Chapter 43 #2
We pass through an archway, and the corridor we enter is vast, with ceilings so high they disappear into shadow.
Windows of stained glass line one wall, beautiful colors and designs.
The light that filters through casts patterns of color across the polished stone floor, which shows no seams between stones—as if the entire floor were crafted from a single piece of marble.
"It's beautiful," I say softly.
"Thank you. The castle was built by the Pendragon and the Stormblood families," Hawke says as we walk.
"It was originally on Earth," Melinda adds. "Can you believe they moved the entire castle?"
I can't help but smile at the excitement in her voice. "Actually, that's one of the more believable things I've heard lately."
Fen's hand slides to the small of my back, a gentle, grounding touch. "Wait until you see the Table," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
As we approach a narrow staircase, Hawke slows, turning to Melinda with a furrowed brow. "Perhaps you should wait here, love." His voice is gentle but firm. "The Queen has been particularly... active today."
Melinda's earlier cheerfulness dims, her hand unconsciously moving to her stomach in a protective gesture. "I'm fine, Hawke." But her voice has lost its brightness, and I notice she's gone slightly pale.
"Melinda." Just her name, but the concern in Hawke's tone speaks volumes.
"I know, I know." She sighs, looking conflicted. "But I should be there. If something happens..."
We climb the staircase in tense silence, cross an outdoor bridge where the wind whips at our clothes, and begin ascending another flight of stairs in the separate tower.
With each step, Melinda's breathing becomes more shallow.
Kellan moves closer to her side, the green tattoos on his skin pulsing more rapidly.
"She's getting louder," Melinda whispers halfway up, stopping abruptly. Her knuckles are white where she grips the stone wall for support.
Hawke is at her side instantly, one arm around her waist. "Kellan can take you back."
"No." She squares her shoulders, though her face has gone ashen. "I'm not letting her win."
Letting her win? I thought the evil queen was locked up?
By the time we reach the top and step out into a large, almost circular room, sweat beads Melinda's forehead despite the cool air. The playful woman from earlier is gone, replaced by someone fighting an invisible battle.
Two large men stand from their seats at a large round table in the middle of the room. Hawke had mentioned there were people waiting, but seeing them in person is another thing entirely. Fen steps away from my side, but I find that he's pulling me along by my hand.
"Wraith, Boaz, how are you both?" He glances around the room. "Where's Ares?"
"No clue," says the closer of the two men, an Upir. He smiles, but he's still a little unnerving to look at just like the guards I saw in the Hall of Realms when we came in through the portal.
The other man looks very human except for also having pointed ears, but his skin color is a warm honey-brown, not onyx black. And his eyes are a more natural color… maybe greenish. He nods toward me politely and then smiles at Fen. This one's movements are more controlled… or stiff?
"Astrid, these are two of the other Knights. This is my friend Wraith Shadowbear that I mentioned." Fen gestures to the dark giant with yellow eyes.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Astrid." His voice is surprisingly melodic for someone so imposing.
"Oh, thank you. Um… just Astrid is fine." I resist the urge to check for exits or assess weapons. Old habits die hard, even when you're meeting your boyfriend's supernatural colleagues.
He smiles wider and shakes his head. “Lady is proper.” Then holds out a hand toward me.
I extend mine, thinking he wants to shake it, instead he kneels and kisses the top of my fingers. “Fenrir is a very lucky man to have found you. Thank you for accepting his bond and saving my friend from his darkness.”
“I… well…” I glance at Fen and mouth what do I say?
“You’re overwhelming my mate, friend.” Fen steps closer to my side.
"Forgive me." Wraith releases my hand and stands again, his expression unreadable.
"No—I didn't mean—" I fumble, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I'm just still taking a lot in. Thank you." I offer what I hope is a conciliatory smile.
The second man takes an awkwardly stilted step toward us and bows. “My lady, it is very good to meet you. I’m Boaz Magra.”
"Nice to meet you too." I relax slightly, grateful that at least this one isn't dropping to his knees or kissing my hand.
Hawke clears his throat, drawing Fen's attention away from the reunions. With a subtle gesture, he points to the table in the center of the room.
"What?" I ask, looking between them.
