Nightborne (The Bexley Chronicles Book 2)
Author: Quinn, Brindi
Date: 2018-05-29
Publisher: Never and Ever Publishing

Nightborne

The Bexley Chronicles, Act 2

By Brindi Quinn

Copyright © 2018 Brindi Quinn.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN: 978-1-949222-22-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018946064

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Cover design by Victoria Cooper.

Published by Never & Ever Publishing

Minneapolis, Minnesota
www.neverandeverpublishing.com

For the damsels that don’t need saving. Rise up, badasses.

Also by Brindi Quinn:

Heart of Farellah (Book 1 of the Heart of Farellah Series)

Moon of Farellah (Book 2 of the Heart of Farellah Series)

Fate of Farellah (Book 3 of the Heart of Farellah Series)

Atto’s Tale (Book 4 of the Heart of Farellah Series)

EverDare (Book 1 of the Eternity Duet)

NeverSleep (Book 2 of the Eternity Duet)

Seconds: The Shared Soul Chronicles

The World Remains

Sil in a Dark World: A Paranormal Love-Hate Story

The Death and Romancing of Marley Craw

The Eternity Duet

Farellah: The Complete Series

Lightborne

The Pursuit of Zillow Stone

FIEND II

I am enveloped in soft, familiar shadow. It slips through my teeth and down my lungs. Behind me, the prism separating the worlds quakes. If it shatters, it will all be over.

Everything we’ve worked for will be complete.

I am the Wilted.

I am the fiend.

I am the end.

1

Bexley’s Back, Betches

I can’t stop looking at them. I should, but I can’t stop.

They see.

It’s awkward.

We all look away.

I wait a few seconds before looking at them again.

I can’t help myself. The boys in the blue hoodies are like me, and it’s so very rare to see someone like me.

And now we’re a whole mother-freakin’ clan!

“Ugh,” Pidd the joykill says. “She’s doing it again. She’s getting all—” He wiggles his fingers— “Bubbly inside.”

So sue me. There’s only room enough for one emotion in me right now, and if I don’t fill up with bubbles, something else will take its place.

“Righty-o!” I pound my fist onto the pleather cushion patched with duct tape. “Let’s go over it again.”

We three doomed creatures sit together in the back of an otherwise empty bus. The thick-necked driver isn’t concerned about driving performance, it seems; the vessel jolts over uneven pavement, making Pidd’s stomach churn and curl.

“Article one—” I stick up a finger while Pidd holds his mouth in prevention of chunks. “The tree of light is dying, the only way to save said tree is to return it to the mortal world, AND—” I wait for the bus to finish rounding a particularly bumpy corner— “The only way to return the tree to the mortal world is for one of us to turn into the Wilted, defeat the Wielder, and…”

But I haven’t told them that last part yet.

“Oh is that all?” Pidd scoffs into his shoulder.

“Yessum.”

“Why the hell would you start with ‘article one’ if there weren’t any more articles coming?!”

Ignore.

I smoosh my face against the luggage bag cradled in my arms. We three doomed creatures are on our way to the skyscraper coterie, in search of Erron, my late waker’s waker. We didn’t dare pass through the twilit forest, with its perpetually falling leaves and its haunting song to get there. We didn’t dare remain in Yggdress. Not with the whereabouts of Ellie and her minions unknown.

Not with the forest stained in warring colors and the painful remembrance of a certain shimmering-haired being lingering in the wood like a phantom.

Aiden.

I wince, but fight it the way I do best: “Ahh! You guys have no idea how good it feels to have my memory and wits about me again,” I croon.

Kinley watches me from the side of his eye with his nose directed out the window, his knuckles curled under his chin; his sneaker perched on the edge of the seat. I pretend not to notice him watching. “It’s a little weird, Bex. You’re like some hybrid version of yourself,” he says.

Yes, Bexley the First, Second and Third have fused into one mass of awesome.

Drink it in, guys. Drink it in.

I talk a big game. It’s all I can do. If I stop for even a microsecond, that feeling will creep in again, grab me around my squishy parts and wrench, and all of those darkest words will become applicable to my sorry state:

Dread. Despair. Emptiness. Regret.

I clutch the rough canvas of my luggage tighter, smelling of artificiality and newness. Even with my coterie debit card out of commission, it isn’t so hard to pop into department stores unnoticed when you shroud yourself in a blaze of blue. The mortal eye refuses to see what it can’t process, and so we three wretched beings have also become burglars. Out of necessity.

Out of world-saving heroics.

A few stolen hoodies is a mortal’s small price to pay to those of us destined to die for the sake of the worlds.

Unless we can somehow locate and ward another turquoise lightborne. Maybe one even more asshole-ish than Pidd.

Maybe we won’t mind sacrificing that one.

But there’s a very good chance we won’t ever come across another turquoise in all our lives. We are, after all, a dying breed.

“Fifth and second,” an automated voice chimes.

“Already?” I pop up from my seat.

Pidd is already partway down the aisle. He shakes his head arduously without turning back to look.

Can it, nugget. Or I’ll find a sarcophagus to stuff you in.

Meanwhile, Kinley waits patiently for me to collect my things. Was he always such a gentleman?

No. He is now because he knows I’m in a fragile sort of state. Fragile, broken Bexley. Whole in memory, but fractured in soul. His hand on my back drives me forward. Would I be able to move without it?

The towering skyscraper stands much the same as last time; only this time I see it in new light. A halo of amber circles its top, like a ring of clouds around a volcano—Erron’s mark of protection. The lower level is a reception area. Hello again… again. A woman who can only be described as handsome sits in a squishy waiting chair. She drums talon-like fingernails along the floral armrest.

We move past the bowtie-clad receptionist that barely notices our presence, the same slouchy teenager as last time. Kinley places his fingers to the keycard reader at the side of the room, surging it blue with a click! Before moving on, though, he pauses, turning over his shoulder:

“…Are we sure this is a good idea?”

Pidd’s face drains the color of snow. “Are you freaking kidding me? You bring this up NOW?”

The handsome woman stops her drumming. She scans the wall, nearly noticing us—until I save the moment with a flash of blue her mortal brain cannot register. The drumming resumes.

“Life’s a lottery.” I shrug at Kinley, dusting my palms. “We can’t be sure of anything, really. Besides, what other choice do we have?”

Together we press through the door, leaving Pidd in our dust protesting: “LOTS. We have lots of other choices, Bexley!”

We move through the hall of doors. Our goal is at the end, the bathroom door marked with a female superhero. How forward thinking of mortals to don the entrances of their bathrooms with caped women.

We draw our boxes of light against the mirror, and then spread our fingers along the warm surface. The heat from the greenhouse on the other side radiates through into the mortal realm.

I take a breath. I haven’t been back to Yggdress since…

I bash my face against the mirror before those dark emotions can take hold, falling into the humid belly of the jungle-like greenhouse on the other side. Spewed with foliage and roughage, the place is somewhat fuller than last time. The duskshades are in bloom. A flowering bush nearby emits a scent like buttered rum. We start for the trail of tea-lights, lit today only in amber.

If only it were rose or lavender or even accursed turquoise.

Alas, it’s amber, and the glow is unavoidable.

“What’s wrong, B?” Kinley notices that my feet have rooted like the crowd of greens around us. He bends his face to meet mine. I can’t vocalize what’s wrong. Can’t tell him that it pains me to see that particular color in this particular moment.

Surprisingly, though, Pidd is the one that gets it. He steps ahead of me, casting a shadow to drive away a collection of the amber light.

I hate it. Not the amber, but the fact that I’m too weak to disassociate something like ambiance lighting from my grief.

We escape to the white room with three trees lined in the center: lavender, rose, and amber. Last time, I wondered where the turquoise one was. Now, it seems so obvious. We three are taboo, undeserving of representation—that damnable ‘other’ bloodline that makes our neighbors squeamish. We have the potential to turn sullen, and therefore, the potential to turn Wilted.

We are a threat.

The next room is lackluster. “This place is too deserted,” Pidd observes. “Don’t you think?”

Better that way. We haven’t yet discerned how the other lightborne feel about us, nor how far word has traveled of what happened at our coterie.

“Shhh, you’ll jinx us!” I swat him on the back of the head.

I barely get the words out when the hall erupts in rose light.

2

The Accused

First comes the light, second a barrage of violent footsteps. Before I can think or blink, Kinley is projectiling a series of turquoise waves, sweeping out from us into the light.

“Knew it!” Pidd coughs, readying a puny-by-comparison handful of turquoise light—but before he can direct it at any one of the attackers, a spear of lavender cuts through the rose, searing the edge of Pidd’s thigh. Down he falls, sputtering a creative string of curse words.

“Pidd!” I kneel at the nugget’s side but ready my fingertips to my right earlobe. Kinley’s got the right idea, so I’ll help him by mimicking the waves of turquoise.

Take that, traitors!

The turquoise disappears into the surrounding light—which is bright, obnoxiously pink. “LaMar, is that you!”

LaMar or whoever it is doesn’t answer, but a few disgruntled cries from the bray mean our turquoise has made contact. I ready myself another dose. It’s futile, though. Another color, powerful as my waker’s, floods over the other colors, washing out rose and lavender, and snuffing the turquoise spell before it can leave my palm. Mighty amber swallows my wards, lightstream and all, until all that exists is sunset orange.

It doesn’t hurt.

Not in the physical sense.

But it stings because it’s so much like his, in that commanding and dense sort of way.

Equally commanding are the hands that cover my mouth and yank me away.

If I’m not mistaken I have just been kidnapped.

It isn’t for long, though. I’m yanked, kicking and biting, and foaming like a cappuccino—because I can’t think of any foaming animals at the moment—into a bedchamber. This bedchamber is the most orderly bedchamber I’ve ever been in, every inch of wall space taken by uniform shelves of color-coordinated books. The bed is military-neat. So much so that I am clutter.

The amber from outside doesn’t reach this organized place, and once inside, my captor releases me. I swivel, fists balled in light, ready to pounce.

…Onto a tunic-donned man with straight, parted hair.

Oh. I lower my hands—“Erron?”—as he steadily moves to protect the door in a warding spell.

“I see you’ve regained your wits,” he responds, voice thin.

“Y-your coterie attacked us!” I back away from him. “Whatever happened to ‘we will continue to offer you our mother-freaking aid’!?”

“Well.” He turns to set his brilliantly amber eyes on me disapprovingly. “That was before you killed Aiden.”

“Hah!?” My voice cracks unattractively. “I didn’t kill him!”

“Of course I know that,” Erron says, shuffling away to his books. “But what matters is they’re saying you did.”

The unspecified THEY, always meddling. “Well, THEY can suck it!” I say.

“Jobel, mainly,” says Erron, rummaging around his bookshelf, “backed by a faction of witnesses.”

More like a gaggle. Sesha, LaMar, Nekt, Ellie, and a half-dozen other rose minions, I assume.

“What about Kray and Cello? They know the truth, right?” I say.

Erron smooths his hair. “Kray and Cello haven’t been seen since the day of Aiden’s death. There is speculation that you killed them too, or that they were your accomplices in the heinous act.”

“Untrue!”

“Yes, yes, I know all that. And while my coterie is more understanding than yours, many of them have personal ties to Kray, Cello and Aiden. The thought that you lot may have murdered three coterie leaders has turned a percentage of them rabid, clouding their judgment against even Kinley. The rest of us have been trying to reason with them to no avail. It’s something of a civil war within the skyscraper at the moment.” He frowns at the door. “Now, should you happen to locate Cello or Kray, the others might—”

Outside the room is a battle, clamorous and bright and terrible, but for a moment, I don’t care. I have remembered something important. Something that slipped my mind somewhere between Bexley the Second and Third.

“Kray?” For a one-syllabled word, it feels as long as any of those lovely, lengthy five-syllable words:

Abominable.

Lackadaisical.

Syllabication.

“Hm?” Erron doesn’t look away from his shuffling.

“No, not Kray.” I shake my head. “Kray’s waker. He’s turquoise-turned-sullen, right? Which means that…” What did it mean, exactly? Digest, Bex.

My mind races. What if I were to find the blade Aiden stabbed Kinley with—the one that turned him mortal—and use it against Kray’s waker? Then, Kray’s waker would be free for me to ward. And in warding him, I would pass on the ability to become the Wilted.

Meaning a free pass for Kinley, Pidd and me.

The world seems to pause. The air around us is still, but it’s an alive stillness—as if my lungs are showing me the possibility of freedom—an outcome where we don’t have to play martyr and pretend to be good.

“Kray’s waker?” Erron says. “You’re referring to Jon?”

Ugh. IT has a name. Which makes IT much harder to sacrifice.

The lost time fast-forwards until I’m aware of every wasted moment.

Now that I think about it, there’s no telling that we’d be able to locate Aiden’s blade in the first place. No telling that stabbing JON wouldn’t just kill him, either.

From the other side of the door, I hear shouting. Namely, the shout of a Pidd-like creature in danger.

Crud. It seems any hope of claiming sanctuary here has just been flushed down a rose-clouded toilet. “I’m assuming this has all gone too far for reasoning?” I huff. “Even if something like bubble tea were involved?”

“There is too much unrest at the moment. This is not the place for you at this time. Though I cannot offer you shelter, I wish to aid you. The reason I pulled you aside was to give you this.” He hands me a bundle packaged in brown paper, the triumph of his last three minutes of shuffling. “A few things you might find useful, including a map. I’ve marked it appropriately.”

“Appropriately? But you’re coming with us, aren’t you? We need all the help we can get if we’re going to move the tree!” Under my breath, I add: “Of course, I was hoping to recruit an entire coterie, but I suppose one ally is better than none…”

“I cannot.”

“But you have no idea what that bitch Ellie is capable of!” I lash. “She’s like an amped up power ranger of a lightborne! We were nearly mauled last time we saw her!”

“And that power lies also within you, Bexley. I have faith at Aiden’s treasured one will become much more amped up and bitchier than even the Wielder.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“I will remain to deescalate the situation and attempt to locate Kray and Cello—both of whom may clear your allegations. Only then may our people see reason. Unfortunately, for now I must keep the favor of my coterie and play devil’s advocate.” Erron puts his hand to the latch. “Go out the way you came. You’ll encounter some resistance, I assure, but I will do my best to cause distraction.” With that, he flings the door open, releasing his earlier spell and inviting in a mix of his own light, compacted against rose, turquoise and lavender. He pushes me into the din, then—

“HELP!” He begins shouting in the thickest voice I’ve heard from him yet. “SHE’S IN HERE!”

I stumble backwards into a body.

“Erron?!” it cries.

“Pidd?” I answer.

Two plushy mounds tell me I’m wrong.

Yikes. I back away from the woman and hobble deeper into the light. While the rest of the footsteps shuffle to Erron’s faux distress, I concentrate on the turquoise chains on my wrist. Honing… honing…

There!

The pair of them are together, crouched around the corner. So it seems the residents of the skyscraper have been beating up on each other.

“Hey-o!”

“Cheezus, Bexley!” Pidd the startleable commandeers my elbow and yanks me into a crouch.

Meanwhile, Kinley the fawnable takes me into a warm embrace. Bexley the First likes it and nuzzles in deeper. The rest of us still feel a bit awkward around him.

“Let’s get out of here,” I hush, gently wiggling from my boyfriend’s clutch. “I talked to Erron, and we deffo can’t stay here.”

“Gee, you think?” says Pidd.

“I do. I DO think that, Pidd. Thank you for confirming. I’ll tell you the deets once we’re out of this clusterfudge.”

The way out is met with little resistance. Erron seems to have wrangled his subordinates with his false cries of danger. Once clear of enemy earshot, I recount to my wards the tellings of the amber leader.

“So basically we’re on our own?” Pidd says back in the bathroom of the towering skyscraper.

“What if I talked to them?” says Kinley. “I still have friends here—friends who know me enough to know the rumors aren’t true.”

“Erron doesn’t seem to think that’ll work.” I hop down from the counter. “At least not right now. They aren’t all against us, mind you, but there’s a big enough group of them to make it unsafe for us here. Smart of Ellie to stow away Kray and Cello. An easy enough way to turn the whole damn coterie against us.”

Pidd’s only response is a string of obscenities. He needs to get some new curse words. Mix it up a bit. All of this fuming is losing its impact.

Kinley frowns at the mirror, green eyes plagued. Rejection? He catches me staring at him and adjusts his glasses. “So what’s in there?” He motions to the brown paper package from Erron.

“Not sure yet.” I give it a shake. “But you know me, I love presents. Let’s find somewhere safe to open it.”

Pidd interrupts his grumbling for a question. “Isn’t there some other coterie we can go to? Somewhere we can at least hide out? Maybe get some food?”

“One: No. There are other coteries, but no others within this region. And two: Eat this.” I toss him one of the lighted beads required for our sustenance.

His mouth lights up when the bead pops against his teeth.

It isn’t the only thing to light up.

We’ve dillydallied too long. From the other side of the mirror comes the lavender glow of someone else portaling through.

3

Alaska

Frantic, Kinley and I spring into action, drawing a turquoise X over the opening, but it’s too late. The stranger’s head has already breached.

“Come on!” I take Pidd’s wrist and slingshot him towards the bathroom door.

Some people have bad luck. Such as a young woman, dressed in a fancy dotted blouse, entering the bathroom at that exact moment. She releases a look of horror as the nugget is hurled into her. While her brain fights to block out the magick occurring before her, her body can’t ignore the very real fact that there is a boy in the ladies’ room—one that looks the pervert type, too.

Meanwhile, Kinley and I make busy scampering away from the mirror as the stranger’s shoulders press through the glass.

“MOVE, PIDD!” I push him from behind. Pidd discards the confused mortal out of the way and escapes the bathroom, me in tow, followed by—

No one.

Kinley, the mortal and the lavender stranger remain in the bathroom.

I start down the hall with Pidd, glancing back in expectation of my beau, but when he doesn’t emerge after running the length of the hall, I prepare my fingertips for battle. Blazed in a funnel of blue, I dash back into the bathroom. The mortal—now powdering her nose—doesn’t notice me.

Meanwhile, Kinley stands beside a petite girl with sharp bangs, a button nose and dark, lovely eyes—one who happens to have her arms flung around his neck and her lips pressed to his cheek.

“B-Bex!” Kinley pushes the girl’s arms to her sides. “Th-this is my friend, Alaska.” He wipes his cheek against his shoulder. “One of Erron’s wards. We took lessons together way back when. She’s on our side, too!”

Oh really? Just like that? Inviting a newcomer into our group? Do Pidd and I get a vote?

“Right!” The pretty girl pipes. “I am! S-sorry, I just haven’t seen Kinley in so long. I got a little carried away.”

Bexley the First urges me to be jealous over the embrace. But the rest of me doesn’t really care that much. Maybe I’ve matured.

Instead of jealous, though, I am wary. My fingertips spark with energy. Just in case. Just in case this delicate organism is hiding a secret set of fangs.

“You can trust her, B,” says Kinley. “She wants to help.” He nods to me earnestly as if to transfer all of his trust in this stranger over to me.

You sure, K?

Again he nods.

Our lack of magick usage is acceptable to a mortal’s worldview, and it allows the one powdering her nose to notice Kinley. She shoots him a judgmental look for being in a zone designated for those identifying as woman. Alaska hurries to draw a lavender zigzag in the air. The mortal’s eyes unfocus and she returns her attention to her own reflection.

“Don’t be silly.” I waft at the air. “This guy’s pretty huggable. Anyway, nice to meet you. I’m the amazing Bexley Lightborne—you’ve probably heard of me and my many feats, none of which come to mind at the moment—but we should probably get the eff out of here before any more surprises pop through that mirror, don’t you think?”

The others are in agreement.

Pidd awaits us on the other side of the hall, pouncing forward with fingers lit at the sight of us.

“Easy there, Pidd-o.” I pinch out his light like a candle’s flame. “Just us. This is Alaska, one of Kindler’s friends from way back when. She’s on our side now.”

Alaska wrinkles her nose and gives Pidd a darling little wave.

His eyes stay locked on hers an abnormally long time, even after introductions are given; and when he finally breaks contact, the corner of his mouth is curved.

Yes, Pidd. She’s very cute. Can we go now?

Annoying.

