Chapter 39
Jason
The stars burned brightly in the sky, despite the time on his watch just striking noon. Each breath that escaped him sent a faint puff of steam from his mouth, rich with hypocrisy.
“Rebecca Halsy, you’re the last Wyrd selectee.
Please come forward for processing,” Jason’s voice echoed against the stone walls of the Palatium as he stared across the crowd, searching for the woman.
He watched as she turned to her loved ones and embraced them in emotional goodbyes, their soft whimpers traveling across the dusty ground onto the stage.
He ground his teeth together. Unbeknownst to the Monster King, this was the last Wyrd that would ever be held. The sun was now gone, indicating that Solios had finally given up hope.
Portraying himself as their protector, wearing the sanctimonious mask of demise, worn through him with a slow and ravenous fury.
He couldn’t do this anymore. His finger traced along the device in his pocket, running it over the button. He wished he could press it now and let all chaos unfold. But it wasn’t the right time.
About a dozen Corvid shifters stood alongside Feich and the Rozzers, who were lining the walls.
When they revealed themselves at the beginning of this Wyrd, the people of Joro had a full-out panic.
But, following Teivel’s advice, Jason managed to spin the story as if they were compassionate protectors here to restore the cracked dome.
Hundreds still flew from above, as if waiting to decide on whether they would follow Feich or his sister.
He looked up at the magical barrier, now broken into a spiderwebbed pattern of fractures that ran up the western side of the city over Cascade. The splinters through the magical barrier pulsed like heartbeats.
The citizens living on that side migrated to Orience, and what a pain in the ass it was to find homes they felt were livable by their standards.
A couple moved into Seda’s old apartment and complained about the broken window.
Jason had promised a new one as soon as possible.
Little did they know he had never placed the order.
He was tired of the classist divide amongst the citizens.
Ignorance and biases tore through this city like a plague, infecting those who thought themselves better than others.
It was disgusting. Especially since, in the end, they were all just food for the monsters anyway.
“Thank you all for a successful Wyrd. You are proving your love for our society every day by bearing more and more children. I bless you all for your efforts. Please don’t forget to collect your food tokens on the way out,” he numbly mumbled into the microphone and stared down at the exhausted citizens within.
He watched as people began to file through the doors in orderly lines.
Tievel stood beside him and patted him on the shoulder, whispering, “Good job, Lord Jason. As you know, I’m unable to return to the Camp tonight.
See to it that things are in order there and return here once finished.
Also, knock some sense into Mordred, please.
Get him to talk. This has gone on long enough.
” His beady eyes studied him intently, watching for any signs of betrayal, obviously not concerned whatsoever about the lack of sun today.
When Jason showed no emotion, he patted him once more and walked toward Feich, who was waiting at the edge of the stage. Before talking to Feich, he turned around and said, “Shave the other half of that fucking ugly beard. I’m tired of looking at it.”
“Yes, Sire.” He approached the Palatium entrance, taking a deep breath of the stale air as he ascended the steps toward the mirrored doorway.
He would shave his beard eventually, when he felt like it.
The half-shaven mess was a silent display of defiance, an internal battle of courage, and it would stay until this mess was over…
or it would follow him to his grave, whichever came first.
The rippled mirror flowed over him like water, seeping into every pore on his body. It had been a gift from the Oracle to Mordred years ago, allowing him access to the Camp and back, a way to smuggle inmates back into Joro. When Tievel figured out what it was, he stole it for himself.
That was the day Mordred lost the majority of his teeth.
Jason shuddered at the memory of seeing him ascend the steps and smiling with a jagged grin for the first time.
Would the same become of him? He shook his head as the mirror undulated over him.
He didn’t care. He would prefer to eat sharp crackers against his gums for the rest of his life rather than live another day like this.
What mattered was doing everything he could to help the Darkened descend upon the land and wipe the planet free of this corruption.
“Lord Jason,” the Captain said when he entered the Monster King’s office in the Camp. The slimy fool had been promoted once more after Jason’s ascension to Lord. “Will our Monster King be joining us tonight?”
“No,” he replied curtly. “He would like you to gather all the men and count them. Do it now. I must report back. Leave Mordred, he’s a flight risk.”
Jason knew that rounding up and counting all the men in the camp would cause chaos, and he needed this distraction.
“Yes, my Lord,” the Captain replied through his slithery tongue and quickly left the room, barking orders to the other Dragors and Rozzers within the courtyard.
When the door closed, Jason quickly opened the Monster King’s desk drawers, searching for the hidden key. He had not yet earned the Monster King’s trust to gain his own.
A cold sweat broke out down his spine as he scattered papers across the table and checked through coat pockets in the wardrobe.
Where the hell was it? He heard shouting and a gunshot outside the door and panicked as he looked around.