"There are six chairs," Fen says. "The Table called another Knight." He looks back at Hawke. “Who?”
My attention shifts to the massive circular table dominating the room. It's not just a table. It's a gigantic tree stump, polished to a gleaming finish. The surface is etched with symbols I don't recognize, spiraling patterns that seem to shift when I'm not looking directly at them.
Something about it pulls at me, an unexplainable magnetism that has me stepping closer without conscious thought. The chairs surrounding it emerge organically from the wood as if they grew there naturally. Each one is unique, with intricate carvings running up the backs.
I walk around the perimeter slowly, running my fingers along the edge of the table. The wood feels warm beneath my touch, almost vibrating with energy. I note how the grain flows seamlessly from table to chair, no joints or seams visible. This isn't carpentry. It’s alive.
As I circle the table, I find myself drawn to one chair in particular. It's not the largest or most ornate, but something about it calls to me. My fingers brush against the smooth back, tracing the etched letters there.
Astrid Mathieson.
I freeze, a chill racing down my spine despite the warmth of the wood. "That's—that's my name," I stammer, looking up at Fen. "Why is my name here?"
Fen’s expression is as confused as mine. "The chairs grow from Yggdrasil itself," he explains softly. "They appear only for those called to serve."
Serve. I stare at my name etched in the ancient wood, an uncomfortable mix of emotions churning inside me. How the hell am I supposed to protect eight planets when I don’t even know all their names?
Melinda approaches, peering over my shoulder. Her smile seems forced, tight around the edges. "Well, look at you, getting your own seat at the Round Table," she says with a brittle brightness that doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm a little jealous, I must admit."
She places a hand on my arm, but her fingers tremble slightly against my skin. Up close, I notice how she keeps swallowing hard, her gaze occasionally darting to the far wall as if tracking something invisible. Beads of sweat have formed along her hairline despite the cool air in the tower.
"I'm certainly not a fighter though." She gives a strained laugh, pressing her temple briefly with her free hand. "Still, it's pretty cool that Yggdrasil made you a seat." Her voice wavers on the last few words, and she blinks rapidly, clearly fighting to maintain her composure.
Kellan shifts closer to her, the green tattoos on his skin pulsing more intensely. His eyes never leave her face, watchful and concerned.
"What does this mean?" I ask, looking around at the others. The weight of all this… The castle, the table, my name etched in wood that's supposedly part of some cosmic tree… This all feels really fucking overwhelming.
"It means you are called by Yggdrasil to serve and protect the eight worlds," Hawke finally says, his tone solemn. "The Table has chosen you, not just as Fenrir's mate, but as a warrior in your own right."
I open my mouth to respond, to say this is ridiculous, that I'm just a GUIDE agent, or was, not some magickal knight. But something on the side of the room catches my eye.
Floating in midair, suspended by nothing I can see, is a single broken piece of a sword. The metal gleams with an inner light, pulsing like a heartbeat. It's just a fragment. The middle section of what was once a blade.
Below it, another piece remains embedded in a large stone at the base of the wall. Above the floating fragment, the shadowy outlines of the remaining pieces shimmer like a mirage, the translucent ghost of a hilt and two more blade sections, waiting to become whole.
"What is that?" I whisper, though somehow I already know.
"Excalibur," Boaz says quietly. "Or what has returned of it so far."
I walk around the table toward it, drawn by an inexplicable pull that bypasses all rational thought. It's calling to me. I can hear it. Not in words. But I can hear a voice…
"Astrid—" Fen begins, a note of warning in his voice, but it's too late.
My hand reaches up, fingers stretching toward the floating blade fragment. The metal is cool against my skin for just an instant before heat flares—not painful, but intense, like plunging my hand into sunlight made solid.
The piece shifts, moving downward toward the fragment embedded in stone. The two pieces join, fusing seamlessly where they touch. Light blazes from the seam, blinding in its intensity.
The moment the fragments connect, white-hot energy explodes outward. The air itself seems to shatter. My ears pop from the pressure change as an invisible force slams into my chest like a battering ram.
I'm airborne, lungs emptied, the room spinning around me in a blur of stone and light. Time slows as gravity loses its hold… one heartbeat, two… before I hurtle backward.