I walk from them heavier than anticipated. Kinley misinterprets. “B?” He trots to my side. “You okay? About before…”

“What? No, I’m fine. Getting worked up over a kiss? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“That sounds exactly like you.”

Maybe. But I’m fine. Guess there are more important things to worry about, with the world in jeopardy and all.

Kinley slips his hand to my waist and pulls me against him in the reception room. “I would be angry if I saw you in that position,” he coos darkly.

For the first time all day, I notice the way his dark eyelashes frame his eyes. The way his collar lies along his neck. The way his shirt rests against his lean body.

“You will be punished later,” Bexley the First flirts back, taking him by the chin.

“Belgh.” Pidd makes a puking noise low enough that only Kinley and I can hear. “Bexley the unsexly,” he says.

I put up a finger. “It’s okay, Pidd. Someday you’ll hit puberty.” I boop his nose with my fingertip, to which he scowls.

There. I feel better.

Meanwhile, Alaska is several steps ahead, trying to hail a cab.

We’ve made it outside without any further pursuers. Good. And if Alaska ends up being a spy, the light of three turquoises is well enough to squash out one lousy lavender.

“Where now?” says Pidd.

“Erron suggested a place we might hide out—a facility in Yggdress that was once used for training familiars, back before this region was built up by mortals.”

“Familiars?” says Pidd.

“Animal companions infused with light,” I tell him, reciting what I read that day in the coterie library. “They were used in a time when cities were smaller. The modern mortal realm isn’t ideal for them, so they’re rare nowadays.”

A yellow cab with a scraped front bumper finally takes notice of us. With the longest kneespan, Kinley takes the front while we other three file into the back.

Pidd doesn’t put up a fight when told to sit in the middle. His motives are irritatingly transparent as he angles his body slightly in Alaska’s direction and makes small talk unbecoming of a nugget.

Alaska feeds the cabdriver the address before joining in conversation, though hers is much larger than small talk.

“So.” She pokes her head around Pidd, directing her attention on me.

“So?”

“You’re IT,” she says, eager as hell.

“If by IT you mean the badass protagonist of this journ—”

“I mean the Wilted,” she cuts me off.

That forbidden word hangs there a moment. I am hesitant to take the bait. A word that jaded could determine friend or foe in an instant, much like so many mortal words that distinguish the baddies from the goodies. And to most of the lightborne world, we three rogues are the baddies. After what happened in the coterie, I’ve learned not to throw words that contaminated around so loosely.

But Kinley catches my eye through the side mirror and nods.

A ward of Erron is a friend of us, yes?

“You’re the one that will save the tree?” prods sweet Alaska, weary of my delayed answer. Pidd, on the other hand, hasn’t made any sort of protest at her frame strewed across his.

“Technically, any three of us could become it now,” I say slowly, eye still caught on Kinley. “They’ve inherited the power through our lightstream.” I give our chain a jiggle, though Alaska can’t see it.

“I didn’t know that!” she says, excited, making Pidd jolt. Alaska settles back in her place. “Well then, have you decided who will become the Wilted?”

No. Because the others don’t know the whole truth.

“I should do it,” I blurt. “It’s my responsibility. The other two wouldn’t even have the potential if it weren’t for me.”

It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud. And I wouldn’t have said it, had I not been pressed.

But I have a point.

And now that I’ve said it, I realize it’s been gnawing at the back of my tongue ever since Aiden told me the truth.

‘Consequently, it will claim the life of whoever moves it… Once I knew the truth, I vowed that that life would never be yours.’

The city moves past, unaware of the magickal beings zipping through it. Unaware of the unseen world and the things that plague us, more important than a missed mortgage payment or a broken heart.

“No, Bex. I’ll do it.” Even without knowing the sacrifice part, Kinley speaks up. “I’ve already gone sullen once and lived to tell the tale. I don’t want to put you through all of that. Especially when you’re supporting two wards now. I’ve already decided I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea,” Alaska chimes in. “If the power belongs to Bexley, there’s a possibility it might be diluted going through you or… Pidd, was it?”

I roll my eyes at his lovelost gaze.

Alaska continues, “I think the most pertinent chance you have in moving the tree is to let Bexley do it. At least with her we know she’ll have the full strength of the Wilted.”

Hm. This newcomer is quite astute. And she has no problem voicing her opinion as though she’s been with us all along, using words like ‘we.’

“Of course—” She lets out a shy giggle. “Those are my thoughts; not Erron’s. He didn’t say anything about you two one way or the other.” She nods at either of my wards.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” says Kinley, expression forlorn.

Neither did I.

And now it seems my fate is sealed.

The taxi driver assumes we are talking about a video game or fantasy show. He remains silent, except to mutter at a rusted truck that cuts him off on the freeway. From that point, the rest of us remain silent too.

So it seems I won’t be outrunning my destiny anytime soon.

So it seems I’ll have to force myself to be a more altruistic person.

So it seems Aiden won’t get his dying wish.

I open my mouth once or twice in an attempt to say something witty, but nothing comes out. The facility Alaska spoke of is in the opposite direction of our home, which is for the best. Any distance between us and the Wielder is good distance.

The world of the mortals flashes past the gritty cab windows, through downtown and uptown, until the shadows out the right-hand window stretch long. Those shadows are flat and gray compared to those born of Nocturne. Lifeless and deathless, all they can do is stretch.

Eventually, I remember Erron’s package tucked in my jacket. As he said, there is map written in a long, scrolling language. Now that I have my memory back, I recognize this writing. An ancient text used during the light wars.

“What is it?” Pidd’s voice is quiet, for Alaska appears to be dozing off. He leans over the parchment, shoulder pressed to mine.

“It looks like a map of Yggdress,” I observe. “And Erron said he ‘marked it appropriately,’ but I don’t see any markings, do you?”

Pidd places a finger to the map. “There’s a smudge here.”

I squint and lean in. So does Pidd. The light chain between us is warm. The particles of the air bash against one another.

Suddenly, I am aware of how loud my breath is. Do I breathe abnormally loud for a girl? How have I never noticed before?

Pondering this, I stop breathing altogether.

But after a moment I understand that I must breathe, and I begin to panic.

Meanwhile, Pidd has been observing me with a foul expression. “What is wrong with you?”

Unable to stand it, I let out a loud, heaving breath, waking Alaska and causing both Kinley and that taxi driver to look back in concern.

“Asthma?” I say.

“Whatever,” says Pidd. “What else have you got in there?” He prods at the package on my lap.

The space between his arm hairs and mine is warm, infused by the clashing particles of the air. His hair smells like cucumber—the complimentary shampoo from last night’s hotel.

“Why are you so close to me right now?” I say.

“What?”

“Yeah, you’re like, really close right now.” I lean away from him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” With a huff he throws up his hood and returns his attention to Alaska, asking her if she likes photography.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s a weird day. Kinley has turned down the sun visor, if only to get a better look at me through the mirror. I shrug at him.

Of the remaining contents is the silver book, pair to the golden one already in my pack, along with a canister of light pearls and a small gear on a chain.

At last we turn off the freeway, into a ritzy suburb. “Here’s good,” Alaska deems after a time.

The cabbie tells us our fare expectantly.

Right. This part.

“Unfortunately, we have no money,” I tell him. “But look at this!” I open my palm and blow him a kiss, and the imprint of my lips travels at him, forming into a butterfly at the end. His eyes unfocus as it lands on his nose. We make our escape.

“Poor guy,” says Pidd.

“Yes, but we’ve given him something priceless. An experience.”

“Not that he’ll remember it,” mutters Kinley.

Alaska leads us to a park, deserted all but for a pair of skateboarding kids. At the center stands a broken fountain shaped like a spitting cherub. Despite the fanciness of the neighborhood, the fountain appears neglected, for the water within holds a green tint and is spotted with fallen leaves.

“Ugh. In here?” I lean over the edge.

Alaska nods. “Regrettably. Do you want me to go first?” She pulls up her sleeves in preparation.

“One sec.” I pull Kinley aside. “We are absolutely certain this isn’t a trap, right? For instance, if we send her through first, she won’t be joining a group of our enemies sneakily lying in wait, right? And if we let her in last, she won’t seal us into a prison cell waiting on the other side?”

Kinley shakes his head. “Not a chance. But to be safe, I’ll go first.”

With his backpack secured to his shoulders, he crouches near the backside of the cherub, placing his hands flat atop the water. An upturned beetle floats by like a miniature canoe.

Splash!

Kinley disappears deeper than the bottom of the fountain, all but his right hand, which remains above the water. After a moment, it gives a thumbs-up before disappearing into the murk.

Pidd takes this as his invitation, splashing gracelessly through the portal. Again I stall, waiting for one of them to reemerge in case of trap.

But the water doesn’t stir.

It seems our lady newcomer’s word is true.

“Well then—” I clutch my luggage to my chest.

“Will you wait a moment?” Alaska chews her lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Here it is. The bombshell. The trap. The reveal of Alaska’s true nature.

At least that’s what I expect. After my dealings with Ellie, I’ve learned not to trust petite, unassuming women.

Sure enough, the lovely girl pools a small helping of lavender into her palm. The gray sky overhead is a backdrop of dreariness. The air is crisp. And I myself am rolling my fingertips, mustering energy to combat hers.

“Aiden and I were both wards of Erron,” she says, staring into her palm. “He was like a brother to me, and you… you…”

Were responsible for his death.

“You were his most treasured one,” she finishes, tearfully.

At once, I drop the rolled light between my fingertips. “Uh… what?”

“When I heard what had happened to him, I vowed to do everything in my power to avenge his death. Aiden and I learned the truth long ago from our waker. I know it is the Wielder that ended my brother’s life, and I know that you are the true savior of light.” She looks up, eyes moist and determined, and holds forth her hand, lit with lavender. “Use me, Mistress Wilted. I am your servant!”

Servant?

She bows her head forward in reverence. “I will not let his death be for naught. I vow to defeat the Wielder and help you move the tree.”

Because I don’t know what else to do, I offer her my lit palm, and she takes it fiercely, like some sort of blood pact.

After, I stand there awkwardly, not realizing until I turn to face the fountain that my cheeks have become stained and salted too.

Aiden.

4

Return to the Land of Light

Pidd and Kinley await us on the other side of the fountain, unaware of the lighted pact that has just occurred. It’s all a bit dramatic for my taste.

The Yggdress side is a stark contrast to the gray world from which we’ve come. I escape the portal’s water—which is clean and aqua—into a world of glittering light.

We are at the center of an abandoned courtyard, which is dilapidated in the best sort of way. Those exquisite, leafy vines that I love so much crawl up the downed pieces of brick belonging to what was once a small arena.

The fragrance of the forest sweeps through the area in breathy bouts, pushing along fallen leaves from the deeper parts of the wood—scarlet, tawny and ginger. The chiming of the timber is louder here than near the coterie. Are we closer to Yggdrasil?

At the far side of the courtyard lies a structure worn by time but still intact. It is to this tower that Alaska leads us. If there are windows up the pillar, they have been completely consumed by autumn vines hued blood red in contrast to the greeny ones of the ground rubble.

I shiver from the majesty of it all.

When I die, I wish to be buried in a mausoleum. One infested with prickly vines that wrap around the outside of the marble and invade the crevices.

Heh. Heh. Heh.

“What the hell’s up with that pervy face of yours?” Pidd breaks my daydream with that babyface of his, pushed up too close to mine.

“Wak!” I blast him with a bout of turquoise, which does nothing but blow off his hood and disrupt his hair.

“Moron.” He scampers away to join Alaska as she pushes a collection of vines from the entrance to the tower.

My cheeks are warm afterwards.

“Ivy again, huh?” Kinley pokes the nape of my back. “Gets you every time.”

I freeze up from being touched there and karate chop my hands in reflex. Kinley slinks away, simpering.

Half of me wants to run up and loop him through the arm.

But it’s only half.

The bottom floor of the tower is stone, crumbled with remains of rock creatures representing animal familiars long forgotten. If I were to sport one, it would be something shelled. Maybe an armadillo or tortoise. Kinley’s would be a rabbit. Pidd’s, a bulldog.

“Quite a mess, isn’t it?” Alaska observes. She moves to the center of the base and pushes her hands straight out from her at the sides—in preparation of yoga?

I’ve never been into that sport myself. Don’t see the appeal in winding myself up like a pretzel. For me, it would only look awkward—a mass of squish with a pained face.

It’s only the slight ones like Alaska that can look graceful all bound up like that. Meanwhile I’m over here, looking like a cartoon character.

“Pft.”

But as it turns out, the newcomer isn’t partaking in yoga or any offset of it.

“Kinley?” she says expectantly.

“Ah, sure.” He joins beside her, taking up a similar pose.

They stand in a line with hands outstretched, amassing turquoise and lavender light alike. Then at once, they begin to sweep their outside hands around their heads like a strange peacock mating routine, sending out waves of light. Pidd ducks with his hands over his head, fearful of lavender wrath.

But the light doesn’t hurt him. It moves through him, and through the waste of the floor, pushing away the dust, rock and collection of scattered leaves, until the area is clean.

Neat trick, Alaska.

Wifely points up ten.

Not to be outdone, I zing an arrow of turquoise into the chandelier dangling from the ceiling’s center, lighting the area in glittering turquoise glow.

Beside the door, Pidd tirelessly snaps his fingers in hopes of conjuring a similar light to power a standing torch. After three snaps, he’s done nicely.

I don’t expect he knows that it will take continued power to maintain the light.

Endurance testing, go!

Kinley and Alaska move through the tower in a similar fashion, blasting dust from every opening in the structure, up the spiral staircase and to the top observation chamber built for judges and instructors to watch animal familiars duel. Attached is a half-circle balcony with stone railing sprouting from the side of the tower.

Not a bad hideout if I do say so myself. I settle into a tattered armchair upholstered in scarlet velvet and take in the view.

While the others scuttle around doing whatever they’re doing, I again spread the map from Erron across my lap.

So we’ve got a refuge.

And a map.

And a moth.

And two books: silver and gold.

And a gear on a chain.

And a glove.

…Now what?

In this scenario, I’m the one that needs to take action. Ellie only needs to stop the tree from being moved. I, on the other hand, must move the tree itself.

So, step one is becoming a sullen. When it happened to Kinley, it was chance. This time will need to be more calculated. I will have to walk that line between lightborne and darkling, dipping my toes into the world of shadow without fully immersing. And that’s where the silver and gold books come in. The textbooks of light and dark.

Someone squeezes my shoulder. I know that grip even without looking up.

“Hey, Kindler.”

He settles down beside me in a similar chair, though his is olive-colored. At first, he doesn’t disturb the silence. We two are like foreign royalty watching gladiators fight down below. We should be donned in velvet.

Kinley leans forward with his elbows resting on the railing. “Okay,” he says after a minute. “I’m going to ask you now. Are you ready?”

Yeah, he’s been holding off ever since the coterie. I knew it would be coming soon. I copy his posture, leaning forward on the balance. “Phoooooo.” I release a long sound through my teeth that isn’t quite a whistle. “Okay, go ahead.”

He nods, staring ahead. “How are you holding up? After what happened to Aiden, I mean.”

Truthfully? I press my face into the back of my wrists folded on the railing. “I’m not holding up at all,” I admit in a muffle. “Everything is different now. Not only losing… him. But gaining myself. Or, my selves.” I peek up at him. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. At least, not the one you know. There’re all these different instincts fighting one another inside of my tendons and sinew. Like a goddamned split personality or something!”

“Tendons and sinew, eh?” He tosses back his head and slouches in the chair, looking to the twilit sky. “Yeah. I know that. It’s not like you’re very hard to read.” He pauses a moment. “At first I was waiting to see which version would win. But then I started to think, what if it’s none of them? What if it’s just a new version altogether?”

Bingo.

“Sorry.” I talk into the railing. “I feel guilty.”

“Why?” he says.

I don’t answer. Just groan into my arm.

“Ah. You mean because you’re afraid to touch me now.”

My stomach drops like I’ve swallowed an anchor or something of equal weight. It’s what I haven’t wanted to admit. When my memories came back, Bexley the First burst to the front, but since then, little by little, she’s gotten lost, trampled by the memories of my time spent away from Kinley.

“Well yeah!” I blurt. “I’m sure you’ve been wanting that, haven’t you?! And to most of me, you’re still some hot stranger! The thought of getting down to busi-nasty with you just seems a little awkward!”

But when I look up at last, he isn’t forlorn. He’s grinning a scoundrel’s grin. “Awww, B, you think I’m hot?”

And now I’m the one grinning. But as soon as I acknowledge it, the grin falls to the ground like the falling leaves all around us. “So you aren’t upset?”

“Think about it this way, this version of you is better than the one that didn’t remember me at all, so…” He looks again to the sky. “Not to mention, there are more important things going on right now. Which brings me again to the question you’ve so sneakily evaded.”

I shake my head.

Not yet.

I’m not ready yet to talk about the loss of my waker.

“Fine,” he says. “But when you’re ready—” He taps the side of his glasses twice. Kinley the psychologist.

Sure thing. If ever I’m ready.

Behind us, Pidd is helping Alaska move the heavy decapitated head of some ancient high-ranked lightborne. The sort that would certainly be wearing velvet.

Put your back into it, Nugget McGee.

“I suppose in the morning we should begin working on turning me into a sullen,” I divert. “That is, after all, step one.”

“Step one?”

“In the turquoise clan’s plan to save the land,” I announce. “Has a nice ring to it, eh?”

“You know, it loses all street cred if it rhymes,” jokes Kinley.

“Meh. We’ve got street cred to spare.” I join him in leaning back to take in the sky. “By the way, I do agree with what Alaska was saying. That I should be the one to turn Wilted.”

Because I can’t ask someone else to take my place.

“Because we’ll have a better chance of moving the tree if I do it,” I say instead.

That’s right, I can’t ask someone to take my place. And it isn’t because of some grand aspiration to die a martyr.

It’s because this seems easiest.

Because I’m weak.

Aiden.

“Hey Bex?”

I wipe my eye into my shoulder before turning to Kinley. But he’s silent, focusing out over the courtyard, looking like he wants to say something but can’t figure out how to start. He sighs, frowns, and then—“X’s or O’s?”—he draws a haphazard tic-tac-toe board in the air with turquoise light.

I draw a giant X over the whole of the board. “I win.”

“Stinky woman.”

“In disposition only, right?”

“Naturally.” Battling off his demons, he gives me a smirk from the side of his mouth at the same time as a leaf settles on his shoulder. The tic-tac-toe board scatters as a zing of lavender light cuts through it.

“We-could-use-a-little-help!” pants Alaska. The girl has gone red and sweaty. And somehow she still looks like a picture from a catalogue. Maybe one that sells overpriced workout leggings.

Pidd, on the other hand, looks a hot mess. As I thought, he wasn’t expecting to bear the weight of the downstairs lightspell. He understands it now. Rather than recall it, though, he keeps it steady. That-a-Pidd.

Don’t worry. It’ll get easier. Like training a muscle to stretch.

No point in making him suffer more than he needs to. “Whoop! Move over Pidd, let the ladies handle it.” I pop from the chair and do my part to make the area an acceptable base. Pidd gladly backs off from the statue rubble and busies himself with clearing out an area for the bedding. Kinley moves to help him. After a moment, I notice their voices have turned low. Hopefully K’s giving P a few pointers on distributing his focus. Seems to be the case anyway.

Aww, my wards are bonding.

Not to be outdone, I turn to my newest gal-mate. “We could use some hanging beads or something, wouldn’t you say, Alaska?” I survey the now-decluttered area with my fingers in the shape of a frame.

“Oh! Yes, let’s make it MOD!”

Even with those bangs, I wasn’t expecting such a spirited answer. And it makes me recoil a bit.

Maybe I’m not ready for another friend yet.

I’m only now realizing the word is just one letter away from fiend.

5

Restless Twilight

Courageous. Altruistic. Strong.

Those are the words used to describe grandiose acts of selflessness.

They are not words to describe one, Bexley Lightborne.

But if my copout will save the world, then I’d say that’s one hell of a copout.

This is what I tell myself in the night hours in our tower of a fortress. Though eternally twilit, nighttime signals by the change in the forest’s chiming to that haunting moaning in the distance. Pidd has the right idea. He’s stuffed bits of cotton into his ears.

