by Trisha Wolfe
My best friend is asking more of me than if I’m prepared to die. More than if I’m prepared to watch them die. Though nothing could ready me for either, I’ve accepted this as my ending. Bale will decimate our world. We are all going to suffer no matter what course we decide on.
But Lilly’s asking me, truly, if I can let Caben go. Because my vow will never be fulfilled. I can live with a lot of shortcomings, but my honor was never one of them. It’s more than pride as a protector or Nactue. It’s the only real thing I’ve ever trusted about myself. The only truth of my existence.
And how sad. So many others have immeasurable belongings to live for: love, family, devotion to a passion. Me? It’s my word. But it’s at least the one thing I can offer someone. A promise.
I hold out my hand and ask for Lilly’s transmitter. If I’m going to fault on my honor, I should at least say my goodbyes to my mother and father first. I understand now that my own father was a pawn in this war. It doesn’t, ultimately, excuse his actions; we still all have a free will. But it does give me something I’ve never had before.
A reason why he hurt me so deeply.
It will have to be enough.
I program in my mother’s transmission and suck down a breath. When her image springs above the device, I say, “I need to speak to him.”
♦ 27 ♦
Caben
I AT LEAST THOUGHT Lake would be by my side during the insufferable end.
It’s damn foolish, and absurd, that I should miss an ugly mutant’s face. Having to let Kal go has warped my brain beyond repair. I laugh out loud. As if I could get any more warped. But I did leave something behind when I walked away from her.
A part of me.
The last part that was truly myself. It took a force of sheer will to leave her, and I’m completely drained because of it. I have nothing left to hold back Bale, no lust for alcohol or the stomach for it. Whatever I manage to consume comes straight back up with a sickening retch. Bale is on her way.
Steering the Crusher one-handed, I slip my free hand into my pocket, finding Kal’s insignia. My token only brings me pain. I pull it out, press it to my lips, then hold my hand out the open window to chuck it—but my fingers won’t release the damn thing. Though it kept me sane some of the time, it never brought me much comfort. It was always a measly excuse for the real Kal.
Still, for nostalgia or whatever else, I drop it back into my pocket.
It’s getting easier to let everything else go, at least. After leaving Kal behind, I can walk away from my life. My father’s dead. The kingdom he left me, gone. Not even Kal could keep the leeches back. They’d have worn me down over time, anyway. Julian, my own cousin, hah. He was always a little shit. But I give him credit; I didn’t see him coming.
My mother…she’s in the best place possible. She will never have to return to the ward. The Nactue will look after her, and when Kal recovers, she’ll make sure of that.
And Bale won’t get her evil talons on my girl. I’m still a disgusting fiend for what I did to Kal, but she’s now out of harm’s way. The power will keep her bedridden for possibly another day. And by going to the Otherworld, getting as far away from her as I can, I’m making sure she stays safe.
It will also give Kal and her people time to devise a plan. Maybe. Some strategy to defeat Bale on their own turf. I’m not entirely sure what they’ll be facing when she arrives, but I know Kal. She’ll succeed.
I am keeping my promise, ultimately. I never let Bale hurt her. I took the bleeding cuff—the Freedom Ring—that day in the Cage. I summoned the dark goddess within myself, and I’ve fought and struggled for months, battling Bale every second in order to protect Kal.
It’s cost me my sanity, and my life, but maybe now I can bow out of this world a hero.
For that, I hope, Kal will be able to forgive me.
Just in this moment, I allow a full smile to stretch my face. I may be deranged, but let me have my delusions. I’ve earned them.
The Crusher lurches over the bleak desert, the wind and my speed sending sand-filled gusts against the windshield. I wish I’d have thought to steal one of my vehicles; a Cury or something sleek and fast. But I was single-mindedly taken with one objective at the time. It’s a good thing I had a backup Crusher. The damn Otherworlders took everything else.
Though I gave the order, still, they just up and vacated. Left their Liege behind to go await their dark goddess. Well, here she comes, boys!
