by T. J. Klune
“A vindictive person. A vindictive person is what I take you for.”
He had a strange glint in his eyes, looking younger than I’d ever seen him, and it hit me then that Randall, maybe for the first time since I’d known him, was having fun.
“I am never vindictive,” he said.
I had to move quickly before I was crushed by a small section of ice that fell from the ceiling. “Then what the shit was that!”
“Ready to talk yet?”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” I growled at him.
“Well, then. Let’s see what else I can do. I must admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve stretched my muscles this much. It reminds me of the time with the Ridley cousins. Now, they knew how to have a good time. They had absolutely no morals whatsoever, and it didn’t matter that they were cousins, they still liked to suck my—”
—HEAD, MY stomach, everything. Everything hurt after hearing Vadoma speak about the prophecy, after she bad-touched me and blew that fucking dust in my face at the knights’ training fields. I didn’t want to believe her. I didn’t want to believe anything she was saying.
But even when she’d first appeared in the hallway and sent me to stand before the Great White, to the gym where everything was frozen, and back out to the field where she showed me the death of Ryan, the destruction of Meridian City and the City of Lockes, I thought…. Well. Part of me still thought it was fake. I mean, it had to be, right? If it was, if she was full of shit, then I could go back to the way things were. Ryan and I were living our happily ever after. Gary and Kevin were living their grossly ever after. Tiggy was just… happy. My parents were healthy. The King was just and kind. The Prince was my best friend 5eva. Morgan was my mentor. Randall was… Randall.
But if it were real….
That meant everything I’d known before had been a lie.
That my life as it was now, everything that led to me being who I’d become, was built upon the untruth.
And I couldn’t have that. Because that would mean I could no longer trust a word that came from Morgan’s mouth. That I couldn’t believe anything Randall would tell me. And that was… unacceptable. I needed Morgan. I needed Randall. I needed them both to be real.
They were. They were real. They are.
But I couldn’t see it then. And there is part of me that still can’t see it now.
Because they did lie to me.
They let my parents suffer in the slums for years.
They pretended not to know who I was.
Maybe Morgan didn’t exactly follow what Vadoma wanted, maybe he did try and let me live the life I chose, but he still didn’t tell me about any of this. Granted, he shouldn’t have led with this from the very first day, but what about when he first gave me the Grimoire? What about when he named me Sam of Wilds? Why not when he knew about Ryan? Or when he first suspected how powerful he thinks I could be?
But then it was made all the worse that day in the dungeons, with Wan the Dark Hunter. How is it, after everything the Darks have done to me, that I can still find empathy with them? Maybe Wan wanted nothing more than to kill me. Maybe he was acting on behalf of Myrin, but he was my age. He chose a path for himself that led to his death. And I can’t help but feel that was partially my fault. Could I have done more to save him? I don’t know. But hearing Myrin speak through him, Wan’s skin stretching like the shadow man was in him, it changed… well. It changed everything.
What was it he’d said?
“Because there has never been anything like me before. Isn’t that right, little brother?”
Yes. That.
That changed everything. And I—
—LOOKED UP at Randall in surprise, having successfully dodged his latest attack. I was about to gloat, but then came the secondary attack, a column of ice shooting out from the wall, smashing into my shoulder, and knocking me to the side. I crashed onto the floor, skidding wetly until I came to rest on my back yet again.
“Should have seen that coming,” I groaned, blinking up at the ceiling. “Everything hurts. Pretty sure I’m dying a little bit.”
“You’re not dying,” Randall said drily. “Not yet.”
“So you admit to the possibility of me dying.”
“Everything dies, Sam.”
“Of course you can be philosophical. You’re not the one who just got ice-punched. Which, by the way, hurts like a motherfucker. Maybe we should take a break from Beat Up Sam Time and have some Let Sam Heal For a Little Bit Time.”
“That was all capitalized, wasn’t it?”
“Most of it.”
“You ready to talk yet?”
I pushed myself to my feet, maybe a little more slowly than I had before. “Are you?” I asked.
For once, he didn’t resume attacking me right away. If anything, he looked surprised. “About?”
“Why we’re here.”
He sighed. “I’ve told you why we’re here, Sam. It’s about control—”
“Notice how I haven’t exploded yet even after you’ve insisted on beating me down. I would say that I have excellent control.”
He watched me warily. “Yes. I suppose you do have a point.”
“But that’s not what I was talking about, anyway.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “Why are we here, Randall? What do you have to show me?”
“You speak as if you have knowledge, but we both know that’s certainly not the case.”
I grinned at him. “There’s the Randall I know and who tolerates me.”
“Tolerates might be too strong a word. Why have you not lost control?”
“Maybe because you’re expecting me to.”
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Or maybe because I haven’t yet given you the right incentive.”
