The Doorway God

by Tom Early

  There are so many that would come, from above and below. Spring brings new life and takes from those undeserving of it, the flowers fresh bloom from corpses left fallen and still comforts those who hide in caves the small weak things we must keep safe

  Summer the sun’s rays, raw power and command, they scatter before in the blaze of light, whether below or on high they cannot withstand the radiance. They watch Summer and learn how to stand up as well, the gift of heat and fire they move out of their caves, the beasts watch with concern and so do I, now they will spread and their power will grow and where will I be then

  Leaves fall and so do foes without seeing what cuts them, winds blow them far away and they age to nothing before their friends’ eyes, they should know better than to cross Fall and now they do, for the time before the cold comes before I come is the time when all must make their peace with death

  I laugh and I smile and I sing for of us four I am the one to bring the end, again and again it does not matter who comes to oppose me, the prince’s horns or the pearlescent wings or any and all in between, the ice and the snow lay waste to their armies, and I teach them that no matter how strong they may think they are, Winter will always test and always take. Some of the little ones die as well in the wars, caught up in the snow and the wind, blue bodies left to freeze and I find I do not care, I fight for me and mine and the laughter of it, and they do not matter

  I gasp and struggle to open my eyes. I needed to breathe, to know that there was more than just ice hidden in my lungs, that I was still me, I’m still Fay, I have my friends and my family and they love me and I love them. Didas whispered the third word to send it roaring across the room, and my eyes fluttered shut again.

  They watch me with wary eyes. The fighting is over. Their armies exhausted, the gates held fast against them. They who would impose their rules and powers upon our mother have been beaten back. We have taught them that this is not another planet to take and crush between their mortar and pestle. They will not come back easily from this. I taught them to fear the Final Season, for my siblings could beat them back and send them to recover, but they all have to do with life and growth, with protecting those we were set to protect. I do not deal with life. The ones I kill stay dead, and that is new to them

  The war is over, and we watch them grow and spread, and they worship us, lift Summer as their King and Queen, Spring as their caring mother and virile bringer of new life, Fall as the teacher of age and change that they cannot avoid, and they fear me. They do not love me. They fear me for my power as well they should, the little things that they are, bare scraps of life that close their doors at my passing for it is known that I bring death with me where I go and they all want to live forever and I resent them for resenting me after I have fought so much

  I grow tired and bring my season once more. Their complacency will be their downfall for they think they are safe and become livestock who see life as pleasure and no difficulty in it. I will have my fun with them, and my cold world will let me be free from this interminable task once more

  My siblings oppose me. Spring hides them in safety in the folds of the world, where I cannot see, and I break their power wherever I see it, for I have no need of life in my world of ice. Summer rallies the people from their homes, tells them to fight, presses fire and light into their palms and tells them that they must learn to protect themselves as well. Finally Summer sees what they lack, but it is too late, and I break them as easily as a brittle field of stalks. Fall looks at me sadly and disappears, taking with them the new people slowly emerging, beaten back by the power already in place from those we helped keep safe. I know what Fall sees in them. A second chance. Fall was always at my side, and even now as enemies I let them take these monkeys away. Perhaps I hope they will succeed where the others failed. Perhaps I simply hope for more little creatures to play with and break one day

  The three of them meet me on the field of battle one last time. They have pooled their strength. They say they will continue to protect to the end, and I smile a bitter smile at them, for I am the end, it is all I know how to bring

  They force me out at the cost of their own lives and I am set adrift while they return to Mother’s warm embrace. I am too little to return as they do, barely a wisp of memory, and I burn for the chance to bring the end once more. I will find my way back, no matter how long it takes

  When I came to, I was propped up against the wall, chains of silver-gray light wrapped around every inch of me, humming with power. Didas was standing in front of me, and Speaker Sekhmene was there as well, both of them staring at me with wary looks. My head was throbbing, and my mouth was drier than the desert. My throat felt like someone had decided to rub sandpaper all over it.

  “How long was I out?” I managed and both of them relaxed, though I noticed the chains didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Also, it hurt to speak. Like, a lot.

  “A little over three hours,” Didas said, still looking at me with caution, like he was considering whether to fling even more chains at me or something. “It was… quite the display.”

  “You’ve been screaming almost nonstop,” Sekhmene said, her posture still ready for a fight. “You also attacked the headmaster when he attempted to help you.”

  I glanced at Didas’s perfectly unmarked form. “Doesn’t look like I succeeded.”

  “Thankfully, the runes held you back,” Didas said, but he sounded unsettled. “Even so, it was a close call. Now, how are you feeling?”

  I tried to think and groaned in pain. “Like someone decided to split my head open,” I said, wincing. I could still vaguely remember Winter’s voice ranting in my head and the pictures of the world back then and what they’d been doing and—okay, ow, I was done trying to remember all that for now. “The memories are definitely all there, though. Barely understandable, and it hurts when I try to go near them, but there. That much is done.”

  “Good,” Didas said. “The memories should continue to feel separate from your own. If it ever becomes impossible to distinguish Winter’s memories from yours, tell me immediately.”

