Twilight of the Gods (The Harbingers of Light Book 7)

by Travis Simmons

  “We find that, like all of life, we are faced with a choice now,” Skuld continued. “We need your help, and you need ours.”

  “And what does this help cost us?” Huginn asked. “An eye, like it cost the All Father?”

  Skuld shook her head. “The time of man is coming to an end, and the spirit that moves the three of us is growing dim as well. For eons unknown, we have written the passages of the lives of men upon the roots of the great tree. But those passages are fading, one by one, and with it, our lives are fading.”

  “How can we help?” Muninn asked.

  “Become us,” Skuld said.

  “What?” the ravens asked in tandem.

  “You’ve already been channeling us,” Skuld told them. “You already have a bond with us, becoming us is as simple as taking out hands, and uniting with the wyrd.”

  “Why would we do this?” Huginn wondered. Leona was thankful they were asking the questions, because just then she didn’t think she had the strength to form words.

  “Because this one is dying,” Skuld said, gesturing to Leona. “And so are we. The two of you will die as well, if you don’t join with us.”

  “Is that a threat?” Muninn wondered. “Join with you or die?”

  Skuld shook her head. “An observation. Everyone will die here, today, and the darklings will reign supreme. Join with us, and live. Join with our minds, so we can pass from this world, and the Norn will live on through you.”

  “Eternity,” Urd said. “You will live an eternity, watching the lives of men, chronicling their passages upon the roots, as we have.”

  “And what if we choose death?” Huginn wondered.

  Verdandi shook her head, her face remorse, “then mankind will have no future, for there will be none to write of it, to nurture the roots which sustain humankind.”

  “This isn’t happening,” Muninn said, glancing to her sister. “How is this even possible?”

  Leona reached out her hand, and found the strength to speak. “I don’t want to die.”

  Skuld listed closer to her. “I know, dear child, and neither do I. But death comes to us all, in the end. Don’t think of this as a blessing. I have seen much in my life, seen many futures, never knowing which has come to pass. If you do this, your providence will be the future. You will only see what could be, never what is, or what has been. You will see all possible futures of all possible choices of every human that will ever walk the worlds that are tethered to the tree.”

  Leona took a shaky breath, and for a moment wished to pull her hand back, but she held firm. “Take it,” she told Skuld. “Take my hand. Even if it isn’t a blessing, without the Norn, mankind will never exist again, right?”

  “That is true,” Skuld said. “I see this point, now, and it hinges on a single choice. If the three of you don’t join with us, there will be no future. If you do, there are endless future outcomes.”

  “We don’t have a choice?” Huginn asked.

  “On the contrary, you have two choices,” Skuld said. “Yes, or no.”

  “But no means no future for anything,” Muninn said.

  “That’s hardly a choice,” Huginn agreed.

  “I’ve made mine,” Leona said. “Take me.”

  “A brave child,” Skuld said. “I chose right when I possessed your doll.”

  Leona didn’t have time or strength to ask more. The Norn took firm hold of her hand, and pulled her off the edge of the well, and into the thick, silvery liquid of the Well of Wyrding.

  The moment her body touched the wyrd, she was without form, she was without thought. She felt a strange sensation of weightlessness infuse her mind, the pain she’d felt before came roaring back, and then faded before her mind could scream out in pain, and then she was aware of a body once more—finned arms, webbed fingers, a mermaid’s tail, long silken hair with gems woven into the locks.

  But when she opened her eyes, she saw two visions. One was of the well around her, of the roots of the tree she swam through, the other was of the future. The images she saw flashed before her eyes faster than she could make sense of, so she ignored those, and focused on what was around her.

  Dimly she was aware of the spirit of the Skuld that came before her drift away, and with it she took the name Leona. She was no longer Leona; she was Skuld—a title more than a name.

  Skuld focused on the roots of the tree, and there she saw runes scrawled across the bark, glowing with blue wyrd. But the wyrd was fading as the lives of man came to an end.

