Chapter 5
Kaia
The plateau is quiet in a way that makes my ears ring.
No more shuffling. No more Eds. Just wind and snow and the Gate humming behind me like a heartbeat that isn’t mine.
And my shadows.
They’re all standing in a line.
Not scattered around the plateau like usual. Not doing their own thing — Bob organizing, Patricia scribbling, Finnick causing problems, Carl falling out of something.
They’re just… standing there.
Watching me.
Mouse at the front, panther-sized and ancient.
Walter hovering beside him, pulsing brighter than I’ve ever seen.
Bob at rigid attention, edges sharp enough to cut.
Patricia with her notebook closed — closed — pressed against her chest. Finnick actually still for once.
Carl managing not to trip over anything.
Steve standing straight, Linda beside him with her hand on his shoulder like she’s keeping him steady.
They’re all looking between me and the Gate.
Something cold settles in my stomach.
“Guys?” I take a step toward them. “What’s—”
The bonds flare behind me. All six of them, humming with something I can’t put my finger on.
Finn moves first, slipping his hand into mine. His chaos magic sparks against my skin — still brighter than before, still different — but there’s something heavy in the way he’s holding on.
Malrik appears at my other side. Steady. Silent.
Torric’s heat presses against my back. Aspen’s frost cools the air at my shoulder. Darian’s light flickers soft and uncertain. Kieran’s presence anchors the edges.
They’re surrounding me.
Not protectively. Not like there’s a threat.
Like they’re bracing me for something.
“What’s going on?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. “Why are they just standing there? Why aren’t they—”
“Kaia.” Aspen’s voice is quiet. Gentle in a way that makes my chest tight. “Look at them.”
I am looking at them. That’s the problem.
They’re standing in a line like soldiers waiting for orders. Patricia’s notebook is closed. Finnick hasn’t moved in thirty seconds. And they keep looking between me and the Gate. Back and forth. Gate. Me. Gate. Me.
My mother’s sisters-in-arms.
The Valkyries who fell that night and bound their souls to me through the Heart of Eternity. Who chose to stay when they could have passed on. Who protected me, guided me, loved me — for centuries — waiting for this moment.
For me to open the Gate.
“They’ve been waiting for you,” Torric says softly. His hand lands on my shoulder. Warm. Heavy. “Not the Gate.”
I couldn’t have done any of this without them. Not a single step. And now—
No.
No, I’m not thinking about that. Not yet.
“It is time.”
The God’s voice cuts through everything. He’s beside me suddenly, quiet and inevitable, watching my shadows with an expression I can’t read.
I know what he’s going to say. I know it in my bones, in the way my chest is already cracking open.
I ask anyway.
“Time for what?”
He holds my gaze. Ancient. Gentle. Sorry.
“For them to go home.”
“No.” The word rips out of me before he’s finished speaking. “No, not yet. I’m not ready.”
The shadows don’t move. A few of them lower their heads — patient, affectionate, waiting.
“They stayed for you,” the God says softly. “Protected you. Guided you to your Gate. But they cannot remain. Not now that their purpose is fulfilled.”
“Their purpose isn’t—” My voice cracks. “They’re my family.”
My voice breaks on the word. Finn’s hand tightens in mine.
“They always will be.” The God’s voice is impossibly gentle. “On the other side, memory does not fade. Service does not end. But here? They are trapped between worlds. Let them go home, Kaia.”
I’m shaking.
I can feel it — the tremor running through my whole body, my wings, the bonds in my chest.
“I can’t.” Tears burn my eyes. “I can’t just let them—”
Mouse moves.
He pads forward, massive and ancient, and presses his head against my palm. His fur is warm. Real. Solid in a way shadows shouldn’t be.
Little one.
His voice slides into my mind — rare, sacred, heavy with centuries.
Not all of us are leaving.
I freeze.
“What?”
The one you call Walter and I are guardians. Bound to the Valkyrie line itself, not to individual souls. We stay.
The relief hits so hard my knees almost buckle.
“You’re staying? You’re not—”
We will never leave you, little one. Not until you no longer need us. And even then…
His violet eyes hold mine.
Even then, we will find a way.
A sob escapes me. I sink to my knees in the snow and wrap my arms around his massive neck, burying my face in shadow-fur that feels more real than anything.
“Thank you,” I choke out. “Thank you, thank you—”
Mouse rumbles. A purr that vibrates through my chest.
