Chapter 61
Chapter
Sixty-One
Winter
Isat on the floor with my legs crossed, Frank's fishbowl balanced carefully in my lap.
The familiar weight of the glass, the gentle swish of water as he moved, had always been my anchor to normalcy.
Now, with blue markings spiraling up my arms and the Oracle's power burning behind my forehead, normal felt like a foreign concept.
"So, Frank," I watched him drift lazily through his small world. "Tomorrow we storm a pocket dimension to face beings who've stolen the power of gods. Just another Tuesday, right?"
Frank swam in a slow circle, his fins catching the lamplight. I'd like to think he was being supportive, but he was probably just hoping for food.
The apartment was quiet around me. Milo had gone to the Bureau's archive section, determined to find any remaining texts about the Threshold Realm.
Zane and Fenric were meeting with the handful of Bureau agents they trusted, assembling what Fenric had termed "minimal but essential backup.
" Rook was outside in the hallway, giving me space while still close enough to protect me from any threats.
I appreciated the solitude, even as part of me craved their presence. These past weeks of learning to share myself, to be part of something larger than my own fears and insecurities, had changed me in ways beyond the obvious magical ones.
But tonight, I needed to be alone with my thoughts. To face what was coming without the comfort of their certainty bolstering mine.
The Oracle's power hummed beneath my skin, no longer foreign but not quite familiar either. It responded to my emotions, brightening when I felt determined, dimming when doubt crept in. Right now, it pulsed with steady, measured light. I was ready. Scared, yes, but ready.
"The thing is," I continued my one-sided conversation with Frank, "I know what choice I have to make.
The Oracle showed me everything. The Harbingers have been leeching power from the actual gods for millennia, using prophecy as a weapon to control worlds.
They've built this entire system on stolen divinity. "
I touched the mark on my forehead, feeling its warmth.
"If we succeed, if we actually manage to destroy their anchor point and dismantle their stolen power, I'll have a choice.
Take their place, become the new architect of fate, or release all that power back to where it belongs and let the universe figure itself out. "
Frank paused in his swimming, floating motionless for a moment before resuming his lazy circuit. I chose to interpret this as deep contemplation rather than fish-level attention span.
"I'm obviously going to release that power back to the universe, right?" I looked at Frank again, searching his tiny black eyes for wisdom he definitely didn't possess. "Let it go back to the gods where it belongs. That's the only way any future we might have together makes sense."
I shifted, adjusting Frank's bowl as my knee started to ache from sitting on the hard floor. Through our bond, I felt Horrace stir from where he was napping on the couch. His tentacles twitched, sensing my emotional state even in sleep.
"But how?" The question that had been plaguing me for hours finally escaped. "How do I release power like that? The Oracle made it sound simple, but they're cosmic forces we're talking about. Divine energy stolen over millennia. How does someone like me just... let it go?" I snickered slightly.
The knock at the door made me jump, nearly dropping Frank's bowl in the process. I clutched it protectively to my chest as my heart hammered. Rook was right outside. Why would anyone be knocking?
The knock came again, followed by a muffled voice that was familiar but also not quite right.
Horrace trilled in alarm, his colors shifting to worried oranges and reds as he unfurled from the couch. Together, we approached the door cautiously.
I peered through the peephole and gasped. Standing in the hallway, looking exactly as he had the day we'd first met him at Sunset Meadows, was Wadsworth. The ancient chaos entity in goose form, somehow having navigated Bureau security to reach our apartment.
Across the hall, Rook stood frozen mid-pace, his arms crossed and his expression locked in a rictus of surprise. He wasn't moving at all, like someone had hit a pause button.
I opened the door, still clutching Frank's bowl. "Wadsworth? What are you doing here?"
The goose waddled past me into the apartment, one wing raised in a casual wave. "He's fine," Wadsworth's cosmic voice echoed in my mind as he gestured toward Rook's frozen form. "Just a small time freeze. Seemed easier than explanations."
He hopped onto the couch with surprising grace for a waterfowl, settling his white feathers with dignity. "We need to talk."
I closed the door and moved to sit in the chair across from him, Frank's bowl still in my lap. Horrace positioned himself on the arm of my chair, his tentacles ready to grab me if a quick escape became necessary.
"About what?" Though I suspected I already knew.
"You know why." Wadsworth's black eyes held depths that made my vision swim slightly.
Even in goose form, his power was immense, barely contained by his chosen shape.
"Tomorrow you face beings who destroyed my kind.
Who reduced gods to footnotes and stole our birthright to play puppet masters with reality. "
The casual way he said it made my blood run cold. "Your kind? You're..." Not a chaos entity. A god.
"A god, yes. Or was, depending on how you define divinity these days.
" Wadsworth preened one wing absently. "Chaos incarnate, primordial force of change and possibility, all that nonsense.
The Harbingers couldn't steal my power directly, it's too wild, too unpredictable for their structured system.
