by D. Fischer
Children. Innocent young elves . . . dead. I peek at Sandy, just for a moment, and observe his stony face, his rigid frame, his unseeing eyes as his young friends burn in a great pyre.
Most often, leaders would be lit before they are pushed along the lake, but Kat offered to do the honor. Slowly, each of the slats are engulfed, and we watch as embers lift above the barren trees, taking charred pieces of those we love and will always remember.
From here, and over the beat of drum and tribal hum, I hear the crackling of flames. And inside those flames, I can almost hear Erma’s voice speaking straight to me. I will always love you, Tember. But it’s only a memory. It’s not really her speaking those lovely words. She’s dead. But, it’s a memory I will hold to my chest forever, even if it was said before she walked away from me.
A sob wracks my body, hunches my shoulders. Jaemes pulls me to his side and wraps a strong arm around my waist, granting the comfort we both need.
Bright orange and yellow fingers reach for the clouds, black smoke whisked in a gentle breeze. The lake begins to melt around flaming slats, and soon after, a crack vibrates the ground under our feet. As Mitus and Erma’s slats come to a sluggish rest, the frozen lake opens up, swallowing their bodies. The rest quickly follow, and as the last disappear from sight, the water that was once underneath the ice closes back over, taking them away. Forever.
“Beautis Misso,” Jaemes mumbles in his native tongue.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my words cracking.
His hand squeezes my side comfortingly. “It means River of the Dead.”
I lean into him as Kat circles back and disappears above the trees once more, a roaring whine her only departing sound. It brings me comfort that Erma won’t be alone, that she’s surrounded by the creatures she’s made and who have fallen for her honor.
“Yes,” he whispers, answering some question of his own. “They will keep their bodies comforted while their spirits soar. They aren’t truly gone, Tember, Ruler of the Guardian Realm.”
I look to him, hearing the title easily flowing from his lips. A declaration. A truth. An acceptance.
He presses on, pecking the top of my head. “They’re with us. Even now, in memory and love. And that’ll have to be enough until we see them again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELIZA PLAATS
GUARDIAN REALM
The beautiful and seemingly magical ceremony had ended a short time ago when everyone moved back to the village. It wasn’t a long return trek, but it had felt that way amongst the sniffles and sobs. A feast had been prepared, the entire tribe gathered to honor the dead with food and celebration, and the smell and sounds of it all had guided us back.
The music is much more lively than I would have anticipated. They may grieve, but they also rejoice. I don’t know if I could do such a thing if someone I loved died. I wasn’t able to do it when I heard of my mother’s second death, and even now, knowing Corbin has probably pulled her from the void for his gruesome army, there’s no way I could celebrate it. Death is scary. Death is sure. Death is a constant. Why celebrate it when it only rips you from the ones you love?
Jaemes, Tember, Aiden, Katriane, Dyson, Erline, and I are gathered at the edge of the forest. It’s chilly here, the breeze whistling through the paths of teepees, and a storm has begun to unleash a blistering blizzard. But still, the rejoicing presses on. As the elves dance and sway, the flakes swirl around them, joining them in celebration.
“When do we leave?” I ask, inspecting the outside of the teepee where the wounded and broken angels had returned after the ceremony.
Our stances are casual, and most of us watch the festivity. The children who were lucky enough to survive play with the Sandman, giggle and pester. He picks them up in turn, twirling them in the air. Some of those children I had patched up, and some were saved from the poisonous Red Death, but I can barely tell that anything had happened to them, not with the glee spread across their faces. Not with the food they gobble down while giggling incessantly. Not with the tears they shed despite their fun. And not far from them, the wolf shifters eat the prepared food while joking to one another, their laughter often drifting our direction.
“Soon,” Tember says, her voice hollow. “But I won’t be going with you.”
“Oh?” Kat questions, tightening her arms around her middle. I watch her, remembering the dream where her mother visited, begging me to watch over her daughter. They look so much alike. Only subtle differences are there, especially in the way they hold themselves, in the way their identical lips rest or sneer or grieve. But from where I stand, I don’t need to protect her. Her thoughts and actions may seem flawed by human nature, but she’s a formidable weapon and strong to the core. I envy her.