I shift into a higher gear and bear down on the pedal, gaining more speed over the terrain.
A surreal numbness washes over me as I enter the Otherworld.
The first time I was brought here I was forced. A prisoner. A terrified, weakling of a prince who was trying to hide his identity—unprepared for the terrors. I didn’t take in the beautiful colors. The glowing sediment and soaring rock and shiny metal makeshift buildings. Everything felt so eerie, dark and desolate.
But now, as I step out of the Crusher and onto the black soil—by my choice—I notice the Otherworld in all its horrific glory.
To think, a whole race of humans, forced underground and made to invent a completely different way of life. There’s much to appreciate. In some backwards way, the Otherworlders are more advanced than us. They’ve adapted more quickly to their way of life than we have for centuries above ground.
Honestly, what have we ever been so passionate about? They served their goddess through the worst of times. Through starvation and exile, they never faltered. Through transfiguration, giving up their very humanity—only did they waver near the end, where Bale evoked some mind control until the Reckoning. But I doubt they’d have given up so easily.
What other choice did they have? Where would they have gone?
The temple in the middle of the realm stands out against the slate backdrop as I march forward. It’s my destination. All relics and rivers of mercury. The giant tower shaped like a disfigured claw. It calls to me. Or rather, it calls to Bale. Same damn difference.
The Dark Priest no longer resides there. I suppose the temple is mine now—for my short remainder here.
As I progress deeper into the downtown cityscape, more of me falls away. Shedding like a second skin. My memories fade with each step. My will a thing of little consequence. I’m hollowing out. Becoming the perfect vessel. All this would’ve been much easier had I just given in before. But it’s liberating to finally let go.
The whomp whomp whomp of the giant fan blades greets me, along with the Otherworlders roaming the dirt streets. They stop, blink, and fall to their knees. Some bow and chant Bale’s name. The murmur of My Liege travels over the walkways and through crowds as bodies collapse like broken stalks.
I don’t look anyone in the eye. I keep on course toward the softly glowing temple sticking out like a pulsing beacon against the rocky, false sky. No sun here. No stars and, thank the conniving goddesses, no moon. Only miles and miles of black gravelly sky blanketing the stretch ahead.
The crowd parts to allow me through. As I leave the packed city area with its slanted rooftop houses and little rickety shops—how quaint—I spy the illuminated sediment in the stone that surrounds the realm. An ultraviolet effect on the minerals; quartz, crystal, and diamonds. Its subtle beauty triggers a quick feeling in my chest, and I grip my rumpled shirt as one memory tries to surface.
Kal. A cavern. A glowing pool of water. Her hair fanned out in the water all around her while she floats. Her skin lit up by the reflection of shimmering diamonds.
I blink hard, as if my eyelids can capture and hold on to the image. But all too soon, it drifts away. For just a second I held a moment of peace. Gone.
And standing before me now, the sanctuary of my misery and bane. Bale’s temple.
I’ve crossed this weathered stone bridge before. With fear and apprehension. I cross it this time with the knowledge that I won’t be tramping back out. It’s redemptive, really. No more fear. And isn’t that what I’ve always wanted?
&n
bsp; No more worry of ruining the Paynebridge legacy. Of my father’s prediction coming true—of becoming the worst ruler in Perinyian history. How I loathed proving him right, almost to the point of impotency, utterly unable to make any decision. Rather becoming a lazy, spoiled prince than trying for greatness and failing.
No more competition between Kal and I. Whose realm is better—men verses women. Who is the weaker or stronger sex. She’ll forever remember me as the man who stormed into her life, all airs and pride, and who once saved her from a fated death she unwittingly was designed for by the beast goddesses.
There’s nothing to fear, Prince. Release it all.
A cruel smile tilts my lips. Bale, my love, right on time.
She would surface this soon, not allowing me a second longer to myself. Even if it’s only to dwell and revel in my misery. I’m still human—not a sane one but a living one. I deserve to wallow a bit more.
