Granite took two more steps toward Nordjan before he fell to his knee. Nicholai witnessed his labored breathing from behind. Umbriel abandoned Aggi; though he lingered outside a full recovery, he was free from the dark woods of death. She rushed to assist Granite.
“Edvard!” Nordjan shouted as he battled with Penn and the mongrel, “your Chronometer!”
Edvard looked on. Nordjan stood in Western with his assailants. Granite and Umbriel were in the division too. It became clear what Nordjan screamed about. He wanted him to stop Western’s time.
“Edvard!”
Nicholai looked at his father. Edvard battled a large, mental monster. He hesitated. The man had never sullied his title before. What came easy to the others in their alarm did not come easy to the elder Addihein. His eyes found Nordjan as the beast pulled him to the ground. It attacked his forearms as Nordjan protected his neck.
“Edvard! Now!”
The Western Time Father shook. He looked to Nicholai. His son pleaded with him not to do it; he saw it in his eyes. With a hesitating resentment, Edvard looked once more to Nordjan as Penn and the dog clawed him. A trembling hand removed his Chronometer from his breast pocket and pulled the crown.
That was the last. Nicholai looked over to Aggi, who pulled himself to his feet. Umbriel had stopped the bleeding, but the wound still felt fresh.
Nordjan scowled as he pushed himself to his feet, crawling out from beneath Penn and the dog. He glared at Nicholai and took several steps toward him. He opened his mouth to speak, but another buck from the earth below knocked everyone off their feet.
More large chunks of land crumbled into the giant chasm. It swallowed the rubble whole. Nordjan's wrath consumed his mind too much for him to pay it any mind. With his gun frozen in time, he walked over to Avital’s body and plucked the dead man’s weapon from his hands. “I believed you would be Panagea’s salvation,” Nordjan said as he advanced toward Nicholai, his fury surrounding him like violent flames.
Nicholai took a step back but was running out of space. His boot touched the edge of the canyon, and debris fell into the darkness. “I still could be,” he breathed, “if you’d listen to reason.”
Nordjan shook his head. “You don’t even know the darkness you’re trying to invite back into the world, Nicholai. I can’t let that happen.” He raised Avital’s gun and aimed at Nicholai’s head.
“Nordjan,” Nicholai gripped his shield, ready to use it if need be, “darkness is already upon us. Look around. How much worse could it get?”
Nordjan shook his head. “You have no idea.” Before he fired, Nicholai lunged forward, ramming into Nordjan with his shield. The man fell back but caught himself before he hit the earth. Aggi watched the men wrestle with one another and took a step forward to help, but his chest still felt as though its contents would spill out. The pain split across his entire torso, from arm to arm. It sent his body back to its knees.
Nicholai blocked a series of Nordjan’s efforts. The Northern Time Father could not get a clean shot with Nicholai’s shield in the way. He seized Nicholai’s arm, but a swift head-butt from the Southeastern Time Father sent the man stumbling back. He growled, staring Nicholai down from his position near the canyon wall. “You can’t win,” he said, exasperated and out of breath. “I won’t let you destroy the world, Nicholai.”
“Look around us, Nordjan,” Nicholai held out his arms, gripping the shield. “The world is already dead. I’m trying to save what’s left.”
“You don’t—” Nordjan's words stopped short when he lost his footing. The piece of land where he stood gave way beneath him. Nicholai abandoned his shield, lunging forward to grab Nordjan’s arm before the abyss swallowed him. He grunted, his stomach flat against the jagged earth as he clung to the vulnerable man.
Nordjan’s face showed terror. He dropped his gun into the shadows below. His boots tried to scrape into the wall, but it only gave way from the pressure of his feet. He looked up to Nicholai. Another eruption sounded in the background. The fires spread so far he witnessed a soft, orange glow glisten in the sweat on Nicholai’s face. Soft pieces of ash fell from the deadened sky. It was a surreal experience, being surrounded by four division’s frozen in time. The world seemed only half alive as Nicholai summoned all his energy to pull Nordjan up from the edge.