  She looked further down into the wyrd, and for as far as her eyes could see, she saw glowing words of living men, slowly, one by one, fading to darkness.

  Abagail wasn’t proud that she and Skye had been driven back into a closet. Their fallen companions, the surge of darklings in the great hall, and the crumbling floor, all added to their retreat.

  She cowered in the dark, next to Skye, who held her close to his body. She hated hiding, but now that they were in the closet, there was nothing they could do but wait for the floor to give out. She’d tried once to open the door, to go out and help what was left of her friends. She’d seen balls of golden light winging through the darkness, and hoped that Celeste and Mari still lived—still fought.

  But there was no way to leave the closet. The floor was completely gone directly before the closet, and darklings were too thick around the opening to allow safe passage.

  Anthros bayed high above the Ever After, and a chill ran through Abagail. Skye pulled her closer. How was she going to face him? She was too exhausted to fight him, and she didn’t have the presence of mind to face a god just then. It would take cunning to kill him, and she was in short supply.

  “Is there no way out?” a small voice asked to her right. Abagail jumped, and Skye let out a stifled yip of surprise. They hadn’t seen anyone else in the closet when they entered, but it was a long room, so it was likely anyone could have been hiding further back. Screams outside the door made Abagail wish it was all over, wish there was silence, and that she was anywhere but there.

  “No,” Skye said. “Who are you?”

  “I think I’ve found a way,” the boy said, “but I’m not strong enough to open the passage.”

  “A way out of here?” Abagail asked.

  “Yes,” the boy said. “Will you help me?”

  There were several moments of silence where Abagail wished Skye would speak up and say that they would help the boy, just to get them away from the battle. She didn’t want any more of the killing, any more death.

  “Yes,” Skye said finally. “Where is it?”

  The boy took their hands, and led them farther into the shadows of the closet. He stopped, and through the waning light of Skye’s sun scepter, they saw a wall.

  “This, I can’t budge it,” the boy said. “There’s a draft coming from the floor, I think it’s a secret passage.”

  Skye let Abagail go, and together they searched high and low, until Abagail found a depression in the wall that looked different from the rough stone around it. She pressed on the smooth slab, and the panel in the wall slid out of the way. It opened onto stairs that wound their way down, and away from the battle. It was what she wanted, but she couldn’t leave her friends behind.

  “What about Celeste and Mari?” Abagail asked.

  Skye shook his head.

  “They’re dead?” she wondered.

  “I don’t know, but they have sense enough to leave. If we go back, we will die,” Skye said.

  “Please,” the boy whispered, his aqua eyes gleaming up at Abagail. “It’s dark down there, please come with me.”

  She took in a deep breath, and nodded. She didn’t think Skye had seen the boy’s eyes, but she knew what it meant—Anthros was here, and she couldn’t escape her destiny. She was the chosen of Anthros, the one to face him at the final battle, the one he’d chosen to confront him . . . she had no choice.

  The boy smiled, and took her hand. As he led them down the winding stairs, Abagail noticed
that he was bald, just as the All Father had been. In fact, in many regards, he looked just as the All Father—small, thin, bald, and much more innocent than she would have guessed Anthros to be.

  The stairs emptied out into a chamber, and Anthros stepped farther into the dark room. It was much like the room they’d came into from the great tree. It was large, and cluttered with broken fragments of furniture and tables. Anthros paced the room, coming to a stop near a tall table several feet from Abagail and Skye.

  “So you’re Anthros,” Abagail said.

  Skye made a confused noise, but glanced at the boy and saw his aqua eyes. He let out a sigh, and shook his head. “We didn’t make it.”

  “But you will make it,” Anthros said. “I need your help, and only you can help me.”

  “But, you’re evil,” Abagail argued.

