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Cytonic (Skyward #3)(145)

Author:Brandon Sanderson

He lasted about ten seconds.

He’d flown only a handful of times, and the delvers had challenged even my skill. M-Bot didn’t try to dodge—he merely tried to get as far from the rest of us as possible before they got him, quickly overwhelming his shield.

He vanished in a flash of light and smoke, the pieces casting long shadows as they fell.

The delvers pummeled these for a good thirty seconds of concentrated fire, then three ships slammed into what remained. And then…then they left. They couldn’t sense me, and they’d felt M-Bot. This was enough to convince them. They thought I’d been on the ship.

Perhaps if they’d been a group of humans, one—or even a majority—would have suggested continuing to search in case the rest of us had escaped. But the delvers made mistakes as one. Today they decided they’d done their job, and were too afraid of staying outside their bubble of safety to keep searching.

The wall of ships faded back into the lightburst. Followed by the flying ships, which soon melded with the whiteness.

Within five minutes of M-Bot leaving, we were alone on the expanse. Feeling like my limbs were made of iron, I picked up Hesho and stuffed Peg’s fruit in my jacket pocket. Then, holding Hesho in one arm and Doomslug—still protecting us—in the other, I trudged toward the lightburst. I worried the delvers would see us, but either they were convinced we were dead, or the illusion could obscure a little motion.

I don’t know how long it took to reach the border. That’s the nowhere for you. It could have been five minutes. It could have been five days. Probably more like the former, but this close to the boundary, time was extra alien.

I felt it when we got close. A fuzzing of the self, a dreamy sensation. Doomslug fluted. She would protect Hesho inside, as the pure nowhere could rip apart someone non-cytonic. She’d try to help me too.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “If you can guide us though, take us home. To Detritus.”

She fluted uncertainly. At the noise, I felt something respond in the light. The delvers had heard that. I needed to do this next part quickly.

So I stepped into the light.

I’d been here before.

Every time I’d hyperjumped, I’d entered this non-place. The place where I had no body. We’d entered their realm fully.

The delvers were surprised. Yes, they really had thought they’d killed me. They could see the future, but time confused them. They didn’t understand things like causality, and the “future” wasn’t any different from the present.

I could sense them all around me. I could also sense Doomslug, and Saints was she tired. Exhausted, barely able to stay awake. Keeping up that illusion had taxed her.

I felt her try to take us home. She failed—used up—and slipped into unconsciousness. Frantic, I put a barrier around Hesho. Something to keep him from being destroyed or driven mad. Then, panicked, I tried to take us home—but the delvers had seen me. They seized us, held me in place, prevented me from leaving.

Eyes opened up around me. Thousands upon thousands of angry, vengeful eyes.

You took the Us.

You took the Us and corrupted the Us.

You took the Us and corrupted the Us and tried to kill the Us!

You know.

You know.

You know!

Furious minds assaulted me. Forces unimaginable pushed against my soul, as if to shred it. And scud, I was tired too. Tired from so long without memories. Tired from fighting myself, torn between duty and desire. Tired from the emotional wringer I’d been through today.

I wanted to let them have me. But we’d come all this way. We’d fought so hard. Now they tried to stop me? I felt a sudden burst of anger and pushed back. All my rage barely made them retreat. They soon resumed crushing me, trying to snuff the star I had become, like a candle’s flame.

I was time. I brought time in here when I came. Things happened in a sequence to me, and while I was here they had to experience me in a linear way. They hated that. They hated that I created noise. Most of all, they hated that I knew what they were.

So. Much. Hatred.

It was exhausting. Numbing…

They poked me like hunters with spears. They slashed me, attacked me, ripped at me…

But one hesitated.

One of them was different.

It was very slight, but the sensation was familiar. It was my own emotion reflected at me. Courage. The courage to walk a difficult path and not take the offered escape. Courage to press forward, even when I didn’t want to.

I’d given this to the delver. No amount of rewriting had been able to erase it. Chet was still in there.