“Wait. What’s a world-maker?” Derek asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand what they actually meant. I was inclined to take them literally, since Hrista clearly suffered from a deranged god complex.
“It’s a magical organic compound,” Laurel explained. “It’s got light and darkness from Purgatory. It’s got life from the Hermessi. It’s got death from the Reapers’ realm… and it’s imbued with organic matter from The Shade. It works now, because Hrista activated the formula with Kedra’s catalyst.” She was talking about the cube that Isabelle’s clone had stolen from the real island, the very object that Claudia’s doppelganger had succeeded in bringing over to this place. Up until this conversation, none of us had known what that thing did. Now that we knew… good grief, it was terrifying. And to think it had been in our possession for so long, yet we’d had no idea. Isabelle’s clone had stolen this from the witches’ Sanctuary. Corrine and the others had been equally ignorant to its existence, yet Hrista had known it was there. “It has multiple uses, that object. This was one of them.”
“What do these do?” I asked, suddenly shaking like a leaf.
“You don’t want to know…” Ida replied, shaking her head slowly. There was fear in her eyes as she glanced down at the glowing tanks. I saw reds and greens bursting through the struggle of light and darkness, and flashes dancing across the entire mass. I saw blues and yellows and other colors, too… snippets of something so complex that it terrified me.
Derek shook his head. “But you have to tell us. We spared you for this!”
“Forgive Ida, she wasn’t really sure if I was telling the truth, either,” Laurel said. “I’m the only one in my village who knew about this. Since we were set free from our tasks, I took time to explore this place. I’m good at hiding, so I stayed out of the Berserkers’ sight.” She paused to briefly look at Haldor and smirk. “No one saw me. Eventually, I came upon Hrista and a couple of her loyal clones talking about the world seeds… I figured that was interesting, so I eavesdropped on that conversation, then came down here to see for myself. It’s real. It’s all real.”
“You still haven’t answered the key question,” Regine warned, one hand gripping her sword. She wasn’t the only one itching for violence. Derek was getting restless, too.
“One drop from any of those tanks, and a massive creation will take place. Like a seed of nature, it will touch the ground or the water where it’s dropped. If you feed it and toss it into emptiness, it will flourish in the nothingness like this place did. It will grow, impossible to ever stop. It will develop land and water, trees and bushes and plants…” Laurel sucked in a breath. “A single drop will feed on its surroundings, it will build upon the life it encounters, and it will never stop spreading.”
“This place you call fake… it started with a drop of that,” Ida said, pointing at the tanks, “in a glass of water. Hrista opened this pocket between worlds and let the drop of world seed grow into our Shade.”
“Your Shade,” I replied.
“Why did Hrista leave the tanks here?” Regine wondered, upset and confused. “It doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
Laurel sighed. “I think she plans to use these tanks against another world. Maybe yours, maybe this one, I’m not sure. You see, one drop can make a world, but all these tanks set free at once? The forms will battle and consume one another. They’ll eat everything in their path. You, me, every single Shadian still here… we will all be gone, and the world seeds will keep fighting to coexist, unable to get along… it’s why you see them fighting in the tanks. The glass is powerful magic, it stops them from breaking out.”
That alone was deeply troubling. The implications made me want to scream. We were stuck here with a bunch of literal ticking time bombs, and Hrista could come back at any moment to set them off and destroy us. “There is, of course, a lot more we still do not know,” Ida felt the need to mention that. “Laurel says Hrista took a tank over into the real island.”
My knees buckled. It was all I could do not to fall as Derek tightened his grip on me and moved us away from the edge. Haldor and Regine were baffled. Their expressions spoke of fear, too—they understood the implications as well as I did.
As did my husband. “You mean to tell me that not only are we at risk of annihilation if Hrista breaks these damn tanks, but that she took one of them into our realm, too?”
Laurel nodded.
“And you didn’t think to tell us sooner?” I croaked, my voice breaking.
“I waited until after the Flip before I could explore these parts. As soon as I showed this to Ida and Missa, we came looking for you. At the villa,” Laurel replied.
