by Brindi Quinn
Edius let out a laborious exhale. “Sorry, darlin’.” Then he grabbed a helping of my hair and pulled me to himself.
Windley didn’t react but to scowl, body frozen, like last time, by the arid chill of fear and loathing.
And I? Well, we’ll get to me in a moment.
When Ascian saw Charmagne wounded on the ground, he stepped to her and lifted her by her arm—the way a toddler might lift a ragdoll—and steadied her by the throat. “Heal yourself, girl. Then clean up. The look of you disgusts me.”
With that, he landed his mouth to hers.
Just so we’re clear, the entire coven seemed to be into forcibly kissing others.
With Ascian’s mouth to hers, Charmagne began to heal. You see, Ascian had hexed many people over a long period of time, and while I didn’t know it at the time, one of those beings contained sweet breath capable of healing magical ailments. The reason I know now is because I would encounter one of them later in my travels.
This is how Charmagne’s blackened wound came to fade and how strength returned to her feet.
She bounced back with vigor.
“I was trying to use Pip’s creature to—”
“To put an end to the greatest tap of power to have ever crossed our paths?” Ascian cut her off, softer than soft. “Why, brainless girl, would you want to do that?”
Charmagne had no answer, for the tone in Ascian’s voice was unnervingly calm, as though the wrong answer could be a deadly one.
Besides, at that last part, Ascian had turned his attention to Windley, who was using his body and remaining hatchet to separate Ascian from Edius and me.
He was so brave. Even with such fear and pain engrained in him, he was brave.
If only I was a damsel in need of saving—for while Edius may have had a handful of my hair, he had left my mouth conveniently uncovered, and I suspected it was on purpose.
I noted so to myself, but the thought was small, as were all of my thoughts since Ascian had entered the beach. His arrival was a catalyst, turning the world small and distant, but for my own darkness-stained soul, where I had a creature of my own clawing to be released.
Its name was destruction, and it had been birthed by Exitium, fostered by the echoes, and nurtured by my own hatred. The darkness inside me, which Beau’s family had so diligently tamed for generations, was fed and fat because I had given it a target, and while I had been using its power for my own selfish reasons, it had been growing, side-by-side with my own bloodlust.
Now, on the wind-kissed beach, the entire world seemed at a great distance, and I was alone on a precipice overlooking expanses of netherworldly hands reaching up from some place below.
I abhorred Ascian for what he had done to Windley, to Pip, to the innocents of Abardo. Wild repugnance became me as I focused my deepest, darkest stare into those lavender eyes stretching worlds away.
I hated him.
I loathed him.
And I would be the one to end him.
“Awaken to your true self, Merrin. Speak my name and let us harrow the world.”
This time, Exitium’s slithering voice, neither male nor female and more defined than the rest, wasn’t tempting. It was inevitable.
Isn’t it funny how a thing like love can be disfigured into something so great and terrible?
I had never wanted to end the world or to cause destruction, but at the sight of Ascian, my desires became corrupted—like the only way to aptly punish him for his wrongdoings was to punish the rest of creation as well—as though the only way to win against evil was to terminate all of its possible vessels.
Little did I know, this is exactly what Exitium had been waiting for.
I was no longer an of-the-people for-the-people type. I was vengeance incarnate.
And on the edges of losing myself to molten feelings of wrath and ruin, I managed one last conscious thought:
“If you’re going to use me, Exitium, then at least tell me what you are first. I want to know. What are you?”
My whisper reverberated over the expanses of reaching hands, and from the dark edges of my soul, I finally received an answer to the mystery I had been wondering since I first spoke the dark thing’s name.
Exitium breathed into me the secret it had burrowed, and I repeated it, giving form to it and life:
“Exitium… you’re a goddess?”
The fourth goddess. The one from Windley’s lore. A goddess to end things.
“Angels are not the only things that may fall.”
This was the last I heard of the goddess Exitium before the echoes opened my throat and came spilling out of me with enough odium to end the world.
“The lavender-eyed man has no merit! Let us scorch him! Let us pierce his eyes! We will tear it apart. We will rip it asunder. We will devastate all who walk and crawl. Filth of the earth. We hate them. Let them burn. Dry them out. Kill them. Kill them. KILL THEM!”
“EXITIUM!” The fallen goddess pushed its way up my throat, carried by the echoes of her fallen devotees.
…
…
…
“Merrin, stop!”
That was Windley’s voice, but I couldn’t feel him through the shadow that was slipped over my skin like a glove.
“Great. Looks like I bet on the wrong horse, again.”
And that was Edius, sounding disgruntled.
Lastly—
“Your Majesty!”
Rafe! Either it was him or someone who sounded very much like him. Had Soleil finally let him free?
I would later come to find what a hefty deal of bartering that had taken on his end.
This is where things went black, for Exitium had devoured my soul.
From here, I need to rely on Windley’s account of things, though I’ll do my best to flair it up a bit, as Windley doesn’t make for the most detailed storyteller.
