Voracia the Insatiable's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Voracia left the cracked dining hall with grease on her chin and the taste of pie still in her teeth. The throne was somewhere in this town, and every hour she wasted let the thing she had made gather more loyal mouths around it. She walked the streets and made people look at her. A baker pointed north when she stared at him long enough. A boy with a cart did the same. She followed the pointing fingers up a slope of black rock until the buildings thinned and the road bent toward open ground. The palace sat against the ridge like a slab pushed up from below. Dark stone. Carved geometry. Glowing veins ran through the walls in cold blue light, branching like cracks in ice. Purple sigils burned at the doors. She knew the shape of it because she had not made it, and that was the point. Her creation had built itself a house. She felt the air tighten before she saw anyone, the way a kitchen feels before a pot boils over. She stopped on the path. Behind her, Belinda Burpwell and Sara Socalong had followed at a distance, drawn by the noise of a goddess on the move. Belinda burped into her fist. Sara said nothing and watched the doors. A figure stepped out from the rocks to Voracia's left. He was tall. Black armor. A moose skull pulled down over his head, the antlers wide as a doorway. He carried a black sword as long as he was, the tip dragging a line in the dirt. He stopped on the path between her and the palace. "Voracia," he said. "I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to eat what's left." He said it the way a man names a price. "No one should hold what you hold." Voracia laughed once, hard, and her belly shook against the spiked armor. "Wrong door, meat," she said. "The thing inside took my chair. You want a goddess, get in line behind me." Malachar Bonecrusher lifted the sword off the ground. "Line's here," he said, and swung. She caught the flat of the blade against her forearm. Sparks. The shock ran down to her heel and split the path stone. She drove her shoulder into his chest and they went down together. He was strong. She was hungry. She got a hand on the moose skull and twisted until the strap bit his throat, then rolled clear and came up panting. He stood slower than she did. Blood ran from under the helmet. He picked up his sword and stepped back into the rocks without another word. She watched him go and did not chase. She turned to the palace. The doors were the doors. She knew where her throne was now. Belinda spat in the dirt. Sara, behind her, said, "You're bleeding." Voracia wiped her arm and started walking up the path.