by K T Munson
Slowly he swallowed the food in his mouth. “I think it would be best if Elisabeth explained everything to you.”
“Why can’t you?” Selene asked.
He met her puzzled gaze with a serious one. “I don’t want you to be frightened of me.”
She seemed to consider his words. “Malthael and Kerrigan trust you, and so do I. If you need my blood, take it.”
He hadn’t expected that. For a moment he thought she was joking, but the determination on her face convinced him that she was resolute. More than ever, she reminded him of Elisabeth, making him miss her more. It caused a pang of ache within his chest.
“Have everyone come out when they are done with lunch, and I’ll start the ritual,” Ki told her.
Selene nodded and headed back inside. Ki finished the rest of his food sluggishly while contemplating what it would mean to have the cottage linked to both the planet and the Netherworld. It would be another gate—but without a guardian and not created by the King of Morhaven.
He put down his empty plate, finished the last of the marks with his daggers, and filled the marks with wax from a burning candle. As he set new, unlit candles at the corners of the star shape, he prepared himself mentally. Muttering the last of the incantation, he completed the link. Magic hummed around him. The old runes held a surprising amount of power, and Ki could feel their subtle strength.
Moments later, the door to the cottage opened and Malthael stepped out, followed closely by Kerrigan and Selene. Ki kept muttering the words, binding the tendrils of magic to the center of the markings. When the last was tied, he picked up the bowl carved from the bone of a human skull and carried it toward Selene.
Selene didn’t blink—just stared and tipped her head back. He picked up a long poker he’d taken from the kitchen earlier in the day and jabbed it up her nose. Grunting in surprise, she took a step back, but he knew it didn’t hurt. It was just a bit of pressure. He held the bowl made of bone up to her face and cupped the back of her head. Blood almost immediately started streaming out onto the white bone and filled the strange runes covering it.
When he had all he needed, Ki handed Selene a handkerchief. She gratefully took it and pressed it to her nostril to stem the flow while Ki chanted the binding spell. Returning to the center, he set the bowl down, binding the magic to the blood and into the ground. When it was done, he stepped out of the circle and faced Malthael.
“If I do this, it will be permanent. This place will forever be a gateway between the Netherworld and Lyreane,” Ki warned. “It will need…a guardian.”
He didn’t care about the consequences, only Elisabeth mattered, but Malthael might have another idea. It would be unfair to take the option of choice away. Malthael considered the words and likely their implication; someone would have to become its guardian.
“Does that mean the cottage will exist in both places?” Selene asked around the cloth against her face.
“It means it will forever fluctuate between the two,” Ki explained.
Kerrigan glanced between Malthael and Selene, both of whom looked torn. “We must,” Kerrigan said almost angrily. “These things don’t matter, this house and all of its fine furniture. None of it is important except for life. Elisabeth’s life matters.”
“It isn’t that,” Malthael said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“What then?” Kerrigan asked.
“It will be a portal between the Netherworld and the planets. This has never been done, and it was created by the Shadow Clan to be irreversible,” Ki explained. “If it is permanent, someone must guard it, and I must bind them to it.”
“I will do it,” Malthael said.
“I do not think the Ashladian gate will release you from your bond.” Ki shuffled his feet. “And it requires their soul to be bound.”
“I don’t understand,” Selene whispered.
Malthael’s expression was grave. “Demons were not born; they were made. I have no soul.” Malthael covered his eyes with a hand as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
Selene’s eyebrows twisted together in worry; it seemed she understood the sacrifice. Malthael seemed on the verge of a decision, and Ki felt he knew what it was. Ki would do whatever was necessary, but Malthael knew Elisabeth just as well. Ki had a feeling Elisabeth would not allow this; the expense of even one person to save her own life would be a price Elisabeth would not willingly pay.
“Wouldn’t Elisabeth guard it?” Selene asked quietly.
Malthael sighed heavily. “She would, but that is a decision I cannot make for her. Nor is she here for Ki to bind her to it.”
