Atlas

by Nicholas Gagnier

  “What is this?” She lifts the star-shaped locket around her neck with a single finger— the pendant swings in front of her mouth.

  “That,” the Avatar says, “is one of the most powerful objects in existence. It was once called Mother’s Star.”

  The name is not familiar to the Phoenix, who seems to have a troubled history with the locket.

  “My mother gave this to me,” she says. Her tone has changed from angry to winded, trying to keep ancient tears at bay. “I’ve been trying to get rid of it forever. It’s kept me immortal against my will; granted powers I can’t explain. Same as it granted her.

  “What I need to know are the prerequisites for passing it on. Answer me that, and you will have my eternal gratitude.”

  “And why would you wish to pass it on, Phoenix?”

  Harper gulps, drawing her mouth corners tighter as she submits her answer.

  “So that I can die. Like Olivia did.”

  I look between this sullen, defeated woman and the Avatar as both observe a moment of pause. Then, the bright light speaks again.

  “Mother’s Star is an ancient relic fashioned by the blacksmith Piotr in the First Age for his love Meri. Their daughter Athena fell mortally after befriending a demonic trickster named Hiago, who put a curse on the young girl.

  “Meri was devastated by her daughter’s ailing state, and consulted the Council to save her. In the end, only Venicia showed mercy — she allowed the locket to be imbued with Light from the Seed at the cost of Meri’s life, and she dissolved before Athena’s eyes.

  “Angry, grown and now in control of the locket, Athena returned to the Gardens, confronting Hiago for the prank that claimed her mother’s life. She attempted to put a curse on the demon, resulting in Hiago binding the locket to the girl’s soul. It eventually withered her, preventing every attempt to pass the White Light, removing any chance of a normal life.

  “What neither Athena or Hiago realized during this confrontation,” the Avatar continues, “was the locket’s essence split in two — a dichotomy of Light and Darkness, sentenced to perfect harmony. Its wearer was cursed to feed the locket’s insatiable hunger, while being granted powers beyond compare.”

  “If that’s true,” Harper says, “then how did my mother come into possession of it?”

  “The inadvertent curse put on the locket by Hiago comes with caveats. It can be broken. Athena carried it for a thousand years, but eventually dissipated to its growing hunger. According to my archives, it was found by a guard and given to his commoner daughter, a young girl named Dinah, who became instrumental in defending Atlas against Zizzik’s forces. For years, Dinah was reported as wanting to be rid of the locket. She was infamous for murdering her sexual partners, earning the nickname ‘Mantis’ among the troops she commanded—”

  Harper rolls her eyes.

  “Enough with the history lessons, okay? Can we cut to the chase?”

  “Certainly. Let me put it another way — Dinah was only able to pass the locket to her daughter Bethany as she sacrificed herself.”

  “What do you mean, ‘sacrificed herself’?”

  “The locket’s origin story depicts an extreme act of maternal love. In cursing the locket, Hiago made this a permanent condition of its inheritance. Dinah could not give Bethany the locket until there came a moment the relic recognized she would fall under Zizzik’s rebellion, and was bestowing it to save her daughter. Likewise, your mother Olivia was unable to remove Mother’s Star until your final battle against Hale.”

  “Does that mean Olivia’s mother gave her the locket?” I ask on Harper’s behalf — the Phoenix has fallen silent and teary-eyed at this revelation.

  “Negative. The locket went missing at some point during the Second Age. How it made its way to Valhalla, where Olivia came into its possession, is not detailed in my archives.”

  “Okay, then.” I look back at my shaken companion, whose steely hazels are fixed over her shifting jaw. “Tell you what you wanted to know?”

  Harper nods blankly, and I turn back to the Avatar.

  “Tell me how to use the Seed to save Atlas.”

  And so, the foreign being made entirely of constellation-stricken glow does exactly that.