Alaska, it seems, can fall asleep under any condition. She’s a snorer, too. And not the quiet, purring, girlish type. She’s a full-blown, motorboating, wake-yourself-up-er.

Heh. Satisfying.

Kinley is as restless as I. Could be the snoring. Could be the moaning. Could be the weight of the worlds crushing down on him? He repositions that weight every two and a half minutes, balling his makeshift pillow in various shapes, hoping it will change into something worthwhile.

I wait for him to settle before treading out onto the veranda to get some air. I wad up a handful of turquoise and begin to project it like a yoyo, pulling it back into my palm before flicking it outwards again. Maybe I can shove all of my feelings into that ball of light and fling it away from me.

For just a sec.

Fling.

Fling.

Fling…

The light comes back to me, slithering and weaving through my fingers and then sinking deep against my skin, skating my arm like a tattoo before disappearing altogether.

I shiver, though I’m not scared. I’m sort of… nothing, really.

The forest’s moaning seems a fitting backdrop for it. Bored with my yo-yo of light, I hold up the geared chain from Erron. Another mysterious object without an explanation. Like necklace, like moth.

Like Erron, like…

I let the chain fall between my fingers silkily and begin swinging it like a pendulum, hoping to reveal hidden mystical power. The penduluming morphs into lassoing and soon I’ve sent the necklace helicoptering over the edge of the balcony.

Whoops.

For a moment I consider leaving it. Not very responsible. I tiptoe down the stairs to retrieve the probably-sacred Artifact I’ve just carelessly thrown down the side of the tower. I’m not good a physics, but if the projectile angle of the necklace, times the force of the fling, divided by the weight of the gear, times the height of the tower equals the distance thrown, then I’d say it landed just yonder of that downed stone totem.

Wrong.

So wrong.

In fact, I find Erron’s necklace a notable distance away, buried in a pile of yellow leaves.

“Aha!” I ring triumphant with the pendant clutched in my hands—though it’s taken me more than twenty minutes to find. Maybe it’s safer to wear it, lest any more accidents happen.

I fumble with the latch and slip the pendant into place around my neck.

I should know better than to don antiques of questionable origin. Apparently, this is a lesson none of the Bexleys have grasped.

As the chain makes contact with my skin, something unseen moves through the space, through the clearing, through my body.

First, it’s the hairs on my arms—standing as if someone’s just run a flush balloon over them. Next, comes the fuzz of my neck, plucking outward in a similar way, inviting a shiver to run down my back. My fingertips swell turquoise. My earlobe sizzles. Lastly, the gears contained at the bottom of the chain rotate against one another, lighting bright blue with magickal power I haven’t offered.

And then it’s over, and the gears are dull with my glow.

So I’ve just enchanted a mystical pendant for some unknown purpose.

The purpose isn’t unknown for long.

As I turn to flee, I remember a myth Aiden told me once, involving children of the mortal world—special ones, called fairchildren.

Fairchildren were the sort that collected shiny rocks and called them magic. The ones that built blanket forts and named them ‘bastion.’ Though not of the lightborne lineage, these children developed particularly strong spirits and an ability to resonate faintly with Yggdrasil’s light. It wasn’t something inherited in them; but was cultivated by their own marvel at the worlds around them. Thus, it was possible for a fairchild to enter Yggdrasil in spirit—in their sleep, through their dreams, and drawn by glowing orbs of light called wisps.

Aiden described these wisps as feathery, wraithlike creatures that left trails of light whenever they moved. The wisps were responsible for luring fairchildren to Yggdress so their spirits could replenish the aching trees, sore from eons of shedding leaves. But it was only for the night. Eventually the wisps would lead the children back to their beds and into their bodies.

I don’t know about all that fairchildren business, but it seems at least one portion of the myth is true.

A flood of light orbs—just the way Aiden described—has infiltrated the arena and surrounding wood.

I escape back into the tower. Or at least I try. Instead, I smack into the wall to the right of the doorway. I hate to admit it isn’t the first time that’s happened. As I stand and rub my face, which has already started to throb, I notice that the wisps—previously floating about the ruins—have all halted.

And then, slowly, they begin to move in my direction. An eerie, ghostly cloud.

No longer concerned with my throbbing cheek, I scuffle into the tower and up the stairs to wake Pidd, tripping over my feet in place of the clutter that was already swept away. The chain remains around my neck, but I hold the gear at arm’s length as far as it will go and glance behind me, expecting to see a haze of light following closely behind.

“Pidd!” I pull the cotton from one of his ears. “Wake up!”

Pidd answers with a mouthful of morning breath before rolling over in his nest. I search frantically over my shoulder. Still no sign of the cluster, but is it just me, or does the chain feel hotter?

“This is important! Get up now!” I poke Pidd in the cheek repeatedly until he finally stirs, hair a mess and eyes grumpy.

“What the hell?” he says. “What do you want?”

“Shhh!” I cover his mouth and try to force him into standing. But Pidd’s stockiness is mostly muscle. He stems himself to the ground.

New approach.

I start poking at him again, this time in the midsection.

“Wahh!”

Within moments, he’s on his feet, swatting at me and shielding his tender parts. I force him along after me to the lower floor of the tower. There, he tosses up his hood, folds his arms, and stares at me murderously. “This had better be good. Do you know the last time I was able to sleep!?”

I pull at my knotted up hair. There’s really no hope for it now. I probably won’t ever look decent again until the day I die. No matter. I peek around the tower’s entrance, out into the courtyard.

The wisps are still there, separated now, and flittering about the ruin.

Pidd grabs my shoulder and whiplashes me back inside. “Yo, crazy.” He snaps in my face. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Yes! That’s exactly right! I DID see a ghost! Lots of ghosts… I think.”

“Oh geez.” He drops his head. “Why the hell didn’t you wake up Kinley for this?”

I’m not sure. That probably would have been the better option. No matter. I push him in front of me. “Look! Out there! See them?!”

Pidd cranes his face out into the twilight and hangs it there for five seconds. “Oh, sure. There’s one.”

“What?!” I push him out of the way. “You see them?!”

He spins on me, now even more filled with bloodlust. “What I SEE is that you are delusional! I always knew you were insane, but you’ve really cracked this time!”

I tune him out. Think, Bexley. This obviously has to do with Erron’s necklace. And maybe putting it on didn’t just make the wisps appear. Maybe wearing it changes a person’s eyes.

I tear off the mystical object and the orbs disappear. “Aha!”

Pidd’s face, posture, demeanor—everything about him is foul. “Bex—”

“Here!” I fling the necklace at him.

While Pidd struggles like a captured pig, I manage to clip the pendant around his neck. This time I’m able to witness its effects from the outside. His ear blazes brightest turquoise, as do his fingertips, and his eyes flicker bright.

After, his hair is stiff with static. And Pidd is stiff with fear.

I knew he wasn’t the type to enjoy horror films.

At once, he begins wobbling backwards and ripping at the necklace.

“I TOLD YOU!” I point my finger in his chest. “Who’s the crazy one now?”

“Still you!” He flings the necklace at me. “What the hell did you do?”

“Excuse you, I did nothing! They’re the wisps of the fairchildren! Conjured by this mystical Artifact!”

“Oh, sure sure, the WISPS of the FAIRCHILDREN.” He shakes his head. “And again I have to ask why I was the one chosen for your shenanigans?”

Oooh. She-na-ni-gans. Nice word.

But too much to explain right now. “The wisps will help us… I think. I mean, Erron was the one that gave us the necklace, right?”

“Correction: he gave it to you.” Pidd pushes it at my chest. “You take it. You’re more suited for this crap.”

Would that be considered a compliment?

I return the pendant to my neck—only because the thought of those things out there unseen to both of us is more unnerving than actually witnessing them.

“H-hey,” I beckon the feathery orbs. “See me?”

“Wait!” Pidd takes my arm and tugs me into hiding behind a bush. “What are you doing now?” he hisses.

“Getting their attention?”

“Why would you want to do something like that?!”

I stare at him blankly. “To find out if they’re good or bad.”

“And if they’re bad?”

“…Hopefully they’re not?” I say.

Pidd grits his teeth and makes a strangling motion in the air.

I take the opportunity to pop up like a meerkat. “Yoohoo!”

Pidd doesn’t get to me in time. Like last time, the wisps freeze before starting in our direction. Unlike last time, however, they don’t move slowly.

“Ahh! Not all at once!” I deflect with my hands in front of my face. Though blind to the situation, Pidd mimics.

The orbs halt.

“Oh,” I say.

Pidd swipes at nothing. “What? What is it?”

“These… things understand us?”

From the cluster, one of them—possibly a bit fatter than the others—zooms closer. I take a breath, and then poke it with the tip of my finger. Warm. Electric. Up close, it looks like a nucleus with energy sprouting out from it. Nerve-like. Like one of those electricity balls they have at science centers. Kinley and I went to one once. Whenever mortals touched the glass, the lines of energy would follow their hand around. When I tried to touch it, though, the glass burst and we had to leave.

Luckily, the wisp remains intact, even after I touch it. When I extract my finger, my skin is stained.

Turquoise.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could have some of me!”

“What’s going on?!” Paranoid, Pidd begins swatting at the bush.

The wisp flutters away, replaced by a second slinkier one. It doesn’t move like the others; rather, it turns ovoid each time before forming back into a sphere. This one doesn’t wait for me to poke it; instead it plunges itself against my hand.

“Hey!” I shake it off.

This time my skin stains amber. I rub my fingers together and inspect the stain. “Wait, is this your color?” I ask of the slinky wisp. Then— “Apologies,” I say to the fatter one. “Turns out you didn’t steal my turquoise after all.”

What are these things? Abandoned light? Pools of power left from lightborne bouts in the forest?

I offer my hand out, and a collection of the orbs take the invitation, crawling up my arm, warm and soft, similar to goose down. A train of colors lights my arm, mostly turquoise but mixed with amber, lavender and rose. One settles on my shoulder.

‘You’re warm, B. Like a small fluttering bird.’

“Oh my GAWD!” For a second time, I throw the chain from my neck, having just realized something unsettling.

Is this what I was like when Kinley swallowed me in Nocturne?! Are these wisps actually souls or something?! Disembodied souls?! Frantic, I wipe down my arms in hope of wiping away any residual ghost germs.

Turns out I was right the first time around.

“They ARE ghosts!” I toss the pendant at Pidd, which he hot-potatoes back to me. “There are literally hundreds of dead lightborne infesting these woods!”

“What?! Are you serious?!”

Pidd backs up his back to mine. And now we circle, apprehensive and skin-pricked, waiting for something to happen.

“Do you feel anything?”

“No.” Pidd relaxes his stance.

“Me neither.” I relax mine.

We give it another moment for good measure.

“What the hell, Erron?” I say, straightening, hand white around the gear. “A little warning would have been nice!”

“I’m beginning to see a trend with these leaders,” Pidd gripes. “Always sending you off with random pieces of junk that mess with your head! It takes, what, four seconds to be like, ‘by the way, this will make you see ghosts’?”

I am quiet. Not by choice, but because this lonely feeling likes to show itself when it’s least wanted. Not that it’s ever wanted.

A…

“Ehhh, sorry, Bex.” Pidd appears diffident. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Psh. I’m fine.” But I purposely divert my eyes to an uninteresting part of the wall. “Anyhow, that would have been a perfect time to throw in one of these word combinations: Pestersome relics. Confounded keepsakes. Bedeviled tokens. Surely you can do better than ‘pieces of junk.’”

“Surely you need more hobbies.”

But rare and thick words are so very lovely to taste.

“Aww man.” Pidd pulls at the drawstrings of his sweatshirt and leans against the tower. “So what now? Not like we’ll be able to sleep after that. Or maybe even ever again. Thank you for that, Bexley. Truly.”

“Psh it isn’t MY fault you’re some wuss when it comes to ghosts and things otherworldly in nature.” I fan at my chest.

“WE are otherworldly in nature!” says Pidd. “And like you’ll be able to sleep either.”

He has a point. At this point in our journey, sleep is essential. There’s no telling when we might be found out and forced to run. There’s no telling what effects the darkness will have on my system. Kinley was all out of sorts during our earlier experiments.

“Should we take turns keeping watch?” Pidd offers.

“Pointless. I’m assuming those sprites have been here always. The only difference is that now we’ve seen them. Besides, Kinley placed a spell around the perimeter. If anyone other than a turquoise tries to cross it he’ll be alerted.” Apparently it doesn’t work on those without bodies. “At least we’re protected from real threats,” I finish.

“And she doesn’t define a ghost as a real threat.”

“You know what I mean,” I mind him.

Anyway, I’ve thought of a brilliant idea. A way to ensure that we both get the rest we need.

><

“What do you mean, ‘push’?” Pidd whispers several minutes later, having finally been convinced to give this a go.

“Feed your light into me. Slowly. Like this.”

Yes, I know inebriation isn’t ideal for wretched creatures on the run. But there’s no denying the zonking effect it had that time I forced my light into Pidd’s head. If we do it forcibly enough, the idea is to skip that whole drunken period and go right to the stage of passing out.

Together we sit near each other in the tower—dark, now that the makeshift curtains have been drawn. My pointer finger is to his temple and his to mine, as slowly we feed our light into one another.

“Is this right?” he whispers. “Is that too fast?”

I snort.

Nope, seems to be working. Blue haze lights up the outskirts of my vision before clouding it altogether. This is the first time I’ve felt his light like this, muddling up my thoughts.

It’s almost a different shade than mine. Or a different texture. Or a different taste.

I don’t know which one of us dozes first or if it happens all at once.

I think it happens all at once.

6

A Dutiful Servant

Pidd and I wake up in a T-shape. It’s my fault, not his. I’m the one that seems to have rotated ninety degrees even in the densest of sleeps.

“Rough night?” Kinley calls when he sees me rouse.

He and Alaska are already out on the veranda, soaking in Yggdrasil’s light for sustenance. Breakfast. Pidd squabbles up to join them, hiding his disheveled hair beneath his hood—for Alaska’s sake, most likely.

Wow. Never seen him so chipper in the morning.

Alaska gestures to his baby face, questioning something.

“Twenty, actually,” I hear him say.

“Liar!” I blurt over my shoulder. “He’s only eighteen-point… something. Well, I’m not sure on the exact date, but he turned eighteen the month after we warded. Come to think of it, we never did celebrate his birthday. Whoops. Guess I got a little caught up in, you know, heroics.”

“Shut it, Bexley. I was talking about the number of times you jabbed me with your elbow last night. You even left a flipping mark!” He rubs at his reddened cheek.

Oh.

Speaking of marks, the bruise on my face is enough to make Kinley chortle. “Seen that before, Bex. Run into another wall?”

“N-no!”

He looks to have had an even rougher night than Pidd. The undercarriages of his eyes are sunken and dark. He’s a stress-insomniac.

“We thought of a trick for falling asleep, Kindler. I’ll show you tonight,” I tell him.

“Yeah, just don’t let her near you afterwards or you’ll wind up with a black eye,” scoffs Pidd.

Kinley pinches my elbow with a tired smile. “Oh, I’m well aware,” he says.

Afterwards I rub the patch of skin where he touched. I always thought it resembled an elephant’s hide. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe I need moisturizer.

Once our wits are about us, Pidd and I recount to Kinley and Alaska the happenings of the previous night, spirits and all. With fair warning, I offer them the bedeviled token to try for themselves.

Only, when Kinley slips it on—

“Nothing’s there.”

And to our chagrin, he’s right. No matter how much juice I power into the pendant, the wisps are nowhere to be found. The only movement is from the forest’s shedding; the only light, the glimmer of Yggdress. “Huh. Maybe they only come out at night?” I offer.

“MAYBE you had one of those famous Bexley dreams?” Kinley jests.

“Both of us?” I say.

Alaska inspects the necklace, though possesses no prior knowledge of the Artifact. For now, it goes in a backpack, with the shiny pair of tomes and the geared glove that will seal my fate. Remaining out, however, is the map marked with a smudge.

I set about the rest of the morning with the intent to decipher it.

Cross-legged, I perch at the edge of the fountain, while Kinley and Pidd go off to reinforce the turquoise barrier. Alaska is tutting about the grounds performing some sort of jazzy karate hybrid that involves lots of HOO-ing, HA-ing, and bending at the waist. Awkward. I pretend not to notice. But it’s difficult with her over yonder flouncing about.

Is that really how hard she works out each day? I’ve always thought of myself squishy by nature, but maybe it’s nurture. Or… lack of nurture?

Alaska balances a mass of lavender above her hand while balancing on one foot and holding the other one out at an angle. Doubt I’d have the discipline to keep all of that up. I shift weight to stretch out my middle area. There. Flatter.

Though I’m sitting rather unnaturally now.

Sigh. I give up and return to my slouch, accepting of my physical state.

The map from Erron resembles something a pirate might hide in her satchel. I’m rusty, but Bexley the First knew how to read the scrolling text found across the parchment.

“FifenwysE. AlabastrA. ElociN?”

The first and last letters are capitalized, which means that these are place names. Not that I’ve ever heard of any of them.

“Alaska?” I call to the exercising girl. “Ever heard of FifenwysE?”

“Mmmm, nope!” she jaunts over, hairline moist.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

No use, she’s already at my side, wiping her brow. “It’s in the eldertongue,” she says, leaning over me. “I can scarcely read it, can you?”

I move the map out of the way just in time as a falling drip of perspiration leaves Alaska’s chin.

Narsty. Though I have to admire a girl that can milk out such a sizeable droplet of secretion.

“They’re place names,” I say, repeating them to her aloud. “But I’ve never heard of them. Or, at least if I have, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, I know that our coterie used to be called Tower of Cin, like way long ago. Could that be ElociN?” She points to the bottom of the map.

“If it is, that would make my coterie over here.” I sound out the lines of scroll. “Craw-dorF. CrawdorF? Kind of an ungainly name, don’t you think?” I look at it again, squinting—after all, squinting is scientifically proven to make you smarter. Turns out, I’ve read the last loop incorrectly. “Never mind. It’s Craw-dorN. Slightly better. And that would put us, about here.” I point to the smudge. “What-da-ya-know—the smudge is us.”

“Smudge?” Alaska cocks her head. “May I?” She reaches for the map.

“As long as you don’t get it all wet,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

Alaska takes a minute, squinting to utilize the full spectrum of her brain, until— “Ooo, that isn’t a smudge!” She brings her thumb to her earlobe and draws out a bit of lavender light, then presses her lit thumb against the not-smudge. The paper reacts by lighting where she touched and flaring outwards. As she removes her hand, veins of lavender originate at her thumbprint and crawl through the parchment, twisting and slithering until forming a symbol any lightborne would recognize:

“Yggdrasil,” we say in unison before the light fades, disappearing the freshly formed tree at the center of the map, leaving nothing but the sepia-hued terrain of Yggdress.

“It’s an imprint,” Alaska explains, excited. “Sometimes old books have them also.”

“I’ve heard of that! But I always thought they would be more obvious. Like a crest or something hidden at the corner of the page.” I hurry to light my thumb and copy the steps to bring about the symbol of the great tree—this time in lines of turquoise light.

“I suppose they could be something grand like a crest,” says Alaska, hand to hip. “But I always heard that the greater the secret, the more cunning the imprint.”

In that case, I might have to have another look at the silver and gold counterparts stowed in my backpack.

“Then this ‘secret’ is a good one?” I say.

“I’d reckon it’s the best one,” she says.

It seems we may have just discovered the location of a certain sacred tree in need of moving.

Boo-yah!

But before I can celebrate, Alaska takes my hands in hers, leaning into me with moist, determined eyes: “Mistress Wilted!”

“ACK!” I lean back. “I mean, y-yes?”

“It would be my honor to go and scout out the tree! Please, let me do this for you, as you stay and prepare to take on your true form!”

“Alaska, you don’t have to be all— I mean, I’m sure Kinley or I could—”

“No! I am no use to you here, for I am not learned in the way of dark arts. I can’t even read the sacred text. This voyage is the least I can do to avenge my brother’s fateful demise!”

I blink at her. ‘Demise.’ Good word choice.

On a more serious note—

All of that ‘revered duty’ talk was for real!?

I’ll admit it: at first I was a little intimidated by this fit, squishless newcomer. But now, for the first time since meeting her, I realize:

Alaska’s kind of a dork.

