Chapter 9: Hero Power Ranking—Who Is Really Number One?

Chapter 9: Three Dawn Pulses

When Cassian returned to the Eclipse Shrine, a few flecks of black-gold stone still clung to the edge of his boots.

He set the iron hammer against the wall but kept the broken blade in his hand.

Veyra glanced past him.

"The road?"

"I can walk to the first relay," Cassian said. "The second gap is still there."

"So you came back."

"I’m not stupid enough to risk my life proving how deep it is."

Veyra’s gaze moved from his face to the blade, as if confirming that for herself. Cassian did not explain how the road slab rose and fell. He did not tell her how long he had stood at the first relay, either.

Walkable was walkable.

The part he still could not cross was the part worth thinking about.

He was about to take out the two remaining rock bolts when a faint click came from beneath the hem of his coat.

Like a chip of bone striking the floor.

Cassian looked down.

A gray-white bone cicada tumbled from his coat. It was no larger than the first joint of his thumb. The instant its six thin legs touched stone, they kicked in unison and sent it flying toward the Eclipse Chains beneath the divine seat.

It was still two feet from Veyra’s wrist.

Cassian snatched up the roll of clean linen and snapped it open over the creature.

White cloth spread through the air.

The bone cicada struck it with a shrill scrape. Cassian planted his boot on one corner, then brought the broken blade down sideways, pinning the small bulge to the floor.

It took two breaths.

The thing beneath the cloth kept struggling.

A pale mouth-spike punched through the linen and swept back and forth toward the Eclipse Chains. Each time its tip moved, half a muddled sound came from the nearest links.

"Third..."

Veyra’s expression went cold.

"A Hush-Cicada."

Cassian kept the flat of the blade pressed down and did not look away.

"The name sounds bigger than the insect."

"Ashbone uses them to carry words—and steal echoes that are still alive."

The mouth-spike reached another inch.

Cassian dropped his wrist, forcing it back against the stone with the flat of the blade. The bone shell was hard, but it would not last long under that pressure.

"It followed me back?"

Veyra did not answer.

She did not need to.

Several grains of black-gold dust lay along the edge of the linen, identical to the dust on Cassian’s boots. The first span truly worked now—in both directions.

The Hush-Cicada suddenly stopped struggling.

A white line lit across its abdomen.

"Ease up," Veyra said.

"And let it touch your chains?"

"Let it finish speaking."

Cassian looked at her.

He did not lift the blade. He merely shifted its edge half an inch aside.

The white line across the cicada’s abdomen split into three rings. Gray-white fire seeped from the cracks in its shell, burned through the linen around it, then shaped itself into several crooked lines of Ashbone script across the floor.

Veyra’s fingers tightened.

Cassian could not read the words.

But he recognized the black-gold mark above them.

It was identical to the Eclipse War Banner scar on the distant ruined pillar.

"Read it."

Veyra stared at the burning letters.

"The Third Formation’s roll of the fallen has been recovered."

The first line died.

A second rose from the ash.

"An Ashbone Bell-Keeper will escort it beyond the banner scar."

Bell-Keeper.

A new title.

Cassian did not ask what it was. He did not waste time guessing how much stronger it might be than the Acolyte he had killed. Ashbone had gone out of its way to put those names in front of Veyra.

It wanted them to hear.

It wanted them to follow.

The third ring of ash began to contract.

Veyra continued. "Departure on the third underground dawn pulse."

The flames snapped shut.

Cassian immediately drove the broken blade all the way down.

Crack.

The bone shell shattered.

There was no core. Nothing worth devouring. The Hush-Cicada collapsed into ash with the white fire inside it, burning a ragged black hole through the entire roll of linen.

Nothing remained in the ashes.

Only the three rings on the floor, each dimmer than the last.

Veyra watched them fade.

"Bell-Keepers only escort names the living still remember."

"The living?"

"Me."

Her voice was calm.

Cassian pushed the burned linen apart with the tip of his blade. The last strip of clean cloth curled black in the white fire. It was too filthy to press against a wound now.

"That was your last roll of clean linen," Veyra said.

"Not anymore."

He withdrew the blade.

Veyra raised her eyes.

"It never touched the chains."

"I saw."

"You could have listened first."

Cassian kicked the burned cloth aside.

"Next time, tell me sooner when an insect has a message in its stomach."

"Next time, don’t bring it home."

"Good advice."

The three rings dimmed again.

Cassian crouched and ran the point of his blade through the outermost streak of ash. There was no direction. No map. No power that could carry him across the second gap.

Only an enemy title, a roll of the fallen, and a span of time deliberately left for him.

The bait was obvious.

Obvious did not mean false.

"What’s in the roll?" he asked.

"Names."

"Only names?"

"For the dead, names are enough."

Cassian looked up.

Veyra did not avoid his gaze.

She did not ask him to go, either.

That was more troublesome than asking.

He rose and walked to the equipment he had brought back. The two unused rock bolts lay side by side in his palm, their metal cold and rough. Beside them sat the mechanical tension gauge, the ratchet head, and the bottle of oil that was not yet empty.

Not one of them could make the second gap disappear.

But Ashbone had marked what waited beyond it.

Not another road slab waiting to rise.

Spoils that were being carried away.

Cassian tucked the two rock bolts against his belt and picked up the tension gauge.

"What if it’s false?" Veyra asked.

"I reach the second gap first."

"And then?"

"Then I see how much truth they’re willing to put on display to bait me."

He walked toward the east passage.

As he reached the doorway, a chain gave a quiet clink behind him.

"Cassian."

He stopped without turning.

"Don’t let them carry those names beyond the banner scar," Veyra said.

Cassian rested one hand against the door.

He did not promise.

He did not refuse.

"How long?"

Veyra looked at the three rings of ash dying on the floor.

"Three underground dawn pulses."