“No,” she answers. “I must stay here. Jaemes and I have much to prepare for the coming days. The Angel’s Ground must be rebuilt, and we need to seek help from the other tribes. We can’t ask Jaemes’s tribe to continue to donate warriors. They have nothing left to give.”
“She’s right,” Jaemes adds, pushing off from a tree trunk he was leaning against and coming to stand beside his friend, a dual force. “It won’t be easy. Word has already been spread about Mitus and Erma when the warriors of those tribes returned to their village, and they may not be accepting of our new roles.”
Tember nods shortly, robotic almost.
“And the dwarves?” Dyson asks. Our eyes swivel to the small stout men who are learning to play the drums per elf instruction, seated on logs surrounding a raging fire coiling with the falling flakes.
“Leave them here,” Aiden announces, his tone quiet. He hasn’t spoken much since the ceremony, and his deep voice rumbles against my back as he holds me to him. “The elves seem to love them, and if these elves love them, so will the rest. Take them with you, Tember. They’ll help you win over the hearts of the others.”
“We should rescue more of them,” Kat thinks aloud and then interlaces her fingers into Dyson’s.
“You and I can do that,” Dyson volunteers, looking down at his mate with pure adoration. Emotions flash across his face when she returns the gaze, and anyone can tell he’s thankful he didn’t bury her today along with the rest. “When the time is right, we will.”
Kat’s lips pucker, contemplating. “I need to see my mom first, and we have to get your pack back to the Earth Realm. It might be wise if they recruit shifters to help with the war.”
“I agree.” Erline straightens her posture and runs a pale hand over her dress. “We’re outnumbered. Especially if Corbin, Kheelan, and Sureen are hatching more monsters as we speak. More covens should be in the loop as well.”
“Then we will bring Sandy with us,” Dyson declares.
“No,” Tember barks. And then she quiets her voice at our raised eyebrows, peering at the Sandman. “They adore him, and he adores them. Leave him here where he feels like he belongs.”
“Eliza and I will come with you,” Aiden states to Dyson after a moment of silence.
All faces turn to us, varying in expressions.
“Eliza needs safety,” he adds when no one speaks. “What better way to keep her away from Kheelan than to surround her with powerful people with distinct defensive skills. And it wouldn’t hurt for her to learn to control her power. Katriane and her coven can teach her that.”
The once-witch in question sighs and rakes her free hand through her short hair. Her hair is so matted and dirty that it stays upright after the brief tug, and it makes me wonder what sort of disarray I appear to be in as well. I tug the fur around my shoulders tighter, self-consciousness creeping into my gut.
“They don’t like outsiders.” Kat grimaces. “They may not even let me step a foot onto their lands, let alone help teach Eliza what she needs to know. Besides, Eliza’s power may work differently than a witch’s. It may work more like mine than theirs.”
Aiden clears his throat. “In order to be free of Kheelan, Eliza must kill him herself. To do that, she n
eeds to control the magic. You would be the most adept teacher.”
“Of course, I’ll teach her, but won’t that set off some kind of magical ward? Won’t Kheelan know where we are?”
Aiden inclines his head, and his chin touches the top of my scalp. “Yes, he will. But he won’t attack the Earth Realm, not with all the protection she’ll have there. He’ll most likely send his vampires to do it. He’s too weak to attack, and they won’t bring their creatures to such a realm. He wouldn’t dare.”
I scowl in his arms. I suppose that’s true. The humans are ignorant, but if they were to discover the magic all around them and across the realms – to know they weren’t alone . . . well, that’s an army Kheelan isn’t equipped to deal with.
Kat points at him. “You mean you hope he won’t.”
“Do we have any choice?” I ask, attempting to soothe over the blusteringly confident personalities. “They’re going to know what we’re doing despite trying to be discrete about it. What’s the point in hiding?”
Thinking this over, she eventually shrugs. “You’re right.”
“And what about you, Thrice-Born?” Erline asks. “How will you blend in on a realm where demons are myths?”