  ***

  Harper and I return to the surface through a passage behind the Avatar’s podium. The Seed of Light in my possession is little more than a perfect sphere of Light that warms my closed palm. I am not sure what part it will play in our coming confrontation with Hannah, but so many parts of her plan have failed — there is no squirming fetus of Darkness in my abdomen, if that counts for anything.

  I hold her ultimate objective in my hand. The only question is how to use it against her.

  The Avatar’s passage offers a kinder slope than the one under the Cathedral, emerging in the Illumitory’s cellar. Escaping into God City, the pink and red hues of sunset dance in the district’s skies. The city beyond the palace steps is eerily quiet. Not a dragon dots the horizon as we leave the Illumitory’s courtyard where the Atlas ball once came under threat from armed outlanders. The Whoville-like houses of my formerly favorite district are emptied of the charming nobles and wealthy spirits who once walked its cobblestone.

  Harper is quiet as I lead her out of God City. We keep to the outskirts, carefully working our way counterclockwise around the Seat, where we are less likely to be spotted than we’d be cutting in front of the Spire. No Brotherhood man the God’s Road, nor do Behemoths cling to the gold tower’s pointed peak.

  The greatest damage is done to the Coliseum district section where we lured a dragon, but is nearly matched by the crumbling border before the Observatory.

  What took millennia to build was destroyed in a few weeks.

  It’s time to make our own mark on this cosmic destruction.

  ***

  “You ready?”

  Inside the Obelisk, the two of us admire the paintings in the administration building’s tapestry walls. I smile, remembering the first time Pol said I couldn’t be Nephalim because I was a woman.

  Harper nods, looking up at the same paintings.

  “I think so,” she says. “You sure about this?”

  I chuckle.

  “Too much history in these halls. The Council thought it could be saved. But you can’t save a soul that’s sold itself to the Devil, right?”

  “If that’s true, what makes you think Tim can be redeemed?”

  A gentle calm spreads across my held breaths.

  “I think it comes down to what you thought he was guilty of in the first place.”

  Harper’s mouth finds its own version of a smile.

  “Man ends the world, and you want to quantify his guilt?”

  “Only because as his accomplice, I’m no better than he was. Reincarnating me changed a million little things, speeding up some scenario in which Earth fell. You don’t think I feel responsible for that, Harper?”

  It’s her turn to chuckle now.

  “You two are really something else. Are we gonna do this thing?”

  I nod.

  “Honor’s all yours.”

  ***

  Ten minutes after imploring the Phoenix to do her thing, an alarm sounds throughout the Barracks. The dragons are first on the scene, illuminated by crackling flames reaching out of the Obelisk’s innards. They are shortly followed by Brotherhood and Mykul; the angel strolls into the Barracks’ courtyard, which is awash in the orange heat pushing the yelling Brotherhood back. Mykul simply observes, joined by a scowling Barrett, who displays shades of frustration he never let slip before his betrayal.

  The Obelisk buckles under intense streaks of flame licking its roof and corners, eating the structure’s weaknesses while whittling down the stronger points. Embers fly off the spreading mouth, forming new fires as they land on the surrounding temples. A lone spell from Harper’s locket became an inferno devouring every building inside the Barracks one-by-one.

  At last, the group below is joined by Hannah. Th
e woman glides up the courtyard, stopping beside the much larger warrior as the Brotherhood panic to put out the disaster.

  I can’t see Hannah’s face, but feel the aura of all her plans backfiring under a rebellion that survives its own failures and is still willing to challenge her, unaware they are watching from above.

  Bet the bitch wasn’t expecting that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  In the eyes of human history, I was a decent agent that got caught up in the dark, underhanded schemes of the FBI’s best men. They tried to kill me, but failed. Next they knew, I had destroyed half of Washington, D.C. confronting them to save a young girl from being sold into sexual slavery. My legacy ends being found catatonic on my bathroom floor a few hours later.

  I have tried to avoid thinking of that aftermath — with Maya dead, nobody was left to mourn me. The media would have had a field day. Indictments rolled off the corpses that hadn’t started to cool. Investigations led to political blame, and the public looked for a scapegoat over fourteen children abducted in broad daylight.