A sharp jet of shadow came surging from my stare into Ascian’s, turning his lavender eyes black and dead. He let out a cry—which Windley called a coward’s wail—and fumbled to conjure any one of the many magics he had stolen over the years. Blindly, he produced a gale of poison wind that Windley and the others avoided by falling to the ground. Next, he tried sending thorned spikes up from the ground around the beach but managed only to fell the tree where Windley’s hatchet was still stuck. Ascian’s last, and most effective trick, was to summon the spider-like monster hiding under Pip’s skin, but even that did not see fruition, for soon after one full leg emerged from Pip’s mouth, the lavender-eyed man would begin to crack and disintegrate into dust, the pores in his face popping with flecks of shadow, each painful, each evoking more cowardly yells.
I’m sorry I missed it, really.
An end too quick for a person responsible for so much heinousness, you may be disappointed to hear that Ascian’s destruction was over in a few blinks, and Windley would never have his grand showdown with the man who had taken so much from him. Sometimes, justice acts on its own terms.
And as it would turn out, Ascian was not our greatest foe. Not by a longshot.
It didn’t end there. The power releasing out of me at rapid pace stained the beach black as a funnel of shadow began to manifest over my open mouth. This was the goddess Exitium gathering all of her fallen followers into a cyclone that would erupt and destroy the world.
That part I knew on my own, for we had become one.
“Lion queen! You need to contain it!” Windley yelled at me, frantic, though I could not hear him. “Argh! Rafe, tell your goddess-damned… goddess to send us some help! What was the point of you giving her your seed if she won’t keep up her end of the deal? I say once her child is born we throw it to the wolves!”
“Soleil!” Rafe held his sword to the sun like a mighty knight. “Lend us your aid!”
I heard none of this, nor did I see Charmagne fallen over the ashes of her longtime oppressor. Nor did I see Edius trying to talk Pip down from releasing the creature inside him while dodging sharp thrusts
from the hairy leg protruding out of Pip’s boyish mouth that was extended far wider than is natural for a mouth.
I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing…
Before we continue, captive ones, I feel the need to refresh your memory around two important versions of the same important fable. And no, it isn’t the tale of the otter and the crane.
If you require no reminder, feel free to skip ahead.
There was a tale Mother Poppy recited for me:
‘Before the time of the Clearing, when the moon traveled slower and the wind howled colder, not one but two crowns were lost with ears turned deaf to the cry of the wood. And before the time of the Clearing, when the stars twinkled bolder and the night stretched longer, not one but two crowns were found with ears turned flush to the song of the wood.’
And another told by Windley:
‘Long ago, when the moon ruled both night and day, the heavens dropped a crown to the world below. Falling on sharp rocks, the crown shattered into two halves. One was lost to the sea, the other to the forest. A simple girl picked up the forest crown and learned the language of the trees, but it was only half the words. She heard only half the truth and made a mistake, ordering hunters to burn the wood. As punishment, the heavens removed her crown. Eventually, the girl came upon the other half of crown, washed upon the shore. She took it and learned the other half of the words. She realized her mistake, for she was not to burn the forest but to protect it. She repented, and the heavens restored her crown. From that day on, she heard all the words and was a protector of the wood.’
Have you committed them to heart?
Good. Let’s continue.
Within that nothingness that was ultimate wrath, I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing…
Until there was something. A small, small something.
“M…in.”
It was soft.
“Me…in.”
It was tender.
“Merrin! Can you hear me?”
It was warm.
Through the bleakest shadow, something warm found me. A light-like voice, soft and fluttery, like the feel of feathers upon skin. Whatever was unfolding beyond the reaches of this dark place, inside it I was happy not to be alone.
Only one thing can be seen in the thickest, deepest darkness. Do you know what it is?
“Who are you?” I pressed my intention into the unseen thing and the unseen thing responded tenfold:
“You can finally hear me? At last! Listen to me quickly and closely, little royal. You must put an end to this! I cannot stand to see the world fall to ruin again!”
Put an end to it? But it was too late. I wasn’t strong enough to keep my bloodlust from awakening. I had lost control of it. Now there was no stopping it.
Even without forming these fears, the unseen thing responded. “I know, Merrin. I have seen your journey and struggle. Do not shy your heart. Time is not lost though it will soon be.”
“Then tell me,” I pressed, voice small in the dark. “How do I stop it? It feels like I am its will now and not the other way around.”
“The one you released is the destroyer, and the only way to keep from unleashing the destroyer’s power is to cast her from your soul. Abandon her to the wastes of the world. Do it quickly!”
But if I did that, the echoes would just find a new royal to attach to, wouldn’t they?
“It is as you assume, but fear not, little royal; doing so shall garner us time to use the Crown for its true purpose.”
That didn’t make sense. The echoes and Exitium were tied to the Nemophile’s Crown, weren’t they? Didn’t casting one aside mean to cast out the other as well?
“There are two halves to the Nemophile’s Crown, gifted to this world. The destroyer’s half followed you from the red wood, watching you from dark corners and shadows while you slept. Meanwhile, my half was resting eons in the green wood, waiting for royal feet to cross the soil. The destroyer attached to you only after I did, to keep you from hearing my voice, for I am the only one that may use the Crown for its true purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“To banish the destroyer to the end of days. Destruction will always come, but it comes too soon, and the destroyer is not yet meant for this world. Together you and I will send her to where she needs to go.”