“I think the Daughters and Lumi will want to see this,” Derek said, scowling at the tanks again. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, even though it was obviously and painfully real.
“That Soul Crusher guy, too,” Regine added. “It requires the representatives of every realm.”
It most certainly did.
This was insane. The odds were stacked against us even higher than we’d realized, and our most valuable fighters had not yet returned from their perilous voyage. Now, more than ever, I wanted to gather our children close, all three of them… to hold them tight and kiss them. They were the future. I could not let Hrista or anyone else destroy that.
Astra
Baldur was a ridiculously handsome Berserker. His features were designed to seduce, yet his nonchalance sort of killed his enticing allure. Perhaps he was too certain of himself. Or maybe he’d come on too hard, too fast—clearly a creature of Purgatory with zero social skills. Either way, it didn’t matter. He’d creeped me out and there was no coming back from that.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop staring. Smiling. Undressing me with his eyes. It became increasingly difficult to focus until Edda finished her account of the events so far, then smacked him over the head. “Focus, you old fool!” she snarled. “More important things!”
The Mother of Valkyries had quickly gone from untrusting stranger to much-needed ally, maybe even a friend. Order’s disappointing behavior must have played a crucial part in the shift, but I welcomed it. We needed all the help we could get.
“Right. Hrista. Okay. What exactly do you want me to do about her?” Baldur asked, feigning disinterest while he blatantly stole glances at me. Brandon stayed close, the back of his hand sometimes brushing against mine, gently, as if to remind me that he was still here. That we’d started something. Not like I could really forget. Not when my heart was beating wildly in his presence.
“She’s in the Earthly Dimension,” Edda said. “It’s obviously a problem, and Order can’t handle it. You know that.”
Baldur looked at me. “And you, missy? Do you want my help?”
“I think I speak for all of us when I say yes.” My response satisfied him tremendously. “We were told that we will need the Mother and the Father to get Hrista back here. Only then can Order punish her.”
“And since you’re the only portal opener who can cross the realms like she can, she is keen to hear your last breath. Is she not?” he asked me. There was something in the way he framed his question that made me nervous. It was as if Baldur was the only one who truly understood my plight. He obviously wasn’t, but he certainly had a way of worming his way into my good graces. Good grief, you are such a weirdo…
“She is, yes,” I said.
He turned his sights on Brandon next. “And you, you miserable oaf… you couldn’t even defend yourself before Order.”
“I tried but she wouldn’t listen—”
“Shut up! You didn’t try hard enough!” Baldur’s demeanor changed from courteous-bordering-on-sleazy to absolute-hard-ass in under a second. “You brought this upon yourself, Brandon, and I can no longer take you seriously. How can I still look at you and think of you as a Berserker, a son, if you got yourself kicked out of the very place you’re supposed to serve?”
There was more to Baldur th
an met the eye. In addition to the smarmy charm, he also had a way of bringing someone as bold as Brandon to his knees. He’d almost faded, unable to hold the Father’s stern gaze. “It’s been a hard day.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. And you wish to protect Astra like this?” Baldur was clearly not the forgiving kind. I wanted to speak up, but Brandon foresaw that and replied first.
“I will burn down the whole of Purgatory if I have to.”
It made Baldur laugh. “How? One snap of my fingers, and you’re out, boy.”
“We need your help,” I cut in. “Maybe leave the darkness measuring contest for later?”
“How can I help you if you’re allied with weaklings?” Baldur shot back.
I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, until Brandon stepped forward and straightened his back. The brief sideways glance he gave me spoke of his commitment—not only to our cause but to me. He had promised that he would keep me safe, and I still believed in him. Around us, the black forest with its obsidian leaves trembled and twinkled, chiming a chaos of faint notes that tickled my ears. The sound seemed to amplify my emotions, though it had taken a while to figure it out.
