“I have served you. We all have. We haven’t been perfect, but we’ve done your will and more. I am not asking for a reward. I am asking you to allow us to have the lives we have earned.”
Still there was silence and judgment. She felt a flare of anger well within her.
“I am not one of the original Chosen. I was not crafted by the hands of gods to fill my role like Ether was. I was just a human, touched by the gods in some accident of fate. But I have served you. I have listened to your council. I would have given anything to save my world. But the world is safe now. Against all odds I have survived, and I have found a family again. I would die for my world, but for my family, that isn’t enough. For my family, I intend to do something far more important. I intend to live for them.”
The beings around her became more distinct. It was still too painful, too intense to look upon them directly, but she could see something of their shapes, feel something of their nature. And she could feel that the ember of a spirit that remained of Deacon was rapidly dwindling.
“I know what you want. I know you want to take him. Because he defied your will. Because he trod ground that was only meant for you. Or perhaps just because it is blasted fate that he should die, here and now. I heard your messages. I understood the meaning of the tests within the forest. I am to let him go. To allow this sacrifice as the price of victory. Of safety. I will not pay that price. Not when I know it is your will alone that prevents me from having the life I fought to have. Not when it serves no purpose but to satisfy your whims.”
She felt a pressure begin to drive her away. Deacon’s weakening form began to slip free. She held tighter.
“No. I know you created this world and everything in it. I know you gave me the power to defend it and the wisdom to solve its problems. I fight the battles you dare not fight. I right the wrongs of those beings who would destroy your work. I am Chosen. You chose me. And I choose him.”
She felt something change. The wills began to shift. Without language, she felt their judgments, one by one. With each decision, she felt their force more powerfully upon her. The words of the gods, thrust into her mind.
No.
A wave of power pushed her away.
No.
Her grip on Deacon weakened.
No.
She faltered, slipping back.
No. No. No.
…
Yes.
Around her, she felt the gathering of gods part until only three remained. Separate from the rest, she could feel more of their nature. One was the embodiment of mischief. One was a roiling golden form of war and battle. And one, so similar to the being of war, was something else. Something familiar. It was a spirit she had known in life, but distilled somehow. Purified by the fires of death.
It was Lain.
Not an echo of the past. Not another lingering spirit. It was, in a way, more purely the creature she had known than he had ever been in life. The mortal part of him was burned away, leaving only the divine. He, and the other dissenters, had spoken. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, the others listened.
They vanished, and with them the force holding her at bay. She drew Deacon to her and turned her focus to the world below.
The world was dim. The constellation of souls was too far away, or her strength had waned too much for her to sense it. She searched for the pure, intense strength of Ether, her beacon back to her body. She could feel that it was somewhere, but she couldn’t follow it. It was too indistinct.
She’d waited too long.
Deacon’s spirit beside her shuddered. She drew it close and felt his calm, serene thoughts. At first, it felt like acceptance. Like he was resigned to his fate and content to spend this final moment with the one he loved in life. But as the thoughts became clearer, she realized there was something else. He had been looking for something else. And he had found it.
She turned her focus once more below. She felt it too. Bright, strong. It wasn’t where she needed to go. But if she had only one choice of a final spirit to seek in this life, and this moment, it was this one.
#
Ivy stood, hands clutched before her. Myranda had slowly slumped onto Deacon’s chest as the minutes of focus passed on. The only indication that Myranda was alive was the glow of her staff. It was all but dark now. Myn’s head hung low, great snout nuzzled beneath Deacon’s cold hand. Ether watched and waited. Ayna and Calypso worked their craft. Minutes had passed. They’d felt like hours. Ether lowered her head.
“I feel nothing,” she said quietly.
“If there is something there, it is weak,” Calypso said.
Ivy’s ears flicked. She sniffed the air. “How…” Her head snapped around. “Where?” She squinted into the distance. A shivering figure was plodding toward them.
“It doesn’t matter how. If anything will work, this will.” She dashed toward the figure. “Just keep them alive! Just a little longer.”
She reached the woman approaching. It was Sadie, Leo still in her arms.
“This way, fast!” Ivy urged.
She rushed Sadie toward the others.
“What happened, Miss Ivy? Where are we? I was in the palace, and everything went white, and then I was walking through places that I knew I couldn’t have reached.”
“If there are answers, you’ll have them later, just hurry. Lives depend on it!”
They reached the others. Ivy tugged Leo from Sadie’s arms and set him on the ground beside his parents. Leo toddled forward and nestled between them. There was no flash of magic. There was no glimmer of power. Leo simply cuddled closer to the cool bodies of his mother and father and sat with a look of calm and serenity.
The moments dragged on. Slowly, Ether’s expression changed. “Stop,” she said. “Leave them be.”
“Are you certain? I feel nothing at all,” Calypso said.
“If they are to live, they must live on their own. Leave them be,” she said.
The wizards obeyed. Their wills eased. Seconds passed.
“Come on, Myranda,” Ivy begged.
Seconds more. Slowly, imperceptibly, her chest rose and fell. Ivy crouched down and pulled her aside, resting her on the ground. A second breath came and went, too cold to even curl as vapor. Now Deacon took a reedy breath.
