Rudshivar was banished to the outermost plane, leaving him almost nothing to rule over. But Rudshivar was clever, so he quickly began creating his own people to rule over. Once the first group sprung into existence, he created another, and then another, until all six species—Elves, Humans, Goblins, Gnomes, Faeries, and Dwarves—were wrought.
Reflecting on his work, he pondered how he ought to make others like him, in order to split the workload of caring for so many sentient beings. While it took a large effort and much time, five of each species were molded into Magicals. They were different from the Elders, for they were now of Rudshivar’s making. They did not look like Elders, nor did they act like them.
For when he had created his species, he had built in varying characteristics to make them unique from one another. And these new Magicals took their unique abilities and began to rule their new world.
The sixth plane flourished more so than the other five, still dominated by the Elders. At first, Enlilkian tolerated Rudshivar’s machinations, viewing them as harmless. But once he truly saw what was occurring in that realm, he decided to sever the sixth plane and all that existed within it, for it would not be tolerated to have such sentient creatures. He declared war, wreaking havoc and mayhem in all six planes. In the end, the thirty Magicals, along with Rudshivar, finally outmatched the Elders. But Rudshivar could not kill his father and mother, nor his brothers and sisters. He did not have it within him. So he left their fates to the thirty Magicals. Now, none of the early Magicals delighted in the death of any creature, so they brought forth their Creator, a woman named Eva, to drain the Elders of their corporal existence.
Once they become husks of their former selves, a Quake opened the ground in the fifth plane. The Magicals collected the remains of the Elders and banished them to this abyss, to contemplate what could have been and what was to be for the rest of their existences.
Rudshivar dispersed the Magicals equally to each plane, along with their species. He then willed himself out of existence, leaving behind his children to rule the worlds as they saw fit.
This is where the true changes came about, of how Magicals began leaving the aftermath of events to the peoples they were guiding. Over time, once they had begun to populate and create new crafts and skills, they asked their Creator to forge one last land, that of Annar, so they would have a haven where they could discuss their worlds and the changes necessary to advance their societies.
Chapter 25
A picture of the first Council flickers on the wall behind Oliver before fading away. “And that, ladies and gentlemen,” he says in his mesmerizing voice, “is the story of the Elders, or as Alexander has called them, the Titans.”
No one says anything, but you can hear the wheels beginning to turn in every single head in the room.
Alex pulls out a map of all of the different planes, marked up with red dots. “The first murder occurred on the Elvin plane. Oliver, is this the plane that the Elders were banished on?”
The Storyteller is staring at the map, his brows scrunched. “Yes, in fact, it was.”
“They would be long dead by now,” my father suddenly calls out. “This happened millennia ago. No Magical is immortal. Pinning the blame on these Elders would be tantamount to blaming King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.”
A nervous titter moves through the crowd.
“How do you know they weren’t immortal?” Alex asks.
My father sniffs in his typical, haughty way.
“Oliver said that Rudshivar had to will himself out of existence,” Alex persists. “Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he simply wait his time until death could take him?”
“Perhaps he couldn’t live with what he had done,” my father argues.
“Perhaps,” Alex says stubbornly, “it’s because he couldn’t die.”
“Young man,” my father tries, but Alex smashes his fist down against the projector.
“These things—these black shape shifters are the Elders, Noel! Everything adds up. They have the perfect motive for revenge against our kind. Oliver himself said they were left as husks—and that’s what attacked Chloe. A husk of an ancient, immortal being with quasi-functioning powers that no other beings, save Magicals, have.” He forcefully taps on the picture of the hole Zeus had created to confine the Titans in. “They were imprisoned on the Elvin plane.” He grabs a nearby book, shoving it on to the projector. “There was an earthquake on the Elvin plane ten years ago. It preceded the first Magical murder by five days. Five days! You think it’s a coincidence?”
My father is royally pissed off. “Yes!”
