Act VI, The Storm CitadelChapter 45
Chapter 45: The Scenic Route
A recall that has said one thing for months, and a girl who finally answers it her own way.
The recall still burned in Selena’s cells. Come back. It had said nothing else for months.
She stopped pushing it away. She listened to it instead.
Every pulse of it came from somewhere. She followed the pulses back, the way she followed a fault through a circuit. The Citadel hung over the Academy for anyone to see. The trace gave her more: one hall inside it, and the one who stood there.
The road ran straight back to its sender. Nobody had closed it.
Sloppy, she thought, and was pleased with herself.
She spoke to the signal, since it was listening.
“Sorry, but I still prefer life at the Academy. Still, if you really want me to choose...”
Her third lollipop was still in her cheek, worn to a sliver. She always let them melt. This one she bit. It cracked between her fangs.
She took a deep breath. Arcs of electricity tore out of her and split the clouds above, a white road straight up into the storm.
“Even on the path to destruction, I’m taking the scenic route!”
Lightning swallowed her, and she vanished into the clouds.
The scenic route went straight up through the Citadel’s own storm. Black ribs. Holds full of gray Enders, standing still. Through a tear in the storm, below, the bell tower was the size of her hand.
Then she slipped in between two ribs and landed in the throne hall.
A throne grew out of the floor in pale plates, from the keel to the roof. The roof’s ribs hung from it. It hummed. She felt the hum come up through her boots, the same hum as the field.
The placeThe throne hall
A woman stood at its foot with her back turned. Long hair, gold running into pink. A black and magenta gown. A long silver-pink weapon hung in the air beside her hand.
Selena had never seen her. Her blood knew her anyway. Obsidia.
The woman turned. There was no surprise in her face. It was smooth shell with a cold sheen, and her eyes burned violet.
“Look at how much you’ve grown, my child.”
Her voice was perfectly calm. The violet in her eyes burned brighter.
Selena had copied every human face she had ever met. She knew what this one showed. It was close to pleasure. She had not expected that.
“It’s been a while, my dear creator.”
She did not remember a single minute of it.
Obsidia came to her slowly and laid one finger on her cheek, as if admiring something she had carved herself.
“Destruction gives rise to new life. That is the meaning of purification.”
Selena stepped out from under the finger. She strolled around behind her maker with her hands clasped at her back, and spun on her heel.
“Ah... so what should I destroy next?”
Obsidia’s eyes narrowed.
“A pawn with no surprises left, of course.”
Behind Obsidia, chains of bone crawled up out of the floor. Their tips were spikes. Obsidia smiled and did not look at them.
“Oh?”
The chains wrapped Selena’s ankles, then her waist, and lifted her off the floor. The spikes rose to her neck, slowly, one at a time.
“Savor your final moments, my dear Selena.”
Her arms were pinned. Her hands were not. Purple spread up her wrists. She closed one hand on the nearest point and tore it in two.
She lifted her eyes to Obsidia’s.
“I’ll never be your puppet again.”
Lightning burst out of her, and the chains went to pieces. Plates closed over her, white and blue and gold, with a visor and joints like an Ender’s. A blade of crackling light ran along one arm. It was the suit she had once shown the whole class, turning above her desk. Ender plating, my own design. Nobody had asked whose.
“You’ve grown, Selena.”
“Did I surprise you?”
She went in close. Obsidia gave ground without hurry and kept her at the length of that weapon. At the lift of one finger, lightning crawled across the hall to meet Selena’s blade. Her maker fought as if she had all the time in the world.
Behind her, the throne hummed.
Selena could have climbed it. She could have sat where her maker sat. She cut it through at the base instead.
The pale plates came down in a heap. She kicked them at Obsidia, one after another.
Deep in the ship, something exploded. Then something else. Through the gaps in the ribs, the clouds slid sideways. The Citadel listed as if to fall, burning. It stayed in the sky.
Under her boots, the hum stopped.
The throne lay in pieces at her feet. The floor kept tilting under both of them.