Time was running out. His gaze fell on the picture hanging above the desk, showing two young boys.
He ran over to it and threw it to the ground, shattering the glass and tearing off the cardboard backing.
A silver key with a mushroom-shaped bow reflected back at him.
He wasted no time, grabbed the key, placed it in his pocket, and ran back to the wardrobe. He grabbed a cloak from within and walked out the door. A battle of desperation lay before him as the prisoners fought the guards, screams piercing his ears as chaos erupted across the sandy terrain.
He walked briskly, with practiced discipline, focusing on the scene ahead in case anyone looked his way, pretending to be invested in the count. When he reached Mordred’s cell block, he quickly snuck in and closed the door behind him.
When he saw that no guards were within, a deep sigh of relief escaped his lips.
He rushed to the cell.
“Mordred,” he hissed. “Wake the hell up.”
Mordred was asleep, curled into a ball in the far corner. When he heard Jason, he popped his head up and began muttering incoherent words.
“He’s not here to harm you. I found the key. We’re leaving this place,” he said, trying to encourage Mordred out of his panicked state.
Mordred stilled and looked up at him with red-rimmed, burning eyes that mimicked the sun.
“Get up. The Rozzers are performing a count now, and the distraction won’t last long.” Jason stuck the key into the lock, and it loudly creaked open. He threw the cloak at him.
Mordred’s scarred, bloody hand with missing fingers shook as he reached for the material. Jason walked in and held out his hand for him to take. “We’re in this together, friend. We always have been.”
Mordred studied his outstretched hand. “How will we get out?”
“The mirror. Now hurry up.” Jason flexed his fingers, hoping he would accept.
“Do you think that blood was from her?” Mordred asked as he turned away and stared at the bed covered in dried, dark blood.
She may have been Jason’s daughter in this lifetime, but she was Mordred’s one wish from the heavens. She was created in her grandmother’s divine image, as a guardian between the heavenly and mortal realms, and as an offering of love to their creator.
“No. I don’t,” he replied. “She’s strong. Stronger than we realized.”
“I’m done, Jason. I cannot do this any longer,” Mordred whispered with a sigh. “I’m of no use in this fight. It all started because of me, anyway. I wish for death.”
Jason stood there for a long moment, listening to Mordred’s ragged breathing and the chaos outside. He knew that Mordred had already surrendered, as the sun did not rise.
“The dome’s about to collapse. You’re not allowed to give up. We’ll help the innocence of this world… together… with her,” he encouraged.
A ragged laugh escaped Mordred, and he shook his head. “I’ll never be forgiven. I accepted that long ago. Now I wish for eternal darkness.”
“We need you. We need Solios,” Jason pleaded. “We can’t let the planet die in darkness.”
His name. His real name. Solios, the god of the sun and the Solar Sovereign. He was the Mother Goddess’s first creation, a Fae god to walk the mortal realm, and the first to wish for more, as the fairy tales described.
Mordred’s eyes burned as they met Jason’s, but he reached a hesitant hand out toward Jason and pulled himself onto shaky legs. He held his wrists out, and Jason slipped the skeleton key into the locks, uncuffing the bloodstone blocking his Fae magic.
The bloodstone was strong enough to block mortal magic, but not enough for the magic of the heavens. Teivel didn’t know this, and it worked to their advantage. Tievel didn’t know Mordred was Solios, after all.
Mordred pulled the dark cloak over himself, masking his face with the hood lowered over his brow.
“Walk alongside me casually,” Jason said as he slowly opened the cell block door and peered out. He took a deep breath, feeling his heart race at what they were about to do. If they got caught, these plans could fail.
And not just that—his wife, the mother of his children, Sara, would be killed.
The guards were continuing their fight against the men, and somehow a fire erupted, lighting up the center of the courtyard in a blaze that rivaled Mordred’s fiery eyes.
They walked quickly back toward the large door of the Monster King’s office, and Jason opened the door. The rusty hinges creaked loudly.
Mordred walked in first, but a slithery voice called out, “Don’t you want the numbers, Lord Jason?”
Jason looked over his shoulder at the Captain, “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Give it to me then.”
He went to turn, but the Captain said, “No one arrived with you today. And yet… You leave with another.” It was not a question.
Jason wasted no time, walked through the door, and locked it behind him. He stared at Mordred, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
The Captain knew.
He could hear the Captain rage as he shouted, “Betrayer! See if he took Mordred!”
“It’ll take them hours to get word to Tievel, unless he comes here first. We must go now.” Jason walked to the mirror and looked back at Mordred, holding his hand out for him to take. “Together?”
The door started banging loudly.
Mordred grasped his hand, and they walked through the mirror together. Like they were two halves of the same shield—one a simple human doing what he could to save the world, and the other a weakened god—leaving the angered screams of chaos behind.