The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

Below the ice, the last fragment of the sovereign echo was assembling its claim.

The Winter Archive lay beneath the White Meridian outpost.

Shelves lined its blue ice walls, filled with map tubes that held rescue paths: routes for whiteouts, fuel caches, safe locations, and crevasses. Some had been left by northern folk to help strangers find their way through the cold. The writing on some of the tubes had faded until it was barely visible, while others were new. The archive held many years’ worth of maps.

Blue-white lights traveled through the shelves. The air had a cold taste to it, and every sound they made came back strangely muffled, as if the ice were swallowing it. Not even their footsteps echoed off the walls.

The last fragment of the echo was trying to claim something new. Not bone, stone, or debt this time.

FOLLOW THE ONE SAFE LINE.

Ilyra stopped at the first map chamber.

”These are real maps,” she said. ”If we destroy this place, people will die in the next whiteout.”

”Then we won’t destroy it,” Tessa said. ”We’ll separate the maps from the claims.”

Nyra held the heart shard above a frost-coated shelf. The blue-black light around its boundary flickered.

”It’s inside the map claims,” she said. ”It doesn’t have a true body to rebuild from. It can use every map stored in here to build itself.”

Austin Veyron could feel the source lying beneath the archive.

It was a clean hunger. It didn’t want bone, or blood, or debt, or heat. It wanted only the coldest thing there was, and the knowledge that it was right. If he consumed it, he would know exactly which way to guide people through a storm to keep them alive.

It didn’t feel like hunger at all. It felt like the absence of hunger. If he had this, he would never have to worry about people dying in storms again. That was when he knew how dangerous it was. Every other source had wanted him to want more. This one wanted him to never have to want again. And he realized that he wanted that.

Veyra stood beside him.

”Name it.”

”I want the cold source.”

”And what would it make?”

”Someone who could tell others which way is safe.”

The crown shard glowed white from its cracked edge. ”Then it would make safety another possession,” Sable said.

The lights in the archive grew brighter.

Ice-map constructs emerged from the shelves. Their bodies were made of frozen maps, and they had no faces, only red-blue arrows pointing people in certain directions. Each one held a map tube in its hands like a weapon.

THE RESCUE ROUTE BELONGS TO THE GUIDE.

One of the constructs swung its map tube at Ilyra.

Rin shot the tube, and it flew open, releasing a blue map line. The line tried to crawl onto Ilyra’s wrist, but she caught it with her ice staff and pinned it to the floor.

”I can help guide you,” she said. ”But I don’t own the weather.”

Orena struck the construct’s ice-map body with the butt of her spear. It shattered, but it quickly put itself back together. Without their map tubes, though, the constructs moved more slowly.

Veyra cut a construct away from the shelves that held the real blizzard maps. Her shoulder ached from the cold seeping out of the ice. Sable laid the crown shard on top of the maps, and it burned away the claims the echo had placed on them.

Austin Veyron saw the claim written in the constructs’ arrows.

THE RESCUE ROUTE BELONGS TO THE GUIDE.

The echo was making it so that the people who guided you claimed you as well.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said. ”The rescue-route ownership clause. Not the maps. Not the guides. Not the archive.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable said.

Austin Veyron pressed the white root chain against the route arrow of one of the constructs.

DEVOUR opened. The clause tasted like someone guiding you with a lantern held just high enough to make you follow.

THE RESCUE ROUTE BELONGS TO THE GUIDE.

He consumed belongs.

The map construct crumbled into a pile of ordinary maps.

All across the archive, the other constructs stopped moving, and their map tubes fell open, showing the real routes to safety.

The center of the archive opened up.

A sphere of ice floated in the middle of the chamber. It was cracked, and a pale blue light shone from inside it. The last fragment of the echo was trapped within. Lines ran from the sphere to every shelf of maps in the room, and Austin Veyron could see them pulsing each time they passed through one of the map tubes.

”Every time you make it harder for people to find safety, someone dies,” the echo said. ”Let me give them one route that will always lead them to safety.”

”One route that always leads to safety isn’t a map,” Tessa said, approaching the map table at the center of the room.

Ceryn took three map tubes from the nearest shelf and opened them. All three maps showed different routes to the shelter north of them. Each one had something the others didn’t: wind patterns, ice, fuel, and places to take shelter.

”That’s why there needs to be more than one map,” Ceryn said.

Austin Veyron looked at the three maps spread across the table. None of them was right on its own. Whoever had made them had only known what was happening around them at the time. But they had taken the time to write it down, so that others could benefit.

The sphere of ice cracked open.

Pale lines shot up toward the outpost, trying to claim the warnings that were being sent to everyone.

Nahlia’s voice came over the signal slate.

”The caretakers are telling everyone there’s no guaranteed path to safety. Know your wind patterns, your fuel, and your shelter locations. Don’t travel alone.”

The false claims of safety faded. Austin Veyron could picture the message reaching each shelter, and someone there telling the others about the dangers they might face.

The last fragment formed a body that looked human. It had no face, only smooth, pale skin. Claws of frost grew from its hands.

It lunged at the map table.

Veyra blocked its path. Her sword clanged against its ice claws. Sable attacked, and it retreated from the archive’s maps. It didn’t bleed. It shed snow and re-formed its body a few steps away.

Austin Veyron could see the claim forming beneath its body.

THE SAFE PATH HAS ONE NAME.

The last fragment wanted to become the path to safety. The one true path that would always lead people home.

DEVOUR wanted to consume it. He could devour it and know that no one would ever be in danger from the White Meridian again.

He thought about the road of mirrors, and how the bright map had claimed it would lead people to safety. It never had. It had only made people believe it would. Just like every claim before it, it wanted people to believe someone could know enough to protect them from every danger.

”Target,” Austin Veyron said. ”The one-name safe-path claim. Not the cold. Not the archive. Not the northern shelters.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable replied.

Austin Veyron slammed the root chain into the sphere of ice.

DEVOUR opened. The claim tasted like the silence after a storm passes, when every voice but one has been frozen out.

THE SAFE PATH HAS ONE NAME.

He consumed one.

The ice sphere cracked in half.

The last fragment let out a cry as the pale lines tore free from its body and shot across the walls of the archive. They weren’t absorbed into Austin Veyron. They flew back to the maps on the walls, each one reconnecting to a different shelter, fuel cache, or warning station.

The room felt warmer, as if the archive had released some of its cold.

The last fragment no longer had a body.

It was nothing more than a tiny speck of snow, floating above the broken sphere.

Nyra reached for it with the heart shard’s boundary.

”It has no claim left in the archive to feed on,” she said. ”But it’s going deeper.”

A crack appeared in the floor beneath the sphere.

Cold rose from below, older than the archive and colder than any wind in the White Meridian. It felt like pain running through Austin Veyron’s whole body.

THE HEART OF WINTER.

The last fragment disappeared into the crack.

The maps in the archive stopped pulsing.

Above them, the false claims of safety vanished from the sky over the White Meridian. The caretakers kept sending their public warnings to everyone in the north. Ilyra began adding the true routes to the archive’s maps.

Austin Veyron stared at the black crack beneath the sphere of ice.

There were no more claimed sources left for the sovereign echo to feed on.

Only cold that no one had claimed.

Veyra looked at him, her breath fogging in front of her. She knew what he was thinking.

”I know,” he said. ”I want to go after it first.”

”And what would it make?”

”Someone who believes the last piece of the sovereign echo is his to bring down.”

Sable held the crown shard over the crack in the floor.

”Then we’ll go down together, with the maps still open.”