Chapter 95 THE HIGH COUNCIL’S DEBT

Chapter 95 THE HIGH COUNCIL’S DEBT
The metal deck of the black submarine felt freezing under my knees. Salt water and thick red blood pooled around my shins, dripping down into the iron grating.

I didn't care about the cold. I didn't care about the twelve old men and women standing around us in their silver robes. I only cared about the little girl gasping for air against my ribs.

"Stay behind me, Seraphina," I whispered, my voice sounding like two dry rocks grinding together.

I leaned my body over hers, my single black-stained wing flaring out to hide her small, shaking frame from their sight. My right arm, the heavy purple bone claw, was trembling, the dark smoke of the World-Eater rising from my skeletal fingers in weak, thin lines. The fight in the cavern had emptied my tank, and the cutlass wound in my side was a screaming line of pure fire.

But the hatred inside my belly didn't care about my broken meat.

The High Council, my mind hammered against my skull. The people who paid the captain to cut me open. The people who bought the wires to ruin my sister. They aren't gods hiding in a palace. They are just old thieves living in a metal tube.

"You talk too much for people hiding behind iron masks," I hissed, glaring up at the tall woman with the silver staff.

The woman didn't move. Her gear-shaped mask didn't have eyeholes, just thin slits that glowed with a dull, oily blue light. She raised her silver staff and tapped the metal deck once.

CLANG.

"The battery is aggressive," the woman said, her voice sounding flat, empty, and mechanical. "The Emperor was a weak manager. He let the fuel grow teeth. We should have harvested the kitchen five years ago, before the bone infection spread to the core."

"The Emperor is at the bottom of the ocean," I said, a cruel, bloody smile breaking through the ash on my lips. "And if you step any closer to my sister, I will put you right next to him."

The old men and women in the circle gave a low, collective murmur. It wasn't a sound of fear. It sounded like a group of butchers looking at a cow that was trying to kick.

"The Emperor is not dead, child," a short man on the left said, his gear-mask clicking as he tilted his head. "The crown has many heads. The meat we lose in the trenches is easily restitched. But the purple fire you carry... that is the only piece we cannot replicate."

Before I could process his words, a loud, wet SQUELCH came from the edge of the iron deck behind the Council.

Two massive, red iron cables shot up from the dark water, wrapping around the short man's ankles. With a sudden, brutal yank, the man was dragged backward out of the circle, his silver robe tearing open as he fell into the foam with a muffled shriek.

The iron mother rose out of the sea.

Her rusted steel face was completely split down the middle now, showing the pulsing red engine inside her throat. She didn't have her axe, but her hands were giant nests of wriggling red wires that slammed onto the deck with a heavy, metallic thud.

"Aria! Run!" my mother's roar vibrated right through the steel under my boots.

The tall woman with the silver staff didn't even turn around to look at the monster. She simply pointed the tip of her staff straight at the iron mother’s chest.

ZAP!

A blinding beam of solid green lightning shot out of the silver staff, hitting my mother right where the red engine was beating. The iron mother let out a terrible, electronic scream, her wire body stiffening as the green electricity began to melt her red cables into gray slag. She fell to her knees, her rusted face slamming onto the deck just inches from my wing.

"Mother!" I shrieked, trying to lunge forward.

But the tall woman turned the staff toward me. The green light flared again, hitting my right shoulder.

The pain was a million times worse than the cutlass blade. It didn't cut; it dissolved. I felt the sharp purple bones in my claw click and snap, the dark smoke of the World-Eater being sucked backward into my chest like water down a drain. The force of the shock threw me flat on my back, my head bouncing hard against the iron grating.

I couldn't move my arms. I couldn't move my legs. I lay there, paralyzed, my eyes wide as the tall woman walked over to me, her heavy silver robes dragging through my blood.

She stood directly over me, the glowing blue slits of her gear-mask staring down into my face. She raised her foot, her heavy iron boot pressing hard against the open wound in my side, making my vision turn completely black at the edges.

"The core is ripe," the woman whispered, her silver staff vibrating against my throat. "Bring the little one. The weaver needs a clean line to tie the knot."

Two guards in black leather armor stepped out from the submarine's hatch, their hands reaching down to grab Seraphina by her hair. My sister didn't even have the strength to scream; she just let out a tiny, broken whimper as they dragged her away across the iron floor.

"Let... her... go," I choked out, a thick stream of dark blood pouring out of my mouth.

I couldn't fight. The purple fire was gone, locked behind the green magic of her staff. I was nothing but a kitchen maid again, broken and bleeding on the floor while they took my family apart.

The tall woman leaned down, her faceless mask inches from my nose.

"You think you are the victim here, Aria?" she asked, her mechanical voice dropping into a soft, terrifying purr. "We didn't steal your father's skin. We didn't build the clock in your sister's head. Look at the staff."

I forced my good eye to look at the top of her silver staff.

Etched into the cold metal was a small, round emblem, a picture of a kitchen knife crossed with a wooden rolling pin. It was the exact mark my father used to stamp onto the bottom of his bread loaves.

"Your father didn't wash pots, child," the woman whispered, her iron fingers reaching up to slowly slide the gear-mask off her face. "He was the First Weaver. And I am your grandmother."