagger to her feet and let out a loud roar.

“Jinana!” shouted Prithvi. “Jinana, get ahold of yourself!”

The only reply was a rumbling underfoot. The shadowy form that appeared where Jinana lay now took on a grotesque shape. Rearing up, the creature that had taken her place began to approach them, its movements fluid and smooth.

It was the High Atma Ushas.

She had a long and slender neck and limbs, along with the large mouth typical of High Atma. Atop her head, looking almost like a shock of hair, was a cluster of what appeared to be tentacles. The shape of her torso was still gracefully feminine, and with her skin’s pale yellow luster, she almost looked beautiful, but her snapping mouth and sharp fangs showed only hunger and madness. Camazotz and Mick both erupted in laughter.

“Well now, you allies have fun eating each other,” Mick called. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do, so I’ll just be going. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you could kill each other off for me, along with your Atma. Farewell!”

His words were followed by a tremendous gust of wind, so intense that Serph and the others were forced to cover their eyes as sand and dust blasted their faces. When its howling subsided they looked up to see the black form of Camazotz already high in the sky, with Mick dangling from his underbelly like some unsightly tumor.

“Sir, are you all right?” Serph snapped his head up in surprise to see something hurtling toward them. It was Gale, in the form of Vayu. Blood dripped from the claws on his feet as he landed alongside the others. There were tears in his wings, presumably from fighting with Camazotz, and his chest and shoulders bore several cuts that had already begun to heal.

“Your lack of communication had me concerned. I am glad that you are all right, sir. I fear that we have a security leak, and I believe Bat is the responsible party.”

“I know. We’ll talk later. Is Cielo all right?”

“Right here, buddy!” came the reply from up above. Dyaus swooped low above them. He was still in full fighting mode, blue lightning cascading around his body. “I was gonna zap them good, but Gale told me to hold back. Plus, they did have Jinana. I’m gonna go after them, buddy.”

“No. Right now we need to worry about Jinana and Sera.” Serph was backing steadily away as Jinana—Ushas—moved slowly toward them, eyes aflare with madness. “You’re the fastest, Cielo. Take Gale and head directly back to headquarters. Gale, you’re in charge of the defense of the Embryon base. Cielo, your top priority is making sure Sera is safe. Hurry! We’ll stay here and deal with Jinana.”

Gale reverted to human form. “Sir, take this,” he said, handing over a palm-sized case. “These are bullets for a sniper rifle, with Sera’s blood inside. They’re still in the prototype stage, so there are only six.”

Serph opened the case. There were half a dozen dark red bullets there, obviously hand cast. “I thought I said we were not to use her blood as a weapon.”

“I made these at her own request. She felt it would be of use, should the right situation arise. And now it has, albeit rather sooner than I anticipated,” Gale said, flat and emotionless.

There was no time to argue. Varuna grunted, took the case, and tossed it to Prithvi. “Argilla, change back and shoot these into Jinana. You’re the best person for the job. I don’t know if they’ll work, but we have to at least try.”

“Roger that.” Prithvi transformed immediately into Argilla. Varuna nodded to her, and then he gave Gale and Cielo the go sign. Cielo dove down to let Gale hop onto his back before flying off in the direction of the Embryon base at terrific speed.

Ushas had ceased her advance and now stood a short distance away, languidly rocking from side to side. Glittering golden hair-tendrils spread out like a mist around her. Her arms moved as if searching for something, but the movements were awkward and inconsistent, as if she didn’t even comprehend her own actions. From time to time she would throw her head back and roar as tracks of blue light glowed like cracks all over her body. She made no move to attack. She only growled, her huge mouth opening and closing as if hungrily drinking in the blood and gunpowder in the air.

Argilla, who had lost her rifle in the chaos inside the base, picked up another from a fallen warrior and gave it a practiced once-over. She held her tongue between her teeth as she inserted the bullets. The rifles used by the different tribes were all of a different make. If this one handled differently from the ones she knew best, there was a higher chance that she might miss.

