Prologue: The Gatekeeper

The world was dying.

It was a quiet thing, likely unnoticed by most, though some might be able to tell that colours weren’t as bright, the air tasted less sweet, plants seemed ever-so-slightly wilted. There was a hollow sense of absence, like something was just…missing, though it was hard to place what it was.

For Dreylos Feran, Beloved of the Pulse, it was as though all feeling had been stolen from his hands, leaving every touch numb. There was a constant ache in his chest, an empty ringing in his pulse, an insistent reminder that something was irreparably wrong and broken.

Dreylos sighed, noting the steam of his breath as it billowed in front of his face, and looked up at the sky. Night, blanketed by clouds, pitch black. Not even stars were visible.

Pity. He would have liked to see stars, one last time.

His jaw clenched. His eyes were burning again as he felt his resolve waver. An unfamiliar power turned in his core, begging for release, and he pushed it back, forcing it into dormancy.

Don’t.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to his surroundings. In spite of the lack of moon or stars, the city around him was lit by a glow coming from the stone of the buildings themselves, a glow that was once far stronger and didn’t flicker as it now did. Elldai was once a city of life. It was rich with the Pulse, the blood of the world itself, soaked through with power until even the stones burned with it.

The city now was…barren. Lifeless. A graveyard made of carefully sculpted buildings. The only sound that remained was that of the ocean as it broke against the diamond walls that surrounded the city, keeping the water at bay.

The crown jewel of innovation and culture, people had once called it. Mere weeks ago, it still could have worn that title with pride. Now it was nothing but a lifeless shell, littered with corpses that rotted at the edges of the streets, left behind in the rush to evacuate when the dragons came.

Dreylos grit his teeth. Set his eyes forward, down the faintly glowing path, and walked. He knew the streets well, knew them with the intimacy of one who had walked them for decades, not that he needed the familiarity to know where he was going.

The Pulse called him to the exact centre of Elldai, its staggering heartbeat aligned to his, begging for his help. A constant draw that pulled him forward, thrumming in his core.

Elldai was not a small city, and it was well past midnight when he felt the dragons watching him.

They infested the place, though few made themselves known—hulking shadows perched on rooftops and lurking in alleyways, taking all forms. Beasts with too many limbs or eyes. Beasts with long scales or feathered wings, or thick manes and curling tusks. Some were little more than errant shadows, while others glowed with heat that burned along their throats and chests. He could hear them all, sounds of clicking talons and rustling wings and tails whispering at the edge of his senses.

  The closer he got, the more dragons appeared, taking note of his presence. There was the occasional growl and hiss as they muttered among themselves, even the occasional word that he could pick out as sounding vaguely human.

It was growing tempting to turn and run, but he had a purpose to fulfill.

Maker save me, I have a purpose.

The unfamiliar power turned in his chest again, and a small part of him wondered if he had walked beyond the Maker’s reach, and was at the mercy of something else altogether, now.

Then he finally reached the city square, stopping at the entrance and staring.

The city square was enormous, larger than many towns Dreylos had seen, and in the centre of the square was the Gate.

The Gate stood more than twice Dreylos’s height, a massive archway standing on a raised dais, and it burned with the Pulse. It almost looked like it was made of stone, but stone didn’t shift like water, or glow like moonlight. The Gate was made of the Pulse itself, serving as an entryway for the power, making it malleable for people to use. It was the access to the lifeblood of the world, beautiful and pure and burning. Dreylos had stood in its presence more times than he could count, felt its caress as he moulded it to his will, a flawless collaboration between man and power. He had served it faithfully, protected it as Champion.

And he had failed.

Surrounding the Gate was a slick black shadow, hanging over it like ivy, languorous and gloating. The creature was…incomprehensible. It was death and chaos embodied, glimmering with stolen light that twisted in smoke-like, trembling forms along its shadowy flesh. Light from the Gate was constantly being absorbed into it, making the shadows flicker in sickening patterns. It was fear and sickness and gluttony and rage, a usurper grown fat on its own feasting. His eyes couldn’t make sense of its form, the body a twisted mass of limbs and eyes and wings, constantly shifting and contorting.

And all throughout the courtyard were dragons, an audience of subjects hailing their king in his victory as he fed on the power of the Gate.

As he awaited his final prize.

Dreylos felt a tremor of fear work its way across his body. The power in his chest begged for release again, urgent and frantic, raging at the sight before it.

Not yet.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the courtyard.

The reaction was immediate.

All dragons turned their attention to him, watching with anticipation as he walked toward the dais, his steps smooth and confident in defiance of the fear that pounded its way through his veins. The beast at the Gate shifted at his approach, raising its head, fixing Dreylos with a gaze made from a thousand twisted lights. He thought he saw the beast smile.

He stopped walking several paces away from the dais, staring up at the shadow, and there was a long, suffocating silence before the beast spoke. When he did, the sound was deep and rumbling, the sound of breaking stone; the final breaths of a dying man.

“Ah…and so you finally come crawling out of hiding,” the Devourer said. “The vessel finally accepts his place.”

Dreylos shrugged.

