Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Valroy watched the shadowy creatures begin to gather. One by one, two by two, they answered his silent call. It was time.
No words were spoken, no spells performed. There was no need. Those creatures in the darkness who lived to perform death simply understood, like the primal things that they were. Like birds flocking to their nesting grounds, like spiders born spinning webs, they gathered.
Ancient knowledge, buried deep within their blood.
Eager to spill, taste, drink, that of others—let it run in deep red rivers until it drowned the whole world.
For they would open every vein until there were no more to split.
They would burn every tree until all were coal and ash.
They would level every building until every monument to human hubris was nothing but dust and rubble.
The Great and Final Hunt was about to begin. The one that would end all others. The slaughter of all of life itself. Oh, how glorious it would be!
He smiled up at the multiple moons of too many worlds and rejoiced.
This was freedom.
This was joy.
“Valroy.”
And that was the voice of a damnable and proverbial—what was the new phrase Izael kept using? Ah, yes. Wet blanket.
He shut his eyes. “Hello, Anfar.”
Bracing himself for the argument that was inevitably about to ensue, he turned to face his oldest…
companion? To call him a friend would perhaps pay Anfar’s affection for him too much credit.
Or perhaps pay Valroy’s ability to perform affability the same.
But here they were. Centuries old somethings that had managed not to kill each other as of yet.
Valroy smiled. “Have you come to dissuade me from my war?”
The great leviathan in his human form was a miserable looking thing. It suited him. He stared at Valroy with an expression that was fixed permanently into something resembling a scowl of disapproval. “I know better than to waste my breath. And I do subsist upon air.”
That earned Anfar a snort of laughter from him.
“You have been dallying too much with the youngling Duke and his wife Alexandra. Her humor is rubbing off upon you, sea dog.” He gestured a hand at him dismissively and turned back to watch his forces as they lurked in the trees like so many wolves.
Mistrusting of each other, sniffing out who might be in what pecking order in the pack.
“But I am glad you have grown wise enough not to bother. You have come to join me, then?”
“No.”
Ah. Yes. That served him right to get his hopes up.
“So you have not come here to convince me against this course of action, but neither have you come to aid me.” Folding his great blue wings around his shoulders, he kept his disappointment carefully hidden from his voice.
“So what third option have you invented? Do you wish to remain neutral in this apocalypse?”
“I also know better than to think I would be allowed such a choice.” Anfar also kept his tone carefully and perfectly unreadable. But, to be fair, that was quite normal for him. “Particularly when I know you would use Perin to ensure otherwise.”
Mm, yes. That was true. Valroy would leverage Anfar’s selkie love against him to keep the leviathan sea monster working obediently in his favor. “So what do you propose instead, you dour, soggy beast?”
“I will be of no use to you in this fight upon land, nor have I ever been of use in any engagement on soil. But this…” Anfar turned his all-black eyes off to the distance, clearly censoring his choice of words.
“…disaster the human has created has oceans that are tumultuous at best, catastrophic at worst. I would lead your forces upon that front.”
“You wish to fight my war in the seas?” Valroy huffed. “How convenient. Where there are no human souls or sentient fae worth n—”
“Do not be such a fool, after all this time,” Anfar snapped.
The rare show of anger from the dredged-up piece of flotsam had Valroy turning to face Anfar, stunned to silence.
The moment let Anfar continue to speak uninterrupted for once.
“If you believe that the sea has no creatures within it with all the intelligence and beauty of any of the creatures that walk upon two legs on dry land then you are a bigger idiot than I have ever suspected.” He grimaced, revealing his sharpened, pointed teeth.
“And I will take my leave of you this moment.”
“I meant no offense.” Laughing quietly, Valroy lifted his hands in a show of harmlessness. “Be calm, Anfar. Very well. Lead the armies that gather in the darkest seas. Swallow the oceans whole, leviathan. Spare yourself my sneering presence. I know it grates on you so.”
“Hmph.” Anfar turned from him to walk away. “Ah yes. The Duke has arrived. As has Lord Bayodan and Cruinn. Lady Alexandra is absent.”
Valroy narrowed his eyes for a moment. “And what of my wife?”