“I would do it, but I cannot be a guardian. I am the caster, and I must bind it to another. Those are the rules of this spell,” Ki added bitterly. “It would require constant watch and a lifelong service to it. You couldn’t leave for long periods; this place would become your world.”
Silence fell between them as the magic hummed behind him. Ki only needed someone to bind it to. Then he could enter the circle and wait for the blood to bind to Elisabeth. In a way, it was a life for a life. Nanette, who had stayed behind, could not have been the guardian either, as she was an owned soul.
“I’ll stay,” Kerrigan said. Everyone turned to her. “I was told when we were in Morhaven that this body would need to return to the Netherworld to survive because that is what it is made from. Sooner or later I’ll have to return but at least this way I shall be able to live in both worlds.”
Ki had not considered the benefit this could bring to Kerrigan—he’d only been focused on bringing Elisabeth back. Kerrigan was right; she was the best option. He nodded as he met Malthael’s gaze.
“Are you sure?” Malthael asked. Ki saw him tighten his hold on her shoulder
“I am.” Kerrigan nodded. “Elisabeth saved my life. I owe her.” Before anyone could argue, she stepped into the circle. “Where do I stand?”
Ki pointed to the center. “Stand there with the bowl in your hands. I’ll recite the last of the spell, and then you must wait for blood to sing to blood. Once Elisabeth enters the area, the spell will activate, and you shall become its guardian.”
Kerrigan picked up the skull and took her place at the center. Ki recited the last of the spell. The runes hummed louder and glowed a soft blue as he tied the magic of the spell to Kerrigan. He did not know if the price Kerrigan was paying to rescue Elisabeth was too high—would Elisabeth thank or berate them? He could only hope she would understand and forgive.
Chapter 20: Inner Sanctum
Elisabeth no longer measured time by the hours and days. She measured by deaths because they were her only constant. She’d thought they would start to meld together in her mind, but each was distinct: the fatal wounds she inflicted, the confusion on their faces, and the emptiness of their glossy eyes were all etched in her memory. Seventeen times she had borne witness to those eyes, and it was causing her to slowly lose her mind. She giggled to herself at the idea, wondering where it had gone off to.
She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t remember anything except the need to resist. The mantra of names no longer worked, and now the shard was her entire focus. Elisabeth continued to deny Arawn with every breath, but it wasn’t enough. She was slipping. It was in the moments after another nightmare that she remembered, but it came to her a little more slowly every time.
Dazed, she lay on the ground, her lips cracked from the lack of water and her body sluggish. It wasn’t until Arawn cast a shadow across her face that she realized she was no longer alone in the room.
“The shard, Elsariel. It is time you gave me the shard.” Arawn’s antlers cast strange shadows across her face and arms.
“No,” she replied like an obstinate child.
She could feel, rather than see, his fury. Trying to roll away from him proved futile, the nightmares she’d survived having drained her of what little energy she could muster. Had he been able to, Arawn could impale her body agonizingly slowly, and she wasn’t sure she could even put up a
fight.
“You won’t relent?” he said through his teeth.
“Never,” she replied.
“I’ve been saving this one.” He sneered. “It is the worst. I can feel you weakening, child, and you will soon break.”
She closed her eyes. She felt like crying but knew she couldn’t. After Arawn left her, she fought to stay conscious. She struggled against the pull of sleep and rest until her body out-maneuvered her mind.
When she opened her eyes, the world was on fire. Standing, she felt energy flow into her veins. Something about this place revitalized her, but drained her once the nightmare ended. Arawn was right; she was weakening with each untaken path she glimpsed.
She was dressed in a beautiful black dress—Elsariel’s favorite color. When she focused further out, she realized the whole town was burning, smoke billowing into the air all across the city. Ash rained down on her hair. It was as if the Netherworld was on Ashlad.
Screams filled her ears, and she had the urge to hide. She ignored her instinct, as she knew there was no point. The horror would find her sooner or later. Her off-the-shoulder black dress with a plunging neckline swept across the ground, leaving a trail in the ash. Apparently Elsariel liked lace as much as Elisabeth did, except all her tastes were dark.
