Chapter 20 #2
“Do not risk your life in this act. The others will need your aid if I fail.”
Puck's grin softened into something almost fond. “Look at you, being all noble and self-sacrificing. Don't worry about me, spider. I'm very hard to kill permanently. It's everyone else I worry about.”
The last thing Serrik saw before the world collapsed into swirling chaos was Puck's grin, twinged with madness, before everything was gone.
The approach to Valroy's camp was surreal in its normalcy. They walked through the merged landscape, past floating chunks of Boston Common and trees that sang lullabies in languages that predated human civilization, and it almost felt like any other evening stroll through impossible reality.
Except for the growing scent of smoke and blood on the wind.
Except for the way the aurora lights overhead flickered erratically, as if the very fabric of merged reality was being stressed by the violence ahead.
Except for the knowledge that they were walking toward what would almost certainly be their deaths.
Ava really missed Serrik’s quiet, looming presence.
Abigail led the way, her usual ethereal grace replaced by something harder, more purposeful. The red flowers that marked her passage bloomed and withered in seconds, leaving a trail of crimson petals that glowed faintly in the strange twilight.
Ava walked beside her, Book clutched to her chest like a shield against the world. Occasionally she stumbled as reality bent around her unconscious anxiety, as she somehow unwittingly tried to slow herself down. Stupid brain.
Behind them, Nos and Ibin walked hand in hand, their earlier confession having created a small bubble of peace in the midst of approaching chaos.
She hadn’t seen their conversation happen, but the way they were acting now?
It was obvious her interaction with Nos had inspired him to act.
She was happy for them, for however little time it would last.
Lysander was walking ahead of them in his humanoid form, his tail swishing with agitation, while Bitty flew overhead in lazy circles, her iridescent wings catching and reflecting the mixed light of the merged skies.
“He is there,” Abigail said softly, pointing toward a distant hill where fires burned against the darkening sky. “Can you feel it?”
Ava nodded grimly. Even from this distance, she could sense the wrongness of the place—the way reality seemed to twist and curdle around Valroy's presence like milk gone sour. “It's like a wound in the world.”
“He has always been that,” Abigail replied sadly. “A beautiful, terrible wound that never quite heals but always aches.”
They continued in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
The closer they got to the camp, the more obvious it became that this was no ordinary military installation.
Nightmares prowled the perimeter like hunting dogs, their forms shifting and writhing as they fed on the terror that hung thick in the air.
Unseelie warriors moved between the fires with predatory grace.
And at the heart of it all, visible even from their distance, was a tree.
It was wrong in every conceivable way—a twisted amalgamation of bark that seemed to pulse with its own malevolent life.
It was nearly devoid of branches, and its trunk was hollow and rotted.
But she knew it was alive, and it hungered, for embedded within the surface of its body like some gruesome decoration, was a figure with purple hair.
“Alex.” Ava felt her stomach clench with horror.
“Yes.” Abigail's voice was carefully controlled, but Ava could see the fury burning in her green eyes. “He has made his point quite clearly.”
They crested the final hill, and suddenly they were looking down at the full scope of Valroy's war camp. It was larger than Ava had expected, more organized, more…professional. This wasn't the chaotic rabble she had somehow been hoping for. This was an army, disciplined and ready for war.
She swallowed nervously. “What do we do?”
“We walk in.” Abigail strolled ahead, head held high.
“Wh—what?” Ava staggered. That hadn’t been part of the plan. “We’re just going to—are you kidding me?”
“He already knows we are coming. And he already knows we are here.” Abigail kept walking. “A direct assault against him would be pointless. No. We approach and speak to him directly.”
Glancing at her friends, she saw wide eyed confusion and fear reflected back. But what could she say? What could she do? Nothing but…follow Abigail. She’d committed to this madness. Fuck.
Just fuck.
“Sure. Why not. Why not? Cool! Awesome! Let’s all just stroll into the Unseelie war camp. Fuck-balls.” So, nervously, they did just that. Lysander and Bitty were now standing close by her, and all of them were behind Abigail as they walked to the center where that horrifying tree was positioned.