“Still no sign or word.” An inky darkness opened up before him in the ground. Anfar hesitated before stepping in. The fingers of one of his hands twitched.
This was goodbye.
Somehow, though much could change, though the future was yet unwritten—
It was goodbye.
All the words between them had already been said.
All the words of hatred.
All the words of loathing.
All the words of friendship.
All the words of forgiveness.
And all the words of love.
There was only one word left to say.
Anfar stepped into the inky puddle of water and disappeared beneath it.
And he was gone.
Valroy shut his eyes.
Ava woke to the sound of Serrik's breathing.
It was such a normal, human sound that for a moment she forgot where they were, forgot about the merged worlds and the impossible responsibilities weighing on her shoulders.
She just lay there in the pre-dawn darkness, listening to the steady rhythm of air moving in and out of his lungs, and marveled at how something so simple could sound so miraculous.
They could just be lovers.
For just a moment.
Then she opened her eyes and saw the sky.
Above them, aurora-like lights danced between the three merged skies. Purple, greens, golds, and blues painted everything in a slowly evolving array of colors that was utterly breathtaking.
“You’re staring,” he said without opening his eyes.
“The lights are beautiful.”
That got his attention. He opened his golden eyes and looked up at the light show above them, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “They are,” he agreed. “Though I suspect they are responding to something other than natural atmospheric conditions.”
Ava pushed herself up on one elbow, studying the dancing patterns. When he didn’t say anything for a long stretch of time, she glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at the sky anymore, he was looking at…her. And he was looking at her with a strained expression. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He paused, as if the question required serious consideration.
“I am more than okay. I am alive, Ava. Truly alive for the first time in eighteen centuries.” He turned to look at her, and there was something in his expression that made her breath catch.
“Do you have any idea what that means? What it feels like to have a heartbeat again, to feel air in my lungs, to be able to touch something and know it is real?”
The intensity in his voice, the raw wonder and gratitude, was astonishing. This wasn't the cold, controlled Serrik she'd grown accustomed to. This was someone discovering what it meant to be human—well, at least physical—all over again.
This was dangerous. She was playing with fire.
But she was terrified of this new un-reality, multiple-reality, whatever-the-fuck, cluster-fuck she’d made of things, and she wanted a distraction. No, she needed a distraction. She needed some comfort. And it looked like he needed some, too.
“Show me,” she said softly.
His eyebrows rose. “What?”
“Show me what it feels like.” She reached out and took his glowing hand in hers. “I want to understand.”
For a moment, he just stared at their joined hands. Then, moving slowly, as if afraid she might change her mind, he brought her palm to his chest, directly over his heart. “This is…dangerous, Ava…I warn you.”
“I know. I don’t care right now.”
“I do not believe I do, either.”
The steady thump beneath her fingers was strong and real and utterly mundane. But the way his breath hitched when she touched him, the way his eyes fluttered closed like a man receiving absolution—that was anything but mundane.
“Eighteen hundred years,” he whispered. “Eighteen hundred years of existing as pure thought, pure will, trapped in a prison of dreams. And now…” He opened his eyes and looked at her with an expression so vulnerable it made her chest ache.
“Now I can feel your skin against mine. I can smell the morning air, can taste the magic in the atmosphere. I can feel the grass beneath my body and know that it is real, not just an elaborate illusion conjured by a mind slowly going mad from isolation.”
Ava had never thought about what it would be like to lose physical sensation and then regain it. The idea was almost too terrible to contemplate—to only have what the mind remembered of something…and then to have it all rush back. “I’m sorry—I'm so sorry you had to endure that.”
“Do not apologize.” He covered her hand with his own. “You gave this back to me. You gave me everything back to me. You freed me, Ava.”
The gratitude in his voice was overwhelming, but there was something else there too. Something darker and more complex. Need. The desperation of someone who had been starved for physical contact for far too long. Hunger.
“Serrik…” But whatever she'd been about to say was lost as he moved closer, his free hand cupping her face.
“I know what we have between us is complicated.” His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. “I know you have every reason not to trust me, not to want this. But Ava, please—let me have this moment. Let me know what it feels like to be close to someone who matters.”