by Brea Viragh
Morgan dropped to the ground and listened to the screech of his horns against the barrier. He’d been too late.
Blinding light suddenly filled the cavern, chasing away shadows. Another voice now. Different. Kind but firm.
That’s enough.
CHAPTER 21
Time stopped. The crackling flames of magical lightning froze in midair the moment a figure in the shape of a man materialized near the Telos Amyet. The world paused while he solidified.
Morgan watched the man emerge from light until the details became clear. Dark hair on his forehead in a widow’s peak, sideburns allowed to grow until they connected with a slight beard of the same color. His frame was regal, his posture rigid. He gazed at Morgan through hazel eyes holding a spark of compassion, charm, happiness. A joy lacking in most normal folk. With a straight nose, wide lips, and impressive cheekbones, the man could have been anyone on the street.
He didn’t speak out loud, his words forming from somewhere inside Morgan’s mind.
I should have intervened long ago. I’m sorry.
Under normal circumstances, the man’s sudden appearance would have startled him. Instead, Morgan could only stare as the stranger took in the three sisters, his gaze lingering on each of their faces.
There was a similarity there in the way they stood. A similarity in their frozen faces and the hint of magic hanging in the air above their heads. Time had indeed stopped, for Karsia still had her human form and still clutched the remnants of the makeshift heart in her outstretched hand.
“Who are you?” Morgan asked, well aware that he was the only one able to operate outside of the man’s omnipotence. He rose and it was like pushing his way through water. He tucked his wings to his side.
I am a man who waited too long to mediate. Forgive me.
And then the fellow floated, his feet never touching the ground, to where Karsia stood. His insubstantial fingers traced the lines of the disintegrating heart in her hand. His eyes grew sad.
My poor daughter. What has she done to you? She had no right. She’s gone too far this time.
“Help her,” Morgan pleaded between clenched teeth. “Please, whoever you are, you have to help her.” He tried to move closer but remained rooted to the spot. Whatever power bound him was much stronger, much older than his own.
I will do what I can. But I need your assistance. The time has long since passed for me to remain apart from this. A line has been crossed.
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.”
The man smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. His form hardened, became more physical, more substantial. He stood tall, dwarfing Morgan’s not unimpressive six-foot-three. His features were timeless, unsullied by the stresses and demands of everyday life. Only his demeanor gave a hint of what set him apart from the rest. He radiated a sort of goodness. The polar opposite from that thing inside Karsia.
Do you not recognize me in the presence of my counterpart, Morpheus? My love, my lady…lost to the night?
Morgan was ashamed to say it took him several precious seconds to connect the pieces in his mind. “You’re the keeper of the light. The other half of the veil.”
I was Vane Cavaldi before the choice was made. And the time has come for me to take a stand.
Morgan shook his head and wondered if he was dreaming. Maybe his brother had managed to sneak inside his head. “Why now?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Karsia moved with infinitesimal slowness, her fingers clenching around the heart. The soft chanted echoes of the banishment spell still floated through the air like the hum of a forgotten radio.
I tried to remain impartial. It has never been my place to interfere. Only to keep the balance between this world and the next. We are not supposed to tamper with free will. Once I realized what Cecilia planned, I did my best to stay the course. Offer what help I could and hope the girls were strong enough to withstand her.
He sent a mournful look at Karsia.
I can see now I am nearly too late. Cecilia tipped the scale when she infected this girl against her will. Cecilia Cavaldi is my wife. It is she whom you see now, not the woman you love. And you do love her.
It was more a statement than a question. Morgan responded quickly, tipping his head. “Of course.”
Are you willing to do whatever it takes to help her?
“Absolutely.”
Even if it costs you your immortality?
He answered without hesitation. “I am.”
Vane smiled, his form shimmering like heat waves off a New Mexico sidewalk. You are all to be commended for your dedication and courage. But Cecilia’s power can only be countered by mine. Time grows short. There is a war to be waged, and all of it done on a subconscious level. Your playing field, unless I’m mistaken. Son of a god.
Morgan would have laughed were it not so incredible. “I’m ready whenever you are. Although I can go in and out at will, I’ve never tried to bring anyone into the subconscious with me. Let alone the spectral incarnation of a wall between worlds. I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
Vane closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. Whatever force held Morgan to the ground released with a pop. He shifted, puffing out his chest and allowing the wind to caress the feathers of his wings.
The son of a god, Vane repeated. She made a good choice when she found you.
“Let’s hope she still feels the same way when this is over.”
Are you ready?
The specter of a man walked on solid feet to meet Morgan halfway. “Are you sure you can handle this, Vane?”
Try to keep up, will you?
The two stared at each other for a moment before their forms dissolved and they transitioned from one plane of existence to another.
**
Morgan extended his wings to their full length and surveyed the open expanse of subconscious waiting for them. He was back where he belonged and preparing for the fight of his life.
Perfect, he thought with the tiniest hint of sarcasm.
He glanced over to Vane, who stood with his hands in his pockets surveying the pure white waiting area.
