“Aww—do you need a friend? Is that what this is? The part where you offer me a chance to join forces?”
Setrákus Ra sighs. We’re only separated by a few feet now. I have to remind myself that it isn’t real. That there’s no point in reaching out and trying to rip him apart.
Even though I so badly want to.
“No, John. When I allowed you to live in New York, I promised that I would let you watch this world burn. I intend to keep my word.”
“Then what?”
“Like I said, you remind me of Pittacus,” Setrákus Ra responds. He drifts back towards Sarah, strokes a hand up her bluish arm and grabs hold of the chain supporting her body. “I tried to show him, just like I will now show you. I wanted you to know what you’re missing out on.”
Setrákus Ra yanks down hard on the chain. Impossibly, with a logic available only in nightmares, the entire ceiling collapses. The room is flooded with that viscous black ooze.
“I wanted you to feel my power.”
It’s like a dam breaking. Within seconds, the interrogation room is completely lost to me, and I’m awash in the inky liquid. It’s ice-cold and slimy against my skin. I try to swim against it, but it’s quickly over my head, stinging my eyes, creeping into my lungs.
I panic and thrash. For a moment, I forget that this is only a dream.
There’s a heaviness inside me now, like my guts are filled with thick sludge. My skin prickles. It feels like thousands of tiny mouths are trying to gnaw on me.
But I can breathe. I’m alive. The realization helps me to calm down.
I can see, even though there’s nothing around me except for solid, impenetrable darkness. As I float through the oily slime, I look down at my hands and light up my Lumen. It works—light shines in a halo around me.
The effect only lasts for a moment. In my glowing hands I can see veins of cobalt-blue Loric energy running beneath the skin. The sludge painfully burrows into my fingertips, drawn to that energy, and begins to eat away at it.
“Doesn’t it feel good?”
I look up. Setrákus Ra floats in the darkness above me. He’s dropped the whole young-Setrákus thing and now looks like I expect: hideous. He’s shirtless—maybe entirely naked, the ooze thankfully obscures his lower body—his skin startlingly pale in the darkness, the purple scar around his neck thick. His eyes, hollow and empty like a skull, bore into me.
There’s an open wound on Setrákus Ra’s chest. The gash is just to the left of his heart. That must be where Six hit him. She really was so damn close. Tendrils of the ooze lap at the broken skin, worm their way inside his body. The substance isn’t healing the wound; it’s filling it in, replacing the ghastly hole with a chunk of pure obsidian.
Another body floats in front of Setrákus Ra. It’s a Mogadorian woman with dark hair drawn back in thick cornrows. I notice that she has burn scars all across her hands. She seems to be unconscious. Setrákus Ra waves his hands over her, and the slimy substance surrounding us all moves at his command, burrowing under her skin, reshaping her.
I open my mouth, and although the slime rushes down my throat, I find that I’m still able to speak.
“This is where you are, isn’t it?” I say. “This is real. Your great idea of progress, it’s . . . this sewage bath.”
Setrákus Ra smiles at me. “You resist. But here, John, here I control the fate of all our species. Here, I make Legacies. I take the mundane and shape it, augment it to my will.”
He holds up his hand, two fingers extend towards me, and my arm raises in response completely out of my control. My Lumen glows, the ooze tendrils coalescing around my hand. It feels as if my skin’s being peeled away.
A ball of Loric energy is ripped out of my hand. My Lumen grows dim as the energy floats through the sludge. It’s slowly eaten away, transformed, until Setrákus guides it into the Mogadorian woman. Her body convulses for a moment, sending waves through the slime.
But then fire surrounds her. She turns her head and grins at me, her teeth bared like a wild animal.
“I am the creator now, John,” Setrákus Ra says. “Come. See for yourself.”
My hands shake. My Lumen won’t work. The darkness surrounds me. . . .
“John! John!”
My eyes snap open. Adam’s got me by the shoulders, shaking me. I’m back in the sub-subbasement of Patience Creek, not drowning in black muck, not having my Legacies stolen by a Mogadorian.
“You fell asleep,” Adam says, eyes wide. “And then, well . . .”