Legend

by Shayne Silvers

  I’d made my own family with Gunnar and Talon. Hell, with Pan dead, I was Talon’s only family. And Gunnar was about to have a family of his own—a little Calvin and Makayla of his own—named after the two who had given him a new home as a child.

  If I brought my parents back, I knew I would quickly grow to hate them, because I would always see the loss of Gunnar and Talon when I looked at them. And they would resent me for not choosing Gunnar, especially when they saw Ashley carting little Calvin and Makayla off to pre-school without their father.

  But bringing back my two best friends…

  I wouldn’t have that feeling of regret, because my parents had died a long time ago.

  Could the solution really be that simple? Had Anubis really meant I could use them like this? The only problem was that I hadn’t fulfilled my part of the bargain yet.

  And there was always the risk that bringing back the dead was a mistake. What if they came back…different? I knew you needed to keep bodies cold, like those cryogenic—

  I looked up at Alex sharply, making him flinch. I made my decision. “We need to bring them with us,” I rasped, smiling crookedly as I pointed to the mountain in the distance. The probably very cold mountain. “I think I might have a way to bring them back.”

  Grimm neighed uncomfortably, and Alex grimaced. “Nate…are you sure about this? I’m still trying to process their deaths, too, but bringing them back…it sounds like a really bad idea.”

  “Never quit never quitting,” I told him confidently. “Cheat like a bastard to win like a king.”

  He nodded uncertainly. “Okay. Do you have a change of clothes in your bag? I checked and couldn’t find one,” he admitted.

  I studied him pensively before nodding. “Sure. Let me just check.”

  I shoved my hand inside, verifying that the three unclaimed Horsemen Masks, the Hourglass, and the Hand of God were all inside. I masked my relief, glad that Alex hadn’t managed to nick anything else from my nuclear storehouse. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a plain tee.

  “Here,” I said, throwing the clothes at him. Then I turned to Grimm. “Time to earn your pay,” I told him.

  He glanced at the four bodies and snorted. “It’s going to take two trips…” he said, grimacing.

  I nodded. “Take me and Talon, first. Alex can go with Gunnar.”

  Chapter 33

  As I sat atop the mountain, surrounded by snow, staring out at the Land of Fae surrounding me…I felt entirely alone. I had set Talon beside me, but that only made it worse. Alex and Grimm would be back with Gunnar soon.

  But right now, I was entirely alone, and facing a seemingly insurmountable problem.

  Fix my Fae magic so I could fix the Bifröst.

  As I sat there, thinking hard about any possible options, I realized I was going about it all wrong. I took a deep breath and…I let go of everything. The stress. The blame. The anger. The guilt.

  I decided I was done thinking. I no longer cared about the problems of the past, my stupid legend, who had lied to this person or that person.

  No more pity. No more patience. No more excuses.

  It was time to look forward and focus on what mattered, not the things I couldn’t change.

  It was time to roll my sleeves up. If not now, with my two best friends dead and a little girl kidnapped, when was it time?

  As I made this decision, I felt something loosen inside of me. An easing. I felt a sudden surge of energy begin to fuel me. I noticed I wasn’t alone anymore, but I didn’t turn to look. I took a deep breath, staring out at the tapestry before me—the Land of the Fae. Two Ravens circled the peak of the mountain, cawing loudly at me. “What’s a nice guy like you doing on a mountain like this?” I asked the Wanderer.

  Odin grunted. “Wanted to see you in action,” he admitted. “You’ve got all the ingredients; all you need now is the courage.”

  I nodded absently, focusing on my breathing. “Stay out of my way…Dean.”

  I sensed him stiffen at the choice of names. Possibly an olive branch. Possibly.

  A moment later, he was gone. At least as far as I could tell. But I was confident he was nearby, watching. It wasn’t every day a Bifröst was born.

  Grimm landed lightly a few paces away and Alex awkwardly wrestled Gunnar down, doing his best to not drop him or bump his head on a rock. I didn’t get up to help him, staring straight ahead and breathing in and out, relaxing my body. I mustn’t try too hard.

