Chapter 62
Mount Morte was quiet and still. Too much so.
Maeve looked back over her shoulder at the cavern’s large opening, high on the mountain. The space was small and covered in a thick haze of green.
She stepped deeper into the cavern and the hazy green mist cleared in the small space.
The altar she’d seen many times in Mal’s mind moved into view. Ancient Magic oozed from it.
The Dread Viper arrives at last.
Maeve whipped around, turning in a quick circle. The cave remained empty and eerily still. The voice was not unfamiliar.
“I have heard your voice before,” said Maeve. “I have felt you before.”
Why have you come here now?
“For Mal,” she answered, still turning in a circle, looking for this unknown dark creature that spoke so easily into her thoughts.
You’ve come to save him. How valiant.
Maeve stepped towards the altar once more, feeling Magic tingle down her arms.
He’s so very lost, isn’t he?
She dared another step.
You alone can do it.
“Save him?” She asked.
Save all of them.
“All?” She asked, her eyes still on the mesmerizing Magic radiating from the altar.
Maeve stepped again. The altar was a short reach away.
All. I know where your mother is.
Maeve’s pulse shot to attention.
The room shifted before her. The altar vanished into mist, forming a painfully beautiful scene. Snow fell outside the large windows at Sinclair Estates.
And there stood her mother.
Her birth mother.
Her father held her close by a fire.
Maeve crossed towards her parents.
A tiny version of herself played on the rug before them.
I can give you the life you deserve.
Antony rounded the corner with Arianna on his heels. They both concealed a large present behind their back.
Maeve looked back to her mother, her face still concealed as the child version of her siblings presented her with their gift.
Sinclair Estates twisted from view, and Hellming Hall at Vaukore shifted into focus. Antony and Arianna sat across the table from her. The three of them together at school.
Before Maeve could even take in the new scene it changed again.
There’s so much you deserve to feel.
Her mother stood beside her, fixing her white lace veil.
Mal stood down the aisle waiting for her as Abraxas fixed his suit. Her father offered her his arm. Maeve’s heart soared at the sight. They all vanished into grey smoke and darkness with her next breath.
“Wait,” she said softly.
All of it is yours. I just need a little blood.
“My blood?” Asked Maeve.
Your blood.
Maeve stood in the darkened space, yearning to see Mal’s face as they vowed themselves to one another.
“But this is not reality,” she said in a hushed voice. “It is but a dream.”
Do the falsehoods you create within your mind feel like a dream?
Light infiltrated the darkness, creating a new scene around her.
She and Mal dined at Sinclair Estates. Mal reached over and touched her swollen belly.
They shared a smile.
Maeve’s mouth fell open as her brows pulled together.
The vision shifted once more as the voice spoke.
Don’t you want to remember carrying him?
Her mother and father sat out on the balcony at Sinclair Estates, taking turns holding a baby boy who she knew at once to be Maxius.
His first laugh? Holding him? Feeding him?
Icy tears slipped down Maeve’s cheek and clung to her jaw.
“How could I have forgotten him?”
There is much you have forgotten. I can show it all to you.
Ambrose handed Maxius over to Mal. Her mother’s back faced her, where she doted on Maxius. Her father cupped Maxius’ cheek as Mal smiled up at her. Not a vision of her. Her.
Just a little blood.
“Maeve,” said Mal in that velvety smooth voice. He was so beautiful. She’d forgotten just how full of life he once was. “Come,” he called to her.
Just a little blood.
“Maeve, darling!” Said her father upon noticing her.
More tears fell as her favorite voice in the world called her so affectionately.
Just a little blood. Just a little blood.
At last, her mother turned from Maxius, and Maeve saw her face fully.
She was glorious. A warm summer sunbathe and a cozy winter night. Her red lips smiled. It filled every crack inside her hollow soul.
Just a little blood, just a little blood, just a little–
Her mother’s shoulders dropped with a content sigh. “My beautiful girl.”
She extended her hand to Maeve.
“Come, my plus jeune serre-livre,” said her father.
His littlest bookend.
Her mother nodded and reached further towards her. “Come, darling.”
Just a little blood, just a little drop of blood, of blood, just a drop or all of it–
Maeve took her mother’s hand.
Blinding, hot, fire surged through her stomach.
The balcony at Sinclair Estates dissolved into ash, taking Mal and Maxius, and the beloved image of her mother and father together at last, with it.
Maeve bent forward in a silent cry. Her knees collapsed into the floor of Mount Morte before the altar. Her hands shook as steel slipped from her grip and clattered to the ground. The Dread Dagger lay before her, soaked in bright crimson blood.
In her blood.
In the blood pouring from a full stab wound to her stomach.
Maeve sucked in a few strained breaths and felt the weight of her mistake brush past her before she fell unconscious on the ground of Mount Morte.
The explosion of Magic from Mount Morte was felt across all seven realms. Bright green light spiraled into the dark sky, creating a tower of cyclonic Magic above the mountain.
Reeve stood at the threshold of the path into the mountain, black wings of night slipped from his back. He was unable to cross into the mountain. He was too late. His furious fist slammed against the invisible wall keeping him from Maeve. He poured all of Aterna’s Magic into his sharpened claws that attempted to punch through the wall of Magic.
The mountain did not move.
The ancient blight of Magic surged from Mount Morte and barreled across The Dread Lands at super speed, heading straight for Mal, where he lay unconscious in Abraxas’ arms. It sliced through the minds of dozens of Bellator in its path, shattering them in one pass. It penetrated Abraxas’ shield, knocking him backward, and swirled through Mal, wrapping his body in serpent-like bands of lethal Magic.
The Magic stilled. Abraxas shook and he crawled away from the death lingering above Mal.
When the Dread Prince’s eyes popped open with a sharp inhale, it was not fading and fleeting flecks of green that consumed them.
They were no longer a hazel dream.
They were a solid, piercing green nightmare.