Luckily, I am fluent in the way of dorks.

I sit up straight and smooth the map in my lap. “And are you an experienced surveyor?”

“Oh.” Her face falls flat. “I can’t say that I am… But I’ve studied it quite a lot!”

Meh. Good enough.

“Then I entrust this undertaking to you.” I throw my hand out towards the wilderness. “Go forth and locate the tree, Alaska! But do not look upon its majesty, lest you may surely die!”

“Yes, Mistress!” She hops up and begins sprinting for the wood.

“No! I don’t mean right this second! Like, we should discuss it with the others, and probably send you off with a partner at least?”

“Of course!” She tries to cover it up by rounding the perimeter of the area and returning to her erratic workout, chucking her knees up to her chest with each jog forward.

She’s weird.

And that’s saying something coming from me.

Anyways, it seems like a decent enough plan. Two of our party—yes, we’re officially a party now—will voyage out in search of the tree, which will be tricky, as they say no one can lay eyes upon its branches and remain living.

Then again, ‘they’ say a lot of things, and Aiden claimed to have seen the withering roots firsthand.

With the tree’s location secure, we’ll be able to begin strategizing its removal. TBH, I’m not even sure on the magnitude of the tree. I always pictured it as some gigantic glittering beacon on the horizon, big as the sun.

Or it could also be your standard golden maple.

With two off scouting, the other two of us will remain and begin our dark endeavors. Like last time, we’ll want to be sure that I retain as much of my turquoise power as possible, in the hopes that I might be able to maintain command of my light even once becoming one with shadow. Without my light, I won’t be able to enter Yggdress in bodily form, and without my bodily form… let’s just say it would be bothersome to have to move the tree as a darkling.

Listen to me—I’m straight up tacticianing.

“Bow-chica-whaaat.”

“Are you ‘raising the roof’ right now?” Pidd groans from behind me. “What now?”

I swirl to see that he and Kinley have returned from their task. Kinley’s palms are stained lovely turquoise. He gives a wave before dipping them into the other side of the fountain. Meanwhile, the nugget dips them into the water beside me, creating turquoise ripples that spread before diluting.

“Pidd, you know what’s the difference between a clan and a party?” I say.

“Don’t care.”

“A party is a clan with a plan. And we, my dear nugget, have a plan.”

An hour later the party crouches around the enchanted map sprawled over the tower floor. Using the two known coteries as reference, we’ve determined the tree to be a mere five days’ journey into the forest.

“Alaska’s already volunteered to go—insisted on it, really.” I tell the males. “So which one of you’s going with her?”

“I can!”

As expected, Pidd offers himself to accompany her.

As isn’t expected, Pidd’s offer is cut short by Kinley.

And no, he isn’t volunteering himself.

He bursts to his feet, blurting: “Shh!”

Anyone popping up in that manner is enough to alarm the rest of us. But Kinley’s stress has this way of turning paroxysmal. He’s the sort to bottle up all of his energy and let it go all spurting out at once.

The release of his energy is always chaotic. And thus I always called him my darling spaz.

It seems out of place to call him that now, though.

“Bexley!”

Right, this is no time to get reminiscent.

“We need to leave, NOW.” Frantic, Kinley takes my wrist and yanks me into standing, at the same time cramming the map into his front pocket.

“Kinley? What’s—”

“NOW!” he barks to Pidd and Alaska, and then to me: “The barrier. It’s been breached.”

“Already?!” I gasp. “I mean, I expected them to find us eventually, but come on, it’s been like, a day!”

He drums his fingers against the air. “Feels like rose. Two or three of them.”

I tear at my ever-knotting hair. “Mother-flipping-flapping-argh! Thanks a lot for the haven, Erron!”

Alaska’s hands are full of bedding and personal wares. “I agree we should run,” she says. “But I think we should fight first, don’t you? It’ll give us a better chance of getting away if they can’t follow us.”

Turns out we won’t have a choice. No sooner has she said the words than a pair of familiar faces sprint into the clearing, fingers drawn.

Alaska drops her pile of things and springs in front of me like a knight. Though she really doesn’t need to do that.

“They sent YOU?” I step out from behind her, more than ready to take on my arch-nemesis. “Reeeeally? They think a slimly little salamander like you is fit to take on the Wilted and her sentinels?”

Nekt and one of his usual lackeys have just walked into the wrong arena. Oh, this is rich. Like Kinley, I’ve got my own sort of bottled up energy just waiting to expel on someone. Even better if it’s someone I loath entirely. I have a mind to tackle him, but Kinley won’t allow it. He pulls an Alaska and springs to the front of the party.

“Rather a salamander than a turkey. And look, you’ve found a flock.”

This guy really is the worst of the worst. He just bothers me! As if all of the rage I’ve ever suppressed over any childhood tantrum has been filtered into a bullet that comes blasting out whenever I see him sneer. I hate everything about him, but most of all the way he sneers.

“Guys, I think I might actually want to kill this one,” I tell the others.

Pidd has experienced the bane that is Nekt and is in full agreement. “Ugh,” he groans. “This dude again? I’m with Bex on this one.” He pushes up his sleeves.

First to act, though, is Kinley. There’s this thing he does. I didn’t remember it before, but now that I’ve got my wits again, I remember him doing it our early days together during darkling hunts. He sort of flicks his wrists in a way that sends a set of curved blades of light straight out from him; at the last minute, though, the second blade detours from its partner, swooping around the backside for a surprise attack.

Down, Nekt’s lackey goes.

Pssht, red shirt.

With the lackey thoroughly dazed, it’s become a four-on-one kind of deal, which usually wouldn’t be fair. If the target is Nekt, though, I’m cool with it.

My turn.

I begin conjuring one sweet spell of light to plow at the cad, only there’s something I haven’t accounted for.

Kinley had said he sensed two or three roses crossing the barrier.

From behind, a lash of rose knocks the wind from me and along with it, the light.

Unfortunately, our party is too newly formed to know the instincts of its other members. Ideally, at least one of us would keep our attention on Nekt. In this instance, however, we all turn to set sight on the newcomer.

“LaMar!”

I call her name, but it’s lost because my breath hasn’t recovered from her attack. She looks the same as last time I saw her—chest apparent, bangles stacked, curled hair tipped in pink—but now I have new understanding for the girl who feigned a friendship with me.

I wonder—was it all to keep me from taking Jobel’s spot as a coterie leader? Or does she truly believe in Ellie’s cause as the Wielder?

Something tells me I won’t find out today. She sends out a similar lashing at Kinley, which he dodges, while Nekt focuses on Pidd, whom he deems the weakest target. He isn’t wrong. Luckily, this leaves Alaska free to act on her own.

If there was any question to the girl’s loyalty, there won’t be after today. Those dorky moves she practiced earlier about the coterie look much more impressive in battle. She hops this way and that, balancing light to distract the attackers from her true intent—and she does this all while resembling a live-action role-player—kind of dramatically into it. There was a group of them in the park near Kinley’s apartment. We used to go and watch their LARP-offs while sipping sweet, sweet bubble tea—taro, being the best flavor by far.

But Alaska has earned the right to be dramatic. She entwines Nekt in a vine of lavender light before focusing her attention on LaMar. It’s a good thing too. I’m still reeling on the ground—useless—while Kinley takes the brunt of LaMar’s aggression. She wears an expression of rage maybe similar to the one I wore earlier against Nekt.

Does she hate us that badly?

Bexley the Second aches over it.

Quiet. We’re fine. She’s never been a fan of us and we know that now.

When this is all over, I may need to address the mess inside. For now, it goes in a drawer. This particular drawer has a lock and a key. It’s one of those gaudy iron padlock sorts, too. Click.

By now, I’ve regained enough of my breath to function, but LaMar doesn’t know it. I remain on the ground, clutching my stomach, and secretly amass a glow in my fist. Stealth-mode, go!

Whoosh!

The blast sweeps through LaMar, making her backpedal enough for Kinley to gain the upper hand. Kinley performs another of his double-slash techniques, but LaMar anticipates it and forms a shield of rose in front of her to block it. Meanwhile, Alaska has sufficiently downed Nekt.

I want the final blast, though.

“HI-YAH!”

With all my regained strength, I leap into the air and send a wave of blue at the salamander.

One millisecond beforehand, Pidd’s wimpy version cuts in front of mine and pushes the final zing through the surly teenager’s chest. Nekt falls beside his lackey.

“Damn it, Pidd! I wanted that one.”

“Are you seriously mad that I just defeated one of our enemies?”

“Well, to be fair, Alaska did the majority of the work. You merely flicked the final domino.”

Pidd glowers. “Never good enough, Bex. Never good enough.”

But there isn’t time to continue this now. LaMar is still on her feet, giving Kinley a run for his money. Again, the tides have turned to a four-on-one battle. This foe is more fearsome than the last, though.

“LaMar!” I dash behind a fallen piece of statue for cover. “You’re smarter than this! You’ve read the golden book, right? I gave it to you during one of my last memory lapses. So you’ve read at least a portion of the truth! Darklings are NOT the enemy. We are NOT the enemy. And do you really think I’d want a position as a coterie leader? Jobel can have it, for all I care. Not like I’d want to go back to the coterie after a third of it turned on me anyway!”

I wait for a response, and when a response comes, it sounds like LaMar, feels like LaMar, but… “I fight for the light.” The words aren’t very LaMar-like.

Rather, they’re Sesha-like.

Sesha is an amber lightborne, joined to the rose cause by her beliefs, but LaMar…

For the first time in a long time, I get a good look at my frenemey. Her eyes are as bored as a front desk clerk working overtime at a dead-end motel. The rest of ours are ignited, passion-filled, and focused. I’ve seen this girl more interested in a manicure than she appears in this battle.

“LaMar?”

But a sizzle of rose light cuts it too close. I roll back behind my protective statue, while Kinley and Alaska retaliate. Pidd is nowhere to be seen, probably cowering somewhere in the nearby woods.

LaMar fends off each of their advances, and from the corner of my eye I notice Nekt’s lackey begin to stir. Not so fast, mister. I send a disorienting bout of turquoise through the center of his forehead before returning my attention to LaMar.

“Hey! Are you YOU right now? I mean, I know you don’t exactly love me, but this all feels a bit extreme for your tastes. You aren’t the mercenary type, I know that much at least.”

“Give up the bitch and I will let you live,” she responds—only it isn’t to me. It’s to Alaska. Maybe LaMar knows that Kinley won’t do it. Maybe Alaska, a stranger, is the one most likely to take up the offer.

But once again, Alaska proves her loyalty by pouncing out from cover and charging the well-endowed girl.

Unfortunately, Alaska has misjudged. LaMar has rooted her power at one point or another, and now it comes springing up from the grass like a fledgling tree, taking root and growing limbs all around Erron’s ward.

Kinley and I come out at the same time, ready to end this, though it isn’t our light that makes LaMar stop her attacks; it’s a light from above, strong and streamlined. I look up in time to see my absent ward make his grand appearance.

“Woohoo, Pidd!” I cheer for him as his toxic ray makes contact with the top of LaMar’s mane of hair.

Though his magick isn’t strong yet enough to be fatal, it is enough to knock LaMar senseless.

Guess I won’t get my answers today, but something about her doesn’t seem right. I know she was faking a great deal of our friendship. I’m no longer the naïve version I once was. Still…

I’m not exactly sure on her motives.

She’s smarter than me, and even I know Ellie’s side is the wrong one to be on. Not to mention—Jobel’s okay and all, but in my opinion there are better fish in the sea, so…

Then again, this could be Bexley the Second refusing to believe her friendship was a sham. I’ll put that version of myself to bed for now and turn on the resourceful parts. “Let’s get the hell out of here, guys!” It’s unsettling with three unconscious enemies lying about. It’s an unspoken agreement that we won’t kill them, though maybe we should.

Guess none of us have leveled up to the title of murderer quite yet.

While Pidd and Kinley dart around, gathering up whatever items they deem pertinent, I pull Alaska aside. I hash out something to her—too embarrassing to repeat, but it goes along the lines of:

“I’ll admit I didn’t entirely trust you at first, and you’re a bit intimidating at first glance, even for a chick as solid as me, but… you’re all right, I’m glad you joined our clan, and… thank you for your loyalty.”

The whole thing goes down a tad more sappily than that, but I can’t stomach repeating it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a true female friend.

7

Darkspawn

See? That’s why it’s pointless to make plans. The best of us are the ones that just sort of wing it. It goes without saying—we four are sticking together from here on out. Had it been only two of us at the fortress, we might not have fared so well, badass though we may be.

We give up running after our stamina gives out, safely out of earshot of any of our fallen enemies. This part of the forest is different than any I’ve explored before. Enormous flower-adorned vines—similar to mortal realm roses, wind up the bases of trees, choking their light. Unlike mortal world roses, these have petals the size of elephant ears and thorns big as knights’ lances. Given the size, these are easy enough to avoid. The only problem is that their points are sharpened so finely that the tips are invisible to the naked eye. The safest way is to stay a foot or so away from the visible point to avoid being impaled.

As we fight our way through the forest thorns, I look at the glimmering air in new light. Literally.

Erron’s chain remains in my pocket but the memory of it looms around my neck. Could it be that this twilight forest isn’t lit with the light of Yggdrasil at all, but from the light of a thousand fallen lightborne? The way Nocturne was flush with shadowy figures taking semi-shape, is this gleaming quality more morbid than mystical?

Pidd might be on the same page. I see him every now and then swat at his skin like swatting a fly or a spider.

Of course it could be because I’ve been poking him all afternoon with a long stem of fluffy grass I pulled from the ground.

Details.

“How do you think they found us so fast?” the minion asks, mid-swat.

Kinley leads the way, forming a path around the deadly thorns. “Yggdress is fairly small when you compare it to the mortal world,” he explains, “geographically speaking.”

“But time can move a little strangely here,” adds Alaska, next in line behind Kinley. “It isn’t constant like in the mortal realm.”

“Meaning?” says Pidd.

Oh, have I not told him this before? Well! I never claimed to be a great teacher, or anything.

On second thought, I probably have claimed just that. I drop the stem of grass—maybe out of guilt.

“A minute is always a minute in the mortal world,” says Alaska. “Sure, time can feel like it moves slower when you’re doing something you don’t want to do there, but a minute is still a minute. It’s different here. A minute can move faster or slower relative to a minute in the mortal realm, based on the pulse of light.”

“What it comes out to is that that group of roses could have been searching for us a long time,” Kinley finishes.

“That makes no sense,” says Pidd, flat.

“Or maybe it makes all the sense in the worlds,” I counter.

He folds his arms. “So when you say it’s a five-day trip to the tree’s location…”

“It could take an hour or it could take a month, mortal time,” I say.

“Well THAT’s helpful.”

Alaska rubs her cheek against her shoulder. “You get used to it. And the nice thing is we can always tell where we are, relative to our coteries. With that and the map, we should have a pretty good idea as to when we’re getting close.”

“You can tell where your coterie is from here?” says Pidd. “How?”

Yikes, another thing I neglected to mention. But this time it’s with good reason. I never really utilized the skill back when Aiden was around. Instead, I always just focused on his location.

Trying to do so now only leaves an empty feeling in my chest.

Alaska judges neither Pidd’s lack of knowledge nor my lack of mentorship. “Like this—” She brings her fingers to the base of her wrist, where her lightstream connects her to Erron—not that we can see it. “I focus, as if I were locating my waker, but then I go beyond him, to the very heart of our home.” She points to a line of trees. “That way.”

“Huh,” says Pidd, copying the motion, and then to me: “Well that might have been nice to know.”

I don’t respond because my voice might break if I do; I’ll come off like one of those weak damsels in black and white movies. I’m still tirelessly searching the universe for a hint of Aiden’s presence. The wrist that once connected me to him is gut wrenchingly bare. And when I focus on it the way I used to, the void is black and dark and bleak.

From the front of the pack, Kinley halts, Alaska halts, Pidd halts.

Distraction’s got me. I slam into Pidd from behind.

‘Watch it!’ is what I expect Pidd to say. Instead, though, he lowers his hood and twists to face me. The edges of his face are soft from the glimmers of Yggdress. His hair shimmers—though not like my late waker’s. Pidd’s is bright, but Aiden’s was brilliant.

“Are you doing okay? Do you need to sit down for a moment?” he says.

“Psh, no. I’m fine.”

“Bexley.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t mean this as an insult, but you look like shit.”

“Not an insult, eh?”

“That’s not what I…” He blows hot air through his nose. “Never mind.” Then, he flips up his hood and trots away to see what’s caused Alaska and Kinley to stop so suddenly.

Way to insult me and then go run off.

But as I go to join the others, I notice him watching me from the corner of his hood, concerned.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

“What did you fine? I mean find. What did you find?” I ask the others, bottling it away.

“Stay back!” Kinley warns. “It isn’t supposed to be here.”

Alaska’s blunt hair remains straight and perfect despite hours of trudging through the timberland. She kneels over whatever it is, chin in hand. And then—“Is this an indication of Yggdrasil’s dying roots?!”

Their alarm is understandable. Soiling the pristine light of the forest is a pool of tarlike darkness, no smaller than your run-of-the-mill rain puddle.

“How did that get here!? Is that the only one?!”

“Seems to be,” says Kinley. Likewise, Alaska begins acrobatting around the area in search of more, coming up dry.

The pool is sleek and stagnant, appears liquid yet holds no shine. Above the pool, scarlet leaves continue to fall but alter course before reaching the puddle.

“Maybe it’s a portal,” says Pidd.

“If it were, we’d see darklings trying to emerge,” says Kinley.

“Only sullens can enter Yggdress, though, right?” says Pidd.

“Yes, but if this were a portal to Nocturne, it would be bubbling with darklings trying to make it through,” I say. “They’d sizzle up immediately after getting here, but we’d at least see them trying.”

“A portal to the mortal land, then,” suggests Pidd.

I shake my head. “Point is, darkness like this shouldn’t be able to exist here, period. The only thing close to it is if a sullen enters Yggdress—like when Kinley did—but even then it would just be a shadow. This is different. It’s got substance.”

Kinley rolls up his sleeves. “Whatever it is, we should seal it away.”

“Agreed.”

Together, he and I lay a heavy stream of turquoise light into the puddle of black. Only, instead of recessing, the puddle swells.

“W-what?!” I hop away from the edges that flatten wider and consume more of the forest floor.

“I don’t intend to be colorist, but maybe it’s because of your lineage?” Alaska speaks up.

Because, as the only bloodline able to turn sullen, we turquoise have always had a tie to the darkness.

Sure enough, one blast of her lavender forces the puddle to recoil. With a determined nod, Alaska sets about shrinking the pool until it’s downsized to a coin’s diameter. Meanwhile, the rest of us sit on the sidelines. Pidd looks to be mulling something around in that thick skull of his. Likewise, Kinley is silent.

Wonder if they’re doing the same thing I am. Namely, questioning all existence and reassessing their own self-worth.

If this story were told from Sesha’s point of view, we would be the antagonists, popping up from time-to-time, hellbent on destroying the worlds. And it isn’t just Sesha. A majority of the lightborne would share in her story. To most of them, we are the wicked ones.

Not to all of them, though.

“The power of the turquoise continues to astound!” says Alaska, putting a purple barrier around the last bit of darkness that refuses to die. “This pollution is pure dark, and I am pure light. But you all? You’re intermediaries. The only ones capable of setting the worlds right.” Her smile downright shines with reverence.

Inside me, something wells. I’m a shaken champagne bottle.

“Oh god.” Pidd rubs his face. “What’s going on? Her eyes are getting all sparkly.”

There’s a chance what we’re doing is wrong.

Moving the tree is not only an act of sacrifice; it is also an act of faith. Faith that Aiden and Erron are right. Faith that the silver and golden books are true. Faith that Bexley the First reached an appropriate conclusion—that moving the tree is the only way to save it.

‘I know that you are the true savior of light… Use me, Mistress Wilted. I am your servant!’

Luckily, Alaska’s got enough faith for the both of us. And I’ve had enough moping for at least another twelve hours.

“Got that right, Al! Hear that, mo-fos? We’re intermediaries!” I fling an arm around wise sage, Alaska. “And this here’s our emissary.”