  Alice had taught me that.

  Alex set Gunnar on the other side of me from Talon.

  I pointed a finger about ten paces away from me. “Sit,” I told him softly.

  Once he was seated, I finally turned to my two best friends, lying dead beside me. I stared at Gunnar and Talon and let my raw anguish wash over me.

  I thought about Pan’s unconditional love. His sacrifice.

  I thought about Alice, all alone, and terrified. How she had helped me remember to laugh and play, even when things seemed dark after Pan’s death.

  How I had taught her to lie…

  How she had promised me we would find our happily ever after. And how a Knight—a noble character she had been excited to meet—had ruined her happily ever after, flipping the script and murdering her mother right before her eyes. And then he had kidnapped her.

  If a Good Knight could turn bad…becoming a knightmare…

  Maybe it was time I let the world see what lengths a Wylde boy would go to in order to save a princess.

  As these emotions swirled within me, I realized I was panting. I was squeezing fistfuls of snow in my hand, but it didn’t melt in my palms.

  I glanced down to see that it wasn’t snow, but rocks from within the frozen earth. I had squeezed them to powder with my fists. I opened them, letting the dust drift away in the swirling wind atop my mountain. Something about it looked familiar, but since I had decided not to think, I dismissed the erroneous thought.

  That’s when I realized I could feel Wylde humming softly in the depths of my soul, drawn out by my raw emotions. My lack of thought.

  Star light, star bright, it’s okay, I’ll be alright… I smiled, letting the melody wash over me.

  I thought about Alice telling me I tried too hard, and let my mind relax even further. I set one hand on Talon and the other on Gunnar and tried to remember them as they had been. Their fur tickled my fingers, and I felt tears dripping from my eyes.

  Wind began to swirl around us, faster and faster, screaming in the peaks and crevices, falling snowflakes biting into my neck. But I ignored that.

  Rather than try to pull Wylde out, I chose to sink down deep within myself.

  As above, so below.

  And I felt Wylde grasp onto my figurative hand, squeezing.

  Because I think I finally understood. There wasn’t anything to pull out. Wylde was Nate. Nate was Wylde. I had been trying too hard. Thinking too much. Looking, not seeing. Analyzing, not feeling. Accusing, not accepting.

  Pan had Forced me to tap into my Fae magic during our fight, and then he had shocked me with his death.

  Then Alice had carefully swept up the shards, showing me how to laugh and play again. And with a single act, Alvara had taught me what parenting truly meant—to make the tough decisions in order to give your child everything they might need to one day make the world a better place. No matter the cost to the parent. Even if the child might not understand for a very long time.

  And then Talon and Gunnar had died to protect me, shattering my emotions all over again. Undying loyalty in action.

  I had been considering my Fae magic problem like I was rebuilding a house to its former glory. But what if my problem was a little like repairing the Bifröst? Take a bunch of broken pieces, shake them up in a magic sack, and then cast them out into the universe with a ridiculously overpowered blast of magic and hope for the best?

  Although I had been broken down, I had grown stronger for it—like a broken bone that had healed back together, stronger aro
und the fracture than anywhere else.

  Those breaks were an improvement. I didn’t want to simply go back to what I had once been—two separate individuals. Because I wasn’t just Wylde. And I wasn’t just Nate.

  Both of us had lived. We had both progressed far beyond who we had once been. We had experienced new things, tasted new pains, loved new loves…

  What was the use in living in the past?

  We had changed, and so…

  I gripped Wylde’s hand in a gentle, loving embrace, and then I let him go, refusing to continue being one half of a whole. I rose back up from the depths of my being and let out a figurative breath. And then I waited.

  Instead of the familiar clicking sensation, the wall between us shattered, and I felt Wylde let out a deep breath as he slowly filled all the little cracks and holes in my soul. It wasn’t a tidal wave of childhood memory. It was a faith of sorts. An acceptance. Because it wasn’t about studying all the individual Lego pieces of our two different pasts. Those would be remembered, or they wouldn’t.

