The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Kal caught his eyes, his confident grin ever-present. He raised his hands and gripped Bartholomew’s shoulders, giving him an affectionate, yet firm shake. “Just keep walking then. One step at a time. I’ll be there beside you the entire way.”

  The Southern Time Father’s hand crawled up to rest on top of Kal’s. His smile grew more genuine as he curled his fingers into the warmth of the ambassador’s touch, but his focus dipped to their feet. “I want to change things, Kal. For the better.” He found the poise to lift his gaze. “What if, in the end, I have given them nothing?”

  “You’ve given them hope.” Kal tilted his head, a shimmer of confidence reflecting over his eyes. “That’s more than most men have these days.”

  The scholar allowed himself to issue a small, agreeable nod. He patted Kal’s hand before the sound of approaching feet beckoned his attention elsewhere. Bartholomew arched a surprised brow when one of the Southern mansion’s assistants poked his head out the balcony doors.

  Glancing back and forth between the Southern Time Father and his ambassador, the man cleared his throat. “The metalsmiths have finished, sir. They require your approval on the final design.”

  “Already?” Bartholomew felt the pace of his heart quicken in his chest. “Of course. Thank you. I’ll be right there.”

  After an efficient nod, the man slipped back into the belly of the mansion and made fast work of leaving. A gust of wind pushed Kal’s hair aside as he straightened his tie. “Well,” he started, smirking at Bartholomew, “that’s it then. The last piece of the puzzle. The volunteers should be returning soon, with those who wish to follow them.”

  “Yes,” Bartholomew breathed, feeling the nervous pit in his stomach grow deeper with each inhale. “No turning back now.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  There was no turning back now. Ganther’s only concern was going forward. Doors opened with the treasure that Barron had given him. A sick thrill lived in his chest at the thought of it. Unable to wipe the grin that grew on his face, he rattled closer to his former property in Sescol.

  He knew that’s where he’d find Nicholai Addihein.

  The chauffeur sent him an occasional curious glance. He had never witnessed Ganther in such a mood. Despite the jovial nature that the blue blood emanated, the driver found it more unsettling than anything else.

  He didn’t know why Ganther wished to return to the scene of his greatest embarrassment. The chauffeur thought, perhaps Ganther and the Southeastern Time Father had reached some sort of agreement. But when he pulled up to the parcel of land that once held Ganther Odenhardth’s manufacturing factory, he saw nothing that would have indicated a win on the societal elite’s side.

  Through the windshield, he spied a horde of individuals, hard at work refashioning the building’s interior. They had accomplished a lot since he last drove the steam car here. It looked nothing like it used to. He was almost afraid to look back at Ganther. What would his response be to witnessing the death of his establishment? When he finally gathered the courage to steal a glimpse, he saw that the man’s eerie smirk remained.

  It sent an unexpected shudder through his top layer of skin.

  “Wait for me here,” Ganther ordered, opening his door, as he was too eager to wait. “I won’t be long.”

  “Yes, sir.” The driver watched as he exited. Even in the sea of hands that swarmed the property, he saw Ganther zero in on Nicholai Addihein almost immediately.

  The Southeastern Time Father knelt in a nearby pile of upturned dirt. The Earth Mother knelt nearby. Ganther’s nose wrinkled as he bore witness to Nicholai, expediting the growth of a row of bush bean plants. In a matter of moments, the harvest matured. Umbriel wasted no time plucking the beans from their places, taking handfuls to those who labored away under the heat of the sun.

  Nicholai watched her go, a lingering smile on his face he had no consciousness of. The man used his sleeve to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead before a sensation rose in his stomach. Guided by a looming sense of caution, he spun. The sight of Ganther flooded his vision instantly.

  “Here I thought you’d be tired of seeing me by now,” Nicholai murmured, pulling a small cloth out of his breast pocket to wipe his hands.

  Ganther huffed, but his prompt disdain was tempered as he swallowed it down. He needed to play the part of a humbled man. “Mr. Addihein,” he uttered, peering at the sullied cloth before he flicked his gaze to Nicholai, “I’ve come to end our little war.”

