by Ali Cross
“Damn, princess,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Well, let’s get to it, then.” And he stepped off the Bridge.
“James!” Miri cried out, joy coloring the sound.
I smiled out the car window but didn’t look back.
“What happened?” Taige cried, swerving the car a little in surprise at Miri’s yell.
“He’s gonna be okay! He’s gonna be okay!”
And I knew. James would be more than okay.
Fahria jumped into the air and swung her leg around as she did, her arms like helicopter blades whipping her sword and dagger as she spun. The Giant fell to the ground, its head rolling a few feet away. She landed near me and when our eyes met she smiled and tapped her fist to her heart. I didn’t know how she still had the energy to fight the way she did, but I’d join with her in celebrating any small victory—and they were getting smaller and smaller by the moment.
She ran to my side, Longinus shadowing her. Our forces depleted, we huddled together, Valkyrie, Human and Gardian. I took comfort in their strong shoulders against mine, felt their breathing settle into my own rhythm, felt them adjust their grips on the hilts of their blades even as I did the same. We would stand together this last time, we would fight and die with honor.
“I saw her—your lady. But then she was gone,” Longinus said to me while we paced our enemy.
“Yes,” I said. “I saw her, too.”
I felt his questions, knew them, though he didn’t give them voice. Knew them because they were my own. What happened? Where did she go? Will she come back? I had no answers because I didn’t want to say the words that weighed like elephants on my heart.
I don’t know.
Darkness shrouded the desert, the only light a pale wide moon, and the fire that licked along the limbs of the Giants of Muspelheim. The enemy, both Giants and Svarts, had isolated us from our brethren and now closed in from all sides. I saw no break in their line, no opportunity to overcome this hopeless situation.
I thought I should say something, something to mark this moment when we would pass from life to death, to honor Fahria and Longinus and the lives they had led. I had completed no quest, would gain no Ascension—my death on this battlefield would release my soul to reincarnation and I would forget Desi, forget all that I had learned in this life. Fahria would be granted refuge in the paradise of Vanaheim, but I knew it wouldn’t sit well with her. Not when Longinus would likely rise again on Earth.
None of these thoughts held me with such fierceness as thoughts of Desi. Of her touch, her kiss. Her smile. I had waited so long to see that smile. Yet she had only just come back and I hadn’t said goodbye. I raised myself taller, thrust the sorrowful thoughts away—they were not becoming of me, or of Desi. She lived and in the brief glimpse I had, I saw that she was glorious. That was all I needed to know, all the peace I needed to face my death with happiness.
I adjusted my grip on my sword one last and final time and braced myself for the fight. With Desi on my mind, her love in my heart, I ran toward the Svarts and their deadly, icy blades, determined to make them pay dearly for my life.
I fought like I had just begun, with strength and energy renewed. But as my enemy matched me blow for blow, I knew it could not last.
“For Desi!” I shouted at the faces of the Svarts who shoved their blades at me and bore their teeth in laughter. “For Midgard!”
I heard similar shouts from Fahria and Longinus and my heart swelled to be in their company—true warriors to their very last breath.
Three Svarts circled me, so close the hairs on my face froze in their icy breath. They laughed, swinging their blades in loose circles, as they played with me like a cat teases a mouse. And like the mouse knows there is no escape, I knew this was my last fight. All my senses narrowed down to this one moment.
The feel of my right hand, blistered and raw from a long day of fighting, scraping against the damp leather wrapped around the hilt of my sword. The song of my blade as wind skimmed off it, causing it to hum as if it were alive. I’d miss that sound. I felt the weight of my baldric as it pressed against my shoulders, the cold breath of the dark elves against my skin. The feel of my boots on the grit at my feet.
I felt it all in a moment that seemed to last forever and yet probably was only mere seconds.
I was ready when the taller of the three elves pounced forward, using his height to bring his curved blade downward. I knew their plan. Could sense it even before they moved. I would not survive it.