The Northern Time Father felt relieved to find solid ground again. He crawled forward, panting as he distanced himself from Nicholai. Edvard’s heart pounded. His son saved Nordjan’s life. The wind blew his hair as he watched on, paralyzed like half the world around him.
“Are you okay?” Nicholai leaned forward as he rested his palms on his knees.
Nordjan curled his fingers into the hard rocks. His gun belonged to the underworld now. But he still had his machete. “Never better,” he breathed, unsheathing the weapon from his side as he brought it up to Nicholai in a surprise attack.
He didn’t expect it. Nicholai raised his arms in defense, guided by an instinct to protect his face. The blade ate through his forearm, severing it at the elbow. Nicholai’s face turned white as he fell to his knees. Blood turned cold in his veins. His brain tried to process what happened to his body, but it was so quick. He gripped his arm and tried in vain to tourniquet the wound, but his condition didn’t grant him much success.
Nordjan towered over him. A shadow fell over the man’s form. “It had to be this way, Nicholai.” His breath spilled out in large gasps. “You stay the course. There is no unknown to fear if you keep the unknown at bay. I’m sorry. Your ideals are just too grand.”
Nicholai looked up at him. His blood pooled around his knees. “Are my ideals too grand?” he whispered, his hand shaking as he clutched his elbow, “or are yours too small?”
Nordjan scowled. “I’m sorry, Nicholai.” He raised his weapon to finish the job. Nicholai felt every beat of his heart. Despite the surge of adrenaline, the organ seemed to slow. He felt the surrounding earth. Panagea. Her desperate howls of agony at her unnatural state. He heard her in his head, screaming. But the screams sounded angelic as he waited for the blade to come. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss that caused him to watch Nordjan collapse to his knees, but soon the Northern Time Father’s body was on the ground with his. He dropped his machete. Nicholai looked up. Edvard towered over him, his blade wet with blood from the back of Nordjan’s knees. The screams of Panagea died out from Nicholai’s ears, replaced by the haggard cries emanating from Nordjan.
Edvard reached down and grabbed his son. He pulled him up to his feet and away from the fallen man. He set him down a safe distance away as half the world burned in flames. Nicholai found his father’s gaze, his confused eyes darting around the elder Addihein’s face.
“I’m so sorry, Nicholai,” Edvard breathed, looking down at his son’s missing arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Nicholai reached a quivering hand over to his elbow. He laid the palm down on the gash and closed his eyes. It was a nerve-racking gamble, but he had no other choice. Roll the dice, or risk bleeding out. Concentrating with an effort he hadn’t attempted since he killed Darjal in Avadon, Nicholai isolated the time on his injury. Damaged veins healed. Torn muscle fused. Skin regrew over the wound and he dropped his hand, exhausted.
Edvard almost dropped him from the startling display. “H-how did you ...?”
“Restart your time,” Nicholai coerced his legs to work as he got to his feet. The world around them shook. They didn’t have much time. He put one desperate hand on his father’s shoulder to steady himself. “Please.”
Edvard tightened his jaw and nodded. He gripped his Chronometer and pushed the crown down, releasing Western from its frozen state. Umbriel shook her head as soon as she could and found Granite’s body before her. Without delay, she went to work, desperate to spare his life.
Nicholai dragged himself over to Vadim and fell to his knees. Aggi joined his side. The Northwestern Time Father felt weak from his blood loss, but he still gripped his leg with vigor.
&nb
sp; “Restart your division,” Nicholai ordered, “and I will heal your leg.”
Vadim’s eyes flicked to Nicholai’s elbow. He saw it detach. He thought the Southeastern Time Father was as good as dead. The man held a magic Vadim did not know he possessed. Though he didn’t show it on his face, the unknown potential terrified him into submission. He looked over to Avital’s body, then over to the writhing, powerless Nordjan, and at last, Edvard Addihein, who betrayed their trust. He scowled, but despite his hesitation, he gripped his Chronometer and pushed the crown.