“That… doesn’t sound good.”
Randall began to smile, and I—
—HAD HEARD stories about them. The dragons. Every child growing up in Verania, regardless of their upbringing, knew about the dragons. They were legendary, maybe more so than any other magical creature that had ever existed. So little was known about them, aside from their general locations: the desert dragon, the mated pair in the Northern Mountains, the Great White in the Dark Woods, though it was more myth than anything else. Many had claimed to see it moving like a mountain in the heart of the Dark Woods, but there had never been any validity to those stories. They were drunken bar tales told to an enraptured crowd who’d forget them in favor of their hangovers the next day.
But it was strange, given how intertwined the dragons were with Verania, that no one knew that much about them. I suppose the argument could be made that it was hard to learn about a creature whose teeth were the size of a small human, but still. When I thought of them, the dragons, I found it odd that no one knew where they’d come from, or why there weren’t more of them, or what they were actually like. Oh, we knew they had names, but a dragon’s name was always a secret, something that wouldn’t be shared unless there was a reason to do so.
Then came Kevin.
Yes. Kevin. My dear, terrible Kevin. It wasn’t… disappointment per se, but more of a need for me to reconfigure my thoughts on how a dragon should be. But he roared his way into our lives, a dragon that was not known before, and then he could talk and just… exist, the way he did. After everything, the sexual threats, the kidnapping of the Prince, it turned out he was more like the rest of us than I first cared to admit. He just wanted to find a place he could call home.
And then he had to have loud, disgusting sex with my best friend and pretty much ruined dragons for me forever.
Mostly.
Now there’s Zero, the desert dragon who is one thousand four hundred years old but is mentally only fourteen. And who will only be awake for the next year. Zero, the snake dragon monster thing who worries about how he looks, if he will scare too many people.
Zero, the teenage emo dragon who just wants to be left alone so he can grow beautiful
things.
And there’s the star dragon, David’s Dragon, who is a bit of an asshole, but apparently all dragons are, so he fits. I don’t know how genuine he is or why he feels the need to help me like he has… though “help” might not be the right word. He says he’s taken a liking to me, all the while still being vague about almost everything. He spouts about impartiality, but then he possesses Kevin or waits until I blow myself up to tell me that there will be sacrifices before all is said and done.
And the last.
I saw it.
In Vadoma’s vision.
The Great White.
I told myself it wasn’t real.
I told myself that Vadoma was orchestrating the entire thing, showing me what she wanted me to see.
And yet….
I don’t know.
Looking back on it, after everything I’ve seen, I can’t see how it could have been anything but real.
I truly believe I was there when the Great White awoke for the first time in only the gods know how long. I truly believe I was there when he spoke to me.
It was brief, really. Shorter than one would have expected. In the end, though, his point was made.
I have awoken, O human child. In this forest deep, in the dark of the wild. And I have seen what is in your heart. Take heed of my warning: you are not—
“—READY?” I called out. “I’m here on time, Randall. Where are you?”
It was right at eight in the morning, the middle of the second week since we’d left Meridian City. It was colder than it normally was, a snowstorm having blown in the night before, temperatures dropping and ice growing thicker. I’d dragged the sleigh bed over near the fireplace just to stay warm, huddled under piles and piles of thick blankets.
And even though I’d wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in the bed, I’d forced myself up and downstairs, where I’d met Randall almost every morning so far. But he wasn’t there. I tried to think if Randall had said anything the day before about canceling this morning’s ass beating but came up blank.
“Randall?” I tried again, voice echoing.
He didn’t respond.
Then—
“Sam?”
I tensed. Because it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be here, not yet, not—
I turned.
Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart stood in the far doorway.
He was smiling.
It was the most breathtaking sight.
“Hi,” he said, voice carrying out over the ice. “Hello.”
“Ryan?” I managed to croak out, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me. “How are you—”
“I missed you,” he said, taking a step toward me.
I couldn’t move.
“Did you miss me?”
More than anything. More than I thought possible. I ached with it.
He looked so good. So warm. So real.
And he said, “Sam, I am so happy to see your face. I love—”
The doors behind him burst open. Dark wizards poured in. There were dozens of them. Hundreds.
And I still couldn’t move.
They came for him. They surrounded him.
He drew his sword. He called for me to help him.
“Ryan?” I whispered.
They descended upon him. With their magic. There was the crack of bone, a splash of blood.
And I could move then.
Every running step I took caused the ice under my feet to crack. I had only one thought: destroy them all.
There was green and gold.
So much of it.
Lightning arced around me, snapping brightly.
I was going to fucking kill them and—
They were gone.
There was nothing there.
The castle groaned and shifted.
Lightning smashed into the ground and walls, splitting the ice.
There was nothing there.