  A surprised brow flew up on the Time Father’s face. Suspicious, he cocked his head to the side. “Is that so?” He surveyed the blue blood, from the tip of his head to the bottoms of his polished shoes. “I don’t see any white flags.”

  “Yes, well,” Ganther crossed his arms, standing tall, “my presence is not an act of surrender.”

  Nicholai forced a firm expression. “Then we won’t be ending anything, will we?”

  Having finished handing out the latest handfuls of nutrients, Umbriel glanced back to Nicholai. An unexpected squeeze of her heart startled her when she recognized Ganther. She had been waiting for a ball to drop. For something to happen that would verify the feeling of dread she carried with her.

  Her feet carried her back to the two men faster than she would have preferred; the calm, serene woman she became in solitude slipped further away with each passing day. She stepped up beside Nicholai, her voice strained. “What’s going on?”

  Ignoring the Earth Mother’s concerns, Ganther focused on Nicholai. “Do not appear so hostile toward me, Mr. Addihein.” He drew in a large breath and exhaled slowly. “I know we started in a state of icy neutrality, but I am not here to thrust additional spears into our already rocky relationship. I am here as a concerned human being.”

  Nicholai’s back stiffened as he squared his shoulders. A rush of caution engulfed him. The time of associating Ganther Odenhardth with anything resembling human emotions had passed. The idealist in him, however, held fast to the small thread of possibility that Ganther was redeemable. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone wary.

  Ganther bowed his head, his palms drawing together. “In my initial anger, I am afraid I lashed out at you. I took it upon myself to ... try to hurt your family name. Your legacy. As I felt you have injured mine. An eye for an eye, as they say ...”

  The Southeastern Time Father’s nose creased. “Yes, I’ve heard the saying before. Though never in a good context.”

  “Yes,” Ganther sighed, clearing his throat. “Well, in my hurt, and my efforts, I ... after I uncovered what I did ... I experienced a rather remorseful change of heart.”

  A hesitation followed. Nicholai’s brows shadowed his eyes as he inclined his chin, skeptical and disbelieving. “What exactly was it that you uncovered? I’ve nothing to hide.”

  Ganther fumbled with his fingers before he finally raised an arm to rub the back of his neck. “I ... must admit, I struggled with whether or not to tell you.”

  Umbriel watched the man fluctuate. She tried to read him but found herself unable. Against his repentant facial expressions and his strange body posture, she searched for a fault in his demeanor. In his words. Though she found none she could back with pure certainty, in her heart, she could not lend him her trust.

  An exasperated sigh left Nicholai’s lips as he stared at Ganther, unamused. “Please, Ganther, out with it. I do hate to be rude, but, as you can see,” he stepped back, gesturing his arm outward to showcase the people who remained hard at work, “I’m very busy.”

  It took an incredible reserve of willpower to choke his irritation down. Ganther’s gaze followed Nicholai’s arm outward, watching as the peasants tore his factory apart one component at a time. Forcing an appearance of remorsefulness into his eyes, he turned back to Nicholai, and he wet his lips. “Naturally, I could dig nothing up on you that the public did not already know. I’m ashamed to admit that I began investigating Edvard’s past as a last resort.”

  The confession piqued Nicholai’s inte
rest. His pulse betrayed him, as it quickened in his veins. Much existed about Edvard that he was not privy to. Their reconciliation still felt fresh. It took the whole part of the past two years, after Edvard’s betrayal, for Nicholai to entertain the idea of extending complete trust to his father again. He’d often entertained the idea of investigating Edvard’s history himself, but spikes of guilt always stopped him. Without trying to sound too eager, Nicholai asked, “What—what exactly was it that ... you found?”

  Feigning unrest, Ganther postured. He glanced down at his fingers, fumbling with them. It looked as if it pained him to continue. After some time, he reached into his vest and removed a letter, holding it tightly in his hands. “This is an official document, signed and sealed by Nordjan of Northern.” He held it out, his eyes on the parchment. “It ... goes into quite illuminating detail about what he knows regarding your mother’s death.”