“Sorry about this, Jinana,” she muttered. “Just hold on a little bit longer. We’re going to save you. We’ll turn you back to normal.”

Argilla pulled the trigger, and the rifle spat fire. Again. Three times. Four, five, six. The bullets filled with Sera’s blood all scored direct hits on Ushas. Argilla had aimed well, and they hadn’t struck any vital spots, hitting her in the shoulders, arms, and thighs.

Ushas staggered and doubled over, but her roaring cries did not cease. For a few moments, she stood there, dazed, as if baffled by what had happened, but then she threw her head back and let out a scream twice as loud as any she had uttered before. The tendrils atop her head fanned out and pulsated. The fragmented bullets were extruded from her pale yellow skin, and one by one they fell to the ground.

Argilla lowered the rifle in shock. “No! They didn’t have any effect at all?”

Agni snarled out through his clenched jaws. “I guess it doesn’t work as well if you don’t drink it.”

“And that probably wasn’t enough,” Varuna said.

They needed more blood—and they needed to find some way to get close enough to Ushas to make her drink it. If they didn’t, Jinana was going to become nothing more than a mindless beast that craved only blood and flesh. They still had more ampules of Sera’s blood, but would they be enough?

“How many of the capsules that we gave the Maribel are left?”

One of the Maribel members quickly stood at attention. “I—I’m not sure, but I’ll go find out.”

“Go and gather up the remaining capsules, as many as you can. And be quick. Have any of your tribesmen who can still move lend you a hand, and tell any Embryon members to bring their own capsules here. We’ll give the whole lot to Jinana.”

The Maribel trooper nodded and hustled off.

“Having her take the blood is all well and good, Serph,” Agni said, “but first we need to get in close and stop her. You know that, right?”

“Oh, believe me, I do.”

Ushas tilted her head back and roared up at the sky.

The spreading cluster of tendrils on her head wriggled as they fired off faint rays of light skyward. Moments later, beams of light fell down like rain at the shattered gate of the Solids’ base. Ushas lowered her head and watched with eerie mad eyes as the sturdy gate was punched so full of holes that it looked like a perforated sponge before it broke free of its hinges and fell to the ground. The ruined metal plates slowly dissolved.

It appeared that each of the Atma’s hair-like tendrils was a sort of specialized weapon. Some could emit killing rays, others were hair-thin but fired diamond-hard needles, while others lashed out with toxic whips that could split things in half and then fuse them back together.

Ushas howled again. With a whirl of her head, she bundled her hair up into something that looked like a drill and charged abruptly at Varuna, who barely managed to jump out of the way. With some new form of attack she blasted a large hole where he’d just stood, the dust billowing on the Junkyard wind. Ushas shook with anger that her prey had evaded her. Her head lashed from side to side like a tree in a storm, and her hair-tendrils flailed about wildly, slicing her surroundings like a laser cutter. A vehicle that stood nearby was split cleanly in half, its two parts collapsing with a crash. Piled-up sandbags, solid fortress walls, and mounds of corpses alike were all torn to pieces and reduced to a slurry under Ushas’ stamping feet.

Agni stood at the ready, a ball of fire the size of a human head forming between his hands. Varuna quickly reached out and pulled him back. “Don’t provoke her, Heat. She’s acting on hunger and instinct now. If you attack, you might just make it worse and prevent us from being able to turn her back.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to do nothing? She’s coming after us. It won’t do us any good if she kills us before we can get the capsules gathered up.”

“Argilla, can you use your gravity control to pin her down?” Varuna asked, turning to Argilla.

She had her hand on her gun while she chewed her lip. “Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated a moment, then stiffened up. “I can try. No, I can do it.”

The Atma brand on Argilla’s chest glowed, and then Prithvi stood facing Ushas. She pulled her long arms in and held them against her chest.