She tsks in my head. I should punish you for your insolence. But you’ve done well. Kept strong and provided a healthy vessel for my return.
I step onto the bridge. Take two strides, then stop. “Why didn’t you just admit we didn’t need the shard? That your transformation was inevitable?” So many people—Otherworlders and humans—lost their lives in the war. A whole brutal, bloody war over a tiny sliver of glass. It all could have been avoided.
You’d have accepted it too easily. Would have become weak. You needed the violence and power and even the motivation of conquering Kal to endure this length of time.
It’s pointless; the dark goddess is right. Weakness has always haunted me. I withdraw my argument and continue up the bridge. The stream of mercury travels below, bubbling and swirling in shades of dark and light gray. I can’t help but notice it’s a thing of beauty itself.
The world will overflow with my blood soon, Prince. Rivers of mercury will swallow it whole and cleanse this meaningless realm.
And what of Kal?
The thought springs forth before I can prevent it.
My goddess’s silence is agonizing, filling me with an emptiness that impairs worse than any physical pain. But then, there’s always that, too. Pain spreads through me like wildfire, burning and consuming, destroying every bit of me in its path.
Clutching my head, I plead, “A bargain!”
Your life for hers? How tender. But that was not our deal.
You never truly meant to keep your promise to me, Bale. I’ve kept more than my share of promises to you. You could spare her life—she’s no longer a threat. Not now.
As long as she lives, she will always remain a threat.
Then the pain fissures out, splintering through me with white-hot flames. I’m lost to it.
The rest is dark.
♦ 28 ♦
Kaliope
“IF WE’RE TOO LATE…no one goes near Caben.”
Those are my first words as we enter the mouth of the Otherworld.
The members of our party all glance away, shifting their gaze from me, as we move deeper underground.
Lilly, Kaide, Lena, Whip, Kai, Bax, and Aurelia. This is the force the dark goddess has to reckon with. The lone group of eight—including me—who will fight our way through, with a quick-hatched plan, to stop Bale’s ascension.
At the treehouse, Lake was designated Councilor Teagan’s watch guard and ordered to hold her there. Not that I think either one of them will follow an order from me, but it was the best, or rather only, solution as to what to do with them.
I struggled on whether to leave Aurelia…but in the end, I could only assure her safety with us.
On our way here, I did try to come up with a motivational speech. Something brave and courageous, a speech that would lift our spirits and inspire us into the belly of the beast. Something that made the never-coming-back-out-again less…grim.
I wanted to give that speech, but the words never came. For some reason, I feel I’m still the one elected to give speeches and orders. Maybe it’s my status—my former status—as the Nactue leader. It still holds some weight. Or it may be because I’m the one who made the calls and hard choices during the Cage fights with the contenders. Regardless of what it is, I’ve remained the one my friends and allies follow.
But my honorable nomination is eclipsed by my threat just now; no one is to kill Caben if anything goes wrong.
During the first part of the war, I took this nomination with pride. I had to—to ensure Caben’s life. And I accepted a leadership role for his kingdom, because I made a promise to him. But now, it doesn’t quite ring true.
None of the decisions I’ve made since becoming the Nactue leader have benefited anyone. Anyone other than the lunatic goddess, that is. So I’d be more than relieved if someone else were to step up and offer some words of fortitude.
I’m tired of letting people down.
Not surprisingly, the person who does step up is the only one of us who offered any kind of plan. Ironically, the only one of us declared unsuitable to do so. Caben’s mentally unstable mother, Aurelia.
She walks up beside me and reaches into the breast pocket of her shirt. “My son will sleep soon,” she says, handing me a vial of off-yellow solution and a syringe. “Put him to sleep.” She smiles, and my gut twists.
With unsteady hands, I accept both the vial and syringe. My palms are slick with sweat and the rest of me feels just as clammy. I may hate this plan with every fiber of my being, but it’s the only one we have.
