CHAPTER 134: TAG TEAM

The climb was worse the second time.

Grace’s boots kept slipping on wet rocks. The rain came sideways now, sharp as needles. Diana climbed beside her, not bothering with words. What was there to say? They both knew this was probably stupid.

[Definitely stupid.]

Lightning struck close enough that Grace’s ears rang. The whole mountain shook.

"She’s really pissed," Diana shouted over the wind.

No kidding.

The higher they climbed, the worse it got. The air itself felt angry.

Grace’s fingers were numb by the time they reached the final approach. The peak loomed above them, wreathed in dark clouds that swirled like a tornado trying to form.

"Ready?" Diana asked.

"Not really, no."

"Good. Me neither."

They climbed the last stretch together.

The summit was chaos. Wind screamed from every direction at once. Rain fell up in some places, sideways in others. And in the center of it all—

"—just don’t understand why she left! I gave everything, EVERYTHING, and she just walked away like I was nothing!"

The Tempest paced back and forth, gesturing wildly. She looked exactly like Grace remembered—like Eternia if Eternia was made of storm clouds and rage. Her hair whipped around her face, sometimes solid, sometimes dissolving into mist.

The Primal Demon sat nearby. It was still massive, covered in scales that gleamed purple-black, with claws that could gut an angel in one swipe. It watched the Tempest with empty eyes.

"Did she think I wasn’t good enough? Was I too much? Not enough? Both? How can you be both?!"

The Tempest spun around, apparently asking the Primal. The demon didn’t respond.

"She said we were partners! Said we were building something together! That my burden meant something! Then she gets bored and makes a replacement!" The Tempest’s voice cracked. "Was I that easy to throw away?"

Grace’s chest tightened just a little. It wasn’t like she couldn’t hear the pain in that voice.

"And now she sends this—this FAKE!"

Oh. She’d spotted them.

Grace stepped forward, fighting against the wind.

"I’m here to help you!"

The Tempest laughed. It sounded like thunder breaking.

"Help? HELP? You can’t even help yourself, little pretender!"

"I’m not pretending anything! I just want to—"

"LIAR!"

The word came with a hard gust of wind. Grace skidded backward, boots scraping against stone.

"You wear her face! Use her power! But you’re NOT HER!"

Wind constructs materialized around the Tempest. Humanoid shapes made of compressed air and rain, their faces blank. A dozen. Two dozen. More.

The Primal Demon stood up.

"Well, shit," Diana muttered.

The constructs moved first. They came at them like a wave, silent and relentless.

Grace summoned her blade of light. It cut through the first construct easily. The thing dissolved into mist.

Then reformed two seconds later.

[Right. Persistence is key here.]

"Okay, so, what’s the plan?" Diana asked, raising her sword. She blocked a construct’s punch, the impact sending her sliding back a couple of steps.

Grace’s mind raced. She needed to reach the Tempest, but how? The Pillar was beyond listening, lost in her centuries-old spiral of paranoia and pain.

"Still working on it," Grace admitted. She ducked under a construct’s swing, came up inside its guard, and drove her blade through its chest. It burst apart.

"Seriously?"

"For now, let’s just—" Grace rolled aside as three constructs converged on her position. "Take these things out! Maybe kill the Primal!"

"Maybe kill the Primal, she says." Diana parried another construct, spun, and took its head off. It reformed before the pieces hit the ground. "Like it’s that easy!"

The battle erupted properly then. Wind constructs came from every angle. Grace’s blade of light cut through them, but they kept coming back. Endless.

Diana fought beside her, movements sharp and efficient. Her golden sword carved through constructs like they were made of paper. Which they basically were. Wind and water held together by the Tempest’s will.

The Primal hadn’t joined yet. It watched from its position near the Tempest, head tilted slightly. Waiting.

[... I’m getting shivers.]

"Why do you fight for her?" the Tempest screamed. "She abandoned us! Left us to rot!"

Grace ducked under a construct’s swing, came up, split it in half.

"She made a mistake!"

"MISTAKE?!"

The wind intensified. Grace could barely keep her feet. A construct caught her in the ribs. She went down hard, rolled, came up swinging.

"Centuries of loneliness! Of doubt! Of never knowing if any choice was right!" The Tempest’s form flickered between solid and storm. "That’s not a mistake! That’s CRUELTY!"

A construct grabbed Grace from behind. She drove her elbow back, dispersing it. Two more took its place.