Ushas’ advance stopped abruptly, as if her legs had suddenly become stuck to the ground. She struggled and screamed and flailed her limbs about, unable to control herself. Suddenly she fell to the ground as though some massive, invisible hand had struck her down. Although she writhed with all of her might and cried out with rage, she could not get back to her feet.

“Serph, here you go.” The tribe member who had gone out to collect the blood capsules had returned. He had a pile of capsules cupped in his hands, along with packs slung under each arm—quite a few by the look of it.

“Sir!” Prithvi looked back over her shoulder. Holding back Ushas despite her wild struggles was not a simple task. Prithvi had braced herself against a large boulder, but still her slender form trembled and shook. “The ampules I brought with me are next to my rifle. Use those, too.”

There was a pouch leaning against the rifle Argilla had been using before she’d transformed; inside was the case of ampules that she’d kept on her at all times. Serph hesitated, and she shouted to urge him on. “Please, there’s no time! We have to save Jinana!”

Varuna shook his head doubtfully, but he took the large pile of capsules from the Maribel trooper into one of his big hands, then picked up the pack of ampules and slung it under his arm. “Argilla, ease up the force that you’re putting on Ushas. It will shatter the ampules.”

“But sir, until you get close enough to Jinana, you—”

“Do it, Argilla!” Agni said, already bracing himself. “Until Serph gets close enough, we’re going to cover him. That’s how we’re gonna do this.”

Varuna glanced back and met Agni’s gaze, and they nodded to each other. Prithvi hesitated a moment, then murmured a soft “all right” before raising her hands and releasing the force that held Ushas.

Ushas bounded to her feet with a crazed roar. Varuna sprinted towards her, unable to extend his blades while his hands were full of the capsules. Ushas’ deadly hair came whipping down towards him—but just as he was certain he would get speared through several times over, a wall of flame blazed by over his head.

The threatening hair-tendrils were singed, and Ushas recoiled in confusion, but a moment later she attacked once more with renewed ferocity. Again and again she struck, but each time, the wall of fire kept Varuna from harm. Agni, tense but determined, kept his hands raised and extended, looking like he could keep the flames up all day.

Seeing that her attack was having no effect, Ushas jumped back and spun around almost as if she were dancing. As she did, the elegant pleats at her hips rippled like fluttering pennons. Their movement triggered a semicircular blade of light, curved like a sickle, that extended swiftly from her, aimed right for Varuna as he dashed forward.

Agni’s flames had no effect on the brilliant blade, nor did Varuna’s gust of cold air. Varuna had no way to protect himself as the blade slashed toward him; the precious cargo he cradled in his arms prevented him from even adopting a defensive stance. He took the full brunt of the attack, which opened up several deep wounds across his body.

Varuna let out a scream. The beast within burned with rage, howling with desire to kill its enemy—to deliver twice the pain that it had been dealt, to repay that agony with blood. At the same time, Serph’s mind within Varuna fought against those urges, focusing instead on keeping Sera’s blood safe. The ampules he clutched tightly in his hands held blood given not through murder or hatred or fear, but out of love and kindness. He could not let it go to waste.

Ushas suddenly fell to her knees as she tried to unleash another blade of light. Barely able to move, she could only wrench her limbs slowly back and forth and howl. Prithvi had once again activated her gravity control, but with less force than before. Ushas howled her outrage, her hair jerking about like jagged bolts of lightning.

Varuna was quick to close the gap. He covered the last several meters in one leap, slamming Ushas to the ground. Entering Prithvi’s gravity well made his body painfully heavy, and it took twice as much effort as normal for him even to move his arms. He tore the pouch in his hands open with his teeth and pulled out the ampules inside.

Ushas thrashed her head back and forth. Her mouth snapped about in a blind rage, and her flailing hair-tendrils lashed at Varuna’s back and shoulders, stinging like red-hot needles. For a moment Varuna was almost overcome by the intensity of the pain; he could hear the sound of his own bones creaking as his nerves cried out in agony. But amidst it all, he took the whole supply of capsules, along with Argilla’s ampules, and pushed them into Ushas’ mouth.

