Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (3)

Ozriel sneered up at Makiel. “If the burden is so easy to carry, do it yourself.”

“Arrogant!” Makiel shouted. “The weight of all worlds does not rest on your shoulders alone! You are one component in a system that—no. You know all this, you just blind yourself to it.” The Hound turned to the rest of the Court. “He has no excuses. He is a coward who hid while all existence fell apart.”

A crack echoed through the Hall of Judgment.

Fissures spiraled through the cage surrounding the Seat of the Accused. Reality warped and Suriel’s Presence squealed warnings as the air darkened around the Reaper of Worlds.

“There is one person here,” Ozriel said quietly, “who attempted to solve this problem. I even tried to do it within your rules. I looked for any solution, any at all, that didn’t start with burning your world to the ground.”

Cracks spread, and some of the other Judges had summoned their armor. Darkness spread from him like a tree of shadow.

Ozriel drew himself up to his full height and white hair spread out behind him. “I have but one regret: I was too weak to spill just a little more blood. I should have butchered you all!”

Intricate seals spinning with runes bloomed into sapphire light around the Seat of the Accused as Gadrael reinforced the defenses, Razael had her blazing sword in hand and was gathering enough power to crack Sanctum in half, and the Ghost spread her will out in a nebulous working.

They would subdue Ozriel. He might be a match for any of them individually, but not for all of them together.

But Suriel took over.

She spread her will out to the space around Ozriel and she exercised her authority to restore it. The cracks in the cage filled in, the darkness retreated, and the twisting space of the world faded to normal.

Ozriel gave up. He slumped in place, and weariness crossed over his face. Then he tossed Suriel an apologetic half-smile, and she saw a bit of his disguise in him. The new person he’d become.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, excuse me. You’d think I could control my temper better at my age.”

“Now you all see what I have seen,” Makiel said. He had his arms crossed and had made no move to subdue the Reaper. “He is a deranged child gifted with power, and his talents make him think he is the most important being in all creation. I move to strip him of his authority as a Judge and relegate him to what he should have always been: a living weapon.”

Suriel watched Ozriel. Before, he would have risen to the bait and struck back at Makiel. Her Presence could model it accurately.

Instead, he shrugged and grinned. “Can I keep the armor? A white set would clash with my hair, you see.”

Suriel examined him. She spun out the different versions of this trial. Then she picked her preferred one and turned to Makiel.

He had felt her reading Fate and was waiting for her to speak, though he had surely seen which path she would choose.

“What about the Executors he was raising?” she asked.

The Spider interrupted them, staring off into the distances through his glasses. “We have a further breach in Sector Seven. Sector Control is requesting immediate Judge response.”

“The children he raised in Cradle are not powerful enough to intervene in other worlds,” Makiel said to Suriel.

The Ghost manipulated the otherworldly strings of power between her fingers, creating a shape that resembled a balloon. “We could give a wooden bucket enough power to intervene in worlds. But if it were an Executor, it would be corrupted. Happens every time.”

Darandiel’s fingers stopped on her strings for a moment. “Corrupted bucket,” she muttered, and Suriel suspected the Ghost was considering the idea.

“The situation in Sector Seven is devolving rapidly,” Telariel said again, though he didn’t sound particularly urgent.

Makiel looked to Suriel. “We’ll table the issue of the Executors for now. In the meantime, I move we make immediate use of our delinquent asset to help make up for the problem he caused. We leash Ozriel and put him to use. Agreed?”

There was no dissent among the Court. Not even from Suriel.

Not even from Ozriel.

From the Seat of the Accused, he gave an approving nod. “I knew I’d have a mess to clean when I returned. It’s something of a tradition in my family anyway.”

Zakariel looked at him like she was hearing nonsense. She must have expected Ozriel to include a cutting remark about Makiel, or to angle for more freedom.

In a short time, compared to their total lifespans, the Reaper had changed. What Suriel knew, but the others either didn’t understand or didn’t recognize, was that this man had been inside him all along.

Gadrael returned with another artifact, this one a set of iron-and-crystal manacles that could tether entire worlds. He sealed them onto Ozriel’s wrists, but it was Makiel who tuned them with a decree.

“Your authority to alter and conceal Fate is revoked,” the Hound declared, and Suriel felt the shifting of reality as the manacles enacted the Hound’s will. “Your ability to view Fate is restricted to that of a three-star Hound. Your sight is restricted to a six-star Spider. You may only access your Mantle and Scythe with the explicit permission of another Judge. You are bound to follow the lawful commands of any other Judge. You may not free yourself from these restrictions, allow yourself to be freed through inaction, or flee your lawful duties.”