  Though Nicholai developed some color from working alongside the laborers under the heat of the sun, it drained from his face in an instant. Ganther’s confession sucked the air from his lungs. For a moment, the Time Father patted his pockets, searching for his oxygen syringe; a routine no longer needed in the richer landscape of Panagea, but old habits died hard.

  Witnessing the rapid deterioration of his wellbeing, Umbriel placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to find his focus. “Nicholai?”

  The Time Father laughed. It was a strange sound, leaving his throat with a raspy, bitterness that had no business living in laughter. He forced a grin, though bore more teeth than necessary. “My mother died of natural causes,” he uttered, his words a mixture of heated uncertainty.

  Ganther’s expression remained unchanged. “Judging by the look on your face, I’d say you and I both know that’s not true.”

  Umbriel glanced at the letter, then back to Nicholai. She placed both hands on his shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Don’t open it, Nicholai. No good can come from that letter. The past is in the past.”

  The Time Father searched her steady gaze. His breathing slowed as her words melted over him.

  Fearing Nicholai would heed Umbriel’s suggestion, Ganther straightened his posture. “It’s up to you to decide,” he uttered, trying to invite his false care into the conversation once more. “I only thought you’d like to talk to your father, man to man, about why he poisoned Enita when you needed her the most. A growing child needs his matriarch.”

  Umbriel lost Nicholai’s focus after Ganther’s bold revelation. They fell back to the parchment once more, curious and pained. An unfamiliar feeling crept up through her legs. It burrowed into her stomach, out through her limbs, and into her fingers. Umbriel lowered her hands from Nicholai and turned to Ganther, unable to stop her hands from balling into fists. She struggled to control herself. Her zen-like state slipped further away. Staring at the man, the messenger, she scowled. The anger wasn’t entirely unacquainted. It was as if she stared at her mother, Naphine, the only other individual alive who could summon flourishes of rage from the Earth Mother. With gritted teeth, the woman breathed, “Leave us, Mr. Odenhardth.”

  Ganther felt an interior delight in her anger. So visible. So delicious. “As you wish.” He reached out and seized Nicholai’s hand, placing the sealed letter into his palm. “I do wish it was better news, Mr. Addihein ... I just ... thought you’d like to know.”

  Nicholai felt his fingers curling around the letter. He held it, unsure how to react. Only a fool would trust Ganther Odenhardth, given their history. But Edvard and Nordjan shared a secret. He bore witness to fragments of it. He just didn’t think ... it couldn’t be true ... could it?

  The blue blood dusted off the sleeves of his coat and adjusted the cufflinks at his wrists. “The darkness of mankind goes deeper than most of us can fathom, Mr. Addihein. I know you want to believe all men are worth saving, but ...” He gazed beyond him, taking in the sight of the laborers as they continued their tasks. “Some simply are not. Do with this knowledge what you will. And,” he paused, coercing a gentle tone from deep within his chest, “good luck with your learning institution.”

  Umbriel watched as Ganther turned on his heels and strode away. Her wrath followed him out but softened as soon as she redirected her focus back to her ailing companion. “Nicholai,” she said softly, trying to find his eyes, “please, do not open that letter. Humanity did not drag Ganther into your eyesight today. I am confident about that.”

  “I know ...” Nicholai frowned. Compassion did not live in Ganther’s motivations. Of that, he had no doubt. “Umbriel ... regardless of the incentive behind Ganther’s admission ... if what he said is true ... if this is irrefutable proof ... that Edvard poisoned my mother ...”

  “Even if it is,” she interrupted, her voice a whisper, “what does it change for you? Edvard must live with whatever he’s done. Confirming whether or not it’s true will not undo it.”

  Nicholai winced, his head tilting as he turned away. He wanted to absorb the soundness of her statements, but the possibility gnawed at him. His mother’s death came at a devastating time. As a youthful boy with little to no relationship with his father, Enita Addihein was Nicholai’s lifeline. A bridge across a canyon of every obstacle he faced. She cemented his ideologies into him; she made him who he was. He couldn’t let it go. “Edvard and Nordjan go back a long way,” he mumbled, looking at the letter. “He would know a lot about him, but ... then again, Nordjan isn’t exactly my biggest admirer.”