So they settled for containment instead. "
I stared at him, pieces clicking into place. "The retirement home. That's not just where you live, it's where they keep you."
"Among others, yes. Sunset Meadows is quite the collection.
Aged gods, forgotten deities, primordial forces who've outlived their welcome in the new order.
" His cosmic gaze fixed on me with laser intensity.
"We're the ones they couldn't kill or completely drain, so they made us comfortable.
Gave us a nice place to fade away quietly while they reshaped the universe according to their vision. "
The implications hit me like a physical blow. "There are others like you? Gods they've imprisoned?"
"Dozens. Maybe hundreds by now. Some have been there so long they've forgotten what they were before. Others, like myself, maintain awareness but lack the power to break free." Wadsworth's feathers ruffled with barely contained anger. "The Harbingers were very thorough."
I hugged Frank's bowl closer, needing the comfort of his familiar presence. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because tomorrow you'll succeed. You'll destroy their anchor point and break the system they've built. Their stolen power will be released, looking for somewhere to go." Wadsworth's black eyes seemed to hold swirling galaxies. "The question is: what happens to that power?"
The weight of his stare made me shift uncomfortably. "I give it back. Release it to the gods where it belongs."
"Ah, but which gods?" Wadsworth tilted his head in that unsettling way birds do. "The Harbingers didn't just steal from the imprisoned ones at Sunset Meadows. They've been at this for millennia, draining power from countless divine beings across multiple realms and realities."
My stomach dropped. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, dear Winter, that not all of us are as benevolent as your experience might suggest. Some gods have been planning their return for centuries, nursing grudges that have grown into obsessions.
They're ancient, angry, and they remember humanity as the species that stopped worshipping them properly. "
Horrace's tentacles tightened around my arm, his musical trills turning worried and discordant. Even he could sense the danger in Wadsworth's words.
"You're telling me that if I release the stolen power back to the gods, some of them might take revenge on humanity?" The words tasted bitter in my mouth.
"I'm telling you I have no plans for revenge. I'm quite comfortable with my goose life, actually. The bread is excellent, and I enjoy the simple pleasures." Wadsworth's voice took on a harder edge. "But I can't speak for the others. Some of them have been dreaming of retribution for millennia."
The Oracle's mark on my forehead pulsed, responding to my rising panic. The blue markings on my arms began to glow brighter as my emotional state deteriorated.
"So what, I'm supposed to keep the power? Become the Chalice?" The thought made me nauseous. "Rule over everyone and everything to prevent some hypothetical divine revenge?"
"I can't tell you what choice to make," Wadsworth stood, preparing to leave.
"But I can give you a thought to carry with you.
If the Harbingers are defeated but their power isn't returned to its rightful owners, and you take up their mantle instead, what's to stop you from becoming exactly what they were? "
The question hit me like a slap. I opened my mouth to protest, to insist that I would never become like the Harbingers, but the words died in my throat.
Power corrupted. I'd seen it in the Oracle's memories, watched as a young idealist slowly transformed into something cold and calculating, convinced that their judgment superseded cosmic law.
The Oracle had started with the best intentions, trying to prevent suffering, but ended up isolated and imprisoned by their own choices.
"What if I become them?" I whispered, the fear finally voiced. "What if taking that much power changes me into something that would hurt the people I love?"
Before Wadsworth could respond, before I could spiral further into existential terror, an angry roar shook the apartment. The time freeze had worn off, and Rook's voice thundered through the walls with enough force to rattle the windows.
Wadsworth cackled, a sound like wind chimes in a hurricane. "That's my cue to leave. Good luck tomorrow, Winter. Try not to let the weight of cosmic responsibility crush that lovely human spirit of yours."
With a casual wave of his wing, the ancient god-goose vanished, leaving only a few white feathers floating to the floor.
The door burst open seconds later, Rook charging in with his eyes blazing gold and his claws already extended. He scanned the room frantically, taking in my distressed state and the lingering scent of ancient magic.
"What happened?" His voice was rough with concern and barely contained rage. "I felt the time magic hit, then you were upset, and..." He trailed off, spotting the white feathers. "Was someone here?"
I looked down at Frank, who continued his eternal swimming as if cosmic entities dropping by for philosophical debates was perfectly normal. Maybe in his simple fish brain, it was.
"Just a visitor," I managed, my voice shakier than I wanted. "Someone reminding me that there are no easy answers to impossible questions."
Rook crossed to me in two strides, gently taking Frank's bowl and setting it safely on the side table before pulling me into his arms. His warmth, his solid presence, helped ground me as my mind reeled from Wadsworth's revelations.
"Whatever they said," his voice rumbled against my ear, "whatever doubts they planted, remember this: you're not facing any of it alone. We're your anchors. We won't let you become something you're not."
I pressed my face against his chest, breathing in his pine and earth scent. The Oracle's mark pulsed gently, no longer burning with panic but settling into steady warmth.
Tomorrow we would face the Harbingers. Tomorrow I would make a choice that could reshape reality itself.