His chest puffs against my shoulder blades as he deeply inhales. “Keep out of sight,” he dictates, but I read between the lines. He believes me to be best suited in my home realm. And though he will most certainly keep out of sight, he feels it is his only job to keep me safe. Insufferable man. But I can’t really blame him, can I? He watched me die over and over again, staying alive just to return to make sure I would never truly meet my end.
“I have a chore of my own, anyway,” he adds.
“Oh?” Katriane questions. “What business does a demon have on the Earth Realm?” She says it without any malice, but I feel it a question which challenges his honor and intentions.
I look up to his head hovering above mine and watch his dark lips move as he speaks. “I have a pyren to talk to. I promised her I’d get in touch when plans began to form.”
“What the hell is a pyren?” Kat mumbles to Dyson who shrugs.
Jaemes laughs. “There are no plans, Oh Sparkly One. As of this moment, the only plan we have is to recruit and stay alive.”
Aiden holds up a finger, silencing him, and Dyson hides a grin, pretending to scratch his nose. “We need someone on the inside. A pyren is the only one who can do that and not have her intentions questioned.”
An expression shutters Jaemes’s face. “A pyren can’t be trusted,” he grits grudgingly. “They carry nothing but gossip and tales.”
Shaking his head, Aiden snakes his arms tighter around me. “No, they can’t. But right now, they are our only option. If anyone desires freedom, they do amongst the most. Corbin asks much of them, and they want more. I’d bet they’d do anything to ensure it.”
My brain tries to conjure up a pyren, searching for common myths and legends and coming up short. No details of any sort are provided to even paint a picture in my head. By the looks on some of our faces, I am not the only one struggling.
“What are pyrens?” I finally ask, breaking the stare down between Aiden and the elf.
Reluctantly, Jaemes looks to me. “They are creatures of the Demon Realm, equivalent to mermaids, a mix of your siren legends, but more terrible than you can imagine.”
“Oh,” I whisper and blink rapidly. And this is who he wants to recruit? “What’s their purpose?” Though I remain ignorant of the creatures spread across the realms and their scientific impossibility, I’ve come to learn one thing: Each has a purpose to fulfill.
“They drag bodies to the Demon Realm where Corbin makes them into demons,” Aiden says as though it’s no big deal at all. As though it’s simple, beautiful instead of horrific.
“When they’re on the brink of death.” Jaemes spits, disgusted.
I tense in Aiden’s arms and then shudder. Innocent people roaming the sea, lured to their death, only to be sentenced to cause fear on the rest of the blameless.
“What about Reaper’s Breath?” Dyson asks, thoughtfully twisting his lips.
Aiden shakes his head. “Dead. Gone. Whatever. It was the seed Kheelan used to resurrect the firstborn.”
Dyson stares at Aiden and Kat rubs his back in slow, soothing motions. That creature had a thing for Dyson, and I think on some level, Dyson adored it. It had helped him on many occasions, and he’d probably be long gone without its help.
“And the rest of the shades?” I ask. “The ones left behind? Even the new ones?”
“If they’re not all dead already . . .” Kat trails off, letting it linger before she finishes. “It may be best to leave them where they are. Shades cannot fight, and Kheelan is too weak to tie himself to those who remain, new shades or old ones.” She clears her throat then looks thoughtful. “I agree with Aiden on this. You need to be trained to take out your fee mate before he can find a way to do it himself or Corbin does it.”
I peer back at the festivities, allowing the two harmonizing songs to replace the still-existing shudder. A female and male elf dance together, stomping their feet in the most fascinating way, and their children run circles around them, screaming with delight.
I want him dead just as much as the rest of this group, if not more. But the thought of killing another when I’ve pledged to save lives twists my stomach in several knots. I despise the man, the thing that rules over the dead, and I will see the end of his life. I just don’t know how I’ll accomplish it in good conscience. After seeing his power, and often being the victim of it, I tremble slightly at the thought.
“Do not fear,” Aiden whispers in my ear. “I can feel it. I won’t have you quaking at the death of someone who deserves it.”
