fear before they die from fire.
He stewed over the last image, though. It was both a flashback and a hope for the future. Typhos desperately craved a second chance at Erda, a chance to finish the job in a way that his younger, weaker self could not. He no longer felt the emotions that he had on their first visit—he just wanted to kill her and everything she stood for.
No one’s gonna stop me from that.
And neither will time.
No more delays. We must go to Anatolus now! We must annihilate and devastate all survivors on that planet. Save Erda for myself, and the girl for my rule. And we kill the rest.
Instead of focusing on the girl and the terrible, pathetic woman, he took a broader view, wanting to see what he would encounter on his visit.
To his pleasant surprise, Calypsius had done a marvelous job over the years of reducing the population of Anatolus. A dozen tents remained, all in one central location, a far cry from the hundreds that littered the land during his childhood and very early adult years. Maybe two dozen Kastori littered the area, some cooking ursus, some laughing, one— Pagus— flirting with a younger Kastori.
For a flash, he felt guilty over killing some of the Kastori and a sad sense of nostalgia and yearning.
But he quickly tossed that to the side. Those memories are nothing more than stupid days. Before you realized how corrupt and inept the council was and before you went through that betrayal.
He still saw Erda and the young girl talking, in an animated tone. Erda. You will suffer a painful death. You have been the sharpest thorn in my side, and I’m tired of not being able to kill you.
The sight of Erda made his hand tighten. He remembered the last time the two of them had seen each other, and how close he had come to finishing her, but how he was still too new and too afraid to kill. He regretted it the minute he left their encounter on Mount Ardor—he had her pinned, and one slice of the sword would have completed the job.
Decades later and I’m still upset.
But this is the chance at redemption.
The guardians.
He thought that he would need help—he had no qualms about killing all the Kastori there, save for the girl and Erda, but his job would prove significantly easier with the aid of his guardians.
All guardians, come to me. Prepare to take Anatolus.
And prepare to take only two survivors. Destroy the rest.
12
“I’ll ask you again. What did you know about Mykos?!”
Gaius, clad in his black robes with red stripes, held his shaking hand out as he tried to delve into the mind of the two leaders of the human outpost, Petrus and Lance. Diving into the humans’ minds had produced no immediate results, but Gaius knew he could not read some thoughts immediately—he had to prod them out with an extreme stimulus.
Preferably torture.
Especially when another guardian stood two feet to his right and Typhos watched from afar.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Lance said with a sneer before screaming. Gaius glanced at Carticus, who had cast a spell to break the human’s hand. Gaius said nothing but reminded Carticus telepathically “this is my interrogation.”
“You don’t know who Mykos is,” Gaius deadpanned. “Perhaps I can help both of you. A former soldier of the empire, one of the best trained. He came from this outpost, you know. He left on a mission to kill Lord Typhos.”
“I don’t know anything!” Petrus yelled out between gasps, his windpipe compressed but not closed off.
“Is that so?” Gaius said with a sneer. “Perhaps I can jar it out of you!”
He threw the two men against the wall with his magic. The sound of bodies smacking wood filled the ears of Gaius, who smiled deviously as he brought them both to him, their feet off the ground.
“I like keeping you both here,” Gaius said. “Does the pain remind you of anything yet?”
Neither man spoke. Lance tried to spit at Gaius, but Gaius saw it coming and sealed
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