Baldur was feeding on the song of the leaves. He was growing bolder, perhaps bigger even. But Brandon wasn’t backing away. No, he stood tall and looked Baldur in the eyes. “I’ll fight you, Father. I’ll fight you and prove myself worthy.”
“I admit, I did not see that coming,” the Father of Berserkers laughed. “If I beat you, Brandon, I will throw you out of here. You will never return, and you will never go near Astra ever again.”
“And if I beat you, you’ll come with us. Simple fight. No help from the Aesir,” Brandon replied firmly.
“Hammer wouldn’t stand a chance against Briggel, anyway,” Baldur sighed. “Fine. Let’s do this. But remember, Brandon, if I win—” I didn’t even have time to process the conditions of this fight or duel or whatever it was supposed to be before Brandon rammed into him with the full force of his darkness.
I squeaked in surprise, and Hammer jumped back, growling and baring his enormous fangs. No one moved as Baldur and Brandon dissolved into thick wisps of liquid darkness. It turned out that the Father of Berserkers wasn’t the only one who could work with such concentrated power.
A knot got stuck in my throat as I watched them. They dashed between the trees like mercurial shadows. One threw the other against a thick trunk. The shockwave of impact was so powerful that it fractured everything within a ten-yard-radius. Shards of obsidian rained onto the hard ground while the battle continued.
“Who’s winning?” the Time Master asked Edda. I turned my head and saw Aphis following the fight with bright fascination. He likely fed on the violence. Most ghouls from Visio were peaceful once freed from the death magic spells that had kept them slaves to the Darklings. Aphis, however—as quiet and as gloomy as he was—clearly had an inclination toward aggression. Not necessarily to actively participate, but to watch. To draw something from it.
“I’m not sure,” the Mother of Valkyries murmured.
All eyes were on the two shadows. They zigzagged in and out of the obsidian forest. They crashed into trees and split open the ground with their brutal thrusts. The darkness spread around them like a sickening mist, yet they showed no signs of exhaustion.
Suddenly, Brandon stopped about fifty yards from us. He looked at me for a split-second, just as a black shadow bloomed behind him, swelling and growing more menacing with each breath. I didn’t even realize I was glowing all pink until I saw my light reflected in his burning blue eyes. What a strange effect…
I wanted to scream and tell him the Baldur was coming up behind him, but Brandon smiled at me and vanished in a puff of black smoke. The Father of Berserkers emerged, immediately confused as he’d hoped to deliver a crippling, defeating blow. He stilled and looked around a couple of times. Left, right. Left, then right again. Nothing. Darkness danced across the giant blade of his long-handled axe, itching to slice into Brandon.
“Come out and face me, coward!” Baldur roared, visibly satisfied with how the fight was progressing. His breathing was ragged, however. He’d been running around a lot. I imagined moving in black wisp form could not be easy. I imagined nothing about being a Berserker was easy, not even having to exist with the notion of once having been the worst of the worst.
A shiver trickled down my spine as Brandon’s voice brushed over my ear. “Watch this, Pinkie.” I froze, and a shadow blew past me. Baldur didn’t see him coming until it was too late. His twin blades were out, and he revealed himself before the Father of Berserkers. But as soon as the dark wisps flew off him, I realized he didn’t look like Brandon anymore. Baldur was stunned.
A pained look contorted his face. “No, you cruel bastard… not my son!”
“What was his name? Geralt?” Brandon showed no mercy, though I couldn’t quite figure out what the play was, exactly—only that it worked.
The twin swords came down fast and cut Baldur across the chest. The Father of Berserkers shrieked and snarled in agony, then dropped to his knees. Brandon crossed the blades against his throat and waited patiently, still looking like… a younger version of Baldur? Yes, he was slimmer and perhaps a bit shorter, but he resembled him remarkably well. “His son,” I whispered, putting two and two together.
“Baldur remembers only one thing from his life, but he remembers him vividly,” Edda said. “His son, Geralt. When Baldur died, Geralt succeeded him on the throne of their kingdom. A man as bad as his father, truth be told. Baldur became a Berserker, handpicked by Order, and not long afterward, his son entered Purgatory.”