  “I will always encourage truth before deceit, Nicholai.” Umbriel glanced over his shoulder, to be sure their huddled position earned them no extra listeners. When she determined they maintained their privacy, she sighed. “Refusing to read this confession is not abandoning the truth. It is not your truth to bear. This,” she said, resting her hand on the letter he held, “whether it is true or not ... is Edvard’s burden. His truth. I beg you ... let it go.”

  He witnessed the flicker of concentration in her stare. Her eyes reflected the same compassion her words held. She wished to spare him from pain. That, he knew. Umbriel’s actions only ever stemmed from a loving place. He slid his index finger from the letter, carefully weaving it into one of hers as he gently held it between his thumb.

  Nicholai stared at her hand, his hand, wishing to say something that would bring her small comfort. But his obligation to his truth prevented him from uttering any lies. “I don’t think I can.”

  She left her fingers in his. Her eyes fell to a close as if the action would help disguise the wild leaping of her heart. Umbriel bit her bottom lip and forced her lids back open. “I know you will do what you feel is right,” she said in a single breath, savoring the touch of his skin on hers. “But please ... tread softly, for you’re walking on dangerous ground. I can feel it.”

  Nicholai swallowed. He took a small step toward her and dared to pull her hand closer. It rested on his chest. Close enough that she felt the unhinged beating of his heart against her skin. “I’ll be careful, Umbriel. But ... I do need to know. For my own sanity.” He tried to put on a comforting smile. “I’ll meet with him face to face. I have to. He cannot hide the truth if I can see his eyes. I won’t be gone long,” he said, his gaze drifting down to their entwined hands. “I’m afraid it would otherwise drive me mad.”

  She opened her eyes. No comfort existed in her face. Umbriel knew there was no convincing him otherwise. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I know I haven’t always before, but,” Nicholai trailed off, his shoulders dropping. “If I keep trying long enough, I’m sure something will turn out right.”

  In the face of his lightheartedness, Umbriel tried to smile. She found herself unable. “I’ll be sure to keep everything running smoothly in your absence,” she said, her words dry. The Earth Mother did not wish to let him down. But the sense of dread that loomed inside her only grew with Ganther’s appearance. Something dark followed him. She felt it in every atom.

  Nicholai absorbed it. Her apprehension. He swept his t
humb lightly over her hand, summoning nerve from an unknown reservoir. “Perhaps, when I return, we could ... discuss what almost happened—or, what ... this is. Us.” His face twisted as he tripped over his words. “If you’d like, of course.”

  His words layered a blanket of hope over her growing trepidation. Much as his statement sent a thrill through her skin, it did not smother her fears altogether. The feeling remained too thick. Too heavy in the pit of her stomach. “I’d like that very much,” she said, her eyes falling to their joining hands. Umbriel coerced her gaze to return to Nicholai’s. A dim smile tugged at a corner of her mouth. “Hurry back.”

  “Of course.” A concoction of emotions attacked Nicholai when he looked at her. The lingering dread from Ganther’s appearance remained. The murky curiosity comingled well with the guilt of his growing feelings for a woman who wasn’t Lilac Finn. Piercing through the dense cloud of darkness, however ... a thin ray of yearning. An undeniable affection. It carried a lightness with it. It eased the weight of everything else. Nicholai hoped it stayed. Half of him wished to stay with her, but he could not abandon the incessant need to know.

  Did Edvard Addihein kill his wife? Nicholai had wondered about the circumstances of her death since he was a boy. He had to know. He squeezed Umbriel’s hand and started distancing himself from the institution site. He’d head toward his home to gather supplies. He’d sent word for Edvard to meet him at the border. With any luck, he’d find the truth waiting for him there, regardless of how unpleasant it might be.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A tidal wave of blood followed Bermuda’s katar. The woman let out a scream as she drove her blade into a goddess’s chest. Though dying, the winged warrior gripped Bermuda’s hand, squeezing.