“Come on, Jinana, drink up,” he muttered, barely even able to breathe. “Everyone gave all this for you. All our people . . . Argilla, Sera . . . it’s all for you.”

This was the very essence of Sera, he knew. If anything could save Jinana, it was this.

Varuna waited until that seething mouth was open as wide as it could go before crushing the ampules and capsules together in his fist. All at once, a rush of blood poured down into Ushas’ gullet. More than likely, some of Varuna’s own was mixed in with it.

Come on, Jinana. Turn back. Everyone’s waiting. Your people. Argilla. We know you can do it. Come back, Jinana. Back to yourself. Back to being human.

Come back.

What felt like an eternity went by.

Suddenly, Varuna felt his body grow lighter, and he rolled over onto his side, ampule fragments falling from his hands. His body throbbed as if it had been crushed in a press. Prithvi’s gravity control had ceased.

“Sir!” It was Argilla’s voice, not her Atma’s, drawing closer to him. He could see Heat’s red hair, as well. Somewhere along the way, he’d come out of his own transformation. He ached all over, and when he looked at his hands, he saw fragments of glass embedded in his bloody palms.

He heard the sound of ragged breathing from somewhere nearby, and he rolled his head to the side to look.

Ushas was gone—now there was only Jinana. The green-haired leader of the Maribel was gasping painfully for air, her mouth smeared with red.

“Jinana!” Serph dove to Jinana’s side and pulled her up into his arms. “Can you hear me? It’s me, Serph. Argilla’s here, too. Hang in there, Jinana. Stay strong.”

“Jinana, it’s me.” Argilla knelt at her side, desperation on her face as she held her friend’s hand. “You’re safe now. You’re not going to turn into a demon anymore. Come on, look at me.”

But Jinana did not open her eyes. Her body twisted in pain, and her head kept lolling from side to side as she groaned through gritted teeth. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, a flash of red light appearing and then disappearing within her green pupils, and she let out another moan before going limp once more.

“Sir—”

“It looks like we’re not out of the woods yet,” Serph said. He stood and hoisted Jinana’s body up over his shoulder. For the time being, he guessed, the blood she’d drunk had overcome her Atma, but it hadn’t been enough to turn her completely back to her former self. They needed more of Sera’s blood, and quickly.

“We need to get her back to the base right away. The Solids still have troops on the move. Argilla and Heat, you stay here and take care of the enemies remaining in the stronghold. I’m going to get Jinana back to Muladhara and join up with Cielo and Gale. I’m worried about Sera.”

“Roger that, sir,” Argilla said without hesitation, transforming on the spot. “Get Jinana there as fast as you can. We don’t know how much time we have.”

Agni shrugged after he’d transformed as well. “I’d rather not waste my time fighting these lackeys. But I guess it needs to be done.”

“Serph of the Embryon!” A blue-skinned giant lumbered toward them. He had six mighty arms, carrying an assortment of weapons ranging from a sword to a machine gun, and in one hand he even held what appeared to be the crushed corpse of one of the Solids, still in Atma form. “If you’re going back to Muladhara, we can help. Zaphir, hurry!”

There was a gust of wind, and a moment later, a golden, four-legged beast with the white face and chest of a woman bounded up, four sturdy limbs thumping on the ground. In place of hair, a white, cloud-like mane encircled her head, and her fringed face bore burning golden eyes. Fluttering white wings spread out from her body at the point where she transitioned from woman to beast.

“This Sphinx is the fastest member of our tribe—perhaps even faster on the ground than those of you who take to the air. Please, ride her, sir, and take Jinana with you.”

“Ride, Serph of the Embryon,” said the Sphinx. It seemed that she had difficulty speaking, perhaps due to the shape of her mouth while transformed. White fangs showed from behind her red lips. “You will not be able to carry Jinana fast enough on your own. Please, Serph. There is no time.”

