Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11)

That statement had worked to flatter the Arelius Patriarch’s ego, but it was also the truth. The generally accepted limit was that one person could only take one inheritance. It settled much deeper than an ordinary dream tablet; rather than simply adding memories, it was supposed to be like adding to your very identity.

panicked, one-eyed leaves had drifted throughout the city and whispered reassurance.

The Rippling Sword was a silver-and-red wave of madra that expanded as it flew, scraping the entire island clean between the mountain and the town.

That wasn’t as simple as it sounded, and Dross knew it. Though they had enough hunger madra to now supply anyone they wanted, an arm would have to be compatible with its host spirit. They would also need a spirit Enforcer technique to separate the madra they drained. And without a mind-spirit to filter out stolen thoughts, they would risk losing th

But worries didn’t solve problems. Preparation did.

Not long ago, a Monarch might have been able to kill a Dreadgod. It still would have been a legendary feat, but within the realm of possibility. What stopped it from happening was the cooperation between the Dreadgods…and the knowledge that while one remained dead, the others shared its power.

[Time can be slowed, accelerated, or temporarily frozen in a local radius,] Dross explained. [Truly an unrivaled power…if it can be recreated. But the riddle of time has baffled Monarchs since Emala, and of course, it has been overcome once before.]

The entire Iteration shook as Death entered.

Lindon’s right arm blazed with overwhelming, ravenous hunger. It writhed like a bag of snakes, as though every muscle in it had come to life separately. And the scripted cloth Malice had used to seal the limb finally unraveled. The desire to steal, to devour, to take everything hit Lindon in a wave. Above and behind him, reality twisted as an Icon

Lindon didn’t mind treating them all with respect. Manners were free.