The Blade of Shattered Hope

Ordering the power to stay, to wait, to hold, he opened his eyes.

Everything was as it was before, except for one small change. He saw things more clearly, more crisply. He heard sounds more distinctly, each one somehow separated from the other, each one crystal clear. He sensed vibrations in the air, particularly from the black tree, its power tickling across his skin with every throb.

He looked at Jane standing in front of the tree, probably throwing her powers into the Blade of Shattered Hope, maybe even close to flicking the final switch and severing the Fifth Reality. Tick turned his gaze back to the black tree. Its darkness was so deep, its edges so finely detailed, he had a hard time believing his own eyes. His vision had gone beyond anything he thought possible—maybe this was what they called four-dimensional sight. Maybe five or six. Maybe infinity.

None of it mattered. He had to act. He’d convinced himself of this without realizing when or how, but he had to try. His family would be safe. He’d make sure of it. He’d do whatever it took.

Focusing as deeply as possible on the trunk of the black tree, he imagined a pinhole in the imaginary barrier he’d created within him. With his eyes wide and his hands gripping his knees, he released the slightest bit of pent up Chi’karda. He felt an almost untraceable amount of heat leave his body.

A trickle, nothing more.

And not knowing what else to do, he focused all of his thoughts into one distinct line of words, saying them over and over in his mind, projecting them at the same spot where he’d aimed the Chi’karda.

Stop the Blade. Stop the Blade. Stop the Blade.

Sato ran, though he fell down with every fourth or fifth lunging leap forward.

The others did the same, stumbling and bumbling about like they’d just been granted the gifts of legs and were trying to figure out how to make them work. Rutger was having the hardest time of it. Sato swore he actually saw Rutger roll forward like a ball a few times.

Mothball stayed by her friend’s side, helping him along as best she could. Tollaseat and Windasill worked together, pushing and pulling and balancing each other. Sato was on his own. He kept his head down and ran.

The earthquake continued to rage, shaking the entire world and everything on it. Crashes and clangs and breaking glass sounded like small explosions. The air reeked of sulfur and gas and burning wood. Screams came from every direction, from young and old, male and female.

And even though neither Sato nor anyone else knew where they were running to, there didn’t seem to be any choice. You ran from terror, and that was that.

A booming crackle sounded to his left, splitting the air just as he caught a flash of bright light on the edge of his vision. He snapped his head around, but it was too late. The light was gone. It had been like a bolt of lightning.

Another one exploded in front of him. He barely had time to register the jagged line of brilliant white before he closed his eyes, hoping he wasn’t blinded for life. Electric thunder rocked the air and shook the ground. Sato fell on his face and rolled three times, feeling rocks bruise and batter his body.

Another lightning strike, somewhere to his right. Another one way behind him. Each one was an explosion of light and energy and sound.

He got to his hands and knees, searching the area for his friends. He caught sight of Mothball sprawled across Rutger, scrambling to get up. No sign of her parents.

Sato stood up, lurching back and forth as the land continued to shake and tremble violently. Lightning was striking everywhere, long, crooked bolts of white fire hitting the ground in quick flashes instantaneously with the world-crushing sound. He held his hands up to his ears, wondering if he’d ever be able to see or hear again.

A brief pause in the lightning storm was as sudden as it was welcome. Sato squinted against the bright blurs of afterimages obscuring his vision as he headed toward Mothball. He had taken a few steps before he realized something very strange. The screams had stopped. So had the yelling and crying.

In disbelief, he scanned the area, shocked that he couldn’t see anyone. Nobody. Nowhere. Only Mothball and Rutger. Where had everyone else gone?

He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell something to Mothball. “What’s—”

A massive bolt of lightning shot from the sky, landing exactly on top of his two friends.

Sato threw his arm up to block the light, then looked as soon as it was gone. Barely able to see, he ran desperately toward the spot.

But even with his burned-out vision, he could tell Mothball and Rutger weren’t there. They were gone. Completely gone.

Not even charred remains or blackened, smoking skeletons were left behind. And, oddly enough, the grass wasn’t burning or even disturbed as far as he could tell. It was as if his two friends had just disappeared.

Maybe they’ve been winked away, he thought with an unexpected rise of jubilation. Maybe someone had saved them at the last second. In his present state of shock and panic, the idea didn’t seem so far-fetched. Anything was possible, right?

As if in answer to his question, the world around him suddenly turned white, a blanketing sea of complete and utter brilliance that engulfed his body even as the air singed with burning heat.

Sato felt his body erupt in flames.

Chapter 23

A Threat Reversed

Lisa’s only thought was to find Kayla and keep her safe.

The house shook and rattled around her, the echoes of wood groaning and cracking, glass breaking, and the terrible ladies screaming. Darkness pressed in, and the air filled with a choking dust. Something smelled burnt.

Lisa crawled forward on her knees, fighting to keep her balance. She didn’t understand why Kayla wasn’t crying or yelling for her. They’d been standing close together when the earthquake began, but lost each other in the first chaotic seconds.

“Kayla!” she shouted. “Kayla!”

No one answered, but Lisa heard a distinct whimper to her left, a miracle considering the sounds of destruction surrounding them. She shuffled in that direction and bumped into the small body of her sister, who was curled up into a ball, shaking with sobs.

“Kayla,” Lisa whispered. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay. Come on. We need to get out of the house.”

“No, no, no,” Kayla murmured.

Scared the house might collapse on them at any second, Lisa put her arms around Kayla’s body and lifted, grunting with the effort. She staggered to the right, running into a table, then to the left, hitting a wall. Squeezing Kayla tightly to her body, she moved forward, taking heavy and careful steps so as not to fall down. The light was dim, but she could see a hallway leading to the front door, which was open and hanging crookedly on one hinge. The whole house jumped as if it had grown legs.