“Help me,” a voice called.
Elisabeth glanced toward the voice and found a wounded man reaching for her. She studied his mangled leg and then turned away from him because he wasn’t real. Every time she tried to help in past scenarios, everything became worse. The anguished screams continued like the sounds of lambs being brought to slaughter. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils, and the ash became thicker the closer she drew to the cries of the dying. The sooner she found Aryan the Black the better. She would kill everyone, adding to her death count, and then she could have her momentary reprieve.
The power of the place surged through her veins, but her movements were sluggish, her limbs feeling heavy. The weight of the dress intensified with each step, and her body protested. She was losing the will to fight, and it terrified her.
Buildings were engulfed in flames; even on fire the architecture was beautiful. As she made her way down the middle of the street she felt the heat on her face. She heard more screaming, more begging, but she couldn’t stop. Minutes later she came to the center of the city, Parndon, that she had grown up in.
As the town square came into view, she saw Malthael tied to a post with a pyre by his feet. A tear rolled down her cheek as she paused on the edge of the town square. The Black Council, dressed in their full glory, turned to her as she approached. She stared, waiting for them to attack.
They all bowed at the same time. “Our savior.”
All of the hair on Elisabeth’s arm stood on end. Darienith remained standing, unmoving, a lantern in his hand. His features were exactly as they had been in the other realities, but here his eyes were desperate.
“It is time we put this Mad Dog down,” Darienith said, holding the lantern out to her. “Shall you do the honors, daughter?”
Without his horns, Malthael would burn. Elisabeth’s nostrils flared. In all of the other scenarios, Malthael had been already dead. She had never killed him. She had seen him dead, but never had it been by her hand in the moment. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to focus on his face.
“I know, daughter,” Darienith said softly as he came toward her. “Kill the monster that left your mother for dead. Take our revenge for her.”
“What?” Elisabeth said. Her eyes moved back to Darienith’s face as she drew closer.
He put the lantern in her numb fingers, cupping his hands around hers. “He had a choice. He could have saved her and you, but he left her bleeding and alone.”
“You were trying to kill me,” Elisabeth said, halfheartedly pulling away.
“I had to. I am conditioned to. I loved Serena. I made her run from me to keep you and her safe. When a Soul Collector makes a child he gives up part of his soul and without his entire soul he slowly starves. I knew I would go mad and hunt for my missing half—blinded by hunger. I knew I would come for you.” He cupped one hand to her cheek. “My daughter. I secured a favor that would compel Malthael to keep you safe. But my beloved forgot to include herself in the bargain.”
Tears fell freely now, streaming down her face as she tried to understand. Her chest contracted in pain, filling every inch of her being with the agony of knowing. Circling around Darienith, her jaw tight, she tried to move past her disbelief.
Malthael’s head lolled to the side. His eyes were closed, and blood poured from a wound above his left eye. For a moment she thought he was unconscious, but the expression of pain on his face implied otherwise.
“Is it true?” Elisabeth whispered, barely audible.
Slowly Malthael’s eyes opened. When he met her gaze, she knew the truth. She knew her adoptive father, knew him almost as well as she knew herself. As a teenager she had learned how to read him, and she knew in that moment he was guilty. He had left Serena to die. Gasping, she put a hand to her chest, feeling the betrayal.
“Why?” she said a little louder, her lip quivering. He averted his gaze. Anger coursed through her body. “You always spoke of being honest,” she shouted, “and of telling the truth, yet you kept this from me! My father may be a Soul Collector, but he wasn’t searching for me because he wanted to. He did so because he had to. All my life I thought my mother died because my father wanted to correct a mistake. Instead she died because of you. I always thought my father was a monster, but now I realize the truth. You are.”
“Elsa,” Malthael said, turning toward her, “please understand.”
“Don’t call me that.” Elisabeth dropped the lantern and covered her ears. “You have no right.”