Alaska gleams like a child with a good grade.

“Careful, Alaska,” says Pidd. “I can see Bexley’s head swelling from here.”

“Naw, that’s just my wang-twang!” I wiggle the bun at the top of my head to show off its majesty. With my arm still around Alaska, I usher her forward. “If you ever decide to grow your hair out, I’ll teach you the ancient art of the wang-twang. Its power has made armies fall and men swoon.”

“What men?” Pidd scoffs from behind.

I turn to give him a nasty face, instead locking eyes with Kinley.

It’s a trap.

He looks at me the way he did the first time we met. The first time I realized there were others like me. That party was crowded, but when his eyes found me they kept me, even as he talked with someone else. Not in a leering or creeping way. It wasn’t overtly seductive, either. It was unadulterated, unabashed interest. To be looked at that way melts a person, turning their feet into wax that liquefies and then molds them in place.

I was too stubborn to look away. And lost in that frozen moment in time, a thousand possibilities crossed my mind.

He looks at me the same way now, as if to testify that he’s proof of the wang-twang’s power. Two-thirds of me loves it, feeling a topsy-turvy flutter deep in my stomach. The last third is reluctant. I need to make my mind up about him soon. It isn’t fair to him.

The Bexleys are at odds.

Alaska saves me from the emerald mischief that is Kinley’s gaze. “Something’s strange to me, Mistress,” she says.

“Hm?”

“Your light destroys darklings, yes?” she says.

I nod, pushing those brimming emeralds from my mind.

“And yet your light appeared to fuel that darkspawn,” she says.

“Oh, you’re right. If they were both bred of the dark, why does my light harm one and fuel the other?”

“The composition of the two must be different.” Alaska taps her mouth. “I suppose it’s a mystery for now.”

“Ahh, Alaska! They’re mounting!”

She stiffens, on guard, looking around. “What are?”

“The mysteries!”

“What did I tell you,” Pidd groans. “Now she’ll never calm down.”

“Ah yes, looks like Pidd’s getting jealous of our time together. Sorry, Alaska. Duty calls.” The party takes up their earlier formation, Kinley at the head, Pidd and I at the rear. I drag my feet along the leafy ground, making delightful crunching noises. There’s this thing in the mortal world called ASMR—autonomous sensory something-or-other—where certain satisfying noises give a person tingles.

I’m pretty sure I have it. The distant chiming, the scuttling leaves… I feel like I’m hovering outside of my body just a moment.

Again, I notice Pidd watching me from the corner of his hood, wearing that concern so unbecoming on him. After ten minutes, I can’t stand it any longer.

“Pidd.”

“Bexley?”

“I have to tell you something.”

I’m not fine. I tell him so.

8

The Haunting

“Bexley?”

Ignore.

“Bexley!”

Ignore.

It was a moment of weakness when I spoke those words to the nugget. I regret it now, even hours later as we ready for the night in house we ‘borrowed’ on the mortal side of the universe.

The saltbox-style house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac of similar houses. The long wooden siding has been painted intentionally to look worn—a sad yet lovely slate color. After the incident at the arena, we decided it best to spend our nights out of the forest, counting there less a chance of being discovered here. Plus, it’s always easier to sleep when it’s dark.

We chose this house because the lights were dim and the doors were locked, but more promising was the mailbox, full of a week’s mail. The owners are probably on a beach somewhere warm, unaware of their hospitality. Unaware that the lake in their backyard is linked to a rivulet in the land of light.

Like I mentioned—we’ve become burglars in the noblest sense of the word. It’s pretty easy when you can bend your light into a lock and make it click.

The interior of our borrowed bungalow is filled with chic country furniture, and is much cleaner than my own bedroom back at the coterie. Especially considering they’ve probably turned it into a junk room by now.

The kitchen is open and stocked with snacks. I didn’t realize how much of a grazer Pidd is. He doesn’t need food to survive, but that hasn’t stopped him from returning to the fridge every four minutes, like he expects the offerings therein to change.

He seems especially fond of cheese. Lucky for him, so are the owners.

“We were right!” Alaska holds a calendar above her head proudly, the current week crossed through with: Visiting Mom and Dad—Kentucky.

“Who picks Kentucky for a vacation?” says Pidd. “It doesn’t sound like a very appealing place. Is there even a beach there?”

Unfortunately, none of us know enough about the earthly tier to be any good with geography.

Pidd fumbles with the wax around a chub of mozzarella before peeling it like an egg. Meanwhile, Kinley’s over at a small aquarium, lighting the water blue and making the fish glow. I take the moment of distraction to tiptoe away.

I’m not fine.

I don’t know what I expected when I stupidly said those words.

To make matters worse, I couldn’t bring myself to provide any follow-up; and so Pidd’s been wonky ever since. Twice, I’ve tried to muster the courage to talk about it, and twice, the words have gotten choked up in my throat. I chose him, I think, because I didn’t expect him to care—not the way Kinley or even newcomer Alaska would. I told him because I needed to tell someone without consequence. To release it from the knots it was causing in my stomach.

But I didn’t expect him to look at me like that after.

I didn’t expect his eyes to change.

“Ahhh.” The upstairs carpet is squishy. My feet sink in and leave prints across the vacuum tracks. We are strangers here. It’s a peculiar, hollow feeling, but it isn’t guilt. I’m not guilty the way a ghost isn’t guilty. We aren’t really part of this world.

We aren’t really here.

Snooping is fully on the table.

I don’t know what it is, but I’ve always loved checking out other people’s bathrooms. Closets are nice too, but bathrooms are especially fascinating. I travel through a hall of family portraits—a smiling mortal with her teenage daughter—leaving a trail of fading blue light along the pristine white carpet, to the master bathroom.

Jackpot! The lady of the house has an appreciation for scented candles and fancy soaps, complete with a crystal bowl containing oil-filled bath beads shaped like various animals. The shelf above the sink holds an array of colored bottles. I pick up a curvy one that looks as though it might be home to a genie, and give it a good hard sniff.

A mistake.

The bottle nearly shatters.

Though I catch it from falling.

That smell…

I believe it’s called ‘teakwood.’

I never really understood the meaning of the word crestfallen until now, as it spreads out before me on my reflection in the mirror. “Wah!” I blast the reflection with a bout of turquoise light that sinks in and bounds around the bathroom on the other side.

Clutching the bottle, I slink to the tiled ground and lean against the back of the bathroom door. Though I know it’s going to be painful, I take in a noseful, close my eyes and envision myself buried in silky hair, buried in the past.

“Aid—”

“Bexley?” comes Pidd’s muffled voice. “Are you okay in there?” He raps against the cherrywood door.

“Go away. I’m taking a glorious dump.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Oh, yes I am! I wouldn’t befoul my befoulment by lying about it. You can’t fabricate this amount of majesty.”

“Ugh. Disgusting.”

True, but it worked. I hear his feet pad away across the plush carpet. Then, I wipe my face on the fluffy hand towel and carefully return the genie bottle to its shelf—but not before dabbing a bit of the substance into the hood of my sweatshirt.

There. Now, whenever I put up my hood, I’ll catch a hint of my waker’s scent.

The mirror shows a tired looking person. I pull at my skin in an attempt to perk it up. No use. So I release my hair from its bundle.

Perfect, now I look like a lion and everyone will be too distracted to notice my puffy eyes. I shake it looser, wider.

I open the door—

“You didn’t flush the toilet or wash your hands.”

“Ack!”

I butt myself against the wall to get away from Pidd, who’s stretched out on a stranger’s bed. Sneaky little bastard’s been hovering out here?!

“Feel better?” He lies back and makes a snow angel motion, mussing the quilt.

Yes or no. I don’t know which to answer, so I simply say: “Roar.”

“Your hair is large.” He flicks his view over my face briefly and then hops up to meander around the room, passing his fingers over a paisley blouse folded on the dresser. “Kinley’s worried about you. He’s downstairs throwing a bunch of random food into a skillet. It looks… interesting.” He pauses in the corner of the room. “Why don’t you just tell him what you told me?”

I shuffle to the bed to restore it to its earlier pristine nature, mumbling an answer.

Pidd eyes me. “Huh?”

“I said it’s awkward, okay?”

Yikes. That was a definite blurt. I cover my mouth, but it’s too late.

“Awkward?” Pidd folds his arms. “Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“He was. Is. It’s hard to explain.”

So I escape from him, down the hall and into the daughter’s room. The space is opposite of the rest of the house. Delightful chaos. Paper cranes hang from the ceiling, bohemian sashes dangle from a metal rack in the corner, and the walls are decorated with bright glass mosaics. I run my fingers over the raised design of a swan.

This carpet is too soft. Too quiet.

I barely hear that Pidd’s followed me in. He finds his way to bedside table, where sits a camera. He picks it up and immediately begins adjusting the lens and pointing it towards a hookah on the bookshelf. I jump in front of the lens. “CHEEEESE!”

Pidd clicks the shutter out of surprise. Best delete that one or the resident of this room will have many unanswered questions. I don’t need to tell him that. He’s already busy disposing of what was most certainly a fantastic shot. “I’m taking this outside tonight to take pictures of stars,” says Pidd, fiddling with the settings.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

He pulls the camera to his chest territorially. “But I’ll delete the pictures afterwards!”

Oh yeah, that was the mortal him’s obsession.

“Fine. As long as you delete them all.” I turn to slink away. Lo, I am caught by a dastardly foe.

“Not so fast, Bexley.” Pidd takes my sleeve and yanks me back into the room. “You do realize, that if anyone’s awkward, it’s you, right?”

Of course I know that. He stares at me expectantly. I didn’t notice before, but his face is all tired and sunken too.

“What if we were to run into one of your old girlfriends?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. And I turn away before I can witness his expression. “Even if you could remember her, you aren’t the same now that you were before, right? She’d call you by your mortal name and it would feel foreign and familiar at the same time. Your lightborne side and your mortal side have different pasts, memories, feelings. They’re both still inside of your body, but unless one of them took control, you’d be all out of whack with your bad self.”

“With my bad self? Oh dear gawd, Bexley.”

“For me it’s worse,” I tell him. “I have several different existences all smooshed into one.”

“It’s not the same for Kinley,” says Pidd. “That dude flipping adores you. Don’t ask me why.”

Psh. Adores?

I know.

“W-what are you doing?” In a matter of milliseconds, Pidd’s face turns a tomato-ey hue. “Don’t cry!”

“I’m not crying! Stupid!” I fling my hair back into its shape and flee away from him, down the hall, and down the stairs.

I’ve lost too much face. Now it’ll be damn near impossible to assert my dominance as his waker. I am not some feeble, wimpy weakling. And I do NOT cry in front of boys. To make matters worse, the bottom of the stairs comes faster than expected. For the second time in 24 hours, I slam into a wall.

I balance myself with the fish tank still glimmering teal.

Alaska comes running out from the kitchen, now changed into a pair of pajamas covered in large-eyed cartoon girls, and a singular word spread across her gray t-shirt. “What’s an Otaku?” I say.

“Mistress!” She doesn’t bother to answer me, instead inspecting me for injury. Close behind is Kinley sporting an apron.

“Cute!” Bexley the First blurts, to Pidd’s confusion.

See, I told you, Pidd. I’m a mess in here.

I stand and attempt to recover from the wall’s attack. “Are you making one of your masterpieces, Kindler?” Indeed, a strange smell billows from the kitchen. It doesn’t smell great, but it’s a welcome mask for the hints of teakwood lingering in my nostrils. I turn to the others: “Kinley likes to… experiment with food.” Though he’s never quite perfected his technique the way the Café on Grand has. “You’re in luck, Kinley. Pidd was just telling me how much he wanted to try whatever it is you’re making.”

“Did I say that?”

><

Twenty minutes later, we sit around the table, ominous bowls of Kinley’s ‘porridge’ before us. I poke the goop with my spoon. Seems to consist of corn. And beets?

He and I used to order takeout. A lot.

Alaska is explaining a long list of things I neglected to tell my minion previously, about creating portals, mostly.

“Here’s a tidbit for you, Piddbit,” I say, when Alaska recesses to taste the… stew?

“Oh boy,” responds Pidd.

“I’m serious, this is important!” I pause for the sake of building suspense. “Ever find it weird that more people haven’t stumbled upon the great tree? Like, if Yggdress isn’t all that large, why is the location of the tree such a mystery?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess it’s strange,” he says.

“The secret is intention.”

Pidd wrinkles his forehead.

“As in, there are places in this realm that can only be reached with intention.”

“What she means,” says Kinley, “is that the light bends. And in Yggdress, it can bend the very space around it to its will. So there are places in the lighted tier that won’t ever be reached, even if you were to pass right over them. You can’t stumble upon things there the way you can here, in the mortal world.”

Alaska slams her hands down on the table, making the rest of us jump. “Kinley!”

“Alaska?” says Kinley.

“De—”

“De?” says Kinley.

“Delicious!”

Enough so to dishevel her bangs, apparently.

“This stuff?” Pidd pokes his bowl with the backside of his spoon. “Seriously?”

With mouth full, Alaska nods. “But as to your discussion,” she adds, “luckily, my waker left the tree’s location in the hands of Mistress Wilted. So now we can travel there with intention.”

Pidd frowns. “Wait, are you saying that back there, those rose-colored guys knew of the building we were staying at—otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to just come across it with luck?”

“Pretty much,” says Kinley.

“And I assure you my waker never would have led us there, had he known,” says Alaska, finishing her bowl. She is the first and only one to do so. Mine’s conveniently disappeared under the table.

“Arrrgh!” Pidd tousles his hair. “That place! It’s like a funhouse or something! Was it designed intentionally to be confusing as hell?”

“Heh.” Kinley adjusts his glasses. “Are you sure you’re ready for that theological discussion? Because I’m game if you are.”

“Trust me,” I say behind my hand to Pidd. “You don’t want to get him started.”

Pidd sinks into his chair. “Yeah, I’m good. Got enough to chew on for the time being.”

I motion to his bowl of slop. “Sure do.”

He grits his teeth at me.

I change gears. “Technically I’m supposed to be the one training you on all of this stuff, so let me know if you have questions,” I tell him.

“Wow.” His expression relaxes. “That’s surprisingly normal of you, Bexley… Nope, never mind. You’ve ruined it.”

Whoops, I must have been making a face whilst envisioning a crowd cheering for my normalcy.

Alaska wipes her mouth on her wrist and stands to wash her bowl. “While we’re all together, we should discuss the sleeping arrangements,” she says.

Pidd leans in, suddenly very interested. Yes, Pidd. She’s cute, as we’ve already discussed. Well, in my mind, anyway.

“The run-in with those roses was concerning,” continues Alaska. “Perhaps we ought to rethink our strategy. From now on, we’ll have to sleep in turns so that someone can always keep watch.”

“Everyone but Bexley,” says Kinley. “She’ll need all of her strength for when we start her transition. I’m beginning to think the mortal realm might be the best place for us at the moment. Maybe we spend our afternoons in Yggdress making way for the tree, and the nights in the mortal tier, working on her transformation. I’ll begin looking for a fissure into Nocturne tomorrow so that we can start extracting the darkness.”

“I’m in agreement with that plan,” says Alaska.

They lost me at ‘transition.’

Darkness. Soft and silky.

I wonder what it will feel like coursing through my veins.

“Kindler, can I talk to you a bit? Alone.”

9

Bexley’s Choice

The horizon over the pond is a canvas of stars. This is one of the best things about the mortal world, unarguably. Those dazzling balls of light, so distant in the sky. Aiden told me once that he put them there for me. He even proved his point by hurtling a helping of his own light far into the night.

I do the same now.

Wonder what a mortal would think if they saw a brilliant blue star. Almost immediately, their mind would blur the memory away. But for at least a sliver of time, they’d see it and know there was something out there unexplainable by mortal means.

A second ball of light moves into place beside mine. For a split second—

Amber?!

Nope, just a passing plane.

Since we’re on the subject—I find it funny that the mortals are able to digest something like that, and yet have no mind for magick. I wouldn’t trust it. No part of a giant, clunky contraption speeding through the air makes sense to me. Sure, let’s all go sit in this levitating bird thing, pushed into the air by science, and hope it doesn’t fall.

Science. Mortals trust in the most intangible things. Magick is much more concrete a power. Touchable, seeable, palpable. Then again, mortals have always been stunted creatures.

The back door to the saltbox has a hinge that is weathered and rusty. It lets me know when I’m no longer alone with a creeeeek too high-pitched for pleasantries.

“If you’re going to interrupt, you might as well be polite about it,” I scold the hinge.

Kinley enters the lawn, exuding a wicked smile, uncaring of the discourteous noise he’s just caused. “What can I do for you, Mistress Wilted?”

Ah, that’s why he’s simpering.

“Caught that, did you?” I say. Yes and apparently he’s been waiting to use it outside of Alaska’s earshot all day. “Hey, she’s your weird friend.”

“Not sure you have the right to judge anyone’s level of weirdness, B.”

Tit for tat.

“Sigh. I guess it’s just nice for someone to finally acknowledge my expert level in the art of awesomeness. I’ve practiced long and hard, you know.”

“It loses all effect when you way the word ‘sigh,’” says Kinley. He pops his hands into his pockets and stares up to the nighted sky. “Is that…?” He squints. “I see you’ve left your mark, Bexley.”

“It’ll fade soon,” I say.

He does the same, conjuring light to match mine, only in his case it rockets through the air like a comet, tail and all.

That reminds me. Now that it’s night again, I wanted to try out Erron’s pendant.

…

Nada. Which means the wisps are unique to Yggdress, appearing only at nighttime when the tree’s weeping is at peak. The night air is cool and in motion. Pretty active tonight, pushing through the grass and trees, and rippling the lake.

Wind is an unfortunate soul, for she bears an unfortunate fate. She loves to dance; yet is unseen, so she must force others to dance in her place. Kinley’s rusting hair is a testament. He takes a stonewashed beanie from his pocket and presses his misbehaving hair under it.

…

…

…

“Hey.” He speaks out of nowhere. “It won’t hurt or anything.”

“Huh?”

“Letting the darkness in. That’s what you’ve been fixated on, right?”

I frown at him, suspiciously. These turquoise men and their ability to read minds! There’s no room left for the element of surprise. Maybe I wanted to be dramatic about it. Maybe I wanted to sigh ten more times a la ‘woe-is-me.’ Ruined.

“Got me. So go on then. What does it feel like?” I ask, rubbing the bumps on my arms pricked up by the wind’s ballet. “Is it cold?”

“Not cold or hot,” he answers, taking his time. “But you know when something is so hot that it feels cold? It’s kind of like that. I don’t think there’s really a word for it. It isn’t a bad feeling, though.”

So he says, but I remember when we turned him sullen. It didn’t look… fun. Of course, that time wasn’t exactly intentional.

Maybe it’s because of what happened earlier in the bathroom, or maybe it’s because I’m the only one that knows the truth of what it means to move the tree, but—

I feel alone.

“Is this okay?” A warm arm in a cozy sweatshirt settles around my shoulder, shielding just a little of Lady Wind.

“Y-yeah,” I say. “Feels nice.”

Something about being held by a person taller than you wearing a sweatshirt is magical. Maybe not magickal, but definitely magical.

We stand that way awhile. The world is quiet. This neighborhood doesn’t get much action after 11PM. I notice the way my chest rises, aware of it when it falls. Kinley’s free hand settles in the pocket of his hoodie. I feel his weight shift.

And then he does that signature gesture that stops time—the one that’s too innocent for its own good. The one that can be taken as an accident or as an invitation, depending on the recipient.

Whether intentional or second nature, Kinley moves his thumb along my shoulder in a way too obvious to ignore.

My stomach drops girlishly as I shiver. I lean into him a snippet further because it feels comfortable. Kinley accepts the motion and pulls me closer.

“It’s going to be fine,” he muses. “I was fine when it happened to me, and you’re the one built for it, right? So for you it might even be natural.”

That’s true. But I can’t bring myself to answer. Not right now. I feel his body through his clothes.

He’s always been somewhat of a sexy librarian type—one that all the schoolgirls would have had a crush on. Especially the quiet, nerdy ones. Maybe part of the appeal is that calm persona. There’s something enigmatic about it—like it might turn dark in an instant. Like he’s waiting to let you in on some seductive little secret or to pounce on you and crawl up you, all the while looking over the top of his glasses at you.