“Look at you,” Morgan commented. “You look like a real man.”
If he expected the joke to go over Vane’s head, he was mistaken. “I am real. At least, I was at one point. About nine hundred years ago.”
“You don’t speak with an accent. I thought someone from your region—”
Vane interrupted him. “This form is a shadow of my former self. The man I was had an accent. Shades do not.”
It was too strange to think about closely. “Look at us. Two immortals preparing for war.”
“Not something I thought I’d be forced into again. Shall we?” Vane swept his arm wide. “There isn’t much time.”
“There never is.” Morgan nodded, determined to focus.
He needed to find the entrance to Karsia’s subconscious. He grasped on the path he remembered and pushed both of them forward. Immediately the scene changed.
Next to him Vane stood, his gaze hard and determined. “I admit, I haven’t spent enough time in this realm to know if this is how it normally looks. But this seems odd.”
Morgan didn’t voice his agreement as he surveyed the place under his care. It shouldn’t be empty, he thought. He was used to the blank canvas, the eternal empty slate he filled with fantastic images, the messages of the gods.
But this place was not full of possibilities. Instead of a pure and cleansing white, the sky deepened to a deep angry gray slashed through with crimson. A wasteland of desiccated ground and burnt tree limbs holding on by a thread against the battering wind.
In the distance, a mountain rose and cast a great shadow over the land. He suspected that standing in the gloom of the cliff would steal the breath from a body, sap the warmth until an eternal chill took over.
“It’s not supposed to look this way,” he replied.
“Then let’s hope we can get Cecilia to release
the girl quickly.”
“I hope you have a plan for this. I’m not sure where to begin,” Morgan admitted. “I had full confidence the banishment spell would work.”
“Would it help you to know I’m sort of winging it here too?” Vane commented.
Morgan turned to him. “You’re joking.”
“I very rarely joke about serious matters. Tell me, Morpheus, where did you last find the girl?”
“I’m not sure. I had to go deep, bordering on the levels of the subconscious beyond my jurisdiction. My brothers and sisters…they really don’t like it when I cross into their territory.”
“Is that where you think she’s gone?”
“I’m afraid so. I can’t get a trace of her energy signature beyond the faintest shadow. Which, as you can guess, leads in the exact opposite way we should go.”
“Then we begin there.”
“Look,” Morgan said, folding his wings against his back and landing hard on the ground. “I don’t know you or what kind of power you have. But going too far into the subconscious is a bad idea for someone inexperienced. You could get lost. Or worse, be trapped there.”
Vane smiled. “I appreciate your concern. But understand this. This world, the earth, is nothing compared to the world of ancient magicks. I’ve been given dominion over something far greater. Try not to worry.” He clapped Morgan on the shoulder. “Let’s go save her.”
They took off together, each step a resounding crack when dried mud and sand gave way beneath their weight. Morgan waved his hand, trying to change the view they saw and finding his powers refusing to cooperate.
Whoever had made the desert wanted it there and would not let him interact with it. Whatever was happening was beyond his control. Instead of fear, anger rose in its place. It was starting to piss him off.
He tuned in to the vitalities of the plane around him and was at once aware of a spider’s web of energies converging from every mortal asleep on earth. They had no idea of their connections to each other. Had no idea of the golden threads binding them in a confusing network of shared hopes and goals and experiences.
Tugging on several at once, he attempted to locate a stronger read on the one signature unique to Karsia. He came up with nothing concrete. At first. Then he pushed harder and caught a glimpse of confusion, a swirl of alarm, the haunting remembrance of a nightmare. A hint of unrelenting pain before he lost the connection.
A desire to protect her rose up until he nearly choked on it. “She’s this way.” He pointed into the heart of the desert, well aware of Vane’s alarm.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer.”
Vane gestured acquiescence and the two continued on their path.
They would find her, because she would never give up. She was a strong woman with a bright future ahead of her. Morgan vowed to search until he reached the end of his immortal life. And if they were not successful on this trip, then he would stay in the subconscious for as long as it took.
His emotions were sharp and clear, but burned like a horrible ache in his chest.
Vane turned to look at him. “You need to stop thinking. You’re projecting to the point where you’ll draw every negative entity on this plane to us before we have a chance to get to Karsia.”
“I know, and I apologize. I can’t help myself.” Morgan clenched his hands at his sides to keep from wringing them.
“You must.”
Well, yes, of course, but it was easier said than done. Morgan focused instead on the fading signature coming to him in bursts and sparks. He hoped Vane didn’t notice their random meandering whenever they lost the trail. The man walked beside him with the easy stride of the unconcerned, though his eyes continually swept the wasteland. Missed nothing.
Morgan turned toward the mountain and knew those peaks would be their final destination. The dark crevices where horrible things lurked and waited to drag the unsuspecting under.
It took them longer than he expected to reach the shadows. The instant his foot stepped into them, the gloomy scene changed. A forest sprang up around them, with tangled underbrush and weeds with vicious thorns hidden beneath deceptive green leaves. There was no sunlight to dapple through the boughs, no drifting golden beams to warm the face.