But the others must go. They have waited centuries for this moment. For you to open the Gate. For you to release them.
I pull back. Wipe my face with shaking hands.
The others.
Bob. Patricia. Finnick. Carl. Steve. Linda.
They’re still standing in their line, watching me with small movements I’ve never seen from them before.
It’s hope.
“They want to go,” I whisper.
They are tired, little one. They have served faithfully for so long. Let them rest.
I nod. I don’t trust my voice.
Behind me, I feel my men shift closer. Finn’s chaos sparking with grief he’s trying to hide. Torric’s fire banked to embers. Aspen’s frost crackling with emotion. Malrik’s shadow magic restless. Darian’s light flickering. Kieran’s presence heavy with understanding.
They feel it too.
They love them too.
Carl moves first.
Because of course he does. He’s already halfway to the Gate before anyone realizes what’s happening, then he stops, looks back like he forgot something important, and waves.
At me. At Torric. At a rock, for some reason.
His form flickers and I see him — quick, curious, mischief written into every line of his face. A scout. The kind of person who climbed things just to see what was up there and fell out of half of them.
He salutes — sloppy, cheerful, completely Carl — and then turns and sprints toward the Gate like it’s a race nobody else knew they were running.
The light takes him.
Gone.
Steve tries to follow and immediately trips over his own feet.
He scrambles up, flickering into a young man with earnest eyes and a crooked smile. The kind of person who never stopped trying no matter how many times he failed.
He looks back at us, waves awkwardly, takes three steps, stumbles, catches himself, gives a thumbs up like he totally meant to do that.
Finn laughs. Wet and broken, but real.
Steve beams at him. Then he turns and walks into the light, only stumbling twice more on the way.
Gone.
Linda steps forward next.
She doesn’t come to me first.
She goes to Aspen.
Her form flickers — a woman with kind eyes and steady hands, silver streaking through dark hair. The sort of person who held everything together when nothing else would.
She cups his face. Gentle. Maternal.
Aspen’s frost crackles. His eyes are wet.
She smooths her thumb across his cheek, wiping away a tear he didn’t notice falling. Then she presses a kiss to his forehead.
She moves to Torric next, smoothing down his hair like he’s a kid who’s been running wild. He ducks his head, embarrassed, but doesn’t pull away.
To Finn and Malrik — wraps shadow-arms around both of them at once. Malrik’s shoulders shake. Just once.
To Darian — he flinches, then melts into her touch. She strokes his hair until he stops trembling.
To Kieran — takes his hands, squeezes twice. A silent promise.
When she reaches me, she pulls me into a hug that feels like every comfort I’ve ever needed.
I break.
Completely. Sobbing into her shoulder, clinging to her like I can keep her here if I just hold on tight enough.
“I don’t want you to go.”
She strokes my hair. Rocks me gently. Presses a kiss to the top of my head.
Then she pulls back. Cups my face in shadow-hands. Wipes my tears with thumbs that feel real and solid and warm.
She points at me. Then at my chest. Then at the men surrounding us. She mimes a circle — all of us together.
Family, she’s saying. You have family. You’re not alone.
“I know,” I whisper. “I know. Thank you. For taking care of all of us.”
She smiles. Soft. Proud. Tired.
Then she walks toward the Gate.
I watch her go until the light swallows her whole.
Finnick bounces forward next — and even now, even in this moment, he can’t help himself.
He does a flip. A dramatic bow. Jazz hands that shouldn’t be possible for a shadow.
His form flickers, and I see him — young, wild-eyed, a chaos mage with a grin that could start wars. He looks exactly like Finn. Exactly. Same auburn hair. Same green eyes. Same mischief written into every line of his face.
Finn makes a choked sound beside me.
“Hey.” His voice is wrecked. “That’s— you look like— you little shit, were you mocking me this whole time?”
Finnick’s grin widens. He points at Finn, then at himself, then does that stupid little flip thing that Finn does when he’s showing off.
Then he darts forward and hugs Finn — shadow arms wrapping around him, squeezing tight.
Finn breaks. Just completely shatters, holding onto a shadow like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
Finnick pulls back. Cups Finn’s face in shadow-hands. Goes suddenly serious. Ancient. Knowing.
He points at Finn’s chest. At his heart. Then at me.
Take care of her.
Finn nods, tears streaming. “I will. I swear.”
Finnick grins again — bright, mischievous, alive — pats Finn’s cheek, boops his nose, and cartwheels toward the Gate.