As soon as Western and Northwestern restarted, the shaking decreased. The violent rumbles slowed. A man of his word, Nicholai placed his hands on Vadim’s leg and healed the injury, pleased he had enough volition to keep his efforts contained to the wound. Revi, Brack, Rennington, and Elowyn stumbled on their feet as the division returned to life. It was the strangest feeling, being suspended in time. They all gazed around, trying to make sense of what happened while they sat immobilized.
Edvard watched his son for a moment before he tore his gaze away and advanced over to Nordjan. He knelt.
Nordjan peered up at him with malice. Another low rumble of thunder occurred, but this time, from the storm clouds that gathered in the sky. Rain fell on his disappointed face. “What have you done, Edvard?”
The Western Time Father stared at the fallen man before him. Drops of water from the heavens slithered down his cheeks. “Enita’s ideals live on through my son, Nordjan. I won’t watch her vision die twice.” He wore his guilt on his face. His beloved wife. He wronged her so terribly. At the moment, he was unsure which gutted him more: that his ignorance drove Enita to her fate, or that he almost led Nicholai to the same predetermined course. “It’s over, Nordjan. You’re either with us, or you’re against us.”
The Northern Time Father stiffened. His tensed muscles made him wince as the pain in his leg spread outward through his entire body. “You know where this path leads. You’ll regret this one day, Edvard Addihein. Mark my words.”
Edvard tightened his lips. He drew in a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at Nicholai. Nordjan was right. Perhaps one day he would regret his decision. But not today. “Restart your division, Nordjan, or I’ll find someone who will.”
His opponents outnumbered him. Vadim relented. Edvard betrayed him. Avital was dead. Nordjan was not an unintelligent man. His blood-caked hands slid to his Chronometer, and he pressed the crown, freeing Kazuaki and Bermuda from their prison.
The individuals reacquainted themselves with movement again. They seemed confused but were quick to catch up to the goings-on. Kazuaki gripped Bermuda’s arm, relieved she was still alive. She found his eyes and flashed an exasperated smile. Though the world around them burned, they took solace in the safety of the other.
“Call off your armies,” Nicholai instructed to Vadim, Edvard, and Nordjan. The men looked across the expanse to the battling militias. The split in the earth separated them. It would take time to reach them and he had none to spare. The Southeastern Time Father looked to Kazuaki. “Captain ... I have to go to Southeastern.”
Kazuaki’s eye flicked to Nicholai’s missing arm. He wanted to address it but stopped himself. “Take the flying machine,” he offered. “We’ll finish up here.”
Nicholai looked to the chaos that surrounded them. The rain tempered the flames, but their surroundings still appeared ravaged. Vadim and Nordjan relented, but a chance existed that they might buck. Umbriel loomed over Granite, still trying to heal the bullet wounds the man endured. His dog licked at his face. Avital was dead. They needed a new Time Father for Eastern before the day’s end. There were so many uncertainties. “Are you sure?” he asked.
Kazuaki nodded. “We got this, Nico. Go.”
Nicholai hesitated, but only for a moment. Duty drove him forward. He climbed into the flying machine and booted it up, his heart pounding as he rose farther and farther away from the people who became his closest comrades. He trusted they could handle it. What he was less sure of was himself. But he couldn’t put it off any longer. After witnessing the aftermath of four frozen divisions and what it did to Panagea, after hearing her screams burn inside his brain, he knew he could stall no longer.
It was time to restart Southeastern. It was time to say goodbye to Lilac Finn.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The journey to Southeastern bathed Nicholai in surrealism. With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, he should have gone insane. His final months had hardened him. His resolve grew countless callouses. The flying machine floated over the war-torn land of Panagea for only a moment until it followed through Southeastern’s stillness. He felt illusory as he left the chaos and noise of Panagea’s center behind, where the soldiers still battled, unaware the war ended in icy neutrality on all sides.
The quiet of Southeastern issued a madness. Nicholai felt fortunate to operate the flying machine, for the squeaks of old gears saved him from the insanity of complete and total silence. It took almost a full day to arrive back at his home. He departed Panagea’s center in darkness and watched the sun rise and fall again before he neared his home town. Many sleepless hours of internal contemplation. A part of him felt thankful for the long trip. They were additional hours Lilac got to live.