The blade plummeted and I had no choice but to raise my sword to block it. While I did, the other two Svarts dove toward my belly. I thrust my Halo outward, bringing it to my defense in a flash of golden light. My wings were useless now, wounded as they were. Still, I could cut through one of the evil things before his sword found my flesh.
But the other—the one who came at me from the left, ducking low, blade angled upward—his was the killing blow.
I filled my mind with thoughts of my love. Saw her lying on the green grass, her black hair spread around her like raven wings, glossy and radiant in the golden light of our garden. Her dark eyes, swimming with drops of sunlight as I stared into them. My soul was there, with her, not on this battlefield. Not falling to the ground, a blade protruding from beneath my left arm.
I didn’t see the dark desert sky spread vast above me. I lay beside my love, with her curled against my side, while I watched the golden leaves flicker above me, watched the soft clouds skimming past. I’d die with her in my arms, in my heart.
“Michael!”
I’m here, love.
“Michael!”
And . . . Oh, love.
I’m here. Here.
My intent was to travel to the desert. That was my singular goal—to find Michael and fulfill my promise to never, ever leave him again. But what should have been a momentary flash, the time between one thought and the next, was drawn to a sudden conclusion as Heimdall stepped in front of me, the rainbow Bridge spread out behind him, an eternal path going wherever he commanded.
“There’s no time to waste,” I said, moving to angle past him, wishing I didn’t still need his permission to Travel between worlds. “Why did you stop me? Did I do something wrong?” Maybe everything had been a dream. Maybe I’d only been deluding myself into thinking I could have this power, the gifts of a god.
He faced me and put his hand on my shoulder, its staggering weight making me check my balance. I searched his fierce face, but he was always so stern I found I couldn’t read it, couldn’t guess his intentions.
“Wait,” he said. He raised his left hand, holding it out to his side, all the while maintaining eye contact with me.
“What—”
“I cannot allow you to go alone.”
“You can’t—” I shook my head. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”
With a sound of thunder and light so piercing I had to close my eyes, scrunching my face as if that could protect me from the coming . . . something . . . another Path joined us. A light laugh, like bells ringing in a church spire, like wind through the pines on a mountainside, brought my eyes open once more.
Standing to my left stood a tall, slender man with eyes so light they shone like stars and skin the color of pearls. “My lady,” he said in a musical voice. He reached for my hand before I could snatch it away. He brushed his warm, dry lips against my skin and took his time releasing my hand.
“Do you know who I am, lady?”
I started to shake my head, certain I’d never met this man, this creature. Elf, my mind provided. Alfahr—a light elf.
And then I realized, I did know. “You are . . . li’Morl? Of the Alfahr?”
He laughed, raising his chin and closing his eyes as if savoring the most delightful bit of news. “Indeed, lady. Indeed.”
I still shook my head, unsure of this turn of events, anxious to get to Michael, to put an end to this battle over Midgard. Earth was mine now and it was time to let the oth
er worlds know it.
“Indeed,” li’Morl repeated. “It is yours. Shall we go?”
I knew my eyes couldn’t hide my surprise—how did this creature know my mind?
“The light elves hold a piece of the Bifrost within them,” Heimdall said, his voice a low rumble through my body. His expression shone with tenderness as he looked down on li’Morl. “In a way, they are my own children, and possess many gifts given by my power.”
“Okay,” I said. Being a god hadn’t done anything for my eloquence. Words were obviously still not my strong suit. “Um . . .”
“Michael, yes. You are eager to reach him and . . .” li’Morl cast a glance up to Heimdall, concern flickering across his features before he replaced it with a tight smile. “It seems we should hurry.” li’Morl took my hand and turned away from Heimdall.
“What’s going on? What’s wro—” We stepped into nothingness, the Bridge giving way to a path that plummeted us through space. Unsure what else to do, I filled my mind with Michael’s face, willing myself to go wherever he was.
