CHAPTER 135: TWO OPTIONS

The wind constructs kept coming.

Grace’s divine energy burned through her veins like liquid fire. The flow of combat slowly elevated within her. She could feel it pooling in her core, spreading to her fingertips, making her rapier glow so bright it hurt to look at. The sensation was different now than it had been months ago when she’d first manifested her Blade of Eternia. Sharper. More focused. More hers.

More deadly.

Another construct materialized in front of her, its form twisting and writhing like a miniature tornado given shape and murderous intent. Grace didn’t hesitate anymore.

It was probably thanks to her new Bravery, but those days of freezing up in combat were long gone.

She thrust forward, her thin blade piercing through its center with a satisfying burst of light. Instead of regenerating, the thing exploded into wisps that the mountain wind carried away like confetti.

[Right, excess energy. Got it.]

To her left, Diana grunted. The sound of her golden sword clashing against the Primal Demon’s claws rang out like a bell being struck by a hammer. Even from here, Grace could see the strain on Diana’s face. Sweat dripped down her forehead despite the freezing mountain air and rain. Her arms shook with each block, muscles straining against the creature’s overwhelming strength.

"Any time now, shortie!" Diana called out, voice tight with exertion. She ducked under a swipe that would’ve taken her head clean off, the claws whistling through the air where her skull had been a split second before.

Grace gritted her teeth. Right. She needed a plan.

But what? The Tempest was still up there, floating above them, surrounded by swirling winds that formed a protective barrier around her body.

[Getting to her is one thing, but once I do, how to solve this situation becomes the next problem.]

Two more constructs rushed at Grace from different angles. She spun, her rapier cutting through them in one fluid motion that would’ve made Seraph proud.

[Think, Grace. Think! There has to be a way.]

She went over her previous successes again.

The Root had wanted connection. Someone to understand that she’d been abandoned and forgotten.

The Tide had needed companionship. Someone to ease the loneliness that had been eating at her for centuries.

The Flame had required an outlet. Someone strong enough to absorb centuries of built-up rage without breaking.

[So, what exactly do I give to the Tempest?] She thought, followed by another question. [Is there even something I can give?]

There was, of course, another solution.

She hadn’t considered it until just now.

Another construct materialized right in front of Grace’s face. She jerked backward, wind slicing past her cheek, and drove her blade upward. Hard. The thing burst apart like a soap bubble.

[Fuck, how many is that now?]

She’d lost count. Didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was the Tempest floating up there, lips moving constantly. Talking to herself. Arguing with herself. Deciding and un-deciding and deciding again, trapped in that same loop. A loop Grace had no idea how to bring her out of.

"Grace!" Diana’s voice carried real panic now.

[Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I need to do something. Now.]

Grace risked a glance at Diana’s fight.

The Primal had her on the defensive, pushing her back toward the edge. It slashed at her head with its claws. Diana ducked and tried to push it back, which only served to buy her approximately two seconds before the monster stepped forward again. Each trade of blows between them had Diana looking a little less confident.

From Grace’s perspective, it looked like the Primal was toying with Diana. Playing with its food. Diana’s golden sword looked like a toothpick against the creature’s massive bulk, and Grace could see the strain written across Diana’s face as she fought just to stay alive.

The Tempest’s muttering drifted down through the howling wind. Fragments of broken thoughts and half-finished decisions that made Grace’s stomach twist into knots.

"—should kill them—no wait—maybe talk first—but what if—can’t decide—never could—"

Then a thought hit Grace like a punch to the gut. Cold and awful and absolutely terrifying.

[What if I can’t save this one?]

The idea made her want to puke. She’d helped the Root find peace by listening to her pain. She’d given the Tide the companionship she’d been craving for centuries. Even the Flame had found release from her rage in the end.

But the Tempest?

Grace looked up at her floating there, arguing with invisible enemies. No hope in those empty eyes. Just... nothing. Pure, hollow despair wrapped up in silver hair and a twisted wind.