Serph remembered the name Zaphir. She was one of the two guards who had accompanied him and Jinana the first time they’d spoken. The blue giant was probably the other of that pair. The two of them looked at Jinana with despair in their eyes, taking in their leader’s pale face and unmoving body.

“All right. Thank you.” Serph pushed Jinana up onto the Sphinx first, then mounted behind her. The golden fur underneath him was soft, but beneath it he could feel unmistakably powerful muscles.

“Hold on tight, Serph of the Embryon. We’re off!”

They traveled at an incredible speed, so fast that the corpse-strewn destruction that littered the battlefield zipped by too quickly for the eye to see. The Sphinx bounded over holes, leapt from one pile of rubble to the next, and at one point even cleared a collapsed building with a single powerful jump that no human could ever have hoped to accomplish, swiftly bypassing one obstacle after another without pause. Serph held on for dear life to ensure that neither he nor Jinana fell off.

The cuts on his hands were starting to heal, but already the Atma inside him was beginning to hunger again. The battle to stop Jinana must have exhausted it. Inside his mouth, his sharp teeth ached, and he felt a burning tingle along his cheek. A feral growl rose up from within his throat. Zaphir looked back at him briefly, then faced forward again and concentrated on running. Serph forced his mouth shut and hunched forward, stifling the raging hunger and pent-up anger inside of him.

Why is this happening? he thought as the inside of his own mind seemed to go red. Why are we even in this place? What are we doing here?

“Serph!” Zaphir called out. Straight ahead, a group of enemies lay in wait, their yellow tribal markings identifying them as Solids. An ambush.

“Stand down!” Serph shouted, his voice hoarse. His cheek felt like it was on fire. His teeth elongated into fangs, piercing his tongue; the taste of his own blood spread through his mouth. He grew dizzy. “If you don’t want to die, stand down. I will kill you if you get in our way.”

The Solids hesitated momentarily, but soon enough, blue light began to envelop their bodies. One by one, the forms of their Atma appeared. They were wild beasts, like the Nues in the fortress basement, but these had bony wings sporting membranes of sickly red skin, bodies covered in jet black fur, and paired horns atop their heads.

A rush of power built up in Serph’s arm. He leaned forward over Jinana, shielding her with his body, and clung to Zaphir’s neck with his left arm as his right changed into that of Varuna. The skin from his shoulder to his fingertips turned pale and armored, and with ferocious intent, the blade of bone slipped free.

Soon enough, there was blood in the air.

The feral Atma were no match for Varuna’s lethal strokes as he charged through their midst astride the swift, agile Sphinx. Limbs, heads, and bisected torsos flew, scattered across the landscape like gruesome confetti. Varuna let out a groan of pleasure at the sweet smell of blood and the sensation of his blade slicing through flesh. As if from a distance, Serph watched himself greedily licking up the blood that came pouring down. He was distraught to find himself unable even to feel sickened by it anymore.

Why do we fight? Why do we kill?

Why do we have to kill? Why?

A wild chill filled the air. One of the flying Atma that was pursuing them took a direct hit from Varuna’s freezing blast, froze solid, and shattered apart, the shards of icy flesh scattering on the wind.

Why do we kill?

Because it was kill or be killed. That was the plain and simple reason; but it was also no reason at all. There simply was no good explanation why they should have to kill each other in the first place. The addition of the Atma and this insatiable hunger weren’t the reason—not the fundamental reason. All they had done was make it even clearer to Serph what he and everyone else in the Junkyard had always done, but not why they did it.

Serph and the others were born into this world to fight. They lived to fight. But who was it who had consigned them to that fate? The Church? Who had established the Church? Who was it that had originally dangled this promise of Nirvana before them, this so-called paradise they couldn’t even envision?

Who is it that granted us our lives, our karma?