It surprised me to find my hand still clasped tightly by li’Morl when my feet hit the hard surface of the desert. But in a moment’s glance I saw all I needed to know that I was too late. I’d taken too long.
I stood amidst the enemy, dark elves ready with deadly weapons, hisses upon their lips. In front of me, a Svart lay on the ground, his blue blood following the course of the incline like a river. Another stumbled backward, his sword arm clutched to his side, his blade fallen to the earth. As he fell toward me, I saw a golden wing spread low across the ground. Saw an elf with his arm tight against Michael. Saw him shift sideways and see me, a malicious grin on his face. He stepped back, and with him came his sword, red to the hilt with Michael’s blood.
“Michael!”
I’m here, love.
“Michael!”
I’m here. Here.
Nothing had prepared me for this. How could I have just found everything, only to lose it all?
“Michael!” His name tore from my throat without thought. Because my mind was a tumult of anguish, sorrow, loss.
And anger.
Pure and visceral, as dark as Father’s granite mountain. It rose inside of me, its piercing peaks sending everything but hatred and revenge scurrying to the furthest parts of my mind. It left me with a singular need. A dreadful purpose.
I called upon my glory, Thor’s hammer in my fist. I stepped in front of my love, death and destruction rising, awaiting only my command. I opened my mouth, raised Mjölner—
“Hold.” A soft touch on my arm. A bell-like voice in my ears, my mind.
I struggled with Mjölner, finding it growing heavy in my arm as it dropped an inch.
“Hold, lady.”
“li’Morl?” I blinked at him. Blinked and tried to focus. “Don’t stop me! Let me go!”
His hand remained on my arm, his focus did not move from my face.
“This is my world,” I hissed at him, trying to refuel the anger that would surely make him understand his foolishness in trying to restrain me. “I am a god. I am god of this world!” My voice rang across the battlefield, caused the mesas and mountains to tremble.
“Already the field is being harvested, lady.” li’Morl gestured with his free hand and I couldn’t help but follow his gesture with my eyes to see his meaning. All around me light elves flowed across the battlefield, and like a flood of righteousness, forcing the Svarts and Giants back through the portals.
But I still had cause for revenge, still had need of my power, because my love lay on the ground. My love had lost his life and I hadn’t said goodbye. I thought of the moment I’d returned, when I’d seen him across the desert. I thought of how I blinked away, even as he ran toward me. What he must have thought! He must have thought I’d left him. Chosen some purpose other than him. And I had! I’d chosen James! I’d chosen again—and again made the wrong damn choice.
Mjölner weighed a thousand pounds, drawing me to my knees. Down and down I sank until my forehead pressed against the blood-stained ground.
li’Morl crouched beside me, but I didn’t look at Michael. Didn’t acknowledge him.
“He is not dead.”
He’s dead. I know he’s dead.
I can’t feel him.
Can’t hear him.
He’s dead.
A horrible sound filled my ears. A keening sorrow that crushed my spirit, stretched it thin, snapping it out of shape, distorting it, killing it. I rocked forward, my hands clapped to my ears, but still the high-pitched wail continued.
“Yes, take her,” I heard through the siren song of pain.
“Forgive me lady.”
A dim part of my mind was aware that I knew the voice. Knew the arms that held me, carried me across the Bifrost. Longinus.
“Here, here.” I was placed on a soft mat, but I didn’t care. I curled and curled, making myself a tight ball, an armored, broken being. “Desi.”
The keening, the crying, wouldn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
“Desolation.” Heimdall’s voice rumbled through my consciousness as he gripped me. I thought the pain in my heart would rip me into a thousand pieces. Scatter my soul to the stars.
I felt Michael near, could smell his familiar oranges-and-honey skin, even through the gore and grime that covered him after the day’s fighting. And then Heimdall pressed Michael’s hand to the center of my chest.
