Chapter Ninety-Five. Love.
Ninety-Five
Love.
And yet the shield of souls protects me and Merc.
However much my father projects, however strong his evil is, he is no match for my army of light and the protection they provide.
Except it is more than that. As the deluge of evil magic hits the wall of illumination, it is sent back to the Dark King, as a mirror would reflect whatever is before it. He is hit by his own dark energy—
The horned monster is blown apart in a great warping explosion that expands outward above us all in a mushroom cloud big as the whole sky.
I can only stare upward in wonder and disbelief—
As massive as the explosion is, the retraction is just as intense. What extends up and out curdles back on itself, the forceful suction so great that it leaves a fresh fissure in the red earth.
That pulls him down and holds him in.
Before sealing back up.
In the aftermath, the silence is deafening. And then I feel the hand in my own and look at Merc.
I reach for him as he reaches for me. Shaken and weak, we embrace on the ground, holding each other.
As I feel a sprinkling on my cheek, I look up. Black snow is falling, everywhere. On us, on the demon army that remains, on the red ground.
But not on the souls. They are untouched.
My ghostly family turns back around to me, and I see all the calm, glowing faces, of all the people whose lives I changed when I thought I didn’t matter.
The lesson, I know now, is that kindness is never, ever wasted.
It is the sunlight against the darkness of the cold, hard world, and as with how the Sooth defined truth, so it is also the way with mercy:
Kindness does not need to be acknowledged to exist.
And we cannot survive without it.
All at once, the souls begin to drift off, but not into the split in this plane of existence they came through and certainly not into the fissures in this horrible place.
They go to the Fulcrum.
One by one, the sacred energies take flight and re-form the circumference of the barrier my mother created to keep the people of Anathos safe, and as they begin to circle around, the Fulcrum starts to resume, the bands filling out, the spin starting anew.
Faster. Faster … until the sand is recaptured from the ground, and the prison of my father re-surrounds him.
Such that what once was is now again.
I look at Merc and trace his scarred face with a trembling hand. “I love you as you are.”
Though he is exhausted and still in pain, he lifts his head with a groan and brings his lips to mine. “And I love you just the same.”
His head falls back, for he cannot hold the weight up.
It is as his skull lands back against the red earth that I notice something is happening and have a fresh shot of horror. The black snow that has fallen on the red ground is reconstituting. Flake by flake, it’s pulling together, the phenomenon occurring all around us.
My father is not done yet.
He is already attempting to reconstitute himself.
And all the while, along the horizon, his many demons stand at the ready, empty vessels … until his will is again strong enough to command them.
“We have to leave,” I say urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
If we can.
It takes me two tries to stand on my feet, and I grab Merc by the arm and haul him up.
“Leave me,” he croaks. “You must l—”
“Shut up.” I heft him a little higher. “Remember how this goes—I’m in charge. And I’m not going forward without you. Back is relative, right?”
We are the halt and the lame as we shuffle toward the Fulcrum’s swirling circle of energy. The closer we get, the more I wonder how in the world we’ll get through—
An aperture is created, just for us, and it’s only as big as what we immediately require.
The moment we’re on the other side, the exit reseals.
All I can do is blink. I see trees. I see the last of the light in the sky. I see the stars overhead, especially that one that burns brightest.
“Come on,” I say as I set us to walk, though I am about to keel over. “We must get to safety.”
Wherever that might be. There are still demons in the forest, and I don’t know whether the spell I put on them works as yet, or if my father pulled them back in—
I lose my footing, and though Merc catches me against his chest, he doesn’t have the strength to continue. Neither do I.
I tell myself to keep going, but I cannot and we both fall to the sandy ground.
Much as my will wishes otherwise, this is where we are. At least for right now.
In my peripheral vision, I watch the new version of the Fulcrum spin … and worry about what’s happening inside of it. But then I think of all the souls that lent their energy to its magic.
Anybody can be a hero. And people working together can change the course of an epic war, before it even gets started.
Unfortunately, I fear this was just the greeting, as the Sooth said, and if this was just the handshake? I can’t imagine what comes next—
Merc and I stiffen at the same time, and then in spite of our pain and exhaustion, we twist around … and watch an army gather up on the rim of the crater we’re in.
There must be … a thousand soldiers, the armed men all on horseback with their swords drawn.
Before I can think, before I can react, a lone figure starts down the sandy descent. It’s a golden knight upon a white stallion. Julion. And as he arrives, he brings his horse to a prancing stop and dismounts. It’s as I lift my eyes up to his breastplate and go no further that I realize …
The point of this all is mine.
Suddenly, I have the energy to stand, but before I do, I shrug the pack off my shoulders, and take the ancient wooden box out. The top opens all on its own, and the circlet of black crystal seems to float out of its contoured tether and into my hands.
Rising from the sand, planting my feet solidly upon the land of Anathos, I hold the crown of war and shadow up above my own head.
I am the warrior queen who sees no one.
And this is my life.
“I shall unite the Kingdoms of the North, South, East, and West,” I proclaim, “and together we will defeat the Dark King.”
The moment the weight of the black metal base sits upon my head, a shimmering goes out over the landscape, colors dancing within the darkness of the night, just as I have goodness threading through my black, dead soul.
It’s as the mystical illumination fades that Julion removes the plumed golden helmet from his own head. Holding it to his chest, he drops down on one knee and bows to me.
All around the rim, the soldiers who are his take off their helmets and bow over the hearty necks of their warhorses.
Mine to command.
The sacred moment stretches into history, the kind of thing that will be told and retold around hearths and fires, and scribed into books, and taught to younger generations, for the rest of time … assuming there is any more of that to come for Anathos.
A legend born, a prophecy fulfilled.
My eyes go to Merc’s and I know one last, abiding truth. The love within him is my compass, my direction that will never be lost, my guide that will always return the ghost of my soul to me, if ever I am lost to my dark side.
Always forward, never back we shall go.
Into whatever fate sends our way.