Dame Seraphine found the place where her Swords had died, and for a long moment she did not move at all.
There was nothing to find, which was the thing that undid her composure. A death leaves something behind.
A body, an echo, a last expression caught in the air. Her Swords had left her none of that. She felt the absence where their Sources had been, four foundations she had known across long years simply collapsed, gone so completely that even the grief had nowhere to anchor.
Sir William. Botswana. Richard. Lianna!
The new Sword’s protectors, the ones she herself had chosen for this party because they were among the best she could have asked for. Unmade!
The rage came up slowly, which was worse than if it had come fast. It started somewhere deep and built, and by the time it reached her face it had stopped being heat and become something cold and bubbling and absolutely certain.
She turned back toward THE Maw.
Andro fell in beside her without being asked, and the other Fifth Scale Source Lifeforms with him, all of them carrying the same grim understanding. Because the deaths were a catastrophe, yes.
But there was a worse catastrophe sitting underneath the first one, and every Mesozoic Scale being present had already done the math.
Sir William and the others had died. The new Sword had not. Osmont was still down there, and Osmont could not die. The Order had come from THE Domicile of THE Queen Regnant herself!
Whatever he was, whatever he carried, he was the one being in this entire domain that the Swords of Existence could not afford to lose, and he was alone in the deep of a mine that had just eaten four Titan-rarity Swords.
So Seraphine carried her fury, and she went back down!
The storms were worse now. The instabilities that had raged at the depths had climbed and spread, the converted foreign nature howling through the upper reaches of THE Maw where the air had been merely lethal before.
She pushed through them, her Mesozoic Scale presence parting the conversion-storms by main force, Andro and the others holding their own behind her. The mine fought them the whole way down, the foreign nature pressing at their identities, and they pressed back, and they made progress, because Fifth Scale beings did not unmake easily!
And then, partway down, something stopped them.
It rose up out of the storm to meet them, and it was not the mine and it was not the buried thing. It was a being!
An Infinite Lifeform, blue-robed, two horns rising from his brow, a slow crown of Infinity and Avaritia turning above his head, and he looked up at the descending Source Lifeforms with a cold callous smile and eyes that held an arrogance and an age that did not belong to the face wearing them.
Seraphine knew him by the information relayed about all Fifth Scale Lifeforms stationed in Arkethys. Borys!
"I knew it," she said. "I knew the moment Andro told me the instability rose out of our own ground that you Infinite Lifeforms had your hands in this somewhere. You always do. You can’t help yourselves!"
"Some of you aren’t even beings anymore. You’re mad beasts wearing the shape of beings, and mad beasts need to be put down before they bite! You...WILL BE PUT DOWN!"
BOOM!
"A mad beast," he said, and turned the words over with something like fondness.
He spread his hands, the crown of greed turning above him. "Infinite Lifeforms have been treated as the lesser kind for too long. Beneath the Source Lifeforms. Beneath your precious banner and your precious people. And why? Because the oh so great and esteemed Vakochev laid his Scales across all of existence and sorted everyone into their places, and your kind landed comfortably above mine, and you have called that arrangement the natural order ever since."
His smile widened, cold and patient. "But I have been learning something, down here in the dark. I have learned that there are things older than Vakochev. Older than the Scales he laid. Things that do not care for his sorting at all!"
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