“Perhaps,” he quietly answered. His own voice felt hushed and weak in his mouth. The Devourer shifted again, moving like smoke down the steps of the dais. Dreylos barely kept himself from recoiling. There was a stench of rot and burning, bitter in Dreylos’s lungs.

“It is better this way, Gatekeeper. Better to accept your fate.”

Coils of darkness moved forward, moving to brush against Dreylos’s face, a shudder coursing down his spine. His eyes unintentionally moved over the steps. Or, rather, to the bodies littering them. Hollow husks that were once men and women, black and red and blue veins crawling over their skin, eyes wide and blank, broken and lifeless.

Those who weren’t strong enough to bear the Devourer’s stolen power, and were subsequently destroyed by it.

Those who weren’t as strong as him.

Don’t run.

He stepped forward, moving around the Devourer, looking up at the Gate.

“Perhaps,” he repeated. “It would be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it? You need a vessel to hold your power. You’ve devoured too much, more than your body can hold. You need a body that can contain the Pulse you have consumed.” He paused, struggling to say the next words. “If you want to finish what you’ve started, you need me.”

“Hm… clever Gatekeeper,” the Devourer crooned. He felt the beast’s touch again, the shadows curling around his chest, almost like an embrace. “Do not fret. It will be quick. Painless.”

Doubtful.

He was ascending the steps, letting his eyes wander the ground in front of him, occasionally flitting up to the Gate. His knees felt weak, even as the Pulse began to wash over him, warm and familiar. Its touch was wavering, hesitant, like a beaten animal begging him for help. The light curled around his fingers in dim and flickering patterns.

“Will anything be left of me?” he quietly asked. “When you take over, will I…”

He couldn’t finish the thought, his voice catching in his throat.

“Only for a time. Then you will fade. It is a painless death. Like falling asleep.”

Dreylos could almost feel the lie on his skin. He made it to the top of the dais, standing a mere pace away from the Gate, and an enormous black paw landed in front of him, blocking him from going any further. The Devourer moved his head, levelling his gaze with Dreylos. The feel of him was becoming overwhelming, and in spite of his efforts Dreylos cringed at the beast’s presence.

“Make this easy, Gatekeeper. You have lost.”

The smoke coiled around his head, and he turned to look at the Devourer, stared directly into the beast’s eyes. The other dragons were coming closer, excitedly growling and muttering among themselves, their sounds creating a dull hum in Dreylos’s ears.

He felt the dragon’s mind press against him, a sickly oil that tried to seep into him, to find any weaknesses and gain access. To take everything it could and destroy him.

He felt his breath wavering, shallow in his lungs.

Then the feeling went still.

“What have you done?” the Devourer growled. Dreylos smiled. Then, he finally let the power take hold.

Pain. Ecstasy. Rage. Everything tore through him, changing him, forging him into something new. Something untouchable. The air went still, standing at attention, ice crawling over the steps of the dais, the clouds churning above, the world itself noticing his presence.

Dreylos shoved the Devourer’s touch away, embracing the calamity within him. He could feel power sloughing off of him, rolling from his shoulders, burning pieces of him away as it consumed his flesh. He could hear the dragons startling, wings flaring and flapping, several of them hissing or growling in alarm and rage. Dreylos continued ignoring them, everything focused on the enemy before him and the power within him, all else overshadowed by it.

“What have you done?” the Devourer roared. He swiped, and Dreylos barely managed to dodge, pulling the power to him, and ran the few remaining steps to the Gate, slamming his palms against it.

There was power bursting through him. The Pulse screamed, and he choked.

The Devourer swiped his claws at him again, only for them to be caught by the air itself, keeping the creature at bay. Dreylos stared at the dragon and felt a smile tug at his lips.

“Did you really think I would come here without a plan, Devourer?” he asked. “That I would give up so easily?”

“What have you done?” The Devourer threw himself at Dreylos again, the shadows of his body curling and thrashing. None of them made it within an arm’s reach of either Dreylos or the Gate, the wind creating a shield around them.

“What I am meant to do,” he replied. His voice felt different in his mouth. It was deeper. Resonant. Cold on his tongue. He could feel his body changing as the power took over, shivering in his bones and blood. “I am the Gatekeeper. So long as I stand, the Gates will never be yours, consequences be damned.”

“I will break you!” the Devourer screamed. The lights within his body were breaking, and Dreylos could see the Gate’s glow fading, the power becoming sealed away, cutting itself off from the world. “Any form you take, any solace you seek, any pitiful life you live, I will hunt you down and destroy you!”

Dreylos felt himself shifting. The power was taking its final toll. Eternity was beckoning.

And yet, he smiled.

“Just try.”

And he let the last of his power explode out of him.

Many things happened at once.

The light faded. The Gate was closing, the Pulse being shut away. There was a rumbling, cracking sound as the diamond walls that surrounded the city, keeping the ocean at bay, shattered. The roar of water unleashed, crashing through the streets and over buildings. The furious bellowing of the dragons, the Devourer screaming in rage.

The world trembled. Dreylos’s vision went dark. He could feel himself tearing apart, flesh rent from bone, cell ripped from cell.

By the time the waters reached the Gate, he was already gone.

To be continued in Before the Sky Breaks, book one of The Shattered Pulse Quartet, available now.