  I nodded instead of speaking. My throat really wasn’t happy with me right now.

  Didas touched Sekhmene’s shoulder. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said. “I’ll see you this evening.” She gave him a nod, and the chains holding me in place shimmered into nothing as she walked out. “The remaining three runes taken from the horns will be used simultaneously as well,” Didas informed me. “They will merge the senses and form of Winter with your own and fully integrate Winter’s individual self with your own. Familiarize yourself with the being you now have the memories of. Do what you can to prepare yourself for having that become part of you. I will be observing your memories as well, to glean what I can from them in order to prepare.”

  I cringed. “You can see into my head? I’d, uh, prefer if you asked before you did that, thanks.”

  Didas sighed. “I can’t actually see into your head, Feayr. I merely had the ritual make a recording of those memories that were added to yours for my personal viewing. You have to understand, Winter’s memories are not anything that we have seen before. They may prove invaluable to understanding the world before we were a part of it.”

  “And to increase your own power,” I muttered.

  “That goes without saying,” Didas agreed. “Those in pursuit of knowledge should always have the strength to keep back those who would seek to stop them. I haven’t made any secret of my intentions before, and I won’t start to now.” He gave me a look. “You should see what you can learn from watching Winter’s magic. I’ve no doubt that you’ll find something you can apply to your own magic as well.”

  “When’s the next one going to be?”

  “The Winter Solstice. Winter must be as close to the surface as possible for the completion of the ritual. I was not sure of this before, but now I am certain. As much as it would be easier to wait until the edge of his time, we cannot.”

  “And wh
at’s the date of the Winter Solstice this year?”

  “The twenty-first of December. You’ll be at home, then, for the holidays. Be ready to be taken back here.”

  “That’s going to be a great early Christmas present,” I said, sighing. I could hear that explanation already. “Hey, Mom, Dad. Just gotta go back to Janus University for a little bit and see if I survive being fully merged with an ancient season come to life. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time for presents!”

  “My apologies for the inconvenience,” Didas said, not sounding sorry at all. “This concludes the time I have to spare for you today, however. You know how to contact me. Do not hesitate to do so if something happens. Enjoy the rest of your semester.” Then he made a waving gesture, and I was back in my bed, where I groaned and prepared to sleep for, like, ten years.

  When I finally woke up, my head had migrated from intense, throbbing pain to the slightly more tolerable realm of the headache that comes from cramming too much information before an exam. I could actually feel my mind trying to shuffle and put away Winter’s memories. It was a weird sensation. Just thinking about them wasn’t enough to actively pull them up to the front of my mind—I actually had to go and fetch them. I supposed that was the ritual at work—if just thinking absentmindedly was enough to bring the memories to the surface, I’d have been really out of it. I wondered if Winter was going through the same thing as me right now—if I’d gotten a copy of his memories, had he gotten mine as well? Was Winter even close enough to a person to think when he was inside me? I wasn’t all that sure. Without a body, he mostly seemed like a particularly aggressive idea.

  Still, now that I’d had the time to think about it, I was ready to figure out what the hell I’d just seen, and that meant it was time to get a sounding board. Or two, possibly.

  A few minutes later, and both Sam and Tyler were in my room as well, sandwiching me on my bed.

  “Tell me everything,” Sam demanded. “You’re all good, right? I’m not talking to half-Fay?”

  “It’s still me,” I promised.

  “That’s exactly what I would say if I were possessing you. Tell me about the last time you and Tyler had sex.” I felt my face and saw Tyler turn red. “Good,” she said, satisfied. “It’d be impossible to fake that blush that fast if you were anyone else.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted, but I suspect the latter,” I grumbled. Tyler squeezed my arm comfortingly. “Anyway, the whole thing was really weird. The stuff I can actively remember from the ritual was more like flashes of Winter’s life than anything else. The story was right on one count, at least. There were definitely four Seasons, and the Dawn Civilization worshipped them.”

  “And?” Sam prompted. “Clearly they went away when the Dawn Civilization did. What happened?”

  I sighed. “Winter got tired of not fighting and went on a rampage, killing, like, 90 percent of them. Spring hid the rest of them away, I’m not sure where, and get this—Fall made sure that human ancestors didn’t die out so that there would continue to be sentient life on the planet. Summer just sort of brought the fight to Winter, but apparently even with the army their people sent, they were no match for him.” I paused. “Or her. Or they. I don’t really think the Seasons were any specific gender. A lot of the memories have the Seasons looking male at one point and female the next, sometimes androgynous, and otherwise all”—I waved my hands—“seasony.”

  “Appearance thing notwithstanding, I would like to point out that I was totally right,” Sam said triumphantly. “Winter totally killed the other Seasons. That’s why they aren’t in any stories or anything.”

  “Not quite,” I said. “It’s more like the other Seasons got together and pooled their energy to force Winter out of existence—it just cost them their own lives.”

  “Bah,” Sam said, still grinning. “Semantics.”

  “But clearly Winter didn’t die,” Tyler pointed out. “Since he’s—or, uh, they’re?—back here now, at least sort of. So what about the other Seasons?”