“We need to warm them up,” Ivy said. “Myn!”
The dragon tenderly slipped a paw beneath the trio and raised them to her. She curled her wings around them and held them tightly against her body. A soft puff of flame curled from her nostrils. Warmed blood surged through her veins. Myranda shivered. Her eyes fluttered open. Myn set them down again. Myranda groped for Deacon and Leo. Ivy guided their hands together. Leo gripped Myranda’s hand. Myranda’s fingers tightened around Deacon’s. A moment later, Deacon weakly gripped hers in return.
Ivy laughed gleefully and threw her arms around Ether. The shapeshifter reluctantly hugged her back. Myn lowered her muzzle until her nose was nearly touching Myranda’s.
“Never again, Myranda,” she stated.
Myranda raised a shaky hand and patted the dragon’s snout. “Never again. Now let’s go home.”
Epilogue
The months that followed were tense for the world. Deacon’s mystic tampering had been felt in every corner of it. Little true damage was done, but some effects still lingered. In a world so recently held hostage by the whims of dark wizards, casting so sweeping an unexplained and potentially apocalyptic wave of magic across the many kingdoms was not something that could simply be dismissed and forgiven. It had taken great efforts by Myranda, Deacon, and Caya to quell the fury of the crowned heads of Ulvard and Tressor. War most certainly would have erupted again if not for the still-fresh memory of the price of the Perpetual War.
A day earlier, the final discussion had ended. Assurances had been given. Treaties had been signed. The troops that had gathered at the borders stood down. Travel resumed, and not a moment too soon. Some thi
ngs simply would not bow to the slow grind of diplomacy.
“Ah, finally, the cave,” Ayna said. “I never thought I’d be happy to see the blasted, confining, mystically stifling nightmare of a place.”
While Anya had avoided as many as she could manage, Calypso had proved indispensable in the discussions. Deacon’s near catastrophic use of magic had stoked an already simmering fear of the mystic arts. Having a peerless wizard without an allegiance to any particular kingdom served to provide what most of the other diplomats perceived as an unbiased point of view on the arcane.
Of course, the revelation that there was a previously unknown village with a legion of incomparably skilled wizards may have influenced the shifting attitudes of the Ulvardians. A wise leader does not issue a blanket condemnation of magic while sharing a border with the greatest concentration of mystic expertise the world had ever known.
The pair of wizards were traveling courtesy of Calypso’s magic. The icy sleigh the water mage had conjured was a good deal slower than what Ayna could manage on her own, but the need to carry some significant cargo and the unspoken desire for company during the trip had persuaded Ayna to hitch a ride.
Calypso flipped open her Entwell messenger pad. There were eight such pads now, not counting the one within Entwell itself. All five of the kingdoms on the continent had one, in addition to the personal one kept by Calypso. At present, two of them were en route across the Crescent Sea to be presented to the people of North and South Crescent. Once they were in place, Entwell would well and truly be a part of the world that it had so long been hidden from.
“According to Deacon, the falls relented two days ago. They’ve never been silent for less than three days, to my knowledge. You know the way better than anyone, and you can fly. You ought to be able to clear it in hours.”
“Alone, certainly. But I have to drag you along, in all of your flopping, land-bound fishiness.” She grumbled. “At this rate you’ll have to stuff me into that blasted jar again. The flood is sure to start before we reach Entwell.”
“Er. Yes. About that. I have some rather good news for you in that regard,” Calypso said.
“What possible good news could you have for me with the prospect of a days-long plunge into the heart of a mountain with the slenderest thread of a breeze connecting me to the proper wind of the outside?”
“You won’t have to drag a flopping, land-bound fish with you.”
Ayna turned to her, face stricken with poorly hidden dismay. “What?” she said. “You aren’t actually thinking of remaining among these backward, uncultured clods.”
“I would counter that they are neither backward, nor uncultured, nor clods, but I do believe I will spend a few months more in the greater world. My role of ambassador is not entirely complete. There are still the Crescents for me to tour. By virtue of their distance and the borders closed by the Perpetual War, we’ve not seen newcomers from those lands in ages. I am rather looking forward to seeing what has become of the land I’ve only heard secondhand stories about.”
“But… you…” Ayna shut her eyes and shook off the flustered tone. “You would send me through that blasted cave alone?”
“You rose to the challenge on the way out. I think the cave is no match for you now.”
“Well—wh… naturally, this is so, but we have traveled as a pair for so long. I… what of you? Hmm? How will you return, when the time comes? I suppose you’ll expect me to come and fetch you. Not to speak ill of my kind, but I know the other fairies of Entwell well enough to know none of them have the fortitude to make the journey alone.”
“Visiting the Crescents will take me across the sea. I can simply return through the seaward passage when the time comes.”
“I… but that’s… we could have discussed it.”
“I would have thought you would be happy to be rid of me.”
Ayna crossed her arms and gritted her teeth. “Long past time for it,” she said with little conviction.