“Is this because I’m seventeen?” Alex says hotly. “Or because I haven’t Ascended? Or is it because you and your department have failed for ten years to figure this out?”
His mother shrieks, “Alexander Himura, you stop this at once!”
But he holds his ground. “I will not! Chloe could’ve been killed, and even though you Council sorts claim you’re trying to protect her, she still was attacked!”
“Not your fault,” I whisper quickly to Karl, who appears as if he cannot decide to strangle Alex for the insult or defend his ability to keep me safe.
“Look,” Alex yells, tapping the map again. “The murders started here, on the Elvin plane, and then spread to the Faerie plane. It continued, seeping into all the planes one at a time until all but Annar had been touched. The facts don’t lie. The dates don’t lie!”
Nearly everyone begins murmuring.
“They’re moving as a group,” Alex says. “I think it’s because they’re not whole yet, that they’re more powerful this way. Haven’t any of you listened to any of the memories of the attacks? The screaming is of multiple beings, not one. And they’re intelligent—they know how to attack, to coordinate strikes. They’re only lacking corporeal forms.” He turns to Giuliana. “I was told they split up when they attacked you, like they had a plan of attack. Do you mind showing us?”
She smiles hesitantly. “Show you?”
He clarifies, “May I surge to see?”
Just as with Oliver Crocus’s stories, a movie appears on the projector screen behind Alex when he touches the screen. But not any memory—Giuliana’s memory of that day.
She, herself, is so stunned that her mouth is hanging open.
Everyone is back to talking at the same time until Cora grabs her bullhorn again. “Do you people want to see what these things do or not?” she hollers. “Because here’s your chance to help, rather than sit around and wring your hands!”
“Cora definitely needs some people skills,” Karl whispers, flinching as several Gnomes scream down at her.
But I can’t deal with any of that. Instead, I’m riveted on watching what happened to Jonah and Kellan that day.
Giuliana’s Jeep is traveling at a frightening speed, racing south of the city. She’s swung closer to the mountains than we had, leading them up a winding road. Jonah is next to her, silent as he grips the handle above him. Kellan’s in the back, watching out the rear window. “They’re there—to the left,” he says, pointing towards the woods next to them. She watches his hand move, flicking almost imperceptively; the black shapes streaking and weaving through the trees falter and shriek loudly.
Guiles snarls, “Basta! What will it take to get away from these things?”
“We can take them,” Jonah says, sounding extraordinarily calm. Kellan voices his agreement.
“Are you crazy?” she yells. “Absolutely not! I have my orders—you are to be removed to the safest place possible.”
Kellan leans toward the window again, watching. Her eyes flick toward him in the rearview mirror—he’s doing something to the shapes again, causing them once more to shriek. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think we can outrun those things, not in this Jeep.”
“We will!” she hisses.
A large black mass streaks out in front of them, causing Giuliana to weave first toward the woods and then toward th
e other side. She sees the swift drop off the side; there’s only a small guardrail protecting the road from below. The Jeep three-sixties as she tries to steady it.
“Listen to me,” Jonah insists as he angles one of his hands toward one of the black shapes, causing it to retreat. “We can take them.”
“He’s right,” Kellan agrees. “There are three of us. We can do it.”
But Giuliana is unmoved. “No—I have my orders. You are not to engage them, do you understand, Jonah Whitecomb?”
She doesn’t look back at him when Kellan says, “Fine. Then let me be the one to do the engaging.”
“Giuliana, I appreciate the thought,” Jonah says wryly, “but you and I both know I’m going to do what I want anyway. Don’t force my hand—I’d hate to have to grab the wheel once you fall asleep.”
Before Giuliana can reply, a black mass darts in front of them again. She slams on the brakes as the mass rams into the Jeep, splitting apart into ten pieces which scratch across the sides and top.