The lean, athletic frame of an outside kid, coupled with the mind of an inside kid. Hashtag blessed.

Meanwhile, I’ve got the body of an inside kid and the mind of a senile old lady.

“Bexley.”

“Hm?”

Kinley doesn’t go on, and when I look up at him, I recognize that something is wrong. His head is downturned, his expression dark. He releases his grip on me just enough to be noticeable.

“Kinley?”

His emerald eyes are dull in the darkness. “This is extremely difficult for me.”

The moment is lost. I stiffen up and he drops his arm. And for the first time all night, the wind is still. Seems she wants a good view of our awkwardness. Awkward is an understatement, as we stand side-by-side each other. Meanwhile, I suffer an uncomfortable feeling in my throat. Like a strawberry’s wedged in there.

“I understand you, okay,” he continues to me, while not really looking at me. “What you were saying back at the arena makes sense. I’m not going to pressure you or force you. And I can’t pretend not to notice you’ve changed.” He swallows. “Not to mention, I know you’re grieving over Aiden, and I can’t begin to image what losing your waker feels like, but…” He turns to me and boldly takes my cheek in his palm. “I still have feelings for you, B. I miss what we had. And these are the moments that kill me.”

A wave of memories washes over me.

‘It’s you and me, remember? Even if the world burns, it will always be you and me.’

Inside, Bexley the First fights to tell him she has feelings for him, too.

But wouldn’t saying ‘fifty percent of me crushes on you’ be worse than not saying it at all?

“I…”

We stand in the shadowy night, inches apart but a mile between us.

“I…”

It takes three tries before I manage to finish the sentence, and when I do, even I’m surprised by what comes out:

“I’m a fraud.”

Kinley is equally startled. He folds his arms into himself. “What does that mean?”

I’m working it out myself.

It isn’t that I can’t like him back.

No, I expect that would be easy.

It’s that I’m choosing not to.

All along, I’ve been compartmentalizing things, stuffing the messiest things in drawers. My guilt over Aiden. My lost love for Kinley. The secret sacrifice.

And those drawers are still sitting there, waiting to be opened. If I were to open the one holding my feelings for Kinley, like I did back when I attacked him in that bathtub, I know that I could become myself again. My true self, the first self. But if I’m going to die at the end of this…

“I’m sorry, Kinley. I won’t put you in this situation again.” The drawers need to stay closed. To make it easier on everyone.

Kinley’s face morphs. There it is again—crestfallen.

Am I evil?

Have I become evil?

“Ahh!” I snatch the bottom of his sweatshirt to keep him from leaving, which he was just about to attempt.

He doesn’t look back at me. “You should never be with someone out of guilt or pity, Bexley. I understand. And I will try to respect it.” After a delay he looks back, forcing a smirk, defeated though it may be: “For now.”

It’s the smirk’s fault.

My psyche has been fragilely held together for weeks; the smirk is what shatters it.

‘What the fudge are you doing?’ Bexley the First says in my head. ‘Don’t let him leave! Arrgh. You had better not screw this up for us, betchhh.’

‘Let him go,’ argues Bexley the Third. ‘Pidd could come out here at any moment. He said he was going to photograph the stars.’

‘Why do we care?’ Bexley the First asks.

‘Because…’ Bexley the Second speaks up quietly. ‘We kinda like him too… don’t we?’

Like… Pidd? Do we?

Do I?

‘Are you kidding me? That peon?!’ Bexley the First won’t stand for it.

“Kindler!” she yanks—I yank—Kinley into my arms, nestling my face into his chest and squeezing around his middle. “I do still have feelings for you.”

…I’m just having a hard time wading through them right now.

‘Selfish.’

‘Shut up.’

Kinley stands there a moment, arms hanging at his sides, as the wind grows bored of our tragedy and begins to act up again.

‘Tell him the truth.’

‘I can’t. Not yet.’

Kinley takes my waist, pulling me against the faded denim of his jeans. He bends over me, taking my face into one hand. “Are you sure?” he asks. His expression is dark, gleaming, scheming. “There’s no going back.”

‘Profess now and it’ll just make it worse when we’re dead.’

I swallow. His face is inches away from mine, his grip on my waist demanding.

‘And… if you do this, we’ll never be able to taste Pidd again.’

Since when have I wanted to ‘taste’ Pidd? I’m not even sure that I like Pidd. The notion is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, come on. Me… and…

I’m getting distracted, and Kinley’s getting impatient. The wind carries the scent of him to me—a cologne he’s always worn, even now, on the run. His hand is strong on my cheek. It makes me feel daintier than I am. His eyes drill into me, darkly, in search of an answer.

I only now notice that the edges are beginning to be tainted in turquoise.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Are you…’

‘You…’

The other parts of me grow distant as Kinley’s face draws nearer. He looks down his dark lashes at my lips and a shiver zings through my body.

“You are one sexy mo-fo,” I breathe.

“That’s not enough.” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “I want it all. I want the right to defend you and to feel jealous over you. It’s all or nothing. Are you prepared to make that choice?”

‘You can’t promise all of us to him. It’s a lie.’

But he’s tangibly before me and we’re linked by the memories I’ve regained and the past we shared. His aura is a fearsome foe; lingering bits of darkness intermix with his turquoise and swirl around us invisibly. I open my mouth partway as he brings his lips to my neck.

Not playing fair! “Is the honorable and virtuous Kinley trying to sway my decision?” I breathe.

“I’m just a man, Bexley.”

I haven’t forgotten it. I grip the back of his sweatshirt.

He pulls back and seeks out my eyes in earnest. “I am serious, though. I don’t want you for just the night. I’ve been holding back, but once I let loose, there’s no going back. Not after…”

Turning sullen for me.

Waiting months for me in that bathroom.

Getting stabbed for me.

Bearing my fractured existence.

…Tolerating outbursts of Bexley the First’s affection.

“Don’t,” I say, taking a lock of hair protruding out the bottom of his stocking cap.

He stiffens. “Don’t?”

‘Don’t…’

“Don’t hold back,” I say in as sexy a voice as a squishy creature like myself can muster.

It might be uncouth for me to mention what happens next. Then again, I’ve never really believed in that ‘don’t kiss and tell’ stuff. Why wouldn’t I tell, when my insides spark with fireworks and my hair sets on fire and I feel like I’ll either go whizzing into the air or disintegrate into a puddle at my ward’s feet?

Kinley takes my mouth to his with all the pent up fervor of an entombed dragon. The drawer storing those feelings comes rattling open, bursting back at him with equaled fervor. I fight for him, his face in my hands, his hands in my hair.

Probably should’ve brushed it at some point this week.

Though the more recent Bexleys have little experience, the older parts of me awaken and remember how to do this—namely, how not to be awkward.

Really, that’s life’s greatest challenge: not being awkward.

I should write a book. After all, I excel when it comes to awkward.

But not right now.

No, now, I’m reliving the nights spent in my darling darkling’s arms, breathing in his shadow, pinning him down, ensnaring myself in his sheets.

Ahhh, I’m getting all flustered! I notice my cheeks burning up, and suddenly I feel very out of my league.

Slight hiccup:

I’ve just kissed his left nostril, which is a somewhat ungainly place to kiss.

I close my eyes and let my body take over again. Kinley’s so much better at this than I am. He kisses me with the right frequency, holds me with the right amount of force. He leads and my body knows how to respond.

There are so many nerdy library girls that would be jealous of me if they could see me right now.

Unfortunately, it’s someone else that happens to see.

I found him standing in a field, staring off at the heavens through the lens of a camera.

This time, the camera is around his neck and he’s staring at Kinley and me locked in a violent make-out sesh. My stomach falters. Why should I care that he sees? It’s Pidd. Besides, Alaska’s definitely more his type.

‘We made our choice.’

If there was any choice at all, it was between Kinley and no one. I was never between Kinley and Pidd, of all people… right?

There’s something odd about my first ward’s face, but I can’t pinpoint it. He watches us with mouth slightly ajar and that strange, furrowed expression. Whatever it is, it’s only there for a moment before:

“Geez, get a room you two.” He turns to trounce over into the neighbor’s backyard. “Classy, Bex. Real classy.”

“H-hey! Why is it only me that’s the unclassy one?! What about Kinley?!”

Speak of the devil, devilish Kinley takes my chin in his hand and scrutinizes me over.

“W-what?”

“Hm.” He frowns, looks over at Pidd’s silhouette and then back to me. “Just checking.” Then, he takes me in his arms. It feels more natural with each passing moment. “I’ve missed you.” His heart beats against me. “I’ve tried to be patient, but it’s been hell. Ever since that fucking bathtub.”

I snort in remembrance of his knees sticking up through the water as I mauled him. I take his hand and draw him onto the ground beside me. Truthfully, it’s to move out of Pidd’s line of sight. I wonder what his pictures will turn out like. I knew this was a hobby of his, but I’ve no clue as to whether or not he has any talent. Cross-legged, Kinley and I gaze at the sky, though the stars we made seem to have fizzled out somewhere between first base and second.

“You’re becoming more like you again,” he tells me, fingers interlocked in mine. “Little by little. At first you were like a completely different person. Innocent Bex.”

I pluck his hat from his head and attempt to pull it down over my hair, failing miserably. “You say that, but at the same time, it feels like a piece of me is dying.”

Dying.

Death.

Dead.

A—

“Sorry, does that make sense?” I divert.

Kinley doesn’t answer whether or not the death of my latest selves makes any sense, instead—“At the risk of sounding territorial, I’m going to say something territorial anyway. Fair?” I nod, and he leans back into the grass before continuing: “No flip-flopping, B. From here on, I’m considering you mine. If you want to be rid of me, you’ll need to end it. Really end it. And if you do, that will be the end of us forever, agreed?”

I hesitate. An agreement like this might be the closest we lightborne get to engagement proposals. Our people don’t practice the mortal act of marriage.

“I agree,” I speak with the stars as my witness, ignoring whatever compartmentalized drawers struggle to get loose:

Aiden’s drawer—closed.

Wilted’s drawer—closed.

LaMar’s drawer—closed.

My coterie’s drawer—closed.

Pidd’s drawer—though obstinate, I manage it closed. Why the hell is his being so stubborn?!

“Although,” I continue, “it would be considerably awko-taco if we do break up because I would still be your waker forever.” I tap my chin. “I suppose that’s why they frown upon wakers courting their wards.” I turn onto my side. “Ooooh, forbidden romance! Fear not, my ward. I shall train you in the ways of pleasing your mistress.”

He rolls over me, hands spread out on the moist grass on either side of my shoulders and slides his knee along the inside of my leg. “Shall I show you just how little training I need, my mistress?”

Swoon!

“If I were standing you may have knocked me off my feet just there,” I say, struggling for composure.

“In that case…” An alluring yet immoral look crosses his face, “maybe we ought to take your other ward’s advice and get ourselves a room.”

But it isn’t to be. Not this night, anyway.

For reasons unknown, the lake in the backyard of our borrowed bungalow has just begun to glow.

10

The Inconceivable Realm

We four stand around the glowing lake, fingers lighted in our respective colors. For ten minutes, we’ve been watching, yet nothing has emerged from the depths.

“I still don’t think it’s someone portaling through,” I tell the others. “The color’s wrong. I’d expect it to glow rose, lavender or amber, but this light is almost…”

“The light of Yggdrasil,” Alaska finishes. Her hair is tied up in two cute knobs and she wears an oversized bathrobe over her pajamas.

“Whatever it is, it’s magickal,” says Pidd. “See?” With the camera strap around his arm, he leans to show me the camera’s viewscreen. He’s right; aside from stunning, the lake appears otherwise normal in the photo.

“Wow!” I grab the camera, thus yanking Pidd along with it. “This is really good! How did you get the fog over the water to look like that?”

“It’s a filter,” he says, reclaiming slack in the strap. “Kara has a few good ones.”

“Kara?” I inquire. He points to the side of the strap, where a girl’s name has been imprinted. “Can I see what else you took?” I ask.

From behind, Kinley clears his throat, placing one hand on Pidd’s shoulder, the other on mine, and towers over us dangerously: “Maybe we should figure out what to do about the magickal lake first?”

“Eh-heh. Yeah, that’s probably right.” I shuffle away from Pidd, but his eyes remain fixed at my chest and he follows me even as I scoot.

Pidd reaches out a finger—“What’s that?”—and pokes my ribcage, right at the start of my cleavage.

“Ka-chow!” I karate chop him away. “Stay back! Don’t you know you can’t just go poking women in the boobage?!”

His face resembles a grouchy old man. “What’s wrong with you?” Then to Kinley: “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s… glowing,” says Kinley, now also becoming fixated on my chest. “Bexley, you’re glowing!”

Pidd folds his arms. “Exactly what I was trying to tell her.”

Still frozen mid-karate motion, I look to the place Pidd poked. Indeed, my cleavage is glowing. I pull the collar of my undershirt forward and peer down into the womanly abyss. “It’s the pendant! Forgot I’m still wearing it.” I pull it out and hold it in my palm to reveal the gears swallowed up in light.

Like I said, I should know better than to don antiques of questionable origin. But, as has been proven, Bexleys rarely learn.

Quick as a whip, the chain goes taut, outstretched by the pendant that’s suddenly learned a new trick: flight. It jerks me forward by the neck towards the glowing lake, as metal to a magnet. Kinley runs after me, but I’m running faster, for fear of decapitation if I resist. Alaska blasts at the pendant with bursts of lavender light. And even Pidd hops in front of me, pawing at the mystical necklace.

Unfortunately, it seems one foot in the water is enough to activate the portal and pull me under.

There is no splash, for there is no water. Instead, I am enveloped in soft, soothing light. Warm, it rushes past my arms, like a million fluttering wings. I’m not certain whether I’m falling upwards or down, or maybe even to the side.

“Pidd?” I call into the light. “Can you hear me? Kinley? Alaska?”

All around me, the light makes a garbling noise. We have somewhat of a resistance to bright lights, such as the sun, but this is too much for even a lightborne to bear. The brightness swells and I shield my face, in wait of my feet to touch land.

“B…”

The garbling becomes clearer.

“Bex…”

I concentrate my eardrums.

“Bexley!”

A familiar voice calls out to me from the blinding space.

And soon thereafter, the light isn’t the only thing to blanket me. There’s also a scent—undeniably teakwood, and at first, I believe it to be the residue I squirted on the inside of my collar.

It isn’t until the waves of shimmering hair fall around me that I realize.

A…

But my voice cracks before I can say the name of the person materializing near me. His arms fall around me, I think, but they aren’t concrete. More like, I can sense them rather than feel them.

Still, I know it’s him.

“My joy!” he cries dramatically. “Don’t leave me again. I’ve no way to watch you when you’re in the mortal tier! You’ve always loved tormenting me, haven’t you? Your cruelty is incessant!”

I strain my eyes to make him out, but I can’t. He’s more than blurry—he’s ungraspable.

“Aiden! You’re alive?!” I try to swim through the light or to clasp anything material, but it’s no use. Nothing in this space is finite. There’s no up, no down—nothing to root me to any sort of surface.

“Oh no,” he chuckles, “I assure you I’m quite dead.”

My heart plummets in my chest. “Then… this is a dream, right? You aren’t really here.” Even if that’s true, I can’t stop Aiden’s drawer from bursting open. The flood I’ve so diligently been trying to suppress releases in full force. I double over and clutch myself because an ache has begun to spread, starting at my fallen heart and flaring out through my veins. “Aiden,” I choke. “I wish it wasn’t a dream! I miss you so much! I want to tell you how much I do. I can’t even function without you. I can’t… And I’m sorry. And I love you! And I just wish that this were real because I don’t think I can make it without ever seeing you again. You were my one and only cherished waker, and sometimes I hated you, even! But I didn’t know anything! I didn’t know why you did what you did, and I was just a rebellious kid. I didn’t know… I…”

I cry the most realistic tears I’ve ever cried in a dream. They shine like crystal in the light and zoom out from my cheeks in all directions, for there is no gravity to pull them down.

“My joy.” A weight settles on the top of my head, as if I’ve just been patted. “I am here. Now and always…” His tone, formerly ethereal, falls flat: “Unless, of course, you enter the mortal coil. Then I can’t see you and I have no idea what’s become of you. For all I know that fiend Kinley could have gobbled you up by now! He is a vicious one, always seeking to corrupt my flower. At least Alaska’s had the good sense to join in my absence. I always meant to introduce you two… Of course, you’ll understand why I couldn’t. Not with her being the little lavender bullet of justice she is. She would have disclosed the truth the moment she met you. And then, boo, I would have had to wipe the encounter away from your memory anyway. Tiresome.”

My mind is doing a fine rendition of my late waker. I’ve got the details right. His voice, his scent—if only I could manage his body, too. Maybe my mind knows that would be too painful. Maybe I’m saving myself from seeing him clearly. When did I fall asleep, anyway? Was any of this night real? Did we even make it to the borrowed bungalow at the end of a cul-de-sac? Or am I curled up inside the dying forest, buried in amber leaves?

“It isn’t real,” I tell my tears. “You’re asleep.”

No wonder I was having conflicted, confusing feelings for Pidd just before. Ha! As if I’d truly have some kind of crush on the nugget. Because he’s soooo sexy. Because his squat frame and foul personality are soooo desirable. Because I’ve ACTUALLY been thinking of him ever since I tasted his light the other night. Please.

“Dream Aiden?”

He chuckles again. “Not a dream, though I haven’t the time to convince you. This crevasse won’t last forever. I’ve borrowed power from the other fallens to perform the spell.”

“The other fallens?” I say.

“Deceased lightborne. We’ve lost our bodies, but our souls have found ever-rest in the twilit wood. I wasn’t sure if you recognized me the other day. Frustrating, whiffling forms we take when we pass on…”

“Recognized you?”

“Ah yes.” I faintly feel his knuckle beneath my chin. “I was hoping our deep, irreplaceable connection would be enough, but alas, it seems you’ve forgotten my touch.”

“Wait a minute! You mean…” That slinky amber wisp from back at the arena—the one that sort of elongated every time it moved: “That was you?!”

“Mmmm.” His presence drifts around me. “I meant to warn you of the impending threat, but was unable to communicate—a burden I intend to overcome… But enough of that. I’m going to kiss you now, my dove. Close your eyes and concentrate and you may be able to feel me.”

“This… isn’t a dream?”

“Shh, close your eyes.”

I do as he says.

“Now,” he tells me, “envision me. Remember the feel of my skin. Remember our bond.”

I take a breath because I’m jittering—it isn’t fear but raw adrenaline. I picture him, his powerful eyes stained with ancient magick, his silky hair, his emperor’s robe—his skin, unreasonably soft for a grown man’s. Faint at first, but soon materializing, I feel his warm lips pressed to my forehead.

Eyes still closed, I reach out and grab his robe. “I feel you.”

And the longer I concentrate, the more real he becomes.

I thaw into him, my waker who stole me from the mortal world so long ago and called me his. The feel of him is something I never expected to experience again. That’s probably why I’m clinging so hard to his gown.

He pulls away—“And this, because I’ve always wanted to try it.”—and when he returns his mouth to my face, it settles on my lips this time, and through it comes a rush of warmth and adoration. It isn’t a lover’s kiss, but it is a kiss filled with love.

He pulls away again, but this time lingers close to my mouth, so that I can feel his breath on me.

Joy, in the purest sense of the word, sends a new bout of tears over my cheeks. I nuzzle my face in the nape of his neck and take in his scent.

And he squeezes me into him, folding me within his draping sleeves.

My broken heart begins to form, swiveling pieces around until fitting together like a puzzle. In this embrace, I am whole, for the first time in a long time.

“As to your earlier rant, Bexley,” he whispers into my hair, “you’ve no reason to apologize. It is I who should be sorry. In seeking to protect you, I drove you away, and consequently, I ended in this state. Had we worked together from the beginning, we might have found a way… but that’s neither here nor there. My body is gone, but luckily the lighted soul does not fade, and so I will be with you, absorbed in Yggdrasil’s light, until the great tree is moved.”

I’m listening, I swear. But my energy is best spent on reveling in my waker’s presence and keeping down the lump in my throat that threatens to make me sob.