  “Why?” Anthros asked. “Because that’s what you’ve been told?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Do you realize how each of the birth-golems were made as a counterpart to the gods they were fashioned after? We were the darkness to their light. Hafaress was kind and trusting, Olik and Gorjugan were deceitful and untrustworthy. Vilda loved the gods more than anything, and would do everything within her power to keep them safe, Hilda didn’t trust the gods, and through a series of actions, came to despise them. She sought to do all within her power to dethrone them, even releasing me—which she thought would help her.”

  “And it didn’t?” Abagail asked. “I saw you attack the Ever After. We saw you destroy the light!” She shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was actually standing there trying to reason with him.

  Anthros shrugged. “There was a reason. I don’t hate the gods, and I don’t hate the light. But, I saw how things needed to change, how everything needed to start fresh. What do you know of my story?” The boy pulled himself up onto a table, and sat cross-legged, gazing at the human and the elf.

  It was Skye who spoke. “We know that you sought to bring the darkness of the Void to Eget Row, and destroy everything.”

  Anthros shook his head. “No, not everything. I wanted the darkness of the Void, yes, but as a counterpoint to the light. I understood that you can’t have darkness without light, that you can’t have good without evil. The All Father sought too hard to make everything as he wished, while I knew to be part of the Void was to be part of chaos. There is no order. Planets are formed and life springs up out of this chaos, but there can never be order.”

  “And you sought to disorder everything,” Abagail said.

  Anthros held out his hands, palms up as if showing here that they were empty, or he was laying himself bare before her. “No. I sought to keep the natural order of chaos. Chaos will, in its own, strange way, create a kind of order. I saw that the All Father was forcing chaos into order, and from the very first moment he started, the Void began to struggle against him. I sought to bring him to reason, to bring the chaos into Eget Row, to allow it to be wild and untamable.”

  “You’re trying to say that you were saving the cosmos?” Skye asked.

  “From the very beginning,” Anthros nodded. “And for that, I was chained. I had to break free, to stop the All Father, try to make him see reason, but he never would. He created Boran, the God of Peace, and in so doing, he created the perfect being, devoid of any darkness . . . you know how that ended.”

  “The darkling tide,” Abagail whispered.

  “You see?” Anthros asked. “All along, I’ve not been evil.”

  “You’re trying to make us think the All Father was bad,” Skye argued.

  “Not bad,” Anthros said. “He had his own vision of how things should go, but he didn’t understand the Void as I did. He went against the laws of the Void, and he ended up destroying it all.”

  “Then why did you attack the Ever After?” Abagail wondered.

  “Even then I was trying to bring balance,” Anthros said. “The time of the gods is over. Time had to be reset, and though it pained me to do so, I gave the final blow that would allow that.”

  “So we should just believe you, then?” Abagail asked.

  “What choice is there, honestly?” he wondered. “You no longer possess the All Father. You’re too weak to fight, and at any moment the floor will give out beneath us, and you will fulfill the next part of your prophecy.”

  “And that is?” Skye wondered.

  “Abagail knows,” Anthros said. “Lif and Lifthrasir.”

  Abagail shook her head, unable to believe any of this was happening. “And what of you?” she asked.

  “I will rejoin the Void, as I’ve wanted to do since the beginning. I will no longer be Anthros. I will be nothing more than energy among the stars, just as everything else is becoming.”

  “You said before that we could help you,” Skye said. “With what?”

  “Let me live, so that I can rejoin the cosmos and vanish. Let yourselves live,” Anthros said. “Live, and repopulate the new world. If we fight here, we both die, and there will be no one to repopulate the Void.”

  And with that, the floor beneath them gave out.

  Abagail floated in a silver liquid that she couldn’t quite call water. It was thick, but somehow dry at the same time. Her clothes clung to her with sweat and blood, and every inch of her body hurt, as if . . . well, as if she’d just crashed through several branches of the tallest tree ever known to man.