"I know you’re hurting—"

"You know NOTHING!"

Lightning struck where Grace had been standing. She threw herself sideways, ears ringing. The ground where she’d been was blackened, smoking despite the rain.

Diana was handling three constructs at once, her sword a golden blur. But more kept coming. Five. Six. They surrounded her.

"Could use a bit of help here!" Diana shouted.

Grace wanted to help, but she had her own problems. The constructs weren’t strong individually, but there were so many. And they kept reforming.

The Primal moved then. Just a step forward.

Both Grace and Diana tensed.

It stopped again. Still watching. Calculating.

"It’s waiting for us to tire out," Diana said between strikes. She was breathing hard already.

Smart. Why waste energy when the constructs could do most of the work first?

Grace cleaved through another construct. Her arms already ached. How long had they been fighting? Minutes? It felt like hours.

The Tempest kept ranting.

"She said I was important! Said I had purpose! Then she made that—that THING to replace us all!"

Grace’s eyes widened. Azrael. She meant Azrael.

"And when we weren’t needed anymore, when we’d served our purpose, she just... left. Do you know what it’s like? To question everything? To never trust your own thoughts because they might change in an instant?"

Well, Grace had been thinking about that all day. The constant second-guessing. The inability to commit to any decision.

"To wonder if every choice you make is wrong? If every path leads to failure?" The rain softened. Just for a moment. Then the Tempest’s face twisted with fresh rage. "But you wouldn’t understand! You’re her new favorite! Her perfect little solution!"

The constructs attacked with renewed fury. More of them now. They came from above, below, every direction.

Grace and Diana fought back-to-back. The circle of enemies tightened.

"Any time you want to share that plan," Diana grunted. She had a cut on her cheek. Blood mixed with rain.

"Working on it!"

But Grace wasn’t. Not really.

Her mind was blank. What could she offer the Tempest that she didn’t already have? The Root had needed acknowledgment. The Tide had needed companionship. The Flame had needed to vent.

The Tempest had all of that. She had the Primal for company. She’d been venting for centuries. And she definitely felt acknowledged. Hard to miss all the thunder and stuff.

So, what could Grace offer?

A construct’s fist caught Grace in the stomach. She doubled over, gasping.

Diana grabbed her collar, yanked her back. A construct’s claws passed through where Grace’s head had been.

"Pay attention!"

"Trying!"

They kept fighting. Grace’s blade grew dimmer. Using divine energy constantly was draining her. Diana was slowing too. They couldn’t keep this up forever.

The Primal took another step forward.

"Shit," Diana said. "Here it comes."

But it didn’t attack. Not yet. It circled them slowly, massive form moving with surprising grace.

The constructs pulled back slightly. Giving it room.

"What’s it doing?" Grace asked.

"Deciding how to kill us, probably."

The Primal’s eyes were intelligent. Calculating. This wasn’t some mindless beast. It was thinking. Planning.

Just like the Tempest.

[Wait.]

"I think she might have trained it," Grace said suddenly.

"What?"

"The Tempest. She probably trained the Primal. Look at how it moves. How it waits. It’s not just following orders. It’s making decisions."

Diana blocked another construct.

"So?"

"So it shouldn’t be able to do that! She probably taught it to think like her. To doubt. To second-guess. Or, maybe it’s mimicking her!"

Grace could see it now. The way the Primal kept hesitating. Starting forward, then stopping. Circling instead of attacking directly.

It was paralyzed by the same indecision as its master.

Grace wondered if the Tempest’s indecision had somehow rubbed off on the Primal.

The realization didn’t help them fight, though. The constructs pressed in again. Grace’s arms burned. Her breath came in gasps.

The Primal finally made a decision. It lunged.

Diana shoved Grace aside, raised her sword. The Primal’s claws met golden light. The impact sent Diana flying. She hit a boulder, slumped down.

"Diana!"

Grace started toward her. Constructs blocked the way.

Diana pushed herself up, shaking her head.

"I’m fine! Just... rang my bell a little."

The Primal advanced on her.

Grace fought harder, trying to break through. Too many constructs. They pressed in from all sides.

The Primal raised one massive claw.

Diana rolled aside. The claw shattered stone where she’d been.

Grace wanted to help. But the constructs wouldn’t let her through. Every time she destroyed one, two more took its place.

[Think, Grace. THINK!]