These woods were unwelcoming and deadly.
“I don’t like this.” Morgan spoke aloud in the hush, listening to the unnatural silence.
There were no insects to lend a constant hum to the evening. No creatures leaping through the branches, scurrying across the ground searching for prey or shelter.
But there were eyes. And none of them friendly.
He caught the brief glimpse of energy and turned to the left, feeling like the world’s stupidest person. He didn’t normally charge headfirst into danger without backup or a plan. Each step took them farther away from the realm of his jurisdiction and into the territories of the others.
“We’re almost there.”
It was a gut feeling. A certain click inside of him letting him know they were on the right path. He shivered unconsciously and swatted a tree branch out of his way.
Vane had opened his mouth to speak when suddenly he dropped. Soil enveloped his leg and sucked him into the ground, quickly engulfing the lower half of him.
Morgan whirled around to grip the man by his forearm, heaving. Vane said nothing, merely grunting as the dirt refused to release him.
Calling on whatever magic he had left, Morgan used his wings for leverage and eventually freed his companion.
“What… Holy hell. What is going on?” Vane asked. He reclined on the ground a safe distance from the danger spot and took a moment to catch his breath.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s a good sign.”
Vane whipped his eyes to the right. “A good sign?”
“Yeah.” Morgan focused on the faint trail he followed. “Because it means we’re getting close.”
**
They stepped across the last plane of his jurisdiction hours later, before walking into an area of the subconscious Morgan was not familiar with. Those depths belonged to others in his family. Brothers and sisters of different names who skirted the line between good and evil.
The forest opened up and there at the boundary sat a bayou of cypress and pecan with gnarled roots, Spanish moss hanging from broken limbs. Tobacco-colored water snaked through the low country.
A colossal live oak drew up from those waters and stretched aged limbs into the sky. Life and death both shared the bayou in a precarious balance. Shadows ran deep, marsh grass and rushes cloaked with them. Rivers and creeks wound into one another and flowed toward an outer edge of blackness.
Moonlight dappled along the rippling stretch of water, dark and deadly. In this plane of existence there was never quiet, always something buzzing and humming while others hunted.
The air stilled, as if sensing their foreign presence.
One step into the bog and they would be lost. He recognized the threat in those gently lapping waters, the flash of something breaking the surface once before sinking below.
“Be careful,” Morgan warned. “Death hides and waits in the cruel beauty of this land. We don’t know what else is out there. Or who else.”
“How much farther?”
“This is the end of the line, I’m afraid. Any farther and we open ourselves up to the worst kind of creature imaginable. My family.”
Scanning the horizon, he continued to search for her. They were close. He could no longer sense her, but he knew. Felt his heart lurch in his chest.
Vane spoke quietly. “Do you see anything?”
“Not yet.”
“She is here.”
From the way he said it, Morgan was unsure which she Vane meant.
He gave a single flap of his wings and took to the air. The oak captured his attention. Those long limbs hid a multitude of sins. And there, in the shadow of moss and leaves, stood the one being he would give his life for.
&nb
sp; “Karsia!” Morgan burst out in relief.
Uncaring how odd it was that she’d appeared out of nowhere, he dove toward her. Wings folded and, after making sure the ground was stable, he landed.
“Vane, over here. I found her.”
The girl stood with her head leaned against the tree, silvery light shining down on her long expanse of auburn hair. The white dress, not something of his creation, hung in tattered strands down to her knees. One pale arm rested against the bark while the other hung limp at her side.
Vane held Morgan back when he would have rushed forward. “Be careful. Things are not always what they seem.”
“Are you mad? We’ve finally found her. Karsia!” Freeing himself from Vane, Morgan did indeed fly over the ground to her. He touched down with a rush of air and held his arms open to gather her close.
“Darling, are you—” The girl’s shoulders shook silently and Morgan brought her to him. “Shh, now. Everything is going to be all right.”
The quiet sobbing continued as a low tone filled the air. Laughter. It grew in volume until Karsia drew back, hair melting from auburn to a bright burnished gold. The woman continued to laugh, her back stiffened though she didn’t pull away. He loosened his embrace a little more with each of her hitching breaths, and then she turned on him, a leer twisting the summer-blue eyes into something ugly.
She tossed her long mane of ribbon-straight blond hair over her shoulder. Legs lengthened and muscles tightened while breasts shrank to a pert two sizes smaller. “Are you sure it’s her, half-breed?”
The skin under his fingers heated until Morgan let go with a yelp. The woman’s figure shifted further, filling out in places and shrinking in others until an entirely different person stood there.
She held her sides in a gale of laughter, tilting her head back and releasing peal after peal. “I fooled you! I really fooled you!” She stared at him like he was the punch line of a joke only she knew, stomping her feet in delight. “How could you think you would get to her this easily? Has it ever been easy? Silly man, with your silly expectations. How very human of you.”