Yet if I had learned anything, it was not to trust disembodied voices appearing in my head.
“Your fears are understood, but they are not warranted. For I am a being who seeks to bring neither pain nor destruction. My name is Vita, and I have been resting since the last creation.”
I had heard that name once before from the mouth of a conjurer whose people knew more about the celestial than my own. If Exitium was the goddess to end things, then Vita was the one to begin them. The giver of life.
Another goddess. And so far, goddesses had only brought me grief.
“With the destroyer lost from your soul, my power will shine in you. Together, we will build mountains and springs. Together, we will rid this world of chaos and ruin. Join with me, Merrin. I have watched you and come to know that you will be the one to use the Crown for its true purpose.”
Whatever the implications, it sounded like a fine alternative to never seeing Windley, Beau and Albie again.
“Very well. How do I cast Exitium and the echoes out?”
“Feel it in the marrow of your bones and the sinew of your muscle. Desire it most, and it shall be.”
It is hard to explain how exactly I followed these directions. I suppose it’s like imagining a color you’ve never seen before.
I followed Vita’s instruction, willing with every fragment of my fragmented soul that Exitium be expelled from me.
Do you know it, captive ones, the answer to my question?
What can be seen in the thickest, deepest darkness?
Light.
Light engulfed me, filled me with purpose, showing me the warm, intricate adoration of a creator.
For the first time in a long time, my soul was healthy.
But the beach as I had left it was far from.
Chapter 25
Until We Meet Again
Wow, captive ones. Quite a journey, hasn’t it been? And we’re only halfway there. Are you worried about the others? Beau… Albie… Flora and her face that looks like mine for a reason you don’t yet know? Don’t be. I haven’t forgotten them, and this story is far from over.
When I returned to the physical realm, it was as if the world had inhaled deeply to take me in, and my feet felt softer and more buoyant than they had before. Everything about the world was heightened, the shimmer on the water, the smooth of the driftwood… the charred crater I had left on the beach.
Only Windley and Rafe and a few disgruntled crabs remained; the others were gone, and by the looks of their trailing footsteps, Charmagne and Pip had absconded in one direction while Edius went another.
When he saw me, Windley sprinted to me, wet in his eyes, kicking up sand, and face smudged with remnants of the pollution I had spewed into the air.
Before Windley would fill me in on all that had happened, he took me carefully in his arms and held me like he had no intention of ever letting go.
“I should never have doubted you, Merr. You never needed the sun goddess’s help. You did it on your own. Ascian’s dead.”
No, it was just another goddess who had aided me. One no longer branded to my soul.
Windley squeezed me in a way more than loving, more than desirous, more than grateful. It was an emotion without a name.
Of course, I didn’t mind. Even that too, felt heightened, the beat of his heart through his chest, the veins connecting him and moving his blood—it was if I could sense them through him, as if life was a moving, breathing concept held within everything.
Vita’s power was unlike anything I had felt before. The opposite of Exitium’s orphic nature, it was a feeling of continuous wonder and light.
Saorsa.
When at long last
Windley released me, he did so to examine the rubble where Ascian had once stood, and I turned my attention to a certain wavy-haired, amber-eyed magician who once more looked like he had been put through hell.
“Rafe.” I placed hands on him. “You made it. I was so worried for you. Thank goddess. But not that goddess. Fill me in later?”
Before agreeing, he did something he had never done before and would never do again. He put a hand to my back and patted it awkwardly the way distant cousins might greet each other after only meeting once before—his version of a hug. “I thought you were going to disintegrate, Your Majesty. That would have been unfortunate… for Beau.” He turned away so as to hide his face.
While for him it was likely our least comfortable moment together, for me it was our warmest.
But the smile invading my mouth was short-lived.
“No! FUCK! It isn’t here!” Windley let out a heave while falling forward and placing both hands on his knees in defeat.
I ran to him, bare feet becoming coated from, what I would later come to know was Ascian’s ashes. Dis-gust-ing.
“What is it?” I took his shoulder and searched the ground where he stood. “What’s wrong?”
“No, no, no, no, no, no. Damn it, NO!” Windley shook his indigo hair. “Ascian’s ring! It’s gone! If Charm took it, it means she has access to all of the hexes imbued in it! Including the thing inside Pip!”
If it was true, if Charmagne had been the one to take Ascian’s ring, then we were in unprecedented danger. And I no longer had the echoes bobbing about on the outskirts of perception, waiting for a fight.
I told you Ascian wasn’t our greatest foe.
I really should have killed her when given the chance.
It was one of the least favorable outcomes, vanquishing one monster only to create another, more unhinged monster. Not to mention, the echoes were out somewhere in the world, searching for a new host to do their bidding.
Unfortunately, they would land on the worst possible option.
Though we didn’t know it yet, Exitium already knew her next target, for she had been watching me for days before ever entering me. And there was a particular spider queen of a particularly vampiric castle that was, while unstable, certain to hold the wrathful nature necessary for exacting the fallen goddess’s destruction on the world.