“Yield, or I’ll have your son cut you down,” Brandon warned.
Baldur lowered his head.
“He was tasked with taking Geralt away and tossing him into the afterlife, where an eternity of punishment awaited him,” Edda continued, shadows lingering over her eyes. “Baldur tried to bargain with Order to make Geralt into a Berserker, too, but she wouldn’t have it. She said Geralt was mediocre, at best. Just a bad man trying to step into his father’s shoes…”
I could see now what a hard game Brandon had played. I also knew what his ability was now. He’d promised me he’d show me some day. Yet another promise kept, much to my surprise.
“So, Brandon is something of a shape-shifter, huh?” Thayen muttered, understandably fascinated.
“I yield, you bastard,” Baldur told the Berserker. “And screw you for stooping this low.”
“I fight to win,” Brandon replied and sheathed his swords, then turned around and found me staring. He left the Father behind and walked over with a hard face and white fire in his eyes. Nobody saw it coming. I certainly didn’t, as he stopped a hair’s width away, grabbed me around the waist and kissed me.
The moment our lips met again, the entire universe fell apart and recombined itself into something that simply worked better. This kiss lasted longer than the first time. I was able to take it in. To truly… take it in. Everything stopped. My heart. Time. The troubles with Hrista. Everything, as I surrendered to him and welcomed his embrace. Brandon held me tight and kissed me with all he had—his soul, his darkness, his fears and his regrets. I felt each piece of him touching my soul. The half-sentry in me was overly reactive, probably because Brandon didn’t have a living body to shield him from me.
Our spirits twirled around one another, weaving a new path into the cosmic void. Mine sang a beautiful melody, and I let it ring in my ears long after Brandon politely pulled himself away and smiled. “Pardon me,” he said, his voice a little raspy. “I couldn’t help myself.”
One quick glance around us told me our friends flustered. Not shocked, just flustered. This wasn’t the time nor the place for a flashy romantic gesture, yet Brandon had managed to surprise everyone once more—myself included. Big eyes and slightly parted lips and the emptiest silence enveloped us for quite a while as I tried to find my words. Despite the persistent tingling in my extremities, I was a
ble to move past this moment, though I wasn’t sure how. I only knew that words were coming out of my mouth.
“Erm… You won. That means Baldur will help us, right?” I asked.
The Father of Berserkers let out a slew of expletives before he got up and put his axe away. It hid behind him in a sliver of black shadows. “Yeah, I’ll help you,” he grumbled, then pointed a furious finger at Brandon. “But I’ll pay you back for using Geralt against me. I promise.”
“I won, fair and square. Quit whining,” Brandon replied bluntly.
Baldur would’ve liked nothing more than to tear him a new one, but Edda intervened. “Enough. You’re like little children! Yes, Brandon won, Baldur lost, and that is where this conversation ends. No threats of retaliation.” She glowered at the Father. “I expect better of you.”
“Really?” Myst snorted a chuckle.
My head spun. We’d been on a constant rollercoaster ride since we’d stumbled into Purgatory. The walk here had been pleasant and calming, especially after our dismay with Order, but Brandon had managed to spice it back up again, leaving me flustered and breathless and feeling a million kinds of wonderful.
I had no idea where this would end. I only knew that Brandon was not the kind of person I could just walk away from. Furthermore, I doubted I’d ever manage to get him out of my head for the rest of this life. Or out of my heart. My soul.
Baldur took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Only then did I notice that Brandon had cut off some of his braids. I spotted them on the ground, scattered among the shattered black trees, snaking between shards of obsidian leaves. “I could ask for Order’s permission to leave Purgatory,” the Father of Berserkers said. “But that would mean admitting that I need her.”
“She’d be a fool not to grant you passage,” Edda surmised. “We’re going after Hrista. She will want the girl captured and brought back, surely.”
“Yeah, but why do it the easy way?” Baldur shot back with a cold grin.
A Shade of Vampire 91: A Gate of Light Page 23