Crunch time fell fast to Echo’s perception of collapsing timespace. There was need to see through her plan despite lack of Rory’s arrival and Hitheroth’s enraged attention on full—Countess Vysara seeing fit to dispatch all forces available toward her fully revealed opponent.

Horus was ever absent in Rheinmasst’s realm—he’d not the reach.

Bolts were forging inside the smithing encapsulation found within the slavery enforced mechanical workshops adjacent the rupturing furnace of heart Echo struck with such callous disregard to her own feeling in faith. It was an overreach which would prove reflective of the same mistake made over in bizarre occurrence which couldn’t be explained in any other way than subconsciously led self-sabotage.

Echo projected veneers of acclaim. She’d explain her womanhood and the way she’d feel it always and forever as a steady presence within her, and that was a true fact. One falseness was borne into everything outward—she hated herself for being an addict.

She couldn’t operate in anyway but functions of pattern and would latch onto any device which might help and think it a solution at last—their answer. Like every other affliction her previous home of Earth would see some fault of the one exhibiting traumatized humanity in action, this was not a disease to be understood as some blame of a person, it was only and forever the failing of a society which didn’t seek to find proper means for caring of its citizenry.

Addiction would always exist as one thing; substitute for actual happiness.

Realizations would prove to grant forgiveness in time and the lessening grip of her fury’s wrath would seek to unleash peace anew within Echo Béleaph.

Time was slipping again and she could tell—they’d not made a mistake to come here and try for more ammunition, the sights were valid to hearts need for knowing truth, and belief was found in some divinity of their delay—Echo felt the need to move on.

She was pounding feet through the hallways of Rheinmasst and it seemed a dance that would set her free. Something in a twist and twirl of surrender to currents that might hold again the woman free of charge.

Semblance had persisted of need to cut another path by eyes alone in sprint. Her departing cut a daggers girth of fear into the chest of Echo. That woman would need to live and require her faithful trust—she’d give it and do what she needed for herself all the same.

Horrified shouting made everything hard to understand for one so prone to feeling beneath the surface, the movement of masses sending Echo’s mind into analytical calculations which bore anxiety into the woman—uncountable encounters with unknowable intentions of bizarre interaction to each person who’d find reaction untoward at her appearance, even in trying moments of hellfire—the oddity ruining her remaining mind’s logic centers outright.

Countess Vysara would be seen to and that would be enough—after Kronokai.

“Nutted!”

She’d made it up. The word didn’t make sense to her but felt right as she watched him scrawling back as he might. The claw arm hanging from a construction jib gripped Kronokai with its intelligence’s powerful and precisely aimed pressure-pointers on him with maximum closeness, not allowing its clamping fingers connection to each other fully, just enough space for some mush.

He would hang this way as she left.

“Why, baby?” Would be Kronokai’s last garbled attempt at shouted words to hit her ears.

The man had been overeager. She’d suffered long his abusive banter on the way to her chosen location in which she led him hatefully by lie of need found in face of Rheinmasst’s pending apocalypse so apparent, that one he hadn’t believed would be of consequence the slightest.

Men could be frustrating obtuse at times in denial of their feelings and Echo would attach this to any and all because of her own belief in her womanhood being a structure of personality and ever seeking to prescribe some definition.

Women would always be one thing—warriors.

Time Throws Fire | Part Eight | Chapter Forty-Nine

the second novel in The Foundry series

Time Throws Fire

Part Eight| Synthesis

Chapter Forty-Nine

Discussion about this post