Chapter 1: 00: DEATH OF A HERO

Immortal soldiers from the Sect of Sinum dragged John Pendergast to a sacrificial circle. In the jungles below, thousands of sect followers waited for their king and master Ba’l Akil. Labat, Akil’s queen, squeezed the armrests of her throne with crushing force. The sight of John stirred bitter memories.

Goodbye Pendergast, she muttered. Rest in hell.

A cool note in the humidity signaled that ether flowed in the air. Labat raised her arms to thank Mother and swayed to the music played by sect performers. The men beat bone mallets against human-hide drums while a meter away, the ba’latu harranum—Akil’s harem—amplified the crowd.

John’s wet death wafted through the courtyard where Labat sat, and the scent prickled her hunger. She raked her fingers through her wolf Nasar’s fur as she watched the palace doors. Soon, the entry parted for Akil, and cheers erupted. Labat jolted from her throne at the sight of him, uttering his title—Master. A hand clamped over hers. Her attention jerked aside. She scowled at the boy seated beside her.

“What do you want?”

He stared with dull eyes, replying with slow language because he was born stupid. Their human captors had named him it, though she re-titled him Zib after Akil freed them.

“Sit, Sa-ee-ha.”

Saiha. Only Zib and Akil could use that mortal name, though hearing it always stung.

“Did you tell me to sit?”

Zib nodded. “Yes. You. Down.”

“I’m Queen of Sinum, child." Labat flared. "I'm the Lioness of Vangral. Akil crowned me a ruler of Isten Dar and no one compares!”

“Yes,” said Zib. “Know.”

“Right. So don’t tell me what to do!”

Zib pointed at the Sinum authorities observing from the shadows. Cursed with partial humanity—and a mongrel by Vangrali standards—Labat felt them waiting for her to make an error. Zib’s eyes flooded with black as he bared his fangs, ones he couldn’t retract. Labat settled, and Akil continued.

“Faithful brood. I present an unrivaled gift this Harvest—the head of Admiral John Pendergast." Akil halted, holding up a hand to pause himself. “No. Wrong. You’re not an admiral anymore. You're not president of your family’s company of hunters either. Your eldest manages Silatem now. I’ll take his head next.” A gust of wind, a sigh from Mother, rushed over the island. “You’re Union General, the elected leader of humanity. Global news feeds say I should be impressed, but I find that hard to do. You held the chair for less than a year.”

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Akil listed John’s crimes. Labat confirmed each one.

Hapiru, maridu, mar mat nakiri—traitor, liar, heathen!

“You won awards for our genocide while poisoning us with your mortal diseases. Left unchecked, humanity will destroy this planet, but I won’t let that happen. I’ll obliterate you first.”

Energy surged as the sect chanted—FOR THE GLORY. Labat’s fangs descended. Akil delivered John’s judgment.

“You’re sentenced to wander El-Akalut's endless gardens for eternity, where the void will mirror your pain one-thousand-fold. Galu ina libbi giru. No God can help you.”

Akil beckoned his favored acolyte to approach, and the golden-skinned male hurried to the circle with Akil's ceremonial scimitar. Musicians launched Sinum’s death march, and prayers swelled. Zib chanted along like they were playing a game.

“Su sa ilutu—su sa kutu—su sa sutu!”

He who is divine. He who is mighty. He who rises.

Labat drifted from her throne another time.

Akil wrenched John from the ground, forcing the man to kneel. John remained silent as the scimitar's edge pressed against his throat, attempting to conceal his pain because he understood they'd feed from his turmoil, too. His abstinence made Labat laugh. The effort didn’t matter. Their sacrifice would proceed.

The swipe against John sprayed red, and metallic smells swallowed the courtyard. Physical sensations melded with spiritual as Akil dragged John to each rune of the circle, drowning the marks in fluid.

“Hiba.” He extended the sword to Labat. “My lioness. Come.”

Labat glided to him in a daze. She arched her small form in his presence.

“Brothers and sisters. Ahu wa ahatu.” His words echoed. “Your queen brought John to us with her cleverness. Exalt her!”

The cheers swelled. Akil released John into Labat’s grip, and she summoned forces from the ether to ease John to the ground. The sect fell to silence. No soothing trill of gryllidae serenaded the calm.

Labat threw her weight against the sword and pushed her way through John’s neck. His head fell with a muted thud, and she dropped the scimitar to seize the prize. Returning to Akil, she knelt before him, tracing the engraved inscriptions below her until Akil commanded her to rise.

“Stand.”

She stood.

He dabbed her face with John’s blood as she nestled against his touch. The tribe chanted—HIBTI LABAT, HIBTI LABAT.

Beloved Labat.

Beloved.

The crowd roared when Akil raised John’s head toward the twin moons. He beckoned his acolyte to approach within the noise.

“Drive a spike through the skull.” Labat felt the stir of Akil’s voice through her veins. “Place it in the garden and remove his eyelids so he can see. Turn him towards El-Akalut and let him worship our great tree.”

The acolyte bowed, holding the head aloft. “Yes, Master.”

Amid chants, Akil and Labat returned to the palace where another prize awaited them there. Sally Southland, a diplomat from John’s landing party, lay on the floor of Akil’s bedchamber. Drained of blood, she no longer pleaded for mercy or her poor sons. She’d boasted fluency in Vangrali tongue and chattered with painful tempo.

“A tremendous day, Ba’l.” Sally shook Akil’s hand, tears dotting her eyes. “Thanks for taking this stride. After one thousand years, we’ll find peace.”

“Nu-kan-ooh. Shaka-nooh. Oooh-ooh.” Labat mimicked Sally’s pronunciation. “Awful. You’ll never be able to vocalize celestial sounds.”

Sally stirred on the ground and Akil moved to snap her neck. He paused when Labat touched his arm.

“Not yet.” Labat removed her dress. “I want to hear her cry.”

Akil surveyed her naked form.

“You’d wring blood from a stone.”

“True.”

Akil drank from Sally one last time before flinging Labat to the bed. Sally flavored his kiss, and Labat’s heart moved with mortal rhythm when he bit her. In those moments where she belonged to Akil, she felt close to alive.