And still he charged through the slaughter, until the last of the wild Atma fell away. Serph shook his arm to fling the blood from it. The alluring aroma of the gore that had spattered over him made his mouth water. There was no sign, now, of any more enemies; and he began to recognize the local landmarks. They were back in Muladhara, near the Embryon base. From the far side of an abandoned building, he saw several columns of black smoke rising up, but there were no sounds of any battle taking place. Serph told Zaphir to stop and ordered her to wait with Jinana in the shelter of a large ruin.

“But Serph—”

“I’m just going to check out what the situation is at the base, and then I’ll be right back. If there’s still fighting going on, it’ll be too dangerous to bring Jinana in. I’ll go make sure that it’s safe, and I’ll come back with reinforcements as fast as I can.”

Zaphir hesitated at first, but then replied, “All right,” and lay down on her stomach alongside Jinana. She remained transformed, keeping an anxious watch over her leader as she licked the blood from her own golden fur.

Serph made his way to the base as quickly as he could while remaining under cover. His throat was dry. Inside his heart, Varuna still raged, still wanted to kill, demanding more blood and more flesh. All around were the lingering scents of battle, gunpowder and blood, and the odor of burned flesh tingled in his nose wherever he went. It took a conscious effort for him to avoid hungrily licking his lips.

It was not long before he’d gotten into a position from which he had a good view of the base. The first things he saw were the blown-up remains of the support walls at the front gate and several blasted piles of cargo. The ground around the fortress entrance had been scorched black, and the bodies of fallen soldiers were scattered nearby. A good half of them were in Atma form, or bore the Solids’ yellow tribal markings, but there were a number who wore Embryon orange as well. Some were completely motionless, but others were still alive, groaning as they tried to get to their feet or crawl across the battlefield.

There was no time to lose. Casting aside any hesitation, Serph dashed through a nearby trench to reach a badly wounded tribe member and helped the gasping man to sit up. His breathing was labored, and Serph had to hold him tightly to quell his instinctive struggling. His eyes blinked a few times and wandered a bit before they stopped and quickly focused on Serph.

“Ahh . . . Sir.” The soldier tried to smile, but wound up wincing in pain. “They attacked us while you were away. I’m sorry. We . . .”

“It’s all right. Where is the enemy? How are things inside?”

“We have completed clearing out the infiltrators from within the base,” a steady voice said suddenly from somewhere nearby.

Serph turned to see Gale standing in a hole that had been blasted in the barrier wall, one hand braced on the side of it. Though his expression was as emotionless as always, he could not hide the weariness on his face. His hood was covered in soot, and his tribal uniform was burned in several places.

“It seems that we made it back here more quickly than they anticipated. There were also fewer hostiles present than I expected. I believe that they were not here to battle, but rather to search for our means of controlling the Atma. I sent out a detachment with a case full of decoy pharmaceuticals and machinery, with orders to pretend to flee; more than half of the enemy forces broke off to pursue them.”

Serph carefully lowered the groaning man back down on the ground. He was relieved that his tribe had managed to escape destruction, but he still had Jinana to think about, so he couldn’t afford to relax yet. “Is Sera all right? Did they find her?”

“Cielo took her into hiding. They barely managed to escape, and we are searching for them now,” Gale said. He began to wander back and forth, squinting his eyes as he looked around.

For the time being, it appeared that they didn’t need to worry about another enemy attack. Serph instructed Gale to retrieve Zaphir and Jinana and bring them into the base. Some of the fallen Embryon members could still move, and they called out to him as soon as they realized he had returned. Serph left Gale’s troops to look after them and hurried into the base.

When he stepped inside, he only barely managed to stifle a gasp. It was an awful sight, painfully reminiscent of the grim scene at the Vanguard headquarters. Blood was splattered on the floor and ceiling and burn marks and bullet holes riddled the walls. The main corridor had collapsed, and it would be tough to find another way around.

“Cielo!” Serph shouted his name, but his voice only echoed down the hallway, and he got no reply. From farther away came the sound of collapsing stonework. “Cielo, where are you? Cielo!”