I plunge the syringe into the vial and fill it. All the while, unable not to think of that terrible night my own father stuck me with a syringe of mercury. I don’t miss the unnerving connection Caben and I share yet again. As if we’re living each other’s lives, only in reverse.
Tucking the syringe into the side pouch of my harness, I watch as the Nactue check their swords and weapons in preparation. Kaide and Lena are the only ones who didn’t pray before we entered the Otherworld. The rest made their avowals to their goddesses. Mine, departing words to my mother and father. My appreciation of her and my forgiveness of him, and getting in return no confirmation of his love, but acceptance.
Some things have to be good enough.
Out of habit, I reach for Caben’s ring that’s been resting near my heart for months. My stomach sinks when I don’t find it there. It would have been comforting to touch it one last time.
Just outside the entrance, miles above us now, dozens of Cury-crafts scatter the barren landscape. There are so many, I suspect even the king of Laryn has called his army to join forces in what the rulers must deem the final battle of this war.
And it might very well be. If either they or we succeed.
Had Caben not returned to the Otherworld, Bale might’ve stood a greater chance at victory. His most operative move during this war has been to keep moving, keep hidden, just out of reach. Now, he’s localized himself to one place, with virtually little chance of escaping past the invincible numbers stationed here to fight.
One way or the other, there will be an ending to this madness. It’s just unknown if another madness will rise up in its place.
We’re close now. I can feel it. I stop for a second while the others walk ahead. Squatting down, I scoop a handful of black dirt into my hand. Rubbing my palms together, maybe for the last time, I perform my ritual. When I stand, Bax steps before me, a hard line between his brows.
“I know you’ve accepted what must happen,” he says, moving beside me to walk. “But I again ask you, are you sure?”
I inhale deep, breathing in the scent of earth and sulfur. The smell of the Otherworld. I never wanted to breathe this air again. I nod once to Bax. “How can I not trust Caben’s own mother?” It was Aurelia who produced the vial of coma-inducing drug to Bax before Lake brought them to the treehouse. It was her words that convinced Bax and the others that the drug was safe, used on mental patients in her ward—a last resort when no other treatment worked.
When Bax first told me of this plan to put Caben into a coma, I wa
s angry. Hell, livid and unwilling to accept it. Putting Caben to sleep, maybe permanently, is almost as bad as death. Yet, given the alternative to death and an insane goddess on the loose, it’s our last resort.
When I stick Caben with the syringe, he will slip into a coma. Bale becomes subdued, trapped inside him while he sleeps. It saves his life, but the chance he may never wake is greater than the chance he will. Performed on a physically healthy person—once treatment is determined—they can be revived. That is, most of the time, according to our one expert.
But Caben is not healthy. He’s weak, drained, probably completely mad at this point, and most likely will never be brought out of his coma. He lives…but as a permanent vessel for Bale. Her new sarcophagus.
That is the grim probability that I had to face on our trek here. I wanted the truth, so I could make this choice with no reservations. And Bax gave me the truth, because he knows I will never forgive him if I believe otherwise.
Then, there is the slim prospect that the best physicians in the Three Realms may be able to bring Caben back. Once we discover a way to extract Bale from him safely. Most likely diving into more archaic and unpracticed magics. But at least this way gives us time to investigate.
The alternative I am not willing to consider.
Put Caben to sleep indefinitely. Or kill him.
Bax sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I am not asking whether or not you trust his mother about the drug.” He steps over a root in our path. “That is of little consequence now, Protector. I ask whether or not, when the moment comes, if you will be able to inject your prince?”
Ah. So Bax still doubts me. As he should. Because I’ve battled this question our entire way here. I wonder if there will ever be a day that he fully trusts me—or that I can trust myself. “Here’s one consolation for you, Bax,” I say, glancing at him. “I will not allow any other to do it. If it’s to be done, it will be by my hand. So yes, I’m ready.”
