by A. J. Vrana
With the last of his waning strength, Velizar took up the paranoia that had poisoned the Hollow and carved out his vengeance. He would cling to the fable he hated and take it with him to his next life. Although his new incarnation wouldn’t remember, his soul would.
The survivors left the land soaked in their families’ blood, but wherever they went, they took their stories with them, and their king followed like a shadow. The place was transported with the people, and their gods were re-homed. The hunters tried building a new Hollow an ocean away, but it too became black. Every time the village came to believe they had rid themselves of the Dreamwalker’s curse, the seeds of doubt would sprout a bloodthirsty weed.
But for that, Velizar’s machinations weren’t necessary. The human mind was powerful enough. He’d watch as the villagers’ doubt gave way to guilt, and guilt crumbled to expose shame. People would do anything to rid themselves of it. The simplest way, of course, was to ensure the monster was real, the execution justified.
Exorcise the demon, exorcise the guilt.
He knew it would all start anew…a new woman, a new Dreamwalker, and an endless supply of wolves for the Hollow to choose from. They were ravenous for death, and Velizar had full faith there’d be no shortage of portents for them to fabricate.
His incarnations would live through every new iteration of the Dreamwalker’s persecution, ensuring he’d be there to see her fall. With every lifetime that joined them, he would look her in the eyes and watch her burn with a smile.
If Velizar couldn’t control her, then he would control her myth. He’d destroy anyone who smelled of her. Yes, she would return, but she would return to his order. And she would die in it. Again, and again, and again, until time itself broke.
Velizar would have his legacy. Even if the Hollow forgot his name, they would never be free of the cycle he’d created. It was an order unto itself, and in the hands of history, it was as eternal as his godhood.
III
HELL HATH NO FURY
45
MIYA
As the first slivers of her memory returned, Miya sighed with relief. The sensation of not knowing oneself was akin to floating in the ocean, with a depthless abyss below and an endless expanse above. But when the full force of the past hit her, it was like someone had ripped a hole in the universe, and there was now something bigger lurking behind it.
Miya felt like she’d taken her first breath—a staggering, painful gasp that burned like thousands of glass grains scraping along her lungs.
“Now you know,” came the boy’s low whisper.
Miya’s fingers kneaded at her ribs and chest, trying to work out the sting. She remembered everything. Velizar was the First, but he wasn’t the only one. Kali was Miya’s first, and Sendoa was Kai’s. The three of them were entangled in ways that made death and time irrelevant. And Gavran…
“Why did you help me?” she asked. “You were only there towards the end.”
His eyes twinkled with knowing. “I’ve always been there.”
“I don’t understand.” Miya wracked her brain for a memory that came before the red-tinged willow.
“You were lost before you’d taken your first breath,” said Gavran. “I found you, tucked you in, and flew you back to your waking home. Then I watched. I waited. Every time you dreamt, I was there. You simply hadn’t learned to look up, and I wasn’t ready to leave the trees.”
Miya recalled the beginning of his story, and her mouth dropped open. “You were the raven that brought Kali’s soul back to her body when she was a baby.”
He nodded, his fingers splaying over the ground. He scratched at the dirt, thick, sallow fingernails accenting his porcelain skin. He was a spirit wearing the corpse of a child from the Hollow—a corpse that never changed. But that wasn’t how Ama had described her caretaker.
“I’ve heard you’re an old man in the physical world. Why the discrepancy?”
He cackled, throwing out his arms. “Here, I am whatever I want,” he said. “But your rebirth would be out there, so I needed to stay out there as well. With you gone, I had no anchor.” His crooked teeth ate up his whole face. “That’s why I put on the boy’s corpse. But,” he raised a spindly finger, “dead things rot, so I gave his bones life. The bones grew brittle, but slowly…so slowly. My life gives more than decades. Yet bodies can only be in one place at a time.” He scoffed like it was the most frustrating trifle in the universe. He leaned in close to Miya. “I needed eyes everywhere,” he whispered. “Inside, outside. Everywhere and in all things. For that, I made the sentry you call Kafka and gave it my eyes.”