  It was about what beauty we could create with a hodge-podge of random blocks.

  Ordo ab chao. Order from chaos.

  The only question that mattered was what we wanted to build next.

  I took a deep breath, feeling more full—more complete—than I had ever felt before.

  My fingers unclenched from the furred bodies beside me, and I lifted my arms towards the sky, smiling as I let my eyes focus on Grimm and then Alex. Night had apparently fallen because the sky was now pitch black.

  Grimm and Alex were staring at my hands with wide eyes. I looked up to see that I was holding star light in either fist. I turned back to meet their eyes.

  “Let’s make a fucking rainbow, boys.”

  Chapter 34

  I set the star light to either side of me, so I could see better. Then I reached inside the satchel at my feet and began pulling out rainbow guts, humming to myself absently as I worked.

  Star light, star bright…

  Not wanting to get my hands dirty, I made the rainbow guts inside the satchel begin arranging themselves into something more like a bolt of cloth. I waited a few moments, still humming absently, and then I grabbed one end and pulled it out of the satchel. I was careful not to pull too fast because it took a bit of time for eighty-one dead rainbows—I had counted—to get their act together and join forces. I didn’t want it to rip, of course.

  That wouldn’t do at all.

  I reached out and scooped up one of the balls of starlight. Then I massaged it into the new rainbow like I was kneading dough.

  The rainbow began to smolder beneath my knuckles, but I continued kneading, feeling sweat pop up across my brow. After a few more moments, the rainbow burst into flame.

  I let out a sigh, shaking out my fingers tiredly.

  I looked over at Alex and smiled. He was staring at me with wide eyes, muttering in disbelief. “Family,” I told him. He nodded, looking determined to make me proud, despite his fear. Good. He would need that for what came next.

  I focused on the Maker Dust around him—within him—and grabbed at it like I was catching a fish in a stream with my bare hands. Alex gasped, arching his back, and a surge of power flowed into me. I watched him clinically, making sure I wasn’t borrowing too much power too fast. But he was strong—a quality ingredient. After a few moments, he began to relax and, content he wouldn’t pass out on me, I set the flow from him to me into a constant, steady drip.

  A small cloud flickering with red power drifted up the mountain path and I smiled.

  “I’m glad you could join us, Ruin,” I said.

  He bobbed up and down, slowing beside me to inspect my work with the ever-burning rainbow. “I felt my family calling me. That they needed help,” he said, glancing from me to Alex, gauging the flow of power between us and nodding his approval.

  “Do you mind?” I asked. “I could use a little bit more of the red,” I said, indicating the rainbow in my lap. “One bolt should do.”

  “Sure,” he said, studying me in surprise but asking no questions.

  “Why don’t you just throw it at me and I’ll catch it,” I said. “It’s hard to throw in the middle of all this,” I explained, still pulling out more of the rainbow from my satchel.

  “Okay.” He drifted back a few paces. “On the count of three,” he said. He began bobbing up and down as he counted out loud, giving me something to See rather than just Hear.

  How considerate of him.

  “One…two…three!”

  The sizzling bolt of red lightning shot out of him with a deafening crack, and I flung up a hand to quickly catch it and slam it into the rainbow. It crackled and zapped as it shot down the entire length of the rainbow within my satchel.

  I let out a tired, shaky sigh and looked back up at Ruin. “Thanks. I think we’re ready.” I jerked my chin upwards. “Fifty feet up, I need you to just remain in place,” I told him. “Grimm’s going to run through you with the rainbow. I need you to juice it up with everything you have.”

  “I’m going to do what?” Grimm asked incredulously.

  Ruin nodded obediently and drifted up into the sky as indicated.

  “Grimm, take this end in your mouth.”

  When he didn’t respond, I looked up.

  “You did not just say that to me,” he said in disbelief.

  “Alex is wearying fast,” I told him sternly. “Let’s save the dick jokes for later, eh?”

  He trotted over, studying me. “So, it is still you,” he said, leaning low to bite down on the end of the rainbow I held out.