Instead of hitting the floor, I collide with something solid yet yielding. Strong arms wrap around me, catching me mid-flight. The familiar scent of pine and leather surrounds me as Fen cradles me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders against my back, rapid and powerful.
"I've got you, love," he murmurs, holding me tight against the lingering shockwave. "I've got you."
When my vision clears, I look back at the sword.
The fragment that had been floating has merged with the piece embedded in the boulder, creating one larger section of blade now firmly anchored in the stone at the base of the wall.
Above it, the ghostly outlines of the hilt and remaining blade sections still shimmer in the air, translucent and insubstantial, like a blueprint waiting to be built.
"What just happened?"
"You've restored the next piece," Hawke says, awe evident in his tone. Then he stares at the wall.
Except it’s not just a plain wall anymore. There’s an archway outlined in black and covered in hairline fractures that spread across it like a spider's web, some thin as thread, others wide enough to slide a finger through. Several of the larger fissures are backlit with a strange glowing light.
"Wait—what is that?" I push away from Fen's protective embrace, getting to my feet. "I couldn't see that before."
Fen steadies me with a hand at my elbow. "The sword," he explains quietly. "When you connected the pieces, it revealed the portal to you."
I step closer to the wall, drawn by a terrible curiosity. Through the widest crack, I can see something beyond—not quite darkness, not quite light, but a smoky grey void.
And then I see her.
A figure moves within the mist. A woman, or something using the form of a woman, wearing what looks like the remnants of once-elegant robes. Her skin has an unnatural luminescence, like she’s made of moonlight. Her dark hair cascades in wild, chaotic streams around a beautifully terrifying face.
When she turns, her eyes lock onto mine—completely white, no iris, no pupil, nothing human there at all. They glow with a cold intelligence that reminds me of a predator. I know I'm being assessed just as thoroughly as I'm assessing her.
This is something… someone ancient that's been waiting to get out of this place a very long time.
I stumble backward with a sharp inhale, colliding with Fen's solid chest.
"You can see her now," he says, his voice tight. It's not a question.
"Who—what is she?" The woman's mouth moves rapidly, forming words I can’t hear, but I can feel a strange vibration in my chest, like standing too close to massive speakers.
"The Queen," Boaz says quietly, moving to stand beside us.
"She looks..." I search for words to describe the figure. Sad. Trapped. Deranged. Terrifying. Nothing seems to capture the unsettling presence behind those glowing eyes.
"She’s angry," Melinda supplies, her voice surprisingly steady as she joins us. "And getting stronger."
The castle shudders again, more violently this time. Dust and small fragments of stone rain down from the ceiling.
"I didn't see her before," I say, unable to look away from those glowing eyes that seem to stare directly into me. "I couldn't see the cracks either."
"None of us could before Melinda arrived," Hawke says, moving to stand on my other side.
I turn to Melinda. “You can hear her, can’t you? It’s why you look sick. She’s effecting you somehow.”
Melinda nods.
“What does she say?” Fen asks.
“She wants me to find her child.”
Fen's hand tightens on my shoulder. "Child? What child?"
“We do not know,” Hawke answers.
Kellan moves closer to Melinda, the green tattoos on his skin seeming to shift and ripple. I notice how his body naturally positions itself between her and the cracked wall.
The Queen's eyes lock onto mine again. Though I hear nothing, I feel a pressure building in my skull, a sensation like fingertips brushing against my thoughts. My wolf stirs uneasily within me, hackles raised against an intruder.
"She's testing the barrier," Wraith says, his yellow eyes narrowing.
Fen pulls me back gently. "Don't stare too long," he warns. "Even imprisoned, she has power."
I tear my gaze away, focusing instead on the sword pieces. It's easier to look at, much less unsettling despite its own strangeness.
"We should go," Boaz says urgently. “There’s no reason to stay longer. Our presence only agitates her more. And it is bad for Queen Melinda to stay here long.”
As we turn to leave, I can't help looking back once more. The Queen has pressed herself against the largest fissure, her pale fingers visible at the edges of the crack as if trying to pry it wider. Her mouth forms what might be a smile… terrible and beautiful all at once.
What the actual fuck is going on with this place.