  “So this is where it gets weird,” I said slowly. “I also got Winter’s memories from when they possessed me again.” Which meant I now knew in exacting detail what happened at the Trials, and I was trying very hard not to see Aria’s face in endless loop in my head. I pushed the memory firmly away. I’d cry later. “Since Winter’s been back, he”—I paused and corrected myself—“they’ve had a kind of wariness, like they were expecting the other Seasons to attack at any time, or something. I don’t know if that means they’re actually back, but I think Winter suspects they are.”

  “Cool,” Sam breathed. “Man, I want to see what they can do. If they have the level of power you’ve got, that would be some epic fighting.” Her eyes glazed over.

  “Are you really picturing me in a death match with other Seasons?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re a terrible friend.”

  “So what about all the rest?” Tyler asked. “I mean, I get that Winter killed the other Seasons, but did you get why they even existed in the first place? Were they their own superpowerful species or something?”

  I frowned. “I’m… not really sure what they are. Winter referred to a ‘mother’ of all four of them, who was resting because she was tired. It’s probably more complicated than this, but I’m guessing that the mom is Gaia, or Earth, or whatever you want to call it. If anything’s the parent of actual Seasons, it’s the planet itself. As for why they existed….” Even now, I could see the endless battles, the incessant flow of bodies on both sides and the Seasons wading into the thick of battle, killing thousands. “I think they were protecting Gaia from, well, anything that wasn’t Gaia.”

  “And what the hell does that mean?” Sam asked. Her eyes lit up. “Aliens?”

  “No,” I said, then thought about it. “Wait. Maybe? But I think it’s more like summoning. Different realms trying to come into this one, and the Seasons were the ones that kept them out.” I remembered the horns that reminded me vividly of Septimus, and the wings that were so pure it hurt to look at them directly. “I think they were fighting the things we think of as Hell and demons, and maybe also Heaven?”

  Tyler gave me an incredulous look. “Are you saying the Seasons were killing angels and demons? I get Hell, but isn’t Heaven supposed to be good and all?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”

  Sam looked like she was going to fall off the bed from excitement. “That is so much cooler than I thought it was. It’s like an ecosystem protecting itself. Just with magic and shit.”

  “Yeah, magic and shit. Great way of putting it. I think it was more that their job was to keep the people on the planet free of anyone’s influence except their own. I don’t think good or bad mattered much to the Seasons, just that the people trying to get in didn’t belong there.” I remembered the visceral satisfaction Winter had felt, tearing apart their foes with blizzards of whirling, razor-sharp shards of ice, and the listlessness after the battles had stopped. “Thing is, the Seasons were so good that eventually the attackers stopped coming. Winter got bored of doing nothing, so he started attacking the Dawn Civilization instead, and they’d never learned how to protect themselves thanks to the Seasons, so they lost.”

  “I wonder if that means people would have a chance against Winter now,” Tyler mused.

  “Probably not,” I said, after thinking about it. “The Dawn Civilization wasn’t defenseless—they had magic that people even now still don’t understand. They just weren’t used to using it for war.” I shook my head. “If the Seasons went on the offensive again, people would actually have to stop fighting each other to stand a chance. Or rely on those few people who are at the insanely strong level to work together and win for them. Or at least that’d be the case if the Seasons are still as strong as they once were.” I doubted Didas or Caterina could stand a chance against Winter, but then, I had no real idea what they were capable of.

  Sam gave me
an evaluating look. “Does that mean you’re, like, the strongest person alive now or something?” She patted my out of control hair, and it just sort of bounced in response. “’Cause I have to say, you really don’t look like it.”

  I snorted. “Most of Winter’s power isn’t even merged with me yet, and even then they’re nowhere near as strong as they were back when they had their own body. Not to mention I still don’t really know how to use what power I do have. I’d need to spend years going over Winter’s memories to figure out how to do what they could.” Sam looked disappointed, and I laughed. “I could still probably take on Didas once this is all over, though. If he didn’t plan for that ahead of time. Which he totally has.”

  “So where do I fit into all of this?” Tyler asked. “I mean, we all figured that the only reason I was your familiar was because of your innate magic, right? Is there anything in Winter’s memory to indicate why you’d have a human familiar?”

  “There isn’t,” I said, hesitating, “but I kind of have a theory about that. You know how we, uh, went on a date before trying the whole familiar thing?” Tyler nodded, smiling at the memory. “I think that kiss might have kick-started the whole familiar thing, like a sort of defense mechanism. Sam, remember how you said Tyler was the one who brought me back to sanity?”

  “Hold on, what?” Tyler interrupted. “I did what now?”

  Sam grinned. “I was telling Fay here about how he looked kind of out of it during the match, right up until you called his name and touched him. It was like you broke the spell, a regular Disney prince and everything.” She smiled at him sweetly, and Tyler blushed.

  “Ah,” he said. “That.”

  I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat a little as well. “I think Sam was on the mark about that too. I think you became my familiar in response to having Winter inside me, but not directly because of Winter themselves. You’re like a tether to my humanity, I guess.” It sounded cheesy as hell when I put it like that, but it honestly seemed like that was the case.