Nicholai brought the machine down when the familiar sight of Nenada came into view. He experienced a strangeness entering the land again. He felt uninvited. Nicholai dragged his resistant feet from the flying machine and stepped down onto the cobblestones of his home for the first time in what seemed like years. It felt like a foreign land. Free from the crippling aftermath of months’ worth of disasters, Nenada remained as he left it, down to the last spec of dirt.
He saw his house. He saw Lilac. Rodgie. Though he tried to prepare himself for this moment, no amount of time could have made it any easier. Seeing her again, just as he’d left her ... it gutted him in a far more critical way than Nordjan had when he stole his lower arm. He wanted to run. To jump back in the flying machine and restart his quest to save her. But he couldn’t. He traversed the world, searching for a certainty, but he only found one.
There was no saving Lilac Finn from her fate.
Nicholai took a deep breath and coerced his legs to cross the distance to her. She reflected perfection still, more stunning than any goddess from the tales of old. He reached out to touch her face though the action left him with more sorrow than comfort. Her skin still felt warm, her body not allowed to deteriorate. Her hair, the red curls he fell in love with, still framed her horror-stricken expression.
“I am so sorry, Lilac,” Nicholai whispered. Though his words were soft, they felt loud in the stillness. “I really let you down ...”
He promised her when he left he would find a solution. But promises and pipe dreams lived in the same category. This was one ideal even the idealist could not trick himself into believing anymore. His hand reached for the chain of his Chronometer. He freed it from its hiding place beneath his clothing and stared down at the clock face. 5:15. That time lived on the Chronometer for months now. He would never forget that sequence of numbers.
Nicholai’s thumb crept up to the crown. “You would have been proud of where the world’s going,” he said to her as he tried to catch his breath. “It’s everything you ever wanted for this place.”
It hurt that she couldn’t respond, but he hoped on some cosmic level she heard him. His head told him it was impossible, that there was no way she absorbed his words, but his heart let him believe a small shred of possibility existed. Nicholai leaned forward. He gave her a final, tender kiss on the cheek and took several steps back.
“Goodbye, Lilac ...” He clutched the cold metal of his Chronometer in his hand. “I’ll always love you.”
For Panagea. For her people. Summoning every ounce of willpower he possessed, Nicholai rubbed his thumb over the exterior of his Chronometer and locked eyes with the woman he loved. Then he pressed the crown.
✽ ✽ ✽
; Six months passed since the decennial. Panagea was slow to heal, but her progress breathed relief into everyone’s lungs. Edvard sat at his desk, finishing a letter he intended to send to Nicholai. The Western Time Father discovered contentment in keeping the doors of communication with his son open. Though their responsibility to their divisions kept them from seeing one another in person, the written word carried their sentiments well.
Their relationship grew one step beyond neutrality. With each month that passed, Nicholai abandoned slivers of his caution toward Edvard. It was understandable why he clung to it. Edvard did not blame his son for his skepticism. His behavior, while Nicholai was on the run, would leave a bitter taste in any man’s mouth. Not a day went by that Edvard did not count his blessings that Nicholai spoke to him at all.
He folded the parchment with care and placed it in an envelope. A wax seal bearing the Western insignia secured the letter inside. Edvard frowned as he picked at a small trace of red wax that tainted his near-perfect circle. He sighed, sitting back in his chair with the letter in his hands. So much had changed in the last six months.
Trees grew. Plants. Things the people of Panagea had never witnessed in their lifetimes. Some were slower to embrace the change than others. Edvard worried about Nicholai’s safety more than he’d like. While the majority relished in the new opportunities, Panagea’s society of elites despised Nicholai’s efforts. The factory owners who had to shut down production to make way for reforestation efforts, the blue bloods who no longer enjoyed the constant filter of finances the poor folk of Panagea hurled into their bank accounts. The citizens of Southern who still believed Darjal was a god. Even a handful of men and women who lost their industrial jobs expressed a clear dislike for the man who changed the world.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 47