“How?” I manage. How is this possible?

“So long as you don the Cog of the Fallen, you may view my spirit for a small passing of time each night when the tree’s yearning is most heightened,” Aiden continues. “I will follow you, even when you cannot see me.” His hug becomes a bit tighter: “So do try not to do anything uncouth, such as sleeping alongside boys after feeding your light into them.”

I give a jolt. He saw that?! So! That was at least a hundred percent innocent.

“Which brings me to our next topic of discussion,”—he squeezes—“have you decided yet which of your wards you will sacrifice? I vote for the short one, but really, either of them will do. In fact, why not get rid of them both?”

“Aiden, you know I can’t—”

He cuts off the words by bringing his mouth again to mine. “Tut, tut. Surely you haven’t forgotten your one and only cherished waker’s last dying wish?” His mouth softens. “Mm. Your lips are sweet, my joy. Perhaps if I were yet living, I would wish to finally consummate our bond.”

“W-what?!” I flash open my eyes and instantly regret it. The cloud of light is a disorienting place to be. I return to the serenity behind my eyelids.

“A joke, Bexley,” Aiden purrs. “I could never taint your beloved vessel. Our love transcends physical need and nature.”

I guess that’s one way to put it.

Aiden flips a switch: “Though it seems others are not so hesitant to taint your beloved vessel. I’ve changed my vote. Let’s kill off Kinley after all, shall we?” he says. “Never been a fan of that one.”

“Aiden, you understand it is an impossible choice—a responsibility I couldn’t shuck off on someone else, let alone someone that only has the ability to become the Wilted because I warded them in the first place. It’s not like I want to die… I’m not so morally superior that I would pretend to be a wiling martyr, but if it’s between martyr and murderer, then the choice is obvious.”

The ghost that is my late waker snarls. “Be warned, my lamb, should the moment arise where I find you’ve put yourself on the alter for slaughter, I will do everything in my power to stop it. I will become your enemy again if that’s what it takes.”

“No!” I rest my head on his chest. “I couldn’t bear it.”

Whatever form his chest previously held, it flickers. “Ah,” he says. “The spell is wearing thin. I expect it will soon be time to go back.”

“What? No! When will I see you again?”

“Like this?” he says. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I managed to rally up enough support this time, but even with a myriad of spirits, it is a fatiguing undertaking. Next time you encounter me in the forest, my light won’t be so bright.

“But I suppose we ought to cover a few factors of importance while I’ve still got your ear. So you’re aware, I’ve gone scouting, but the wood is difficult to traverse, even in my current form. The Wielder Ellie remains at the coterie with her followers. The rest have fled for sanctuary with Erron.”

“Those dumbasses. They think I killed you.”

“I thought you didn’t care for the unnamed, self-entitled ‘they’ and their opinions,” says Aiden.

“Well, I kind of have to this time. I mean, our enemies are compounding, and Cello and Kray are nowhere to be found and therefore can’t testify on our behalf. So they’re all assuming I killed them too. As if battling an all-powerful, self-righteous warlock wasn’t enough, now the whole damned coterie is against us! Ugh, that Ellie is a tiny ball of evil!”

Aiden’s chest flickers again, and this time it doesn’t return to solid form. I open my eyes. “Aiden?!” The light, once too brilliant to lay eyes upon, has turned milky.

Our time is running out. Aiden knows it too. My waker’s voice is rushed:

“Cello and Kray are being held captive by Sesha and Jobel, though I don’t know where in the coterie—I only picked up whispers. I will use my time to find out whatever else may aid our cause, in the hopes that I will be able to communicate it to you in some way.” His voice warbles.

“Not yet, Aiden! I’m not ready yet!”

“Listen to me, my joy.” His voice turns rushed, growing more distant with each passing breath. “It is imperative you choose which ward to sacrifice and begin the transformation at once. The Waker may reside at the coterie, but not for long. She means to drink direct from the roots of Yggdrasil to amass enough power to secure her victory. Once that happens, she will be even more fearsome than when we last met. Not only will her light disintegrate those in her direct adjacency, it will resound through all of Yggdrasil, washing out whichever colors she chooses.” His voice diminishes into wisp. “Turquoise will be first, I assume…”

“So we need to fight her, like, now?!”

He responds but it’s unintelligible. I grasp at nothing, strain my ears at nothing, until—

“I love you, treasured one.” It’s less than audible. Felt, not heard. Blurring the lines between existence and non. “Give Al… my adoration…also…”

“Wait! Kiss me once more! Here—” I hold up my wrist where our lightstream once connected. “Mark it! I need to feel something linking me to you. It’s too naked the way it is now.”

The grazing of his lips against my wrist is the last thing I feel before the light dissipates, filling in with the chilled water of the lake.

“AIDEN!”

><

“I’ve got her!” Aiden’s robe disappears, replaced with the sopping wet one hanging from Alaska’s drenched pajamas. Scarily strong for her frame, the girl easily pulls me from the water and up onto the shore.

The mortal world looks particularly dingy having just resided in Yggdrasil’s purest light. No longer lit, the lake sits murky and gray. During my absence, clouds have moved over the moon.

Kinley leans over me, patting at my cheeks. “What happened? Where were you?”

“I saw…”

But I can’t finish.

The emotion is too great for a creature like me to handle.

11

Aftermath-ematics

Is your wrist okay?” Kinley asks. “You’ve been holding it all day.”

“Hm? Yeah, it’s fine…”

I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but just at the base there’s a warm spot.

It’s been that way since last night.

After waking, I told the others what happened on the other side of eternity. Recounted the glory that was my waker’s presence. Kinley was especially fired up; to them I had been gone almost an hour—though it only felt like five minutes to me—as they searched both this world and the next, watching the light slowly fade from the lake. When I told him what I’d seen, he was hesitant to believe. But I knew the truth. It was Aiden, dead but not gone.

Eventually, I was able to convince the others of the same.

Though it wasn’t a happy moment.

The urgency left at the end of Aiden’s parting was a warning. And as I spoke it to the others it cast a net of unsettledness over the house, which has remained there, like the warm kiss on my wrist, since last night.

I dreamt of Aiden all night, and in the dawn I rose with a new feeling in my gullet—relief and sorrow and fear, balled thick enough to choke. Aiden is with me. But he is, after all, confirmed dead. And he died for me. And I wonder if I owe it to him not to die myself, or whether that’s just my own selfishness getting in the way of my sacred duty. Our time was pressed before, but now it feels like a race. A race to the tree; and Ellie, already having lain claim to her destiny, is more than a little ahead.

Kinley watches me try to swallow it away. I pretend not to see him.

The other two are over there, attempting to erase our presence from the borrowed bungalow. I should be doing the same. Instead, I find myself distracted with a crystal wind chime in the window that’s casting prisms of colored light all through the master bedroom.

If I did have to choose between killing Pidd or Kinley…

In my mind, the crystal fills in with smoke, turning black before shattering.

“Ahh!”

“What is it?” Kinley looks up from straightening the bed.

“I couldn’t!”

“Couldn’t?”

“Kill you,” I finish, making him drop the oversized pillow in his hand. I turn to Pidd, who lies on the ground admiring his photos on Kara’s camera before deleting them. “You either, Piddlesticks.”

He doesn’t look up from the camera. “Sounds like exactly the sort of thing you’d say right before you decided to murder me.”

I suppose. I shake away the thought with a shake of my neck. Be normal, self.

Kinley has a different approach: “Are you sure on that?” He pushes up his glasses. “Is this a warning? What did I do? Do I deserve it, at least?”

Nothing. They did absolutely nothing, which is why I’m the only fair sacrifice. I was the one born with the curse, and I should be the one to see it through, whether it displeases my ghostly waker or not.

I don’t know how to deal with myself, and none of the Bexleys—past, present or future—are offering any assistance.

So I do the only thing I know how to do.

“Guys!” I proclaim with enough vigor to make Pidd jump. “Today’s the day!”

“The day?” says Kinley.

“I take the plunge—!” I fall onto the bed Kinley’s just remade for the second time.

“Bexley,” he speaks through his teeth.

“She’s unnervingly pepped up all of a sudden,” Pidd says into the camera.

Click!

I jerk up from the wrinkled comforter. “Wait, you just snapped another one, didn’t you? You’re supposed to be erasing them, Pidd. Not taking more!” I hold up a hand to Kinley. “And don’t worry, I got this.” I gesture to the bed.

But I don’t got this. After a solid ten minutes of struggle, the bed is nowhere near as fancy as when Kinley had it made, and it’s definitely way worse than when I got my hands on it.

Kinley watches my pain, though he should make himself useful and go clean up his mess in the kitchen. “You have made a bed before, haven’t you?” He folds his arms.

“What the hell is the purpose of all of these extra pillows anyway?” I give one of them a shake and a flurry of down escapes. It alights onto the ground, dainty-like. “Unless…”

“No,” says Kinley.

“I know.”

“No,” Kinley persists.

“How about a—”

“We are absolutely not having a pillow fight right now, Bexley!” finishes Kinley.

For that, he gets one swat, which happens to dishevel his glasses. Whoops.

His eyes flash turquoise. “You sure you want to do this?”

“All right, I’m out of here,” Pidd says. He collects the pieces of camera gear at his side and skedaddles away from our flirting. He doesn’t make it far, though. Alaska comes just as he tries to leave.

“I finished downstairs,” she’s in the middle of saying, “are you all just about ready to—” She halts. “What the bejesus happened in here?!”

Bejesus. Nice.

Assuming she means the pillows and bedding torn all over the room. “Pidd made a mess.”

“Don’t believe a word she says,” counters Pidd. From the prism on the window, a peach strip of light cuts across his face, making him look like a glam rocker. I give him the sign of the horns—to which he crinkles his forehead.

It would take too much effort to explain. Sometimes I feel like only four percent of what goes on in my head ever makes its way into the world. Even with all of the blurting I do. Maybe it’s the same for everybody.

><

By day, we return to the land of light, traversing the shimmering wood. The Cog of the Fallen has taken permanent residence on my neck. Though I don’t expect to see my waker in the daytime hours, I peer through the shine, searching for any burst of light brighter than the rest. I can’t see him, but knowing him, he’s near.

“Aiden,” I whisper, when the others are several strides ahead, “if you’re here, make this leaf move.” I’m talking about a particularly fiery one I’ve just caught in my hand. I stare at it intensely, willing it to move, until accidentally, I start the thing on actual fire. It sizzles away in blue flames. “It’s okay, we’ll try again later.”

“What are you doing?” says a voice.

“Ack!”

Yipes. I thought all three of them were ahead. Somehow, the stealthiest of our party managed to slip behind.

“N-nothing, Alaska,” I lie. “Just a bit of magick. Using it before ya lose it, right? Before it gets bogged down with shadow.”

This time, I know it’s not my imagination. A falling leaf just off to the left alters course. It smacks me in the cheek disapprovingly, as if leaves should have anything to approve of.

Sorry, Aiden.

It’s gotta be me.

I am the Wilted.

I am the fiend.

><

By night, we hole up in the mortal world in a less-than-fancy motel room, waiting for Kinley’s phone to act up as it did back at his apartment.

“Shouldn’t take long,” he is saying. “Over the last year, the worlds have been in an almost constant state of vibrating. Small tears pop up more often than you’d imagine. I usually just go for the big ones, but given our current situation, I say we take what we can get.” He frowns. “Unfortunately, I no longer have the power to rip open the space myself.” He conjures a turquoise rabbit in the palm of his hand to prove his point.

“Did you make that app, or what?” says Pidd, leaning over him to check out the images on the screen.

Kinley shakes his head. “I modified one used to detect tremors. Or I should say Bex and I did. We figured out the best way to locate them during our research into the dark.”

“He’s being modest,” I say, staring at the TV menu screen. “It was all him.”

While we wait for the phone to vibrate, Kinley pages through the books of ancient origin—both silver and gold—refining the process we once misused on him.

“This one talks about the transformation as a struggle between the lighted core and the dark core,” he says, crinkling a silver page, “almost like a struggle for dominance. Which means we were flawed in our deductions last time. We viewed it as a merging, but it looks like one side recedes while the other pushes dominant.”

Meanwhile, Alaska sits behind me on the bed, combing my hair into two knots like hers. Yessss, pamper me. Pamper meeeeee. “You weren’t exactly expecting it last time,” I say, with my hair in Alaska’s hands. “Maybe that’s why it overtook you.”

Kinley prods his spectacles. “Right. It seems like less of a partnership and more like a possession—where either darkness or light possesses the other. It’s difficult to say, though. I can’t figure out what this word is.” He points to a swirling symbol.

If only LaMar were here.

Not.

“Basically, I need to take in the darkness without letting it take me,” I say.

Simple enough.

Not.

“Although,” says Alaska, straightening my head, “I would think Lady Wilted would have an easier time commanding the darkness than the average turquoise Joe.” She smiles cutely at Kinley. “No offense.”

“You’ve got a point,” average-Joe Kinley agrees. He returns to leafing the pages. And Alaska returns to coiling my hair. And Pidd returns to watching the phone.

Is it selfish that I’m halfway hoping it won’t go off? If it doesn’t, it means I can slip back into the light realm in search of Aiden’s orb. After a day full of questioning the twinkles at the corners of my eyes, we left before night hit, which meant a no-go on communicating with him and his wraithly entourage.

Want to know the messed up thing?

It was my idea.

After the incident with the leaf, I became a coward. Because I know I’m going to become the Wilted. And Aiden won’t be happy. And I can only imaging how he’ll try to convey that in his current form. It’s one thing to disappoint my waker in person. But disappointing the ghost of him? After going against his direct dying wish?

I ran from our world at the slightest hint of nighttime moaning.

And now I regret it.

Alaska puts her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll make sure we stick around in time to see him tomorrow, yeah?”

Well, look at her. All intuitive and brimming with sympathy, empathy, and probably at least one other -pathy I’m forgetting. It seems some people are all good.

‘Aiden and I were both wards of Erron. He was like a brother to me.’

Oh. I’ve been greedy.

‘You were his most treasured one.’

Alaska is grieving just as much as I am, though she doesn’t wear it on her sleeve.

‘I will not let his death be for naught.’

This story isn’t mine alone.

Suddenly overtaken with guilt, I hide my eyes in the ugly diamond pattern of the hotel carpet. “I’m so sorry, Alaska, I forgot: Aiden also wanted me to relay his adoration for you.”

She remains quiet, busying herself with my hair. I really am a self-centric person. Things to approve upon in the limited days I have left.

“He was glad that you joined us, too. He called you a ‘lavender bullet of justice.’”

I force a chuckle. Hers is genuine.

“That sounds like Aiden,” she says.

She returns to styling my hair. When she’s finished, I feel like a mouse.

Double the wang-twang, double the fun? I give my head a wiggle. They aren’t nearly sloppy enough for my taste, but I’m sure that will come with use. I scoop my arm around the petite girl’s shoulders and pull her in, then outstretch my arm and pretend I’m taking a selfie of us.

“Don’t we look cute, guys?”

Cute or not, the mortal world rests for no one. “Oy!” Pidd holds up Kinley’s phone triumphantly. “I think we’ve got a hit!”

I move too quickly; the part down the center of my head pulls my hair taut.

As I rub the sore place, I catch my reflection in the TV screen that’s gone dark from disuse. I bring my hand to my right earlobe. A small glowing orb of turquoise radiates from the skin there and pulses at my touch. It isn’t a tattoo or a piercing; it’s proof of what I am.

But not for long.

Are you ready, world? Bexley’s going dark.

12

Chasing Shadows

Aiden can’t see me in the mortal world.

Can’t see us sprinting through the district limits faster than a mortal can sprint. Through bouts of wood that don’t moan or chime or even whisper. We run along a highway vacant but for the occasional midnight rider.

Faster and faster, we become light itself.

Not really, but it feels that way, as our feet glide over uneven rock and muddy spots.

I am light.

I am light.

I am…

I exhale into the world and let the crisp air press me onward.

Once in the general area, Kinley slows and crouches to the ground, feeling the wind for vibrations. I join him, like old times, as Alaska and Pidd catch their breath.

With my hands over the untrimmed blades jutting from the earth, I feel it, like the hum of a glowbug. “This way!” I trot towards the spatial fraction, Kinley close behind. He runs lurched forward and with his hands at his sides, very much like a ninja—the lanky variety.

He stops again to feel out the air.

“We’re close, B.”

Hits me like an arrow through the chest. Close to drawing in the darkness. Meaning there’s a decent chance I won’t be the same, I’ll never be the same. It means potentially losing my light in exchange for the darkness. It means sealing my fate as sacrifice for the worlds.

I never claimed to be a savior.

I don’t care about people that much.

But I care about certain people.

And if Ellie wins, the light will fade, and we creatures of light will fade along with it. If I don’t die, we’ll all die anyway.

So the choice is clear.

The only reasonable path is laid before me, as ancient as the tree itself, stolen by the people of light. I’m not self-righteous, but maybe self-righteousness is the answer. If I can take my utter loathing of those self-righteous shitheads that stole the tree in the first place and meld it into something worthwhile… maybe it’s enough to drive me forward. Craft me into a savior, o hatred of mine.

‘But I’m afraid.’

I don’t have time to be afraid.

Is it wise or foolish to suppress the great emotion, fear? Depends on who you ask.

We stop in an unkempt field of grass—away enough from the highway that the midnight riders look like low shooting stars on the horizon.

“It’s here,” Kinley and I say in unison, for we feel the hiccupping between worlds. As he turns to beckon to the others, I kneel into the grass and mold my fingers around the unseen tear. “Wait.” Kinley takes my hands. “I’ll do it. You need to conserve your strength. Remember what happened to me?”

I couldn’t forget it.

I sink back onto my heels. But Kinley doesn’t release my hands. Under the cover of night he pushes his glasses past his forehead and stares into me. “It will be different with you,” he says.

I can’t find the words to answer.

With Kinley, we were careless. He went in too deep, too fast, and the darkness swallowed him whole, erupting out his fingernails and nostrils, and when it was over, his light was lost.

Or so we thought, until Aiden’s blade pierced his heart.

I guess that gives a slimmer of hope to my situation. Though Kinley couldn’t command his light as a sullen, the light never left him—it only succumbed to the darkness, hiding somewhere deep within.

Hope or not, we can’t let the same happen to me, or I’ll be forced to crawl the lighted realm as a darkling, unable to command my light, which would make moving the tree all the harder, maybe even impossible.

“What’s wrong?”

I didn’t realize the others had reached us, until Pidd is crouched in front of me.

“Bex?” he says again. “What’s wrong? You hurt?”

Not hurt. Just trying to take hold of my emotions. They’re tumultuous now, like a fierce deity taking hold of the ocean. Waves of assuredness recess and are replaced by doubt as I replay Kinley’s transformation over and over in my head.

My right earlobe sears turquoise it might never be able to show off again. This is all I’ve ever known—being turquoise. Bexley the Ultimate First—I mean the true first one, kidnapped by Aiden so long ago—died when my lightborne self awoke.

Will my sullen self be the same as I am now?

Again I struggle with the words. Kinley takes my cheeks. He studies me over, head tilted, mouth stern. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, tone changed. “I’ve done it once and I can do it again.”

I shake my head at him.

“I’ll be fine. We know how to do it right this time,” he says. I’m not the sort of girl that needs rescuing, but he’s always been keen to rescue. He isn’t like that with other things in his life. Only me.

I don’t want it. Not now. Because he doesn’t know what offering himself up really means.

“Let her do it,” says Pidd unexpectedly. He turns away from us after he says it. “She needs to. Not for us, but for herself.”

Alaska has already given her opinion that I must be the one to turn Wilted. Respectfully, she kicks at the grass a short distance away.

My two wards fall silent.

Pidd turns back to face us, hands in his pockets and cheeks a little red. “Bexley, you are the most annoyingly headstrong person I’ve ever met.” He tips his head. “‘Course I only remember like one percent of the people I’ve met…” He trails off in thought. “Is it possible I’ve met someone even more obnoxious than her?” He shakes his head. “Naw, not possible. They’d probably be in some sort of ward.” He cracks a rare smile. “I mean, hell, I’ll do it if you can’t, but knowing you, you won’t be able to live with letting one of us do it.”