“Your…literal eyes?” asked Miya, leaning back as the boy dove in.
“A piece of me,” he said. “Kafka can traverse realms. The old man cannot.”
“But you’re here,” she pointed out. “Aren’t you the old man?”
The boy settled back against the tree, his expression deadening. “Yes.”
“So, you can traverse realms?”
The boy shook his head. “Only the Dreamwalker can do that without consequence.”
Miya felt her heart still, then plummet into her gut. “But you’re just dreamwalking, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that be okay?”
“Too many worlds crossed. Too many dreams walked with old bones. And some things require more than eyes—welcoming you to the dreamscape, leading you to the Grey Gnarl, helping the wolf at your behest. And now,” his eyes met hers, “fulfilling my promise to you.”
Miya let out a shaky breath. “To keep the stone until the time is right…”
Gavran nodded. “You have the stone back. And now, you have your memories back.” He smiled warmly. “You have yourself back. My purpose has ended.”
“But we’ve only just been reunited!” Miya pleaded. “You still have a place in my life.”
Gavran chuckled, lowering his gaze. “I always wanted to be the apple of your eye. But I knew then, just as I know now: the wolf always feasts before the raven.”
“No!” Miya protested. “That doesn’t mean you get to starve yourself out of our lives. What about Ama? She still needs you! She loves you!”
Gavran threw his head back and laughed until his voice broke. “The white wolf has never needed anyone.” He reached out and stroked Miya’s cheek, his hand cold as death. “Love is not a thing of need, Dreamwalker. It’s a thing of choice. You knew this day would come eventually.”
“But—”
He silenced her with a light pinch on the cheek. “Nothing in this world ever ends. It only changes…like water to mist, like bones to dust.”
The fog that once barred their path swam towards the Red Knot. It gathered around the boy, swallowing him up in a sea of darkness. The last thing Miya saw was Gavran’s eerie smile and glistening black eyes as the haze devoured him.
Never fear, she heard his voice echo.
Old embers ignite new flames.
46
KAI
Kai was wrenched awake by a searing pain in his side. Curling into it, he rolled over and bit down a scream. This was worse than being stabbed. His gut lurched, but nothing came up. How could it? He wasn’t even in the physical world. There was nothing in his godforsaken spirit stomach, and yet he still felt nausea clawing its way up, taunting him with useless heaving. Like a cat with a hairball.
Dark clouds mounded up overhead, threatening to spill with rain. He was still in the swamp, still stranded with the Grey Gnarl in the middle of that stupid lake. Thunder rolled over the livid sky, matching the sentiment in Kai’s heart.
He already knew Velizar had started the cycle, but he didn’t know it like he did now. Velizar had forced him to live it all—to feel their relationship crumble as egos erupted and civility imploded. Not that Kai ever cared much about being civil.
He wobbled to his feet. “You sad sack. You’d think a god would know better.”
Velizar had wanted to watch the Dreamwalker die not once, but every time. He didn’t care if the accused girls were th
e actual Dreamwalker. He just wanted her to be the bane of Black Hollow, no matter the cost. He wanted her—the very idea of her—to submit to his diabolical designs.
Well, Velizar had gotten his wish, and he was miserable for it.
Misery was a price worth paying, Velizar replied. Every lifetime I spent in agony because of the Dreamwalker brought me closer to my truest form.
Kai’s head pounded with every word. “You mean Abaddon.”
I was perfect, he reminisced. I was finally able to rip myself free of my horrid rebirth. Being alive is a travesty. My mortal mind forced me to bury my memories and my will into my subconscious. As Abaddon, I reclaimed my autonomy and became a true god.
Kai felt sick, the throbs deepening until they pulsed through his skull. How was he even related to this asshole? “Hold up—you tortured yourself, repeatedly, then wiped yourself off the census for your prehistoric scheme?”