Inhaling deeply, I exhale through loose lips and then nod against his rocky chest.
“Let the dragon train you if she can,” he adds.
“All right,” I whisper, dread filling me.
Silence falls over our group as we continue soaking in the atmosphere to banish the grim thoughts of our future. Though this place has only ever held broken bodies for me, I find myself already missing it. The sereneness of it, the crisp white snow, the fresh air . . .
“Gather your things,” Erline begins in a hushed whisper. “Say your goodbyes. We will leave shortly.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATRIANE DUPONT
EARTH REALM
Tember and I had such a brief goodbye, and even as we hugged, I felt her soul cry. This has to be so difficult for her, the loss, the pain, the swap in roles. I had patted her back gently, awkward in my reassurances, and then was quickly whisked away by the group of shifters. The last thing I saw in the Guardian Realm was a tentative smile on Tember’s lips, reassuring me that all would be well. That she would be well. I don’t know if I believe her.
I have no doubt she’ll make a great ruler and creator, and many will follow her once they get to know her. All she has to do is win over their hearts while setting hers, broken, aside.
Just as always, Erline’s portal feels like I’m being squeezed of all oxygen. As soon as we land, both female shifters drop to their knees, hacking onto the grass. The acidic aroma of their vomit lingers in the breezeless air, and I discreetly wrinkle my nose.
My eyelids flutter as I move away and take in the fresher scent of air. It smells like newly cut grass along with the husky tang of pine, and water trickles in a stream in the near distance, tucked inside the first layer of normal, Earth Realm trees. It feels like I haven’t been here in forever, and a small smile lifts my cheeks as a chorus of crickets drowns the sound of Kenna and Bre’s retching.
Dyson’s arm snakes around my waist, and he pulls me to him. “I think we should stay here tonight,” he proposes, turning me away from the woods to a familiar structure I remember so well.
I frown up at him. Did he think I’d return home? So soon?
Before us, the Cloven Pack home gleams in the light provided by a half-moon. It’s a
giant white house on the outside and sectioned quarters for each mated pair or individual wolf on the inside. From here, standing on the large front lawn, it looks like a mansion. I suppose it is.
Just in front of the canopy porch is the swoop of a gravel driveway, the same gravel I used to produce a spell over Dyson’s dead body. The spell had constructed the face of his killer. The memory is still so fresh that when a balmy gale brushes against the tiny rocks, the tinkling of them makes me feel like it’s happening all over again.
I look to Dyson whose hooded eyes are sweeping the trees, full of his own troubles swirling in the colors of his irises. He rocks slightly on his feet, a gentle comforting sway. My gaze travels to his neck where the bruises from being hung by the enemy of the past were on his corpse. Now, though, I see only faint lines resembling any such trauma. What that must have been like – to hang for your crimes, and to do so willingly. In my short life, two people I care for have done such a thing – a brutal sacrifice, not of honor, not of glory, but because of love. I suppose there’s a blessing in Kheelan’s cruelty of resurrecting the dead. Without it, I wouldn’t have him by my side.
Does this make Dyson a zombie? I stifle a giggle at the thought. I guess, in a way, it does. At least he has a beating heart to keep him from the hunger of fresh flesh. My stifled giggle quickly turns to a sour expression at the thought.
“This is it?” Aiden asks when the shifters start walking toward the house, chatting away like it isn’t the middle of the night. By the skip in their light jog, they’re happy to be home.
A wolf howls in the distance and Eliza whirls to the sound. She’s never been to a shifter’s territory before. To a human, a wolf’s call means danger. She needn’t worry here, but I suspect she will find that out on her own.
“It is,” Erline says.
A gray wolf barrels from the shadows of the trees, quick with each long gait and leaving a trail of rising dirt and flying blades of grass in its wake. The huge ball of fur circles around the shifters and Evo bends to a knee. His fingers find the head of the excited creature, and he speaks to it in a low voice. It’s a pack member welcoming home the alpha, making the sight heartwarming. I breathe a pent-up breath. At least some good has come out of today.