He used his Atma to blast away the mound of concrete that blocked his path. The frost-covered rubble fragments disintegrated into glittering powder, but there was no one on the other side. He could hear sounds of frantic running and shouting, but he couldn’t see where they were coming from.

The base had always been a ramshackle affair, difficult to maintain and repair, its various structures and hallways all discombobulated. The result was that they’d had to live with a base that was almost like a maze. “Cielo!” Serph tried calling out again. Then he gritted his teeth uneasily as the voices sounded again in the distance.

Even though he’d really had no other choice at the time, Serph regretted sending Cielo to protect Sera. Dyaus may have been a High Atma, but his greatest strengths lay in flying and long-range attacks from the air; he wasn’t well equipped for close-quarters fighting underground. Still, defending the mysterious girl was a task far too important to have been entrusted to any run-of-the-mill member of the tribe, and so the duty had fallen on young Cielo.

The sense that time was running out weighed heavily on Serph’s mind. Jinana needed help soon; with each moment she was being consumed by an Atma she still could not control. Serph called upon Varuna again and expanded his senses, but though he could detect many of the Embryon still in their Atma forms, he did not find Dyaus among them. In all likelihood, Cielo himself was in a highly weakened state.

Or he’s dead, Serph thought briefly before quashing the thought from his mind. No. He refused to believe that. He drove his fist into the wall beside him, and with the power of his Atma behind the blow, the dented structure caved in even further, as if it had been hit with a cannonball.

“—ound him.”

Serph snapped to attention as he heard a faint voice coming from . . . somewhere. He turned, searching, and realized that the words were echoing through the hole he’d just made in the wall, and the speaker was coming closer.

“—ound him. It’s Cielo. Someone needs to let the leader know. Cielo—”

Serph practically leapt through the hole he’d made. The sounds of more shouting and running came from down the hallway on the other side. As Serph came jumping through, an Embryon member very nearly slammed into him, and he started to snap at Serph before realizing a moment later who he was addressing.

“Sir! When did you get back?”

“Cielo’s here? Where is he?” Serph demanded, skipping the pleasantries.

Sensing his urgency, the soldier quickly turned and led the way briskly toward the base’s lower levels. They made their way down several flights of stairs and past a handful of disorganized rooms. After turning a number of corners, they could hear the sounds of a commotion further ahead. Serph rushed ahead of his man, coming to a room that was packed with people. The crowd was apprehensive, almost panicked.

“Listen, okay? We are not the enemy,” one man called out to someone out of sight. An instant later he was illuminated by a flash of pale blue lightning right in front of his face; he staggered backward and fell to the ground. One of the others helped him back up, and Serph slipped in beside them.

“Sir,” said the second man, turning from his groaning comrade in surprise, “you can’t go in there. It’s too dangerous. Cielo won’t listen to anyone!”

Serph held up a hand to silence him and stepped through the doorway beyond.

The room he entered was a shambles. It looked like an old, unused supply room, except that everything inside had been completely destroyed—smashed and blasted—with the exception of a single worn-out gun locker that still stood, dusty but unharmed, in odd contrast with the chaos around it.

Cielo, in the form of Dyaus, was slumped against the door of the locker, as if still guarding it despite how weary he was. He was in a terrible state, probably lucky to be alive. His left leg was broken, bent at an unnatural angle, and half of one of his wings had been ripped off. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds or more, the blood forming blackish pools on the concrete; the scent of it made Serph’s stomach ache.

“Cielo.”

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, a blast of electricity came at him. Serph batted it away with a swing of his arm. There wasn’t much power behind it; it was obvious that Cielo didn’t have much left to give. Serph made his way to his friend’s side and knelt down.

“Cielo, it’s me. It’s all right now. I’m not your enemy. You did well. You did your best.”

“H-Hey, buddy . . .” The words came as a croak from between clenched jaws. “You came back. Jinana . . . is she all right? And . . . the others . . .”

