Chapter 2
Finn
There are so many Eds.
I cannot stress this enough.
SO. MANY. EDS.
They’re shuffling toward the Gate like the world’s longest, most depressing conga line. Thousands of identical shadow blobs, indistinguishable from each other, moving with all the urgency of a glacier with commitment issues.
Kaia stands at the threshold, wings spread, looking like a goddess made of starlight and shadow.
And the Eds just… shuffle past her.
One of them bumps into another. They both wobble. Neither acknowledges it.
“This is the most anticlimactic apocalypse I’ve ever seen,” I say.
Torric grunts. “Shut up, Finn.”
“No, seriously. We fought a god. Okay, we didn’t, but we would have. We aligned six bloodlines. We literally opened a Gate to the afterlife. And now we’re watching—” I gesture at the endless stream of identical shadows. “—traffic.”
An Ed shuffles past. Then another. Then three more in a clump that looks suspiciously like they’re trying to cut in line.
“Bye, Ed,” I call out.
The Ed doesn’t respond. Obviously. It’s an Ed.
“Farewell, Ed. Enjoy being dead somewhere else.”
Another Ed passes. This one seems to be moving slower than the others. Taking its time. Sightseeing on its way to the afterlife.
“Pick up the pace, Ed. You’re holding up the line.”
Bob materializes beside me. His posture radiates disapproval.
“What? Someone should say goodbye. It’s polite.”
Bob’s form ripples in a way that clearly says I did not bind my immortal soul to the Valkyrie line for this.
“See you later, Ed. Have a good one, Ed. Tell the other side Finn says hi.”
Patricia appears on my other side, notebook out, scribbling furiously.
“Are you documenting this?”
She doesn’t look up. Just keeps writing.
“Patricia. Are you writing down my Ed farewells?”
More scribbling.
“That’s going in the historical record, isn’t it? ‘Finn Veylan, legendary chaos mage, talked shit to eight thousand dead people.’”
Scribble scribble scribble.
“I’m going to be a footnote. A really embarrassing footnote.”
An Ed bumps into the Ed in front of it. The first Ed wobbles. The second Ed wobbles. A third Ed, seemingly unrelated to the collision, also wobbles.
“Did you see that?” I point. “That Ed just caused a three-Ed pileup. That’s a multi-Ed collision. An Ed-cident.”
Torric pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kill you.”
“You can’t. I’m essential to the polycule. Also, Kaia would be sad.”
“She’d get over it.”
“Rude.”
Another Ed shuffles past. This one has a weird lump on its head. Or maybe that’s just how Eds look. Hard to tell. They’re very… Ed-shaped.
“Hey, Lumpy Ed. Looking good. Love what you’ve done with your… lump.”
Aspen appears at my shoulder, quiet as always. “Are you naming them?”
“What? No. They’re all Ed. That’s the point. They’re Eds.”
“You called that one Lumpy Ed.”
“That’s a descriptor, not a name. Totally different.”
Another Ed passes. This one seems to be moving sideways somehow. Diagonally. Against the flow of Ed-traffic.
“Where’s that one going? Ed. Ed, buddy. The Gate’s that way. You’re going the wrong—and he’s gone. Okay. Godspeed, Diagonal Ed. You do you.”
Movement to my left.
The God is walking toward us.
Not toward Kaia. Toward us.
My chaos magic coils tight, uncertain. Every instinct screaming that when an actual deity approaches, you should probably stop making fun of dead people.
But he’s not looking at me.
He’s looking at Kaia.
Watching her stand at the threshold, wings pulsing with light, guiding souls home like she was born for it. Which, I guess, she was.
His expression is… soft. Almost fond.
Then his gaze slides to me, and something shifts in those ancient eyes. Amusement, maybe. Recognition.
“Eds,” he says.
I blink. “What?”
“You call them Eds.” He gestures at the endless stream of shadows. “Why?”
“I… uh…” Suddenly my mouth is very dry. “Because there’s a lot of them? And they all look the same? And naming them individually seemed like a commitment I wasn’t ready to make?”
The God of Chaos laughs.
Actually laughs.
It sounds like thunder rolling through a canyon. Like stars colliding. Like the universe itself finding something genuinely funny.
“Eds,” he repeats, still chuckling. “Millions of souls, waiting centuries to pass through… and you call them Eds.”
“Should I… not?”
“No, no.” He waves a weathered hand. “It’s perfect. Very chaos.”
His eyes drift back to Kaia. Watching. Always watching.
The others have noticed. Torric moves closer, fire banked but ready. Aspen drifts to my other side. Malrik’s shadows coil around his feet as he approaches. Darian’s light flickers, uncertain. Even Kieran steps in, forming a loose circle around the God and me.
Everyone except Kaia.
She’s still at the Gate. Still guiding. Still glowing.
She can’t hear this.
“You know,” the God says, his voice casual in that way that makes my spine lock up, “I’ve watched many chaos wielders over the centuries. Millions of them. All of them touched by my essence, whether they knew it or not.”
He’s looking at me now. Really looking. Those ancient eyes pinning me in place.
“But you, Finn Veylan…” He tilts his head. “You’re different.”
“Different good or different ‘about to be smited’?”
“Smote.”
“What?”
“The past tense is smote. And no.” His gaze drifts back to Kaia. Lingers there. “Different important.”
Torric shifts. I feel his heat flare, protective. “What do you mean?”
The God doesn’t answer immediately. Just watches Kaia guide another wave of Eds through the Gate. Her wings pulse. The light shifts.
“Do you know why your magic always felt wrong, Finn?”
I don’t know what to say to that.