And there, they found Valroy waiting for them, his wings spread behind him.
His presence was overwhelming—a gravitational pull that seemed to bend reality around him like a black hole bends light.
He was magnificent and terrible, a fallen angel who had learned to love his fall.
“My beloved wife,” he called, his tone conversational despite the circumstances.
“How lovely to see you again. And you've brought friends! How thoughtful. Hm. But I see no spider for our feast this evening. Curious. Where does he lurk, I wonder?”
Abigail stepped forward, and suddenly she seemed to grow taller, more regal, power radiating from her like heat from a forge. “Release her, Valroy. Alex has done nothing to deserve mistreatment at your hands.”
“Mistreatment?” Valroy's laugh was genuinely amused. “My dear Abigail, she exists in my court. She is mine to do with as I wish.” His expression grew more serious. “But you know why she is here. You know what choice I am offering you.”
“I know.” Abigail held her voice high. “And my answer remains the same.”
Ava glanced around. They were surrounded, and growing more surrounded by the moment. Nightmares, Unseelie, and even humans armed to the teeth were circling around them. This was getting bad.
She could only hope that Abigail had a goddamn plan.
Valroy was focused only on his Queen and their argument.
“Your answer remains the same? Even knowing what it will cost you? Even knowing that your choice condemns you to slow dissolution, to watching yourself fade away piece by piece until nothing remains but an echo?” He spread his arms wide.
“Stand with me, Abigail. Let us burn this broken world together and build something beautiful from the ashes.”
“And what if I were to say yes?” Abigail's voice was steady, but Ava could hear the pain beneath it. “If I chose to stand with you, what then? What happens to my people? What happens to the humans you have already put to the sword and slaughtered like so much cattle?”
“They cease to matter. They have never mattered,” Valroy replied simply. “There is only us, only the love that has burned between us for centuries, only the freedom to finally be what we were meant to be.”
“Listen to yourself.” Abigail took a step toward him. “And your words of love and sacrifice cut both ways. You speak of freedom, but what you demand has always been my complete surrender. Tell me, husband—if you truly loved me, would you not sacrifice your war to be with me?”
The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, Ava thought she saw something like uncertainty flicker across Valroy's features.
Then his expression hardened. “That choice was made for me the moment I was made, my love. You ask the wolf to become a dog. I am only that what I was fashioned to be.”
“That is a lie, and you know it.” Abigail took another step forward.
“This was not decided for you. You choose this simply because becoming more than the sole purpose for which you were made leaves you with a terror of any absence of purpose at all. Answer me this—look around you, and tell me, once and for all—is this what you truly want?”
Valroy's eyes blazed with sudden fury. “How dare you question my desire.”
“No,” Abigail said softly. “I shall dare. You are afraid.”
“I am not afraid. I am fear itself.” He snarled, baring his teeth at her.
Abigail sighed, and shook her head sadly.
“I love you, Valroy. I have always loved you.” She placed her hand on the maze tattooed over his chest, and her voice grew gentler.
“But I have never condoned that which you believe is your sole motive for existence. For I see you as the whole and not merely a blade, fashioned to cut the throats of those around you.”
“Oh?” He sneered bitterly. “And what would you have me become instead? Your doting and obedient husband? Tamed and weak? Perhaps I should take up painting or crochet?”
“Only you would see agency as slavery.” She met his fury with a grief that told Ava that Abigail knew she had already lost this argument.
That there had been no winning it to begin with.
“I would have you be Valroy. Nothing more. Nothing less.” She chuckled.
“Indeed, I would have settled for the boar.”
For a long moment, they watched each other. Two beings of immense power locked in a tragic situation that had been going on for centuries.
Then Valroy laughed, and the sound was like breaking glass.
“Then we are at an impasse, as we have always been, my love. You will not choose me over your precious duty, and I cannot choose anything other than what I am.” He gestured toward Alex, still trapped in the tree.
“So tell me, my beloved—why should I release her? So that you can all sacrifice yourselves to nothingness? So that you can lay your love on the altar to the void like some primitive offering?”