The Jeep goes spinning, hitting the guardrail. Giuliana reaches out and forces a gust of wind to blow the vehicle back toward the road, but in her panic, she misjudges the pressure necessary. It skids back toward the group of ten shape shifters, which circle it, raising the Jeep up momentarily before crashing back down. Five of the shapes dart toward the side and reformed into one again, smashing against the passenger side. It all happens so fast that no one in the car has time to react.
The Jeep flips and skids down the hill until crashing into the guard rail. The rail snaps, a loud, ugly groaning sound, allowing the Jeep to fall through. Giuliana screams as they drop about forty feet before landing, driver’s side down, against a redwood.
Her vision hazes in and out, but she still can hear Jonah saying, “Kellan! Answer me!”
And even though I know he’s fine, that they’re both fine, here, I still tense.
Guiliana tries to unbuckle herself. Her voice is slow and sticky. “Jonah, don’t get out of this car . . . .”
But Jonah has already climbed into the backseat. “Don’t you do this to me, Kel . . . Wake up, wake up . . . .”
She drops against the window once her own buckle is released. The screaming surrounds them, shattering the front windshield. “Let me get out.”
Jonah pays her no mind. He reaches up and tries to open the door, but it refuses to budge. Then he leans back and kicks it open. “Don’t you leave,” she orders, blinking rapidly as she tries to focus.
He pulls himself out of the car, not answering. A quick glance at Kellan shows him unresponsive, his temple bleeding heavily. She fumbles for his pulse; once reassured, she lets go and heaves herself out of the car.
Jonah’s already ten feet away, the black shapes forming a crescent in front of him. One of his hands is out—each small flick brings about another round of intensified screaming. He winces at the noise, but never backs down.
“Get back here!” she yells at him. “That’s an order!”
She might as well be talking to herself. Whatever he’s doing, he multiplies the effort, and the black shapes constrict, drifting toward the ground in oily pools as he, himself, crouches lower. And then, a strong wind blows past Giules as one of the black shapes shoots directly at Jonah. It hits him full on, knocking him to the ground.
Giuliana reaches up toward the sky; clouds build up quickly, like one of those nature documentaries using time-lapse photography. “Come on, come on,” she chants, watching the black shape push down against Jonah. He tries desperately to connect with it, but his hand moves through it as if it was smoke. Then it twists around his arm, leaving a small tail behind; the tail cracks, like a whip—the noise the only sound as the rest of the shape shifters had fallen silent. She hears Jonah’s arm break in a number of places, but Jonah makes no sound himself. He simply winces, hard, and yanks his mangled arm away.
The clouds finally build up enough that she’s able to pull down lightning bolt after lightning bolt, striking the area surrounding Jonah. The black shapes he’d downed earlier have begun reforming, some enough that they are edging toward where he’s lying. She races toward him, throwing more lightning down until they relent and race off into the distance.
The screen goes blank when Alex lifts his hand. My heart is beating hard, so hard that I wonder if Karl can hear it. I want to scream and throw up at the same time, or better yet, do something—anything—to these beings that think they can attack people I love.
“Damn,” Karl whispers. “We got off easy, didn’t we?”
I don’t answer because I’m staring at Jonah. He’s listening to something Iolani is whispering, completely unfazed by the memory, which boggles my mind.
“Karl?” Alex is asking. “Is there anything you guys saw that varied from the behavior we saw here?”
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, suddenly aware that my inabilities and lack of decisive action might be up on a screen for all to see. With my unforgiving, easily embarrassed parents in the room, no less.
Karl ignores my warning. “Only that they were able to cause an explosion.”
“Do you mind if we have a look?” Alex asks.
Karl gives it to him, offering me some half-assed “It’s for the good of the group” spiel. Alex’s eyes unfocus once more as he touches the projector, allowing Karl’s memory to be seen by all.
It’s like watching a car wreck, no pun intended. I know what’s going to happen, and as much as I want to look away, I can’t. It’s almost as if I have to see just how ineffective I was in Karl’s Hummer that day.