[No. No, I have to try. That’s what I do. I save people.]

Eternia had said it was up to Grace whether she chose to help the Pillars or kill them. But Grace really, really wanted to avoid the latter option if she could help it. The thought of permanently erasing a primordial being made her skin crawl.

Grace dodged another wind construct—this one shaped like a miniature tornado with claws—and started moving forward. Not backing up this time. She carved through the wind-beings with brutal efficiency, her rapier leaving trails of golden light in the storm-darkened air. Each step brought her closer to the Tempest. Each step made the wind try harder to shove her ass right off the mountain.

Her legs burned from fighting the constant pressure. Her wings ached from keeping them folded tight against her back—last thing she needed was the Tempest grabbing them and ripping them clean off. The freezing mountain air made her fingers numb around her rapier’s handle.

But she kept going anyway.

Behind her, Diana let out a string of profanity that would’ve made Venus blush with pride.

"Whatever you’re planning, do it fast! This thing’s getting—fuck!"

The sound of Diana’s body hitting stone made Grace’s blood turn to ice. But she couldn’t look back. Not now. Not when she was this close to reaching the Tempest.

Three constructs blocked her path, forming a wall of razor-sharp wind and spinning air. Grace’s divine energy flared hot and angry in her chest. She swept her blade in a wide arc, pouring more power into the strike than she’d ever used before.

The constructs shattered at the same time. Nothing left but empty air and wisps of fading magic.

The path was clear.

Grace spread her wings and launched herself upward through the storm. The wind grabbed at her immediately—her feathers, her clothes, her hair. Everything. Invisible hands trying to drag her back down to the rocks below. But she pushed through the assault, muscles screaming in protest. Her wings felt ready to tear right off her back.

But she kept going.

The Tempest finally noticed her approach. Those empty, haunted eyes focused on Grace, and for just a moment, the winds around them stilled completely.

"You’re still here." The Tempest’s voice was flat. Dead. Like someone had sucked all the life out of it. "Why are you still here? I told you to leave. Or did I tell you to stay? I can’t... I can’t remember. Everything blurs together. Every thought contradicts the last. Every decision gets unmade before I finish making it."

Grace reached her without any fancy moves or dramatic flourishes. Just grabbed the Tempest by the shoulders and spun her around so they were face to face. The Pillar didn’t resist. Didn’t fight back. She just let it happen, like she’d given up on having any control over anything that happened to her.

Grace pressed her rapier’s tip against the Tempest’s throat.

For a moment, they both stopped. Then, the Tempest spoke again.

"Do you know what it’s like?" The Tempest’s voice was barely a whisper now, almost lost in the wind. "To never be certain of anything? To question every thought, every decision, every feeling the moment it enters your mind? Eternia dumped all her doubts into me. All her frustration. All her inability to choose between options when they all seemed equally wrong."

Below them, Diana screamed.

The sound cut through Grace like a knife to the chest. She risked a glance down and her heart stopped completely.

The Primal had Diana pinned against a boulder. One massive claw wrapped around Diana’s throat, lifting her clean off the ground. Diana’s legs kicked uselessly in the air, her struggles getting weaker by the second.

Grace looked back at the Tempest.

Grace’s hand shook harder. The rapier’s tip pressed deeper against the Tempest’s skin, drawing a thin line of golden blood that glowed against her pale throat.

Diana’s face was turning blue. Her struggles were getting weaker.

[This might be the first Pillar I have to kill.]

The thought made Grace want to throw up everything she’d ever eaten. Every instinct she had screamed against it. She was supposed to save people. That’s what she did. That’s who she was. She found what they needed and gave it to them.

But what if what the Tempest needed was death?

What if the only way to save her was to...

"Do it," the Tempest said suddenly. Her voice was calm now. Certain. For the first time since Grace had met her, the Pillar sounded absolutely sure about something. Grace’s eyes went wide. "Now."