Deteca surveyed the space before her, but saw nobody with telltale rocky or plant-covered features, among others, so the Soulcaster must have been a Knight Radiant. She took a deep breath and called out, “ARE THERE ANY ELSECALLERS OR LIGHTWEAVERS HERE?”
She jolted with surprise at finding an actual hush after her words. They listen to me. Sometimes it still didn’t make sense that she had become the leader after Storm, that she had become someone people listened to. A buzz of voices started up again, but quieter, and a few people stepped halfway forward; then a girl who genuinely couldn’t have been more than thirteen wove between the cots and crates, visibly nervous. “I’m a Lightweaver,” she whispered.
Deteca knew that there were young kids with Investiture, and she knew that age was irrelevant when it came to being in TUBA - she’d been pretty young herself when she joined, only a couple years older. What made her eyebrows go up was that the little Lightweaver was here, so close to the ongoing fight. Nobody would’ve forced her to come, regardless of her abilities, so she must be here of her own free will. She had chosen to be brave.
There are teenagers here helping out and what have you been doing? she scolded herself. Worrying because you don’t know how to fight something like this, since you can’t do it with words. How Deteca had managed to convince anyone she should be a Ghostblood, she’d never known; she was fairly certain it was half repeating what they told you to sound knowledgeable and half bravado. She was almost glad some days that they’d found her out, because storms, it had been exhausting.
She snapped herself back to the moment and smiled gently at the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Zaphiris.”
“Well, Zaphiris, do you think you can help me with something? It could save a lot of lives.”
The girl stood a little taller. “What do you need?”
***
The TUBAist soldiers are uneasy. Part of it might be fighting side by side with another guild - who knows what those sneaky assassins are planning? They kill people for money; can they really be trusted enough to be in TUBA’s underground base? Part of it is likely a mixture of horror and terror, a feeling shared by nearly all of them in regards to the fever-dream insanity they battle. And part of it is perhaps because they believe themselves to be losing.
Sure, they’re doing well. As a Dustbringer incinerates a human foe, as an Archivist martial artist and ChayShan user trade off attacks on something they later can’t describe, as an Awakener lashes out with tasseled weapons, they are making an impact. But no matter how many they defeat, there’s always another giant spren or weird combination of animals or armored warrior to replace the dead, flooding in through the sewers.
One Forger determinedly waits behind the lines, brandishing stamps to refill a gun with ammo or make a blade shine sharp. They’re easy histories, ones he has perfected after a lifetime on the streets of various countries. Streets he was happy to leave when TUBA gave him a place. He’ll defend them to the death, he reflects as he refreshes the ink on his sharpness soulstamp. Which this is starting to feel more and more likely to be.
He’s looking hopelessly out over the ocean of pain met by fear incarnate when something catches his eye at the end of his guild’s domain and the beginning of the city’s waste’s. Little specks of silver appearing in the air and falling to the ground. The Forger squints, searching for an explanation, and then a thick sheet of smooth metal stretches without warning from the stone ceiling to the ground.
He stares at the aluminum, openmouthed, just as many others do...then with renewed courage, they push forward, fighting harder with that desperate hope of those who thought all was lost, only to be told a chance exists.
***
Zaphiris swayed, letting out a heavy exhalation of Stormlight as the oxygen accepted her terms and morphed into the wall her leader wanted. She grasped one of the bottom rungs of the ladder to keep herself upright; she’d never tried Soulcasting that much before, and was tiredly delighted to discover that she could. She hoped Baker Nutvry wasn’t going to ask for anything else, because as much as she’d love to help, Zaphiris wasn’t sure she could.
“I did it, Fin,” she murmured to Infinity as the liespren came creeping up her clothes. “This is gonna save people.” She grinned and looked around for Deteca, who had promised her she’d be right there with her.
And that relieved joy was the last thing she felt as something smashed into her side, tearing her soul from her body and that body in two.