I shift my face away from Kinley to get a better look at Pidd.

“After what that chick did to Aiden, do you really want one of us to take her down for you? Could you really hold yourself back in battle? Doubt it. And you’d get yourself killed jumping in there without the nocturnal power or whatever it’s called.” The wind blows his hair. He turns up his face to the stars. “Hate to admit it, Bexley, but you’re the most lightbornest lightborne out of any of us. You’re like the teacher’s pet.” He pauses. “Not the right word. What I mean is that you’re proud of your light, right? Like when you showed it off to me that first time? The thing about you is that you talk a big game even though you feel like a fuck-up of a lightborne. You don’t know facts and stuff like LaMar does, and you’ve taught me hardly anything worthwhile, but… When you move the light, it’s different from how we do it. You freaking love it. If anyone can recall their light from the darkness, it’s you.” He shrugs. “I believe it.” He looks at Kinley. “You do too, right?”

Kinley nods, letting his hands fall limp. “Of course.”

Still, I can’t speak, but now it’s for a different reason.

“Aw hell. Made her cry. I didn’t mean that in a mean way,” Pidd grumbles, throwing up his hood. “I’m an asshole.”

“No!” I grab hold of his arm and stand. “Pidd…” I blink at him and he blinks at me, and slowly, the whirlwind of emotions formerly tunneling around in my stomach subside and I’m content. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” he says.

We both evade the other’s gaze.

I turn to Kinley. “Thank you, too, Kindler. I’m good now.” I shiver the anxiety out of my body. “And I’m ready.”

Kinley waits a solid moment before nodding. “Help me, Alaska?”

Alaska is a soldier, dedicated to the cause. She hops up and marches over like she’s been waiting all night for the invitation. Together, they take hold of the unseen fissure and begin to wrench. It won’t be long now.

In the meantime, I wander a few feet away, back turned to the others and dispatching beautiful bursts of blue light from my fingertips. Pidd watches Kinley and Alaska, hood up and jittering in the cold.

I form what might be the last of my turquoise into a shape—a blazing phoenix—and send it out into the air—not too high, lest we be detected by another magickal being. It circles around my waist and then swoops towards Pidd, who watches it come, and lands on his outstretched wrist. The blue disintegrates into a million sparkles that fall around him. Pidd watches the lightshow with wonder—like a child at the base of a castle.

He’s right. I love my light. I love it.

“Mistress Wilted?” Alaska’s sweated, tuckered out-ness is a sign that the void has been aptly shredded. Meaning it’s time. Indeed, a steam of dark, inky air emits from the purring cut, visible even at a distance and even in the already dark night. I make my way back to the group, giving Kinley a salute to let him know I’ve resigned to my fate.

“Hold on,” says Pidd. “Should she wear this, or what?” He holds up his rucksack, where resides our collection of extraterrestrial objects. Specifically he means the geared glove.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” offers Kinley.

I slip into the leather of the three-fingered thing and feel a shock in my joints as it lights blue. Kinley cinches the geared clasps for me, securing the glove in place. The air vibrates hotly around the fracture. Pidd, remembering what happened last time he was trapped within Nocturne, distances himself.

“Do you have the book?” I ask Kinley.

A goldish tome, carrying the secrets of the darkling world, and the story of the Wielder and Wilted. More importantly, hidden in the back pages, there’s an incantation for those bold enough to utter. We spoke it carelessly the first time, without knowing the truth of everything. Kinley drew in too much too quickly and he was changed.

My once dark prince opens to the dreaded page, where the ink runs from tears cried by my former self.

This time will be slow and intentional; and with every helping of darkness, I’ll balance my veins out with even greater bouts of my light.

Though I really have no idea what I’m talking about.

I wouldn’t trust me.

I hold up the glove before my face. I take back any shade I previously threw at Pidd. This glove is pretty badass. I imagine yanking it on before starting up a brawl. I don’t know with whom—just your everyday brawl. Because people who wear gloves like this definitely get into brawls.

I settle cross-legged onto the ground to the side of the fissure, amass a handful of light, and then plunge my hand into Nocturne.

See the darkness. Feel the darkness. …Sniff the darkness.

Now, we wait. Though I suspect it won’t take long.

‘Only in the brightest sunlight, do the darkest shadows show themselves.’

Something I told Pidd once. But that’s only half true. It is possible to coax out a shadow in the night; in fact, that’s when they’re most vulnerable.

And I, Bexley Lightborne, am bait.

Kinley settles across from me, fingers lit, ready to plow forward if things go awry. Alaska stands guard a short distance away, snapping her fingers lavender.

On the other side of space, my hand is like a dead fish—numb and barely connected to my body. The darkness ebbs out onto my skin and up my arm, staining me black. I flare my light brighter. Though unseen to us, it’s a lighthouse on the other side, beaconing through a sea of shadow.

Come on. Come on.

Based on my ventures into Nocturne, I know a mass of darklings is gaggling up on the other side of time and space. The problem is that most are too weak to withstand the light.

It’ll take a soul of compelling resolve to make it through. The split in space begins to wiggle and bulge, eeking out tentacles far-stretching enough to make Pidd inch away.

“I feel them!” I clench my hand. “All congregating over there.” The beings nip at my light like minnows to a line, though none are bold enough to take it. I’m waiting for the most wizened in the sea. The rest are small fry.

And then I feel it, firm on my arm. And I coagulate.

Forming into existence, a hand from the dark realm takes my wrist. One of the formless shades on the other side has flickered itself into a mimicry of man’s shape.

“It’s happening!” I shout to Kinley, drawing the others near. It also draws out my panic, which was never far in the first place.

Oh gawd. Oh gawd, oh gawd, oh gawd.

This is too soon. I don’t know what I’m doing. Why the hell did I push for the transformation so soon?! Which of the Bexleys were responsible for this?! I blame Number 2. She’s a pain in the ass.

Pidd sees it too, crawling from the stenches of a place devoid of light. Never too fond of slinking night creatures, he stutters: “D-demon?!”

Close enough. With the dark, taloned fingers swarming up my wrist becoming more materialized by the microsecond, I unfreeze and instinctively begin to flail my arm away.

“No!” says Alaska. “You mustn’t insult it! It will try to engulf you!”

So she says having only spent one hour skimming through the books. Lest we forget she also can’t read eldertongue. Even so—

“She’s right,” agrees Kinley. “Don’t panic and don’t submit to it. Keep hold of your light. You can do this!”

It is in this moment that something moves through the unseen space. The particles of the air clash together and I understand something that isn’t my own, something not gained of my own experience—the knowledge of one who has come before. The wisdom of Meínne, counterpart to Feínne, pulsates out of the leather glove and into my blood, bestowing me with wisdom, thick and ancient.

If it were a person, it would wear a white beard down to its stomach.

I’m not used to being bestowed uponst, and it takes a moment for the knowledge to move through me. But after, I feel as though I’ve done this a thousand times before. And maybe this glove has been used a thousand times before, through a thousand different universes with a hundred different apocalypses.

And for just a brief glitch in time, I feel like I was present at every one.

I grit my teeth and pulse brighter my light, drawing power through my knees on the ground. I become a channel for Yggdrasil’s eminence. True, this is where we went wrong last time. But last time, Kinley didn’t possess the Wilted’s glove.

And I didn’t possess the strength of a waker.

“Sorry guys, I’m going to need to borrow some of you for this.” With my free hand I call forth a new bundle of light and swell it through the lightstreams linking me to my wards. The spell removes the slack from the lighted chains connecting us, and whiplashes them into my lap.

Alaska cannot see our lightstream, and she misjudges there to be an invisible enemy lurking in the midst. There’s no time to dissuade her now. She begins to circle the group shooting out waves of lavender light through the surrounding field.

“Bexley?!” Pidd struggles to get away. “What are you—”

Led by the wisdom of past Wilteds, I put my teeth around Pidd’s earlobe and breath in his light—not all of it, but as much as I can. His flesh is soft and warm and his light tastes sweet flowing over my tongue.

After, he falls limp onto the grass.

“Sorry, Kindler. You next.”

Kinley nods because he understands better. He offers me a parting: “Be gentle,” before offering up his ear. I taste his light, through my lips around his lower earlobe. I feed on his light, taking in ravenous gulps of his energy, bringing him to exhaustion. He slumps over Pidd.

Turquoise, both mine and theirs, permeates through my layers of skin and flesh, and into the marrow of my bones. I breathe it down and shake because the power is too terrifying for one body.

“Alaska! The book!”

Abrupt, she stops securing the perimeter and jogs over to the mess of wards piled before me. “Oh my! What happened to them?”

“It was necessary,” I assure her. “They’ll be fine. Can you hand me the tome?”

“I will at once!” Without further question, she takes a look at the demonic hand creeping further up my arm from the void, before she begins fumbling over Kinley’s collapsed body in search of the golden book.

Now I have three people in my lap.

“It’ll be over soon,” I tell myself, trying not to notice the freakish hand on my arm. Though it would be easier to ignore a giant, prickle-legged tarantula skittering up my skin.

“Here!” Spread open to the page Kinley marked, Alaska thrusts the glimmering book into my face. Before donning the glove, I held only partial understanding of the ancient, scrolling language therein.

Now the words are crisp and easy.

“Pacha yelram Noctus, lottei Y’ggdress!”

It isn’t enough to memorize and recite the words; they must be read in order to unleash their influence. Words read are always more weighted than words spoken.

The magick lives within the text.

Loosely, it translates to:

‘Dark unto light!’

13

Bexley Reborn

I am enveloped in sweet, silky shadow. It slips through my nose and down my lungs. Behind me, the prism separating her world and mine quakes. If it shatters, it will all be over.

Everything we’ve worked for will be complete.

I am the Wilted.

I am the fiend.

This isn’t my memory. It belongs to Meínne, sparked presently by the fact that I’m reliving his transformative moment in a very similar one of my own.

In my heightened state, it’s clear why Kinley lost the battle when he turned sullen. We only knew ten percent of what we needed to know, and he wasn’t fortunate enough to don the blessed glove. Turns out the last-minute decision to wear it was a good one.

Ten points for Pidd.

With the sacred words spoken, everything disappears. The senses don’t exist, yet I know the darkling hand on my wrist is still there as well as I know my own shin still exists. The hand pulls me, as likewise I pull it, to a place beyond the three tiers of the worlds.

My jaded lightborne mind views it as a decayed, grotesque appendage, though I know it isn’t so. This creature isn’t a monster or a demon; it is the lost piece in a symbiotic relationship.

The world was dark, and shadows roamed free. But shadow cannot exist without its counterpart: light. And so the darkness was unfulfilled. The Maker heard the sorrow of the darkness and created a tree of light to fill the void and strengthen the shadows. This tree was placed in the middle realm—though at the time it was the only realm—to be shared by all. With its light, the shadows grew longer and darker than ever before. The darkness worshiped the Maker and the tree that gave the darkness strength, until a single noctuid emerged from the shadow.

This noctuid was selfish. Instead of existing alongside the tree, the noctuid wanted to become the tree. Like a moth to the flame, the noctuid made contact with the tree, seeking to steal its power. Upon contact, the noctuid’s wings burst into light. This was the birth of the first light being.

Once the first light being awoke, it took a ward, infusing another shadow with light. And then that light being took a ward. And with every ward taken, the tree of light dimmed slightly. The darkness fought back, seeking to protect the tree that gave it strength, but the light beings retaliated, unwilling to give up their newfound power. A great war commenced and the Maker intervened, separating the dark beings from the light ones, until they could agree to coexist in peace.

And for a time, the tree remained in the mortal world, where it was always meant to reside. Until the Wielder stole it, cutting off the darklings from the light, and the tree from its nourishment—humans. Mortal auras, though non-magickal, have a special purpose in maintaining the tree. The human experience is water for the tree’s thirsty roots. Without it, the tree withers. And if the tree dies, the world would die too.

It is said that lightborne task number one is to keep the darklings from the humans. That is our mantra, hardwired into us, as primal and innate as our lightborne names.

Or so they’d have us believe.

Anything can feel hardwired enough if repeated enough by those one loves and trusts. As it turns out, I am nothing more than a product of a lightwashed upbringing. All that ‘I fight for the light’ bullshevitz.

Meanwhile, darklings like the one glued to my arm flourish in the light, are a vital counter to the light, keeping everything in check and redefining the line between good and evil. As if there’s only one line separating two such great concepts.

“I didn’t understand much of anything,” I confess unto the void. “But I’m willing to learn.”

All the while, darklings were fighting the same war as us, though not on the side we expected of them. They may be instinctual creatures, consuming human shadows after their true source of sustenance was ripped away, but there’s more to it than that. Opening myself, I understand now, the feelings conveyed through the dark hand clenching me, the true motivation of those nameless, scary things that live in the night:

They feast so that they can regain strength enough to rescue the tree. They are protectors of the tree, just the same as us.

Who was it that first told me our priority was to destroy them?

Not a monster.

Not a demon.

“I know what you are,” I tell the hand in a way that transcends conventional speech. “I’m not afraid of you, and—”

And I’m all hopped up on blue.

Using the juice stolen from Kinley and Pidd, I engulf the darkling in a blast of purest turquoise light. Maybe I’m biased, but I know turquoise is the most beautiful of the four colors. It isn’t fragile. It isn’t harsh. It’s both, in the way that the ocean is both beautiful and terrible, gentle and fierce, deep and enticing. Turquoise is an expressive color—one of many emotions.

Pidd was right; I love my light. I love being a lightborne.

And I’ll give it up for no one.

I overtake the shadow, but not in the way I do when I’m fighting them in the mortal tier. I don’t sizzle it out; rather, I encompass it, surrounding it in a turquoise cocoon and struggling to compact it.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” I tell it. “But I need to command you! Become part of me, and I will let you live eternal in my light. You’ll never go hungry again.”

It fights back with fervor, bending my soul at a ninety-degree angle.

I glow myself louder, stronger. “Succumb, already!”

The creature, of course, doesn’t think like I do. It whispers in a way of its own that I can’t understand. Maybe it’s arguing with me, giving me a million reasons why I should succumb to IT. Don’t know, don’t care.

Ain’t no shame in that lightborne game.

I flare myself hotter, brighter, until I probably don’t resemble a human any longer. I am my lightborne core and nothing else, burning bright as the sun’s hottest fire. The darkness squirms away, though I push it deeper into myself, gulping in down, smothering it away.

I’ll set up a drawer just for you, darling darkling, away from all the other drawers. I’ll give you a bureau of your own and lock it with an ornate key encrusted with rubies or other flashy gems worthy of guarding you.

I will be your keeper. And when it comes time, I’ll release you unto the Wielder. Become mine. Become mine.

Become mine.

Become mine.

I am the Wilted.

I am the fiend.

I am the end.

I wrestle the darkling for a hundred years. The worlds around us pass. Planets far off in the distance birth, age, and die. Through all of history, we fight, back and forth, power waning and waxing along with the moon and tides. I’m no longer human; I’m something beyond. We fight until we no longer know why, until we can no longer discern whether we are the darkling or the lightborne.

We are both.

Yes, we wrestle a hundred years.

Though when it’s over, only ten seconds have passed.

I find myself spread out in an unassuming patch of a field with three sets of prying eyes leaning over me. And for some reason, the mortal moon is gleaming blue.

14

Light and Dark

“We need to get out of here!” Alaska’s voice is faint. “Can you two stand?”

Kinley and Pidd respond in distant murmurs.

“Which one of you has enough strength to help me?” says Alaska. “We need to get the Mistress away from this area. That blast was large enough to reach the city. Any lightborne in the mortal tier will have seen it!”

Oops.

“S-she stained the moon?” says Pidd.

“You all did!” says Alaska. “I’ll recount it later. Grab that bag and let’s go!”

Someone is prodding me into standing, which is difficult because my legs feel like arms and my arms feel like legs and both are filled with wet sand. “No, I can do it my…” My protest comes of meager on account of I don’t have much strength to exert at the moment. The darkling was a fearsome foe, and the struggle for dominance felt eternal.

Did it work? I can’t tell. I don’t feel my light, but to be fair, I don’t feel much of anything, really.

Somehow we’re moving—though I doubt it’s my doing. “It will take too long to open a new portal,” Alaska is saying. “And I don’t know of any around here. We’re going to have to borrow a car or something.”

“Can you drive?” Kinley says, voice strained.

“It can’t be that hard, can it?” says Alaska. Her voice is nearer and thicker. She must be supporting most of my weight. “Argh!” she gnashes. “I wish I had known that was how it was going to happen. I would have prepared better! I feel like I failed the Wilted!”

“Don’t kick yourself, Al,” heaves Kinley. “We had no way of knowing. It’s my fault for assuming it would transpire like mine. Mine was all shadow, no light.”

“Does that mean it worked?” says Pidd.

“Unclear,” says Kinley. “Look at her ear.”

“Whoa, what does THAT mean?”

I don’t like Pidd’s tone. What the fudge is wrong with my ear?! Alas, I can’t muster enough gumption to open my eyes, let alone probe them for answers.

Are you in there, darkling?

Deep in my soul, I feel something wiggle.

“Did you see that?!” says Pidd.

See what?!

This isn’t doing my body any good. I seem to be draining the last drops of energy by merely questioning things in my head—if that’s possible.

Mind, go blank!

…

…

…

For once, it works. I drift away into darkness blacker and slicker than any unconsciousness I’ve reached before.

><

“…exley?”

Mm?

“B…xley?”

I hate waking up. Especially when the darkness is so velvety soft.

“Aiden?” I coo.

“Bexley?” Kinley’s voice sharpens. “Sorry, but you need to eat some pearls. You’ve been away from the light too long. Also, I think you run through it faster in your new state. We’re still trying to work out the logistics of it.” He pauses. “It will help us figure it out quicker if you open your eyes, though.”

I’m trying.

Kinley presses a lighted bead to my lips. “At least eat this, even if you aren’t ready to wake up.”

I part my lips and the bead falls inside, hitting my tongue in a burst of light. Kinley was right; I’m famished. I swallow the light down into the pit of my empty stomach. Hungry, the void within me writhes for more. My eyes cooperate. They lag open and focus in on Kinley, who responds by shooting forward to get a better look.

I look past him to get my bearings. We’re still in the mortal realm, though not in a place I recognize. It seems to be a warehouse of some sort, though I am in a bed.

“A bed warehouse?” I mumble.

“It’s a restored barn,” Kinley says with a laugh. “Cool, right? Alaska found it on Airbnb.” Using his thumb, he presses another light bead to my lips. Ever the coolish nerd, he sports a yellow knitted stocking cap I haven’t seen before. Tufts of black hair sprout out from the bottom.

Buzz-buzz. Kindler the bumblebee.

“How long was I out?” My voice is crunchy from disuse.

“Three days, so far. Though you popped in and out a few times.”

I don’t remember that. Not waking up or popping anywhere. Worse… three days worth of morning breath and bed head?! “Did I—” I excuse away a chunk of phlegm in my throat. “Did it work?”

Kinley’s expression morphs puzzled. “We were hoping you would tell us. Do you feel differently?”

“Yes!” I shuffle up onto my elbows. “I’m ravenous. Not like normal ravenous, wolfish.”

“Wolfish?”

“You know, like I need to wolf down some food.”

“Mortal food or this?” Kinley holds up a satchel of glowing beads infused with Yggdrasil’s light.

I snatch them, down a handful, and then wait. The pit of my gullet howls. “Both mortal food and these, I think?” says the wolf in me.

“Interesting.” Kinley scratches something down in a notepad on his lap.

“Wait—are you taking notes on me?!”

He swoops the notepad out of reach.

“What’s the big deal, you were hungry for light when you changed into a sullen too, weren’t you?” I continue, scowling at the notepad filled with messy scribbled lines—the contents my morning breath and puffy eyes, no doubt.

Kinley’s face remains troubled. He looks me over, squinting to use the full power of his brain, before— “See for yourself.” He stands and the chair that formerly held him gives a squeak. Likewise, the floorboards of the reclaimed barn creak from his weight. He moves to a dresser at the side of the room to fetch something. Meanwhile, I gather a view of the ceiling, from which strands of fairy lights are strung in a tasteful flared out pattern. The lofty walls are coated in peeling red paint—though I suspect some mortal has gone through great effