by Jamie Magee
Would’ve been’s were not doing shit for him now. Scorpio pushed Toril under massive roots, much like the ones he had found shelter in long ago then cast his glance around the land. To call upon the Gods as he was taught to do by these people he was short on the proper tools and vibe. No fire, no sacrifice, no dance and honor given.
Fire, he could handle. His vim pulled every loose limb and brush to the center of the clearing the one spark from him set it ablaze. There was no time prepare a sacrifice, even if he still believed the life blood of innocents would aid him in his battles.
There was no time for anything, as soon as the fire was ablaze, towering twenty feet in the air the rumble of the land could be felt, the stir of the wind caused Scorpio to pull back his shoulders and stare into the darkness, daring the phantom to appear. Scorpio wanted zero time to think through the fight before him. He was just fine riding the wave of adrenaline.
He only had to wait seconds. Like the beast he was, the phantom stomped his way into the clearing. He was bigger than life, bigger than Scorpio remembered him to be, faceless he was, lacking in visible strength he wasn’t. The gray mist expanded four times larger than Scorpio’s mass, he was three times as tall. Thick as hell with layers and layers of lean muscle.
To make matters worse, Scorpio saw something that stilled his being and clearly let him know the deck was stacked against him, in the worst of ways. The beast was armed. A blade that should’ve never been created was in his hand. Though his size dwarfed the weapon, Scorpio knew the blade was nothing to be underestimated.
He had watched it shred lives, killing men twice over and leaving their souls in limbo. This weapon was the very reason Toril had cursed Reveca as she had. It was always her fear, even before Akan had imprisoned her that Reveca would use this to destroy them all. I feel the power, Toril had said. It is not of this world. Heaven and hell created this. They both demand their payment.
The blade was missing after the battles with Mother Nature at sea, at least that was what Scorpio was told when he finally returned to the Sons. He never trusted it was lost. Scorpio had searched for it—watched what weapons Reveca used in her battles, not once, not even in the latest head to head with Zale had she drawn it.
Now Scorpio knew why. The fucking phantom had taken it!
Scorpio moved into a fighting stance. Deep inside he was sure he heard the phantom laugh at him.
Boldly Scorpio struck. He held back some of his strength, was careful only to expose what the phantom remembered him to have in the past. The war had begun. The phantom beast roared into the night, a call Scorpio had heard it make before when it was searching for Toril.
Scorpio, facing in the phantom, began to turn, he was drawing the beast from Toril, forcing him to wonder where she was hidden. Scorpio never saw the blow the phantom sent his way, but he sure as hell felt it as he hit his knees and cursed.
He rose with a roar and returned the favor, one blow then another, and another, the phantom would sway back, growl, turn the air so cold the night mist turned to ice, but he was doing far better than Scorpio. Holding back was a plan that had gone out the window right about the time he felt the second blow of the phantom, he was able to make Scorpio feel the agony of his assault soul deep. It jarred his system. Not a single instinct had the chance to kick into play.
Blow by blow, he felt his life fading. He felt the ending that would cause him to leave this world as a weak coward. A male too pathetic to fight the unknown. It was Toril and Dust that swarmed his thoughts, who would protect them? Not his fucking Throng obviously, not a one of them had come to aid Scorpio as he engaged in the fight of his life. Surely they had felt his struggle.
It was a bad omen to plan for failure, the kind of failure that will change the course of humanity. Scorpio wished he had. He wished he’d told Dust where to go, how and when he had to leave. He wished he knew if Toril would follow him into the deep sleep of nothing once the spell they had begun fell, or if the wild card the universe was declared she had won, she had taken Reveca, at the very least sent her to judgment.
The next blow sent him to his knees. The one right after spun him clean around. As he fell to the ground, his gaze caught sight of something through the flames. His mother.
She wasn’t alone. His father was with her. The entire council of elders he’d been told was rich with his bloodline was there as well. Each of their figures was standing on the sacrificial rock in all their royal grace, staring down at the battlefield Scorpio was on like he was a gladiator meeting his humbling end.
His first thought was that he was already gone, his second mused maybe they were there to protect his mate—the mate of being like him was the most precious soul among their people. The thought that followed just behind the pair the ones before was marched in by his ego.
This was the first he had seen of the souls who was born to. He was their heir, the hope they gave everything up to save. And what was he doing? Lying on the earth shielding himself from blow after blow. Dodging a weapon made by a witch with magic from the Gaia dimension.
No. Fuck no. If he were to perish, he’d die on his feet, doubting any blow could take him down.
With a roar, he made it his feet. The phantom laughed at him as it jabbed the knife toward him. With a curse, Scorpio’s vim grabbed the blade then soared it toward the tree Toril was still hiding under. It was a gamble, for all he knew the phantom would go after it. What he did know was at the very least Toril had a weapon now, the one she had feared for so long.
The idea of delivering it to her swelled his ego more, and with a battle cry, he raged forward determined as ever to make this being feel the agony it had left with him so long ago. Because of this beast, Toril never knew her son. Dust never knew his mother. Because of this fucker, Scorpio was forced into making the impossible choice of casting a spell over Toril, in the hopes in time it would take one life, but save two. More than two, it would give way for a Throng to rise, and the universe at large to change its course.
It may have been his imagination, but he was sure the beast was shrinking. As it did Scorpio found his second wind, he charged again, sending a blow of vim to the phantom. He didn’t have to glance his mother’s way to see her slight grin, he felt it. The same way he felt it as a boy, had he finally mastered a lesson he was taught.
His father was never much for grinning unless he was staring at his mother, but he had a knack for letting gleam rest in his eyes, a look that could light the world. Tonight it did much the same. The flames of the fire Scorpio had created crept upward, so high it looked as if they touched the stars themselves.
The phantom shrank again as Scorpio felt the rush of support engulf him. He was more than one male, more than one soul. He was all that came before him, all that would come after him.
After the next blow, the phantom was no larger than Scorpio. A pause came, Scorpio was building his reserves and counting. Toril had not moved from where he sent her, his family was still atop a royal platform, but he sensed more. Dust was approaching, careful as ever. He’d followed the emotions stinging the air and the blaze of fire.
Why was this being not fighting him anymore? What was he waiting on? Scorpio began to slowly circle it. Now much smaller it was still faceless, but features were starting to emerge. When he felt the rush of the fight start to quell he struck again, it was best to end this before he lost his audacity.
The phantom nudged him; a beast had turned into a cub, which infuriated Scorpio. It seemed as if the phantom thought this to be a game. It wasn’t a game.
“Fight me,” Scorpio raged, a breath before he sensed Dust appear just before the clearing. Scorpio gave him a barely unseen direction. He wanted Dust ready to defend Toril if this all took a sharp turn once more.
Dust didn’t move. He was awestruck by all that was before him.
Scorpio despised fighting when the other would not fight back. Only those with no control would do such a thing. He had control then, a lesson he had learned before all othe
rs, but he did not have room to let this risk linger.
His vim struck once more.
Scorpio stilled, the entire forest did. One second he was fighting a mist, the next he was looking into a being that reflected his own image.
What the fuck?
The being, now humbled, only gazed back at him. From the corner of Scorpio’s eye, he sensed his parents descending; his father had paused to offer a hand out to Toril, a quiet demand for her rise. His mother was walking boldly toward him. What was once a battlefield now felt like a schooling arena, the kind Scorpio had grown up fighting in, learning within.
“This bridge we must all cross if we wish to ascend,” his mother’s voice was angelic. Even though her image was moving closer, he knew she was worlds away. The ache of loss in his chest told him as much.
She reached Scorpio and the fucked up phantom that was now staring back at him like he was the fool. “The enemy we fight is within. The others come and go, rise and fall, but it is what is within that states our grace with the universe.” She caressed her hand over the mist. “How he seems, massive or humble is a reflection of how you see it to be.”
The aches in Scorpio’s body were eager to disagree; instead, he stared shell-shocked at the female who had brought him into this world.
“This is your power, son.” She smiled moving her affectionate sway of her hand to him. “You were too young to fight it when we were parted. I gave it to you for safe keeping.”
Scorpio glanced at Toril who was being led toward him like a royal by none other than his father. Toril had said nearly the same as what his mother was saying now. The shock in his jade stare was reflecting how much time he had wasted fearing this. And even more time he had meddled through life assuming he had no path. He did have one! He had one that was stolen. What kind of coward steals from a child?
Fucking cowards like Zale and Akan, that’s who.
They’d all pay, Scorpio vowed they would.
“He will roar,” his mother warned. “All that you have seen and fought of him is only a glance of what he is capable of becoming.”
Not a promising insight there at all, ma.
“This passage is meant for you to see the separation of the two, and the union.”
Scorpio drew his brow together as the others began to descend from the platform, within seconds they had all circled him. The phantom was before him, his mother to his left, his woman and father to his right. His son was watching from a distance, not sure if he should step up or not.
“When you rule over the Gods, when you question their faults you remember the fight you have had twice over. You understand this battle roars within them. Unlike you, son. They will not recall a time without this strength. Their struggles of mortal life were forgotten when their throne was taken.”
“I cannot offer forgiveness for tyranny. The Gods must fall.”
“And they will, our generation has failed, son. We forgot our struggles as well. We forgot to stand guard, forgot to teach, to lead.” She smiled sorrowfully. “Your existence had been troubled and will remain so. It is the struggle that will make you a ruler to be remembered. When the new gods stumble, you will know what is just and what is not. You will remember your trials.”
The sensation of approaching your last mile, only to find out it’s not the last one but the last of a phase you are on slammed into Scorpio. He was fucking tired. Life had stretched and toyed with him, idle days had strained his tolerance and forced him to beg for a suitable end, the kind anyone would settle for when they were weary.
Now this. He discovers he’d simply been in some training camp, a waiting room of sorts, and now the real fun began.
“It is wise to mourn,” he heard his father say. “Every passage deserves as much. Everyone but this one,” he glanced down to Toril. “This female does not need a weary male. She needs strength to stand at her side and weather the storm.” His father’s stare moved back to Scorpio. “Your journey until this point was long and troubled, far more than any before you, to prepare you for what is to come. Celebrate this night.” He glanced to where Dust was. “And when his time comes, stand proud and offer him the same assurances.”
“It is time,” an elder said from behind Scorpio.
Words like those never sounded like sunshine and butterflies to Scorpio. His body tensed as he gauged what was coming at him. The being before him began to grow. It began to lose its face once more.
“Your power, November. How you settle this now states your course,” his mother warned.
His spike of fear caused the phantom to grow again, rapidly. Just as Scorpio was about to give into the panic, was the moment his gumption kicked in. It was one of the hardest feats he had ever faced, but he sucked all his fear down into the belly of his soul and let calm rise, the kind of calm he found after every time his soul had met Toril’s.
Before his eyes the beast dwindled, smaller and smaller it became, as more and more calm Scorpio pulled to the surface of his emotions. Moments later the phantom was gone, and in its wake, an amber stone was lying on the floor of the forest.
His mother knelt with all her grace and picked it up. Scorpio was positive he could see it pulsing in the palm of her hand.
“Do you accept the journey before you? Will you rule with a sound mind, love endlessly, and fight courageously?” his mother asked.
Scorpio glanced to his father, to each around him, finally to his son, lastly to his female. “I do,” he whispered.
His mother lifted the stone and placed it on his chest. The cool throb of it lulled Scorpio, then without warning his mother’s power thrust the stone within his chest. No blood, no rip in his flesh, no physical evidence at all, still Scorpio felt as if his body were ripping in two.
He hit his knees gasping for breath as the power thrashed inside of him. Dust could not stay back any longer, He’d charged forward to help him, but the others held him back as the fire bolted from Scorpio’s flesh. His roar stilled the night as the burn ate away at him inside and out.
In the midst of the agony, Scorpio found release. All that had been done to him long ago by Reveca was burning away. Scorpio had worn the shackles for so long that he had forgotten how heavy they were, how much of his true nature they had blocked from him.
Instead of fighting the fire he took deep breaths and held his arms out the side, begging it to take all that had bound him away. The scale of time the experience took felt like lifetimes as all the days he had lived imprisoned began to vanish. He saw each of them in a new light. Not as a victim, but as someone who had chosen to be one.
He did not need this stone; he did not need this ceremony. The power was always within him to purify himself, to rise above oppression. Like so many around him, he allowed the pain. Chose to live with it. No more. The age of him waiting, of him looking for the moment when his life could finally begin was over.
He was living from now onward.
When Scorpio looked up the flames were gone from his body, his mother was gone, and so was his father and council. The fire he had started in the center of the clearing was nothing more than ash.
What was he doing again?
It took him precious seconds to recall. His past was a haze. More so, in a very real way, it was a disappointment. It was glorifying to know you were free, yet horrifying to know you held the key to your cell the entire time.
“The spell,” he rasped. That was it! He was in middle of a jacked-up spell, and the result would either land him in a new misery or with Toril at his side as the rise of new gods came to be.
Dust reached his hand down to his father offering him leverage to stand. Scorpio took it, not out of need but out of the desire to ensure himself Dust was real. If he was real and looking at him wide-eyed, then all that had occurred was not a dream.
Once on his feet Scorpio pulled Toril to his side and breathed in her sweet essence. She was in a state of awe too as her wide gaze searched over him and her hand smoothed over his chest. “Whole.”
/>
“Always was,” he said with a glance back to where his family had stood before.
“What is this?” Dust said seizing Toril’s wrist as she went to lift it to hold more of Scorpio. The blade there, Dust being able to read the runes built the subsided tension once more.
Scorpio reached to release Dust’s grip. “Your mother’s weapon. Leave it be.”
Toril broke from her wide stare with Scorpio and looked to Dust. It was the first time their eyes had met. Her blameless smile the way her eyes fluttered over Dust humbled him, sensing her the emotion of unconditional love nearly brought him to his knees.
“I see it all,” she said to him, four words that promised him she didn’t miss a single thing, she was right there with him, a spirit of vim strumming within him.
Scorpio was all for reunions, he was the first to celebrate when victory was had, but he knew this would turn into a sad goodbye if they didn’t start stepping.
“Did you find supplies?”
Dust glanced over Scorpio doubting they needed any supplies, not after what he had seen pushed into Scorpio’s chest. He ticked his head back toward where the car was parked. In the next beat, they were all there.
Manifesting inside next to the spell made sense until Scorpio recalled the rumble the mountain had endured. Appearing at one doorway then the next was the only safe choice he had. To his dismay, the chambers Toril had slept in were safe and sound, still protected by the magic he had shrouded it with long ago.
Dust began to unload the supplies he found carefully, when his gaze touched on the box he had sent with his car, he glanced back at Scorpio. Toril was reading the spell, watching it like a thriller movie was in progress so she never noticed the exchange.
“It is near time to end this, the ravens have arrived.”