  I nodded absently, reaching deeper into the satchel, yanking out fistfuls of the new crackling, burning rainbow, and dumping it into a heaping pile beside me. I reached out for the other ball of star light, sweating harder now. I took a deep breath, checked on Alex—who was weaving back and forth ever so slightly now—and then slammed the star light down onto the rainbow, relieving some of the strain on Alex. I let out a shudder, wiping at my forehead with my sleeve.

  Then I turned to my unicorn, ignoring the stunned look on his face. “Okay, I need you to fly through Ruin as fast as you can,” I told him.

  He grimaced distastefully but nodded. He didn’t need to speak for me to know what he was thinking. And it had nothing to do with magic or Grammarie. I was asking him to make the biggest rainbow in the world.

  Any other time I would have laughed. But Alex wasn’t looking too good.

  “Hurry,” I told him.

  He didn’t bother replying, simply sweeping up into the sky a good distance from Ruin, the stream of sizzling rainbow trailing behind him like a ribbon, illuminating the snowy mountain with color for the first time.

  Without further prodding, Grimm sprinted at Ruin in a blur, the rainbow now whipping and cracking behind him like a cloak. I continued hurling fistfuls of rainbow from the satchel as fast as I could, keeping one eye on the sky so I could witness the birth of the new Bifröst.

  Grimm struck Ruin with a thunderous boom and then burst out the other side, the Bifröst screaming loud enough to make the mountain tremble as the size, flames, and lightning quadrupled. I’d made it a little faster than the old Bifröst. Because if you weren’t going to improve something, why even attempt it, right?

  Grimm zipped out of sight, tugging the Bifröst behind him in a blur.

  I was panting as I reached the end of the rainbow and managed to let it go before it was yanked out of my hand. I looked up, shaking with exhaustion, and stared as the end of the Bifröst passed through Ruin to the sound of a sonic boom.

  Sparkles exploded across the sky and the Bifröst let out one final birthing cry, confirming it had been a successful delivery. Ruin drifted to the ground like a leaf falling from a tree, swaying back and forth in exhaustion, as well.

  I very carefully dialed down the connection between Alex and I, keeping an eye on him to make sure he was handling the decrease in flow without harmful effect. I gauged it by watching his b
reathing, making sure it was slow and steady until I turned it off completely.

  He promptly passed out, but Ruin caught him at the last moment.

  I let out a breath of relief as Ruin carried Alex away, and I very carefully released my own power. I leaned back with a tired smile and focused on my breathing. I had forgotten to tell Grimm how long he needed to carry the Bifröst, but it would eventually snap tight on his end and force him to let go. Or it would disappear entirely from his mouth, making it pretty clear his job was done.

  A cloaked silhouette approached, looming over me and I smiled up at him.

  “Suck on that,” I told him tiredly.

  He continued to stare at me, his face shadowed from view. “Do you have any idea how…incredible that was?” he asked, sounding disturbed.

  “I thought the suck on that comment was pretty clear.”

  He continued staring down at me and finally shook his head. Then he sat down beside me and I got a better glimpse of his face. It was Dean, not Odin. I laced my fingers across my chest and looked back up at the stars, smiling proudly.

  “Is he a Tiny God, now?” I asked, thinking about Alex and Ruin.

  Dean shook his head. “He’s something, but he hasn’t bonded Ruin, if that’s what you mean. He could, but he hasn’t. Being a Tiny God just means you can dominate a soul. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a Beast.”

  I looked over at him, arching a brow. “Oh?”

  Grimm abruptly landed beside us with the force of a meteor, baring his teeth at Dean. “Fixed your fucking rainbow, candy-ass Cyclops,” he snarled. Then he turned his back on the Allfather and trotted away.

  I risked a look over at Dean to find him frowning. “That would have been funnier if I had been in my proper form,” he suggested drily.

  I chuckled, surprised by his sense of humor. Both Dean and Odin had dry senses of humor. “I need you to bring Anubis up here. I’ve got some work to do tonight.”