My eyes flew open, the golden spark, fed by the Genesis, burst outward, filling all of me, seeking a way out, seeking Michael. I threw my head back, my arms and legs wide as I Became like an erupting star, my light shining so bright it burned through my retinas, colored everything around me with blinding rainbow light.
The Genesis filled me, expanded beyond me, raced into Michael’s body. I felt it, an extension of myself, filling his lungs, pumping blood through his heart, firing the electrons in his brain. He recoiled, flinching away from me, but I heard it, felt it, saw it.
“Desi!”
His first breath, his first thought—for me.
I was told she was awake, but she hadn’t come to see me. And so, I went to her. I knew where she was, could feel her presence, her spirit, as clearly as if she were a blinking light on a map in my mind. I stepped through the golden gates of Valhalla, ignoring protocol and taking advantage of the sisters’ depleted numbers. I walked the long corridors toward the room that had once been Mahria’s, but now was Desolation’s.
Fahria fell in step beside me. “You look well.”
I glanced at her, but didn’t answer. Ahead, I saw the door to Desi’s room and my footsteps came more slowly. Her presence wrapped around me, I felt her everywhere now, and I knew she’d feel the same. Knew she’d know I was here. I waited for her door to open, for her to come running down the hall, to fly into my arms.
But I’d walked ten feet, twenty feet, her door an arm’s reach away, and yet it remained closed.
Fahria placed a hand on my arm and we stopped. “She fears the evil that is part of her. Fears the curse of Loki’s heritage,” she said. “She holds herself to a higher degree—you know it has ever been thus.”
I Remembered days, long, long past, when I’d watch her train with her sister Valkyries. When she failed to best Mahria, she’d stay on the practice field for hours afterward, working through her missed transition, opportunity or pattern. Even before I’d formally met her, I’d watched this stubborn, hard-headed girl push herself far harder than anyone else, demanding perfection and accepting nothing less.
I’d also seen her lend a hand to a less-talented fighter, give praise and learning, never judging another, never expecting anyone else to live up to her own standards for herself. It was perhaps the most frustrating thing about her.
And yet, I loved her.
Loved her in spite of, or perhaps because of, her keen demands on herself, her love and patience with others, and her utter inability to grant herself such kindness.
&n
bsp; I breathed in, squaring my shoulders, preparing myself for the fight of my life. Beside me, Fahria laughed and returned the way we had come. Her fingertips brushed against my arm as she passed. “You two are well-suited.”
I glanced over my shoulder, the question in my raised eyebrow, the slight upward turn of my lips.
“You are both as stubborn as mules.”
I chuckled then, picturing Fahria and Longinus—and I knew she did the same because her cheeks flushed a burnished red. She ducked her head, angling away from me.
“Still . . .” she said with a shrug as she strode away.
Still.
After all we’d been through, Desi had to know.
Still.
I was hers, still.
And she was mine.
Being a god, holding the Genesis in my heart, didn’t make me a perfect person. I’d been willing to kill those people—to kill everyone. I knew now that if li’Morl hadn’t stopped me, I might have used the Genesis to spread my pain and sorrow everywhere. Earth would have fallen. And who knows if it would have stopped there?
If I would have stopped.
Shame boiled inside me like an angry sea. I couldn’t face anyone, couldn’t bear to see the truth in their eyes. That I was crazy. A loose cannon. That I’d almost destroyed everything, undid all the sacrifices that had been made to save Midgard. All for myself. For a misplaced sense of retribution.
But life is life and there isn’t any true retribution. There would always be winners and losers, the haves and the have-nots. Always.
So when I felt Michael coming toward me, I hid in my room, hoping against every unreasonable hope that he wouldn’t find me. But of course he found me. Of course he’d know where I was—he would always know where I was. And not just because a piece of me was in him now. A piece of the Genesis.
We were like two halves of a whole—something I think we’d always been, but the Genesis made official.
There would never be a me without him.