The lantern landed on the ground, thudding at her feet, the glass cracking. It was hard to focus, and the world seemed to shift. Bile crawled its way up her throat and her stomach roiled as though she needed to clean herself from the inside out. Her entire life felt like a lie; every belief she’d held was lost. Through it all, Malthael had been her constant, the one person she’d trusted. And he’d lied.
Elisabeth shook her head. “You never cared about me.”
“That was the past, that was a mistake, but I love you now. You are my daughter,” Malthael said, his voice firm. “If you want to take my life, take it. It is yours.”
“This isn’t real,” Elisabeth whispered. It had to be part of a dream. Malthael never said he loved her. All of it had to be a lie! Grasping at reality, she glanced down at the lantern. “I can’t.” She faced her father. “I can’t just forget everything and kill him.”
Darienith’s lips twisted in contempt. “If you won’t take revenge, I will.” He grabbed a torch from one of the Black Council.
“Darienith, please,” Elisabeth said, moving between the pyre and Malthael.
Her father’s hands wrapped around Elisabeth’s neck before she could react. Her fingers dug into his hand and arm as she gasped for air. Her powers were dormant, but she weakly tried to fight him. He sneered at her. Struggling to take a breath, Elisabeth reached into herself, calling upon her ability. Before she could focus, a roar sounded before her.
Darienith’s fingers went slack and Elisabeth collapsed. She put a hand to her throat and wheezed. Disoriented, Elisabeth tried to understand what had happened, why had Darienith stopped? The night filled with shouting, and the sounds of combat met her ears. Darienith and Malthael were grappling. She called for them to stop, but she was having trouble focusing.
In the chaos someone had started the pyre on fire. The wood crackled as the flames spread across the wood, lighting up the night like a solemn promise. She got to her feet and stumbled after her two fathers, trying not to fall. People streamed from the burning buildings around her, all careful not to get to close even in their panic. When she drew closer, she could see that Darienith had Malthael by the throat. His other hand was in Malthael’s chest. An insta
nt later, she saw Darienith extract Malthael’s soul from his body. She blinked in surprise—demons didn’t have souls. It was what made them so effective against other demons and Soul Collectors. The outline of Malthael’s spirit struggled against Darienith’s hold. That wasn’t right either. Soul Collectors couldn’t take souls before a body was dead.
Malthael’s body toppled over, and Elisabeth screamed. She felt herself falling to the ground, and then, suddenly, there were arms wrapped around her waist. She looked up and saw Ethandirill smiling.
“You’re a difficult woman to track down,” he whispered with a lopsided grin.
“Help him,” Elisabeth whispered, reaching back.
Ethandirill took in his surroundings as he helped her stand. “It isn’t real.”
Elisabeth’s heart nearly stopped. “What did you say?” She studied his face closely, praying she hadn’t imagined it.
The ground shook, the scene around them flickering for a moment. “It’s time to go.”
Half carrying her, Ethandirill rushed them through the street. Elisabeth was trying to focus but seeing Darienith kill Malthael had taken its toll. She was spent, emotionally and physically. She didn’t want to fight anymore. The image of the world around them flickered for a moment. When Elisabeth blinked, it was back to normal—a trick of her own mind.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Ethandirill glanced at her, looking worried. “We are leaving.”
“You’re not real.” Elisabeth felt her body give way. “Leave me here.”
“I am real,” Ethandirill said as Elisabeth’s knees gave out. “Hold on.”
He picked her up. His breathing drowned out the screams and the burning buildings until all she heard was the inhale and exhale of air and the muttered need for her to hold on.
Chapter 21: Morhaven
Ethandirill rushed through the construct of a possible future—a dark one to be sure. Elisabeth felt like a child in his arms. She had lost significant weight since he had last seen her, giving her face a haunting sharpness, but that wasn’t what worried him. Whatever Arawn had made her endure had fractured her; she was no longer entirely sane. He could tell from their brief conversation before she lost consciousness that Elisabeth didn’t know what was real. He was not surprised. The Inner Sanctum was intended to test a King’s resolve.