  Around her bricks and mortar floated. She lay for a time, observing the way her body throbbed, and how she’d give anything if the fall had just killed her. What was she to do? She had felt that Anthros was being honest with her, that he intended to fade away until nothing was left, but wasn’t she the one who was supposed to kill him and put an end to all of this?

  She would have swum if she could have, but it was hard just moving her neck to see that Skye floated to her left, his face a mask of bruises, his chest rising and falling in a pitiful mockery of breathing. As she watched, roots slithered up through the murk, wrapped around him, and then pulled him silently beneath the surface.

  She screamed out, but the effort made her chest throb. She tried to swim to where he’d submerged, but she couldn’t make her appendages obey her. But she didn’t have long to wait to join him. Soon roots were wrapping around her faster than she could fight them off, and she was being pulled under the surface of the well.

  She struggled as much as she could against the roots, but her body just wouldn’t obey her commands, and when she tried to force it to, pain blackened out her vision. She tried to hold her breath against the press of the wyrd within the well, but her body wouldn’t let her suffocate. She took a deep breath, knowing it was her last, but surprisingly she didn’t drown. Her lungs ached for more air, and she gasped again, filling her body with the cool, refreshing comfort of wyrd.

  Still the roots dragged her on, and soon she was nestled at the base of the tree, where she was held until the wyrd, the pain, and her exhaustion pushed her into sleep.

  Thousands of years passed, or maybe it was millions. Time meant little in Eget Row, but it did pass, and as it did a great change had come over the cosmos. The debris within the Void had merged together once more into a single, shining planet, far away from the Well of Wyrding, but shining in the darkness as a beacon of light . . . hope.

  Over the ages, the marble slabs from the crumbled Ever After had formed a barrier around the great tree and the Well of Wyrding. Slabs of marble rested in the earth as a cobbled courtyard, lain out in geometric patterns. The Well of Wyrding had wept over the long years, and through its drifting wyrd, slabs of marble had been lifted up, pushed erect by the roots of the great tree, to form a wall around the courtyard—a wall that no darkling could ever overcome. It was a protection for the future of mankind, and the darklings could not touch that future, not yet.

  It was on a particular day, when the light of the planet far away shown particularly bright, and the birds had returned to the branches of the great tree, that a spark could be seen bene
ath the crystalline water of the Well of Wyrding. It was a spark that would soon be followed by many more. The mermaid-Norn beneath the surface, floated near the root, and watched as runes of light traced themselves over the root. The root told them a story of one who came—the first of the humans to reside within the reach of the tree’s prophecy.

  As they watched, a second root shimmered, and spidery script traced itself over that root as well. The roots were close together, nearly touching, and Skuld knew these two would have their futures intertwined in such a way they would nearly be one person.

  The three Norn rose to the surface of the Well of Wyrding, and watched as the great tree shifted in the sunny light. Buds had appeared on the tree at some point, and the entire courtyard swelled with reborn life. It was enough to bring a smile to Skuld’s lips.

  It was the first day the Norn noticed the two flowers that grew near the roots of the tree. One was pink as a promising sky at sunrise, the other as deep a blue as the night sky could ever be.

  It may have been hours, days, or weeks before the flowers opened, but eventually they did open.

  Skuld smiled upon a familiar face, though she could scarcely recall where she’d seen the face. She knew the face was familiar to her, and had played a huge roll in her past, but what that roll was, she was unsure.

  Within the pink flower nestled a naked woman, her hair long and black, her limbs plump and peach. She stretched, and opened blue eyes to the glorious white light that shined down on her from high in the branches of the great tree, and she smiled.

  The blue flower shivered, and within its blossom lay a thin, blond man with golden skin and clear eyes. He smiled, and stretched his arms toward the shivering leaves of the great tree. Sunlight bathed his face, causing fractals to dance in his eyes in shades of purple that took Skuld’s breath away.

  They were Lif and Lifthrasir. And the large planet floating in the cosmos belonged to them.