  Walking alongside the surviving members of my party, our approach to the Seat is less tense from our first confrontation with Hannah. Several Behemoths have returned to guarding the Spire — two of them fondle the tower itself, perched vertically like house flies while the larger ones circle them.

  On one side of me is the Phoenix, with Tim and Luca on the other. Black clouds roil the tower as we reach the metal ring running around the Seat’s perimeter.

  Collectively stopped in front of the closed gates, there is no answer to our physical presence but the dead wind, cool and restrained like just before a downpour.

  “Call them out to talk?” I ask.

  Harper chuckles.

  “I’m done talking.”

  The Mother’s Star flares — its white blanket oozes over her shoulder, transitioning hue as it moves under her armpit, over her elbow, snugly swirling around Harper’s wrist. Its manifestation reaches a symmetrical climax at her merged palms, shooting a star from them that hits the gate, not only splitting the golden bars off their hinges, but rips through the massive doors of Atlas’ central palace. One splits in half, its top breaking off into the building’s innards. A second blast from Harper’s locket breaks the door opposite in three sections.

  Thinking nothing of the incensed Behemoths above, or the damage done to a landmark building, she takes lead past the destroyed gates, now toppled in conflicting directions.

  Immediately greeted by numerous Brotherhood evacuating the Council’s old chambers, the plague doctor masks are gone, revealing a plethora of missing teeth and sunken cheekbones. Wielding everything from batons to bare fists and ninja stars, senseless chatter escapes their mouths as several backflip and parry around us. They are followed by Hannah’s usual entourage — Mykul is the first to emerge. Barrett and Seraphina are followed by Hannah herself. The woman looks tired, as if she has been punished by Ziz for her ineptitude in trying to contain us.

  Mykul scowls, eyeing Luca. Hannah’s squinting resentment is fixated on me, Tim’s glued to her. Harper’s death stare at the blond woman is only matched by Barrett’s incensed staredown of Quorroc. Seraphina stares at the floor, contemplating whether this is her moment to act as the Brotherhood purrs on the sidelines, awaiting their kill order.

  “Well, at least you got inside this time,” Hannah snickers. “I assume you’ve heard the definition of insanity — but dears, this will have the same result!”

  “I beg to differ.”

  From the southern tip under the Spire’s massive dome to their position near the north doors, the distance between our parties is more than a sword’s throw but close enough to change quickly. The Brotherhood have blocked off our escape route, waiting to enclose us in a beatdown of battery weapons.

  “And how is that? All you have is Death’s washed-out champion — who doesn’t even want to participate. So, no real loss. The title will be forfeited, and you’ll soon face judgement. I assume you’ve told your little friends about our...rendezvous...haven’t you?”

  Tim frowns at the revelation that I might not have told him something. Luca’s expression doesn’t change.

  But Harper’s does.

  “You think your precious Dark Lord is going to save you?” she asks. “I would think again, witch.”

  For all her failures of late, the woman is not discouraged in the least, and no less smarmy.

  “As much as I would love to see it, Miss Whitaker, you people have a poor track record when it comes to interfering in our plans. So let me tell you all what is going to happen — Miss Knox here is carrying the Dark Lord’s new form in her womb. Oh, did she not tell you, dear husband?”

  I don’t need to look back at the man who calls himself Death, already aware of the betrayal spreading over his face at this news, but it won’t matter long.

  Let the bitch talk.

  She’s about to have the rug pulled out from under her — I’ll allow her the moment of glory.

  “I’m sure you two will have a few discussions ahead. Like, how you’re going to take care of your new responsibility. I’m sure Ramona never saw herself as a mother, did you?”

  “Please,” I smile. “Tell us what happens next.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrow at my newfound condescension. Maybe I am being too obvious, but her world is about to come crashing down — and I cannot fucking wait.

  “When Ziz’s new form comes of age, he will reward you all for your insolence. Do you doubt this? You really shouldn’t.”