One final flip at the threshold. Peace sign.
Gone.
Finn’s knees buckle. Malrik catches him, pulls him close, holds him up.
Patricia steps forward.
She’s calm. Composed. Of course she is.
Her form flickers and I see her — young, fierce, ink-stained fingers and sharp eyes. Not the quiet scholar I imagined. A warrior in her own right.
She holds out her notebook.
I take it with trembling hands. It’s heavier than it looks. Warmer.
She taps the cover. Taps her heart. Gestures at all of us.
Remember. I remembered for you. Now it’s yours.
She looks at the guys — one long sweep that catalogs all of them one final time. Then she points at me, points at them, and mimes something that’s very clearly a threat. Finger across throat. Pointing at each of them.
Finn laughs, wet and broken. “Yeah, we get it. Take care of her or else.”
Patricia nods. Satisfied.
She doesn’t hug me. That’s not who she is. Instead, she places her hand over my heart, holds it there for a moment, and nods once.
You did well.
Then she walks into the light.
Bob is last.
He steps forward, and for the first time since I’ve known him, his edges soften. His rigid posture eases.
His form flickers and I see him.
Tall. Scarred. Commander’s posture worn into his bones. Gray at his temples, lines around his eyes. A face that’s seen centuries of war and kept standing anyway.
He served my mother.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do. I feel it somewhere deep. He was there. He watched her fall. He’s been waiting ever since.
He stops in front of Torric first.
Torric goes rigid. His fire flares, then banks. His jaw does that thing where he’s trying really hard not to feel anything.
Bob clasps his arm. Warrior to warrior. Something passes between them that doesn’t need words.
Torric nods. Sharp. Military.
Bob moves to Aspen — grips his shoulder, squeezes once.
To Finn — hesitates, then pulls him into a hug that makes Finn sob harder against Malrik’s chest. To Malrik — clasps his hand while Malrik’s shadow magic reaches toward him like it’s trying to hold on.
To Darian — places a hand over his heart, holds it there.
To Kieran — bows, ancient to ancient, two soldiers who’ve seen too much.
Then he comes to me.
He stops. Stands at attention. Perfect form. Perfect stillness.
And then — slowly, carefully — he reaches out and takes my hand.
His grip is firm. Solid. Real.
He places my hand over his heart. Holds it there.
I can feel it. The centuries of service. The loyalty. The love.
“Commander Bob.” My voice is wrecked. Shattered. “Thank you. For staying. For protecting me. For—” I can’t finish. Can’t find words big enough.
He squeezes my hand once.
Then he steps back.
Salutes.
Perfect. Crisp. The salute he’s been saving for this moment. For me.
I salute back. Sloppy. Tearful. The worst salute in the history of salutes.
But his form ripples. Something that might be a smile.
He holds it for one more moment.
Then he turns and walks toward the Gate.
He doesn’t look back.
The light swallows him.
And he’s gone.
Walter drifts forward.
He hovers in front of me, pulsing that strange violet light, and I feel something pass between us.
Not words. Not images. Just understanding.
He’s staying.
He pulses once — bright, warm, proud — and then drifts back to hover at my shoulder.
Where he’s always been.
Where he’ll always be.
Mouse pads forward and sits at my feet.
It is done, he says into my mind. They are home.
I look at the Gate.
Still glowing. Still humming. But different now. Lighter, somehow. Like a weight has been lifted.
Bob. Patricia. Finnick. Carl. Steve. Linda.
Gone.
After centuries of waiting, of protecting, of serving — they’re finally home.
And I’m the one who got to send them there.
I collapse.
My knees hit the snow and I’m falling forward, and there are arms around me.
They hold me while I break.
Finn is crying too. I can feel his tears on my shoulder, his chaos magic sparking with grief.
Malrik’s arms are shaking. Torric’s fire keeps flaring and banking like he can’t control it.
Aspen’s frost is spreading across the snow around us.
Darian’s light flickers like a candle in wind.
Kieran’s composure has cracked — I can feel it through the bond, the grief he’s trying to hide and failing.
We’re all breaking.
All of us.
Together.
“You honored them well, Valkyrie.”
The God’s voice is soft. Distant.
I can’t respond. Can barely breathe.
But Mouse presses against my side, warm and solid and here.
Walter pulses above me, violet and bright and staying.
And somewhere underneath the grief, underneath the loss—
Peace.
They’re home.
I’m so lucky to have been the one to give them that.