Serra Crystalstine's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

Serra set the blade's edge to the warlord's door. The metal was cold and old, sealed from the inside. Behind her, Shimmer Stellawing knelt by Kronos's dimming core. Stellarwind stood ready, clock-arm hanging at his side. The shaft above was dead rock now. There was no way up. There was only this door, and the warlord behind it. Serra drove the blade into the seam. The song rang out. The edge bit, then stopped. The door did not move. She leaned her weight into it. A crack spread up her forearm instead, spidering through her purple crystal. She pulled back, breathing hard. "It's warded. The blade won't cut it cold." "Then warm it," Stellarwind said. He did not explain. Shimmer looked up. "The drain froze this whole level. Cold seals the ward." She had crossed the rift at Serra's side and nearly died for it. She did not flinch now. "Heat breaks it. We have none." But they did. A new light bloomed in the dark behind them. Chronara Flameheart stepped from the shadow of the shaft, fire wing flaring, clockwork chest glowing orange. She was half fire amethyst, an angel and an Amazon both, and the warlord had been her teacher before she knew what he was. He had taken the clock that kept time for her whole people. She had sworn to take it back. "I felt the blade," Chronara said. Her voice was flat. "He laid this door himself. Every ward in here is his." She crouched and pressed her bare palm to the metal. The frost hissed and ran. "I know his work. I know where it's thin." "How did you reach us?" Serra asked. "The rift is sealed." "I came down the drain. It almost took my clock." She did not look at Serra. "I don't have time to say more. Strike where I burn." Chronara dragged her flaming hand along a hidden line in the door. The metal glowed red under her touch. The ward thinned. Serra raised the wing-blade over the burning seam. "Now," Chronara said. Serra struck. The blade's song and the fire met in the ward. The metal screamed and split. The crack on Serra's arm widened, but she drove through. The door buckled inward and fell. Cold air rushed out. Beyond the broken door stretched a long chamber. At its far end stood a slab of frozen light, holding every second the warlord had stolen. And before it, turning slowly toward them, stood a tall shape wrapped in failing threads of burnt orange. Shimmer helped Kronos to his feet. Stellarwind filled the doorway. Chronara stepped through first, fire wing spread. "Spark," the shape said. "Don't call me that," Chronara answered. Serra lifted the blade and walked in after her. The door was behind them now, a ruin. The only way left was forward, and the warlord was waiting.