  Drive the knife in.

  “Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble. But I couldn’t bear your hellspawn if I wanted to. No matter how much you will it, you will never figure me out.” At Hannah’s morphing expression, I imagine Tim is equally caught between confusion and bewilderment, but all my satisfaction is right here.

  “That’s preposterous,” Hannah scoffs. “Ziz told me it would be you —”

  “I guess even the Devil can get it wrong. I was pretty surprised myself, but I trust the source. I’m infertile. Understand that? Your Dark Lord is up Shit Creek — and I’m about to beat his head underwater with the fucking paddle.”

  She’s lost, and knows it.

  “Then why are we still talking?”

  I chuckle.

  “You and I have unfinished business. But I’m not stupid enough to risk my people further. You have the dragons, and I have the Seed of Light.”

  At the mention of this, the woman’s eyes widen — the central tenet of Ziz’s journey is in her sights. Barrett pouts, bushy white brow drawing anger on his face. He must have tried to access the Avatar for centuries, and tried to convince it to let him hold the Seed himself.

  “Prove it,” Hannah says.

  I shake my head.

  “Uh-uh. You want the Seed, then you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

  “That is a lie!” Barrett yells from behind her. “You don’t even know where the Seed is kept!”

  But Hannah believes me — I wouldn’t have come here, bluffing about something as foolish as the most important power source in Atlas.

  “What do you propose?” she asks. Barrett groans and she hushes him with barely a glance in his direction.

  “Honor the original wager,” I say. “The Phoenix will fight your Champion, in the Arena, as agreed.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Nope. There are new stakes now. If your Champion wins, we give up the Seed, and you can go on your merry way, destroying Creation in any way you see fit.”

  Hannah smiles.

  “And if Mykul loses?”

  “Then you’ll leave Atlas,” I reply, “and take all your twisted followers with you. You’ll accept whatever consequences go with abandoning Ziz — if he murders you and strings you up from a pole, that’s not my problem, lady. But you will leave, and if you’re smart, never fucking return.”

  The proposition weighs heavy on every weathered face in Hannah’s entourage — Barret
t seems the most affected, torn between disgust and rage at the prospect of abandoning his quest for power. Mykul scowls on the sidelines, hanging his head, waiting for Hannah to decide his fate. Seraphina has barely looked up, rendered a ghost of the High Priestess I first met in the Obelisk.

  “Do we have a deal, Hannah?”

  None contemplate the decision more than the blond woman, whose very fate now rests on the choice in front of her.

  Ziz said I would face a trial of my faith.

  She thought it would be Tim, but never saw me coming from a mile away.

  After a moment, Hannah nods.

  “Very well. You have proven yourselves to be worthy adversaries — even if you did start out with a weak display. I have nothing less than faith that the Dark Lord will prevail in this struggle, as he has through every other. I accept your challenge, Miss Knox.”

  “Good. A few ground rules, then. The dragons are to be kept no closer than the Seat during the match. Our champion will have no advantages, other than how you see her now. The same goes for your man.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Next, Tim retains the title of Death, no matter who wins.”

  Hannah scoffs.

  “And why would I keep a known adulterer and unmitigated disaster of a human being in such a prestigious position, Miss Knox? Your relationship with my husband aside, you have to admit he’s not very suitable for the job.”

  I disregard the snark, bitterness and the contempt of her assessment. She has been wrong about everything else, and is wrong about this, too.

  “Because up until the moment he met me, I think he did a pretty good job. I’m like that, you know. Just...cancerous to everything that loves me. And I feel up until the moment you passed on, he was probably a good husband too, wasn’t he?

  “Just because you’re bitter with him doesn’t change the fact that your fight is not with him. That’s according to you, who has chosen to represent Ziz. And what does the Dark Lord care about Death, anyway — or the Shroud, for that matter? Face it, lady. The only legitimate fight you have to pick, if you truly represent Ziz’s interest alone, is with Atlas and the Light.”