Of course, Velizar purred. All great revolutions require sacrifices—most of all, from their leaders. I was happy to condemn my future selves to lifetimes of misery if only to prove that life is wretched. How cruel it is…to relive a pattern over and over and to never remember why you are the fool who cannot cease falling into the same pit.
“Pompous prick.” Kai pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled. “You know, when you dragged me into this fever dream, I worried you’d show me something that’d make you seem like less of a dick.” He threw his arms up. “Not a fucking chance! You’re still the same self-absorbed piece of shit!”
But surely even you see that we were doomed to dance this dance forever. It didn’t matter that we were without our memories. Life after life, we continued butchering each other, and it was all because of her—the Dreamwalker.
“Who cares!” Kai’s voice rung in the open air. “How does being stuck together make a difference?”
Because it’s the only way to end this eternal spat, brother. By uniting as one, we can finally be free of each other. We can make peace. If we aren’t separate, if we are a whole, then we cannot be at war.
“You mean you get to force me to be your little bitch,” said Kai.
You’re weak, Velizar hissed. Without me, you stood no chance against Rusalka. You were nothing but a worm for her to pull apart. With me, you are strong—no, unstoppable. I make you great. And only in greatness do you have what’s necessary to actualize her demise. Only I can free you from her.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Kai growled. “I was tracking her when you knocked me down memory lane.”
Velizar’s chuckle reverberated against Kai’s ribs. You did well, brother. But the trail ends here.
Kai turned to the Grey Gnarl. “Yeah, because this dried-up stick is a gateway to Orme’s Rest, and you wouldn’t let me through it.”
He hated how easy it was for the dead to move between worlds. Vengeful spirits like Rusalka and Velizar latched onto their victims from the dreamscape and leeched their strength to ferry themselves back and forth. But Kai wasn’t dead. Although he no longer belonged to the physical plane, he’d never died. For him, it wasn’t so simple. Nothing living was meant to cross realities. Nothing but the Dreamwalker, that is.
Go, Velizar commanded. She is back in the waking world.
Kai swallowed, fear threading through his muscles. He hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time he was alone without Miya there to anchor him. What if she’d moved on?
You don’t need her! Or have you already forgotten that I’ve promised you everything?
“As if I’d trust you,” Kai said, but he still took a step towards the tree.
Don’t be foolish. Disintegrating between realms would hardly be a fitting end for you, dear brother.
Kai knew he was telling the truth. After all, if Velizar wanted him dead, he’d make sure it was slow, painful, and orchestrated like a Shakespearean tragedy. With a harsh breath, Kai placed his hand on the Grey Gnarl’s slimy bark. It was like clammy, dead skin. Under his touch, the husk began to pull apart, giving way to a dark void. This time, it’d listened.
The tree sucked him in, sluggish like a sleepy mouth clamping over a thumb. It took every ounce of Kai’s willpower not to plant his foot on the trunk and kick himself back into the swamp.
Something in him relented. Miya would be there, and even if she wasn’t, he still had an expiring fish to fry.
Kai squeezed his eyes shut. Sound slipped into a vacuum as he tipped onto the other side and fell, weightless, then landed like a stone hitting water.
He gasped as his body crashed against the steel-hard ground. Gravel bit into his skin and he groaned, cradling his neck with his palm. “Fuck.”
The sky above was dark and starless, the cover of clouds so thick the moon couldn’t be found. Fighting to sit up, Kai found himself alone in the cemetery, staring at Sydney Baron’s grave.
You see? You don’t need the Dreamwalker’s permission. You do as you please, as any king should.
Kai nearly choked on the lump that unexpectedly formed in his throat. He was back where he started—a solitary punk with a voice in his head. Sure, he knew what it was now, but he wasn’t any better off for it. Velizar’s shtick was making Kai feel small and powerless, even as he called him king.
“I’m not a king,” Kai said. “I’m just a piece of trash. A beef jerky enthusiast with a hard-on for chaos.”
Rusalka’s swampy stench hung faintly in the air. Although she’d gotten a decent head start, Kai had a hunch where she was headed. He stared at the epitaph on Sydney’s tombstone, remembering the way Rusalka’s sickness wafted off Crowbar’s skin.