Thank gods Karl is more selective than Giules with what he allows the others to see. He starts at the moment he’d began weaving toward the other side of traffic, leading up to the Hummer spinning and gunning in the opposite direction.
Karl looks at me, and I’m surprised by appearing much calmer than I remember being. And then an explosion rips through the air behind us—Karl sees the entire thing in the rearview mirror. The black shapes mass into one giant entity, stretching out like a rubber band and then snapping back in. The moment they constrict inward, a fire bomb goes off, exploding in every direction. The shape shifters follow the explosion lines, streaking hot and fast towards the Hummer.
We lift off the ground, lurching toward the left before slamming hard into the pavement. Karl watches my head smash against the glass and even reaches out to brace me a split second too late.
I don’t remember him doing that.
There’s a lot more blood everywhere, more than I remember. Cora’s babbling hysterically—I don’t remember that, either—before grabbing my head. Karl yells at her to get it together (good gods, do I remember any of this correctly?), and she does, masking her panic with soothing words I can tell are hard for her to say.
Karl’s eyes flick back to the rearview mirror; he’s putting enough distance between us and the black shapes so he’s able to turn some focus back to me. I’m white as a sheet, my eyes unfocused and nearly black. Cora screams at him about concussions and a cracked skull.
Thankfully, Karl cuts the memory off here, right before I pass out.
I am dying of shame.
Gods. Jonah had gotten out of the car, had fought those things. What had I done? I’d been frozen, unable to think of a single thing to do. My mother is shaking her head, not in a I can’t believe my daughter almost died sympathetic way, but more in a Gods, can’t that girl get it together and stop shaming our family way.
I do not allow myself to look at anyone else, even though I can feel Jonah’s eyes burning a hole into me. I want to turn around, hide behind Karl even, but I simply stand still as can be, counting the cracks in the parquet floor.
“That is most interesting,” Oliver Crocus says, breaking the uncomfortable silence in the room. “They have the ability to create fire and explosions, which leads one to believe an early form of an Elemental is present.”
Meg’s father says, “I thought only Blazes do that.”
“Indeed,” Olive
r says mildly. “Today. But not with the Elders—their Elementals would have had control over the four elements.”
“And the deaths?” Lizzie’s mother calls out. “What are they gaining by the deaths? Why mostly Council members?”
“Are not our Council members most potent?” Oliver queries.
The room explodes in an angry, scared frenzy, with almost every single person talking at the same time. Just as Cora grabs her bullhorn, Raul races in.
“They’re on the move, spotted within thirty miles of here,” he says. “Meeting over!”
Chaos erupts. Everyone frantically clambers down off the bleachers.
Karl grabs my arm so tightly I can feel bruises being born. “Is Kopano still on the roof?”
Raul nods. “The shield is still functioning. But they’re moving fast, brother!”
Karl swears under his breath. “Where’s Zthane?”
“He and Kellan have taken off toward the direction they’re moving in.” Raul searches the room until he finds Kiah. “Redrock, you’re needed out there!”
“On it!” she yells, sprinting to the door.
Karl turns to Iolani and Jonah. “This room is getting locked down in,” he looks at his watch, “five minutes. You have your orders.”
Orders?
I grab at Jonah’s attention. He gives me a very calm, very measured look that tells me not to panic, but I am.
Holy cow, am I panicking.
Karl tells Raul that he needs to get back outside to help defend the building if Kopano’s shields fail. But, I need to do something. I can’t just sit back this time and do nothing.
Iolani and Jonah are now standing with us, debating whether or not to have the entire building sealed. I can do this, I know I can. It’s easy—takes little to no effort. But if the building is sealed, and Kopano is inside, then it’s still at risk.
I can . . . I can . . . make the shield permanent, right? I can do that easily, too. I will just make the atoms in the shield hold still.
“Let me solidify the shield,” I say, interrupting what Karl is saying.
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