Calypso eased the sleigh to a stop. The mouth of the Cave of the Beast was just ahead. A ragged and ruddy figure crouched in the darkness of the cave’s mouth, sheltered from the wind while a small fire crackled at his feet and cast him in its dim glow. The man stood and stepped into the brighter light of day. It was Desmeres.
“Ah! I am pleased to see I timed my journey properly.” Calypso stepped from the sleigh, which slumped into the snow it had been conjured from. “I trust you have not been waiting long.”
“A few hours,” he said. “I moved as swiftly as I could. I have had quite enough of that cave for one lifetime. Are you the one who will be escorting me back?”
“I did indeed volunteer for that duty.”
Ayna gave Calypso a hard look and buzzed in front of her. “You what?! Just how long did you have this extended sabbatical from your Entwell duties planned?”
“If you would have attended a few more of the meetings with the nobles, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Calypso jabbed playfully. She turned to Desmeres. “I have something for you that I was told you would be eager to have.”
Calypso pulled open a pack by her side. She withdrew a dagger in a freshly made sheath.
“Ah…” Desmeres said, accepting the weapon as though he were being reunited with an old friend. He slipped it from the sheath and looked it over. “You’ve had a few more chapters added to your story, haven’t you?” he said. “At the center of a catastrophe. Used to strike down a king who had made himself into something of a god. Used to ward off a demon. Wielded by a fallen warrior pulled from history itself.”
Desmeres turned the blade to watch the gleam creep across the edge. “My first true collaboration, and it is a god-killer of a dagger with not a nick or scratch to show for it.” He slipped it back into the sheath and hung the weapon at his side. “And it isn’t even my best work. I’m rather looking forward to how the next collaboration comes out.”
Ayna buzzed behind him and pointed. “Is that what this hideous weapon of war is destined to be?” she said.
Desmeres reached back and slipped an unfinished sword from its place on his back. “This? I suppose you could call it that. The last work of my father. If would be a crime to make it less than the absolute finest example of my craft when I am through with it, but in light of recent events, that is a rather high bar to cross. It’ll take some time, but I believe I am up for the challenge.”
A clacking sound drew their attention to the mouth of the cave. Calypso took a step back as another familiar, but altogether more unnatural, form emerged from the darkness. It was the mismatched and stitched-together tapestry of an animal known as Mott.
“Ah… so that followed you,” Calypso said.
Mott took a few skittery steps back. Its head and tail sagged a bit as it sheepishly looked away, clearly remembering the less than courteous impression it had made upon Calypso during their last meeting.
“Evidently he decided he wished to return to his post, guarding Epidime’s cavern, at least until a more formal solution can be found.” He looked at the creature. “Not that he did a particularly good job last time.”
Mott eyed him irritably.
“I suspect he will do fine,” Calypso said. “He’s certainly threatening enough. And it won’t take much to keep people from wanting to explore this particular cave. Despite my best efforts, I am getting the distinct impression that the people of the northern kingdoms and Tressor are growing wary of magic and its practitioners. I wouldn’t anticipate a rush of hopeful apprentices, even knowing what waits on the other side.”
The fairy buzzed to the mouth of the cave and paused. An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her little body at the prospect of continuing. Calypso smirked.
“You know, Ayna, I’m sure you’re welcome to join me as I finish up my tour.”
“No… This cave is… I have something to prove to myself regarding this cave. And I don’t have the same taste for these kingdoms as you.” She darte
d back and jabbed a finger in Calypso’s face. “But you hurry back, do you understand? You have an obligation to the people of Entwell.”
“Of course,” Calypso said.
The fairy nodded, took a deep breath, and buzzed into the cave. Calypso turned to Desmeres.
“And what about you? Shall we wait here until you recover? Or are you eager to be on your way?”
He held out his hands. One of them was weathered and toughened. The other was strangely pale and pristine. Both were flesh and blood.
“I believe I have achieved the recovery I was after. If you are able, I would much prefer to return as swiftly as possible.”
“By all means,” Calypso said, raising her fingers and stirring the snow to rise to a larger, sturdier sleigh. “I imagine, as you are still technically meant to be in the custody of Queen Caya, it would be appropriate not to delay.”
Desmeres considered her words. “I suppose you are correct, but that did not even enter my mind.”
“Then why the hurry?” she asked, putting the finishing touches on the sleigh.
“There is a woman at home. I know she never truly needed me, but I hope after these last few months she still has use for me.” He stepped into the sleigh beside Calypso. “I miss her terribly. And as I’ve said, I find myself quite optimistic about beginning a new collaboration.”
Calypso laughed. “Well then I’ll be sure to get you there as soon as I can.”
#
The journey home had taken several days. Worsening weather had slowed them such that Myranda and Deacon hadn’t reached the palace until long after Leo’s bedtime. Deacon cradled the sleeping boy in his arms as Sadie prepared his room.
“I’m surprised Ivy wasn’t here to scold us for being so late,” Deacon whispered.
“She’s off with Ether. It’s Celia’s birthday, remember?” Myranda said.
“Ah. Yes. I never would have dreamed they would spend so much time together.”
“That’s what family is about.”
Deacon gazed down at his boy. “He’s already grown so much,” he whispered.
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