Moonlark Turned Evil

31: Identity

The first cabinet went up in flames.

Sophie tossed her torch into the fire.

She stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut, peering through the small window to see if the fire was burning properly.

This is too easy, she decided.

Fitz, beside her, was ecstatic about their victory. But even though he was grinning, she could tell he was scanning their surroundings warily.

"Come on," Sophie told him. "Let's hurry—"

She jerked sideways, gaze darting around.

What the?!

WARNING: MURDEROUS INTENT DETECTED.

She skidded backwards, feeling the knife cut her cheek, watching the small shower of blood splatter onto the floor. The blade embedded itself into the wall.

How . . .

Time was sluggish as she struggled to turn her head, stringing curse words together in a jumbled mess.

SHUT UP, I'M TRYING TO THINK.

Didn't know you were capable of it, Sophie snarled ferociously, taking in the man in front of her.

The white hair. The gold pupils. The pointed ears.

"Elys," she breathed.

And then she realized.

Time had slowed to the point where one blink took over three seconds. Her voice sounded blurred and distorted. She seemed to be the only one affected by it—Fitz was trembling with fear at full speed, though it didn't seem like she could count on him for help, and the man who had cast the spell was advancing towards her.

A fist moved for her face.

I can't move! She gritted her teeth—well, tried to. What do I do?

I DO NOT KNOW.

The air was rushing past her face. Time was speeding up to a crawl as the man moved closer.

Oh, I see. There's a pocket of slowed time around me that's affected when he enters it. Now all I need to do is teleport the second the effects of his time clash with mine.

"Spare yourself the effort."

Sophie gasped as the air was knocked back into her lungs. Opening her eyes, she found herself standing in a field, the grass burnt and charred. She turned in a full circle, taking in the new space.

Weapons and corpses were scattered across the ground at random, some sections of the battlefield burning with bright blue flames.

"Sophie Foster . . . have you ever been told that your Everblaze is exceptionally powerful?"

He was standing in front of her, ten meters away, in a spot that had been deserted until just a second ago. He had olive brown skin and wore flowing black robes, embroidered with gold and white. The whites of his eyes were coloured a disturbing black, and his pupils were red to match his long crimson hair.

"Who are you?" Sophie asked quietly.

He smiled.

"I am Pilo, god of fire."

"So Irily spoke the truth about gods."

"Ah, yes. You are friends with Irily. I'd forgotten."