“They’re fine,” Serph assured him. “Jinana is outside waiting for treatment. Argilla, Heat, Gale, they’re all fine. And look, so am I.”

“That’s . . . that’s good.” Abruptly Dyaus slumped forward and collapsed, his Atma transformation ending as he ran out of strength. Serph scooped up Cielo’s small human form, then turned and shouted for a first aid team. Someone went running at once.

“Hey, buddy, I—”

“It’s all right, Cielo. Don’t try to speak.” Serph was shocked at just how light Cielo’s body was as he held it, rocking it gently. “I’ll hear all about your heroics later. For now, just be quiet.”

“I did my best. For Sera. Because she’s my friend.” A contented smile crossed Cielo’s soot- and blood-smeared face. “I’ll keep her safe. I’ll do whatever it takes. Absolutely anything. Because I’m your number one guy, buddy.”

He rested his blue-haired head on Serph’s shoulder. The first aid team came in and loaded him onto a stretcher. A moment later, the door of the gun locker, no longer held shut by his weight, swung open with a creaking sound.

Cramped in the dark, dusty space inside was a black-haired girl, curled up and unconscious.

Jinana opened her eyes just enough to let in a hint of light.

Slowly her mind struggled back to consciousness. Her first thought was to wonder where she was. And then came the question of why she was there. Her memories were muddled. She remembered being in pain. A powerful hunger and thirst. Hatred. Fear. An appetite so intense it made her vision go bright red. And then fear, and pain. Pain. Pain.

And then—

Jinana sat up with a start. She saw that she’d been put in a bed, in a room that she didn’t recognize. Her memories came back to her like a tidal wave: Bat’s betrayal, the battle, her Atma going berserk, and then—

The door opened.

“Oh, Jinana!” a woman with soft curly pink hair exclaimed happily as she leaned her head in. “I’m so glad you’re awake. You were out for a really long time, and we were starting to worry. But everything’s going to be all right, now. We can all relax.”

“Relax . . .” She was confused again. When she felt the Atma subsume her consciousness, she’d been ready to die. Wishing for death had been the right thing to do. She couldn’t bear the thought of being a mindless monster, like her own people had become, scattered outside of her fortress walls. She’d rather someone kill her before that, before she killed someone else, or before she hurt one of her new allies—her new friends.

“I . . . I should be dead. What am I doing here? Is this the afterlife? Argilla, you’re here, too. Is this the inside of the Temple?”

“This is the Embryon base. Sorry about all the mess,” Argilla said, gesturing at the disordered room. She slipped inside and shut the door behind her. Moving to the bedside, she smiled warmly as she patted Jinana on the hand. “I know the beds are hard, but try to tough it out. You’re far from the only person who’s laid up like this, after all.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

The door opened again. On reflex, Jinana shut her mouth, turning quickly to see what was going on. “Hold on,” Argilla said gently. “You shouldn’t move that fast just yet. You lost a lot of blood, so you should focus on getting plenty of rest.”

She heard a voice from outside the doorway, then a small girl stepped inside, her footsteps shaky and uncertain. The orange on her outfit marked her as one of the Embryon. She looked incredibly frail, even for a new recruit. Serph, looking solemn, came in after her.

Seeing Jinana sitting up in bed, the girl gave a little gasp and put a hand to her mouth; then she hurried over and sank to her knees beside the bed. Her silky black hair brushed at Jinana’s lap. “Oh, thank goodness. We made it in time. Thank goodness.”

Jinana looked up at Serph for an explanation as the girl buried her face against Jinana’s side, sobbing. “I thought it would be too late for me to save you. But I did. I saved you. I saved you.”

“This girl’s blood is what allowed us to save you, Jinana,” Argilla said, stroking the girl’s hair gently.

Black hair. The girl raised her tear-streaked face. Her eyes were black to match. Jinana’s own eyes widened in shock.

“Her name is Sera,” Serph said quietly. “She’s the ‘black-haired girl’ the Church is looking for.”