If she wanted to hurt him, she knew exactly where to strike.
He needed to get to The Mangy Spade.
No, Velizar growled. It’s too soon to charge into battle.
“Fuck you,” Kai muttered as he stood. Rusalka had already threatened Crowbar. What if Miya was with her?
She might’ve already skipped town, but he knew better than to gamble on that hope. If he was in Rusalka’s shoes, he’d want leverage. What better way to snatch it back than to threaten the person he cared for most?
No!
Kai’s legs locked like rusty joints. Tripping on weeds, he strained to regain his balance. “What the hell is wrong with you? Didn’t you want Rusalka gone?”
Not quite yet, Velizar cooed.
“Why not!”
The voice clucked. Because imagine how much sweeter the kill will be once she’s taken everything from you. The catharsis, the release—the euphoria! It would be wasted on a wretch who hasn’t fully sinned against you. And what greater sin is there than the slaughter of your beloved?
Panic vised around Kai’s throat as he realized Velizar’s game. The bastard had been trying to stall him the entire time. The history lesson, the pleas for unity—they were all a ploy to ensure that Kai wouldn’t make it in time to stop Rusalka. It was the same nightmare that’d plagued him in Black Hollow—all the missing girls he’d barely missed saving because of Abaddon. Miya marked the first time he’d conquered his curse, and now, Velizar wanted to rectify that.
Oh tsk, Velizar fussed. I just want my brother back.
Kai knew intimately what would come next. Once he was drowning in guilt over Miya’s death, Velizar would swoop in to play wingman to Rusalka’s demise, leaving Kai with nothing—and no one—but his nemesis: his lonely, controlling brother who also had nothing and no one but Kai.
“You twisted fuck!” Kai roared as he fought against the paralysis. He stumbled down the hill only to be struck in the back by a crushing weight.
Stop struggling.
“I’d rather drag my balls over broken glass!” Kai grunted through clenched teeth. His shoulders sank like he was carrying a building.
The voice sighed in disappointment. Very well.
Kai’s knee jerked to the side, his tibia nearly snapping out of place as ligaments stretched and tore. Ill-prepared for the attack, Kai crumpled and cried out in agony.
If
you insist on crawling back to that wench, then you’ll do so on all fours like the pitiful cur you are.
Kai dug his fingers into the dirt and wrestled to stand on his good leg, but his other knee bent back, sending him face-first into the pebbles. He didn’t care. Now more than ever, Kai wouldn’t be dissuaded. He dragged himself by his elbows, inch by inch, breath by breath.
The pain gradually faded, replaced by a creeping horror that Velizar was healing him faster than Abaddon ever could. The moment Kai pushed himself out of the mud, he was maimed by what felt like a sledgehammer to the spine.
Not that it would be enough. Nothing his damn brother did would ever be enough.
Kai would reach The Mangy Spade, even if Velizar broke all his bones, tore his innards from his stomach, and bled him dry trying to stop him.
He was one tenacious son of a bitch, and by morning, he would have a sun to fuck out of Velizar’s miserable sky.
47
MIYA
Miya shot up from the hard, splintering floor. Blood rushed to her head and black dots stippled her vision. Her cheeks flushed and her stomach clenched with something between nausea and hunger. How long had she been out?
She registered warm, wrinkled skin against her palm and flexed her fingers, closed around an old man’s hand. He lay next to her, unmoving, his long face marked by a sharp nose, deep-set eyes, and a stark frown. His thin silvery-black hair was pulled back against his scalp with only a few loose strands framing his ears.
She immediately recognized Gavran despite his age.
They were behind the bar of The Mangy Spade. A blanket was draped over Miya’s legs, and a pillow, impressed with her head, lay on the floor. The kitchen doors burst open then, and Ama charged in, Crowbar and Mason in tow.
“You’re back!” Ama’s arms encircled her, dampness smearing across Miya’s cheeks.