I was alone.
“Ryan?” I cried out. “Ryan?”
“Sam.”
I whirled around.
Randall stood at the other side of the room.
“Where is he?” I growled. “What have you done with him?”
The lightning-struck scars felt like they were crawling along my skin.
“It was a test,” Randall said, taking a cautious step forward. “He wasn’t really here. It was nothing more than a mirage.”
And even though my heart was breaking because I could hear the truth of it in his voice, I was angry. I was so, so angry at him. “You… tricked me?”
“I needed to see,” he said, “what you were capable of. Sam, can you control it?”
“I’m trying,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It’s so bright,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen something so… expansive. How have I not seen this before?”
“He’s not hurt?” I asked.
He looked startled at this. “No, Sam. I swear to you. Nothing has happened to Ryan. He’s safe. It was a smoke screen. A ghost to bring this out in you so I could see just how far it goes. Now, are you ready?”
The lightning grew brighter and I—
—DIDN’T KNOW what to think about him. About Myrin. About this whole… thing. Why him? Why me? Out of everyone in the world, why the two of us? He had made the decisions he’d made before I ever existed. I am nothing to him. He is nothing to me.
But that might not be exactly right.
I am the strongest wizard in an age, or so it’s been said.
And he wants to consume that strength.
Morgan and Randall did their best, I think. With him. Maybe not the best, but what they thought was right. In the end, it was still a mistake. They should have ended things—ended him—when they had the chance.
I can say that, though, can’t I?
Because I wasn’t there.
What if it was Gary? Or Tiggy?
What if it was Ryan?
Could I sit here and say the same thing, then? Could I have ended things? It would be the right thing to do. It would be the only thing to do.
And yet wouldn’t I do everything in my power to try and save them? To save him?
You bet your ass I would.
There is nothing I wouldn’t do.
Even if it meant banishing any one of them to a realm where they would stay until….
Holy shit.
Where they would stay until I could one day find a way to save them.
Is that it?
Is that what you two have done?
Oh my gods.
You thought—
You thought that one day you could save him.
Have you been trying to find a way all this time?
You have, haven’t you?
The both of you.
You thought that you could find a way to bring him back.
The shadow realm was his prison.
But it was always meant to be temporary.
The keys were given to guardians.
How could you not have known after everything?
Were you deliberately blind when Vadoma came?
Or did you know?
Did you know it would be him, even though he wasn’t named?
Did you think you still had enough time?
Of course you did.
Because if you could bring a king back from madness, you could bring your cornerstone, your brother, back from the dark.
Containment.
Compression.
Like it was in Mama’s office. With Feng.
Only this time the fire didn’t go out.
It grew until it raged.
And that’s what Myrin wanted.
He was waiting—
—FOR ME in the labs. I hadn’t spoken to him in four days, not after the whole Ryan mirage incident. I had been so pissed at him for tricking me that I’d stormed off, staying in my room, only coming out late at night when the castle was dark and silent to scrounge for food in the kitchen. The third day, I thought I h
eard Randall standing outside my door, but no knock ever came, and I told myself I was hearing things. I’d been standing shirtless in front of a full-length mirror next to an ancient wardrobe, tracing the scars across my chest, trying to find a pattern that would make sense. I wondered if Myrin had the same marks upon him now. I thought it was possible.
But on the fourth day, I was done. With all of this.
So I found myself in the labs, clutching my Grimoire to my chest, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I told myself I was, but I couldn’t be sure. I had so many questions. I was conflicted. My heart hurt for Morgan. For Randall. For myself, for being put into this position.
Randall sat in front of the fire, hands in his lap, a vacant look on his face. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him. More frail. His skin was pale, his face heavily lined and wrinkled.
I coughed.
He looked up, startled.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
“Sam. I see you’re out and about.”
“Astute observation, as always.” I cringed internally at the unintentional snark.
He smiled. It was faint, but it was there. “Something you know very little about, I’m sure.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief, my shoulders losing their tension. There was something normal about the way Randall and I sniped at each other. It put me more at ease.
I took another step toward him, trying to find the right words to say… what, exactly? I wasn’t quite sure, but I knew I needed to say something. After everything I’d learned, after what I’d figured out about Randall and Morgan and Myrin, something needed to be said.
But maybe I’d already said enough. Or rather, everything I needed to say. Because a wizard’s Grimoire was their legacy, a wizard’s Grimoire was their journal, but it was also a way for them to work out problems until there was a solution, to give voice to thoughts that couldn’t necessarily be said aloud. Morgan had taught me that.
So when I said, “I’m ready,” I meant it.
The fire snapped and crackled as he stared at me for the longest time. I tried not to squirm as I held his gaze. Finally he said, “Are you?”
I nodded.
“Why?”