Because yes. Fuck yes, I know. I’ve always known something was off. Always felt like my chaos was working overtime, straining against something I couldn’t see or understand. Everyone told me I was unstable. Dangerous. Broken.
“It was doing its job,” the God says quietly. “The whole time.”
“What job?”
He turns to face me fully. The others press closer. Listening.
“When Solveig used the Heart of Eternity to send her daughter through time, the magic was… imprecise. Chaotic.” A faint smile. “Time magic always is. Kaia could have landed anywhere. Any realm. Any century. Scattered across infinity like smoke in wind.”
My chest is tight. My magic is writhing.
“But she didn’t,” I manage.
“No. She didn’t.” His ancient eyes hold mine. “Because something caught her. Gave her a direction. A destination. An anchor point to pull her through safely.”
“What…” I can barely get the word out. “What caught her?”
The God smiles. Gentle. Almost paternal.
“You did.”
The world stops.
“You were young. Eight, perhaps. Maybe ten. Your chaos magic had just awakened, wild and uncontrolled and reaching.” He glances at Kaia again. “It reached across time. Across realms. Found a six-year-old girl hurtling through the void with nowhere to land.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand.”
“Your magic gave her a way out, Finn. Before you knew what chaos was. Before you knew her name. Your power reached into the space between worlds and said here — come here — I’ve got you.”
I can’t breathe.
“And she did,” the God continues. “She landed safely. In the right place. The right time. A realm where she could grow up, where she could become who she needed to be. Because your magic pulled her through.”
Torric’s hand lands on my shoulder. Warm. Grounding.
I barely feel it.
“But chaos magic doesn’t let go easily,” the God says. “Once it finds something, it holds on. Your power stayed connected to her across years. Always reaching. Always searching for the girl it had saved.”
“The strain,” I whisper. “The wrongness—”
“Was your magic stretched thin. Tethered to a Valkyrie you’d never met, waiting for the day she’d finally appear.”
The tears come before I can stop them.
All those years.
All those years of being told I was broken. Unstable. Dangerous. A liability.
And I was reaching for her.
I was finding her.
“The day she appeared at your academy,” the God says, “your magic didn’t react because she was powerful or interesting or new. It reacted because it could finally stop reaching. She was here. She was real. She was found.”
His ancient eyes meet mine.
“Your magic didn’t scream ‘finally’ because of attraction, Finn. It screamed ‘finally’ because after years of holding on… it could rest. She was home.”
Aspen’s frost brushes my arm. Cool. Calming.
Malrik’s shadows brush against my skin. Steadying.
Darian’s light flickers, warm and golden.
Kieran says nothing, but I feel his presence, his understanding.
“That’s why your magic screamed when she appeared,” the God says. “Not finally as in ‘finally something interesting.’ Finally as in… reunion. As in ‘I’ve been holding you for years and now I can see your face.’”
I’m shaking.
Full-body shaking.
“She doesn’t know?” My voice cracks. “Kaia doesn’t—”
“No.” The God looks at her again. Still guiding. Still glowing. Oblivious to everything happening behind her. “That’s not my truth to tell. It’s yours.”
He steps back. Gives me space.
“You asked what you are, Finn Veylan. You’re the boy who saved a Valkyrie before he knew Valkyries existed. You’re the chaos that held when everything else fell apart.”
He turns to walk away. Pauses.
“You’re not my descendant by blood,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “But you carry my essence better than anyone I’ve seen in millennia. That magic of yours — the chaos everyone feared — it’s not a flaw.”
His ancient eyes meet mine one last time.
“It’s a gift.”
Then he’s gone. Walking back toward the Gate. Toward Kaia.
I stand there.
Shaking.
The others close in around me. A wall of warmth and shadow and light and frost. Protecting me from nothing. From everything.
“Finn.” Torric’s voice is rough. “You okay?”
I laugh. It comes out wet and broken.
“I saved her.” The words feel impossible. Holy. “I saved her. Before I knew her. Before I loved her. I was already—”
I can’t finish.
Aspen’s hand finds mine. Cold fingers threading through my shaking ones.
“You were already hers,” he says quietly. “And she was already yours.”
I look at Kaia.
My Trouble. My Valkyrie. The girl I’ve been holding together since I was a child.
She’s still at the Gate. Still guiding. Wings pulsing, face calm, tears drying on her cheeks.
She has no idea.
No idea what I did. What I’ve been doing. What my magic has been screaming about since the moment she walked into my life.
I wipe my face. Take a breath.
“Bye, Ed.”
The word comes out steadier than I expected.
Another Ed shuffles past. Then another.
“See you later, Ed.”
Torric’s hand squeezes my shoulder.
“Safe travels, Ed.”
Malrik’s shadows brush my ankles. Gentle.
“Thanks for waiting, Ed.”
Aspen doesn’t let go of my hand.
“She came for you.”
Darian’s light pulses warm.
“She finally came.”
I keep saying goodbye.
But it feels different now.
I’m not joking anymore.
I’m not crying anymore either.
I’m just… here. Standing with my brothers. Watching the woman I saved before I knew her name guide the dead to their rest.
“Hey, Ed?”
The next shadow pauses. Almost like it’s listening. Probably not. It’s an Ed.
“When you get to the other side? Tell them about her.” My voice is steady now. Strong. “Tell them a Valkyrie came back. Tell them she had help.”
The Ed shuffles past. Disappears into the light.
Another takes its place.
Then another.
Then a thousand more.
“Bye, Ed,” I whisper. “Bye.”
The Gate pulses.
The Eds keep coming.
And I keep saying goodbye.
But now I know why I’m here.
Now I know what I’ve always been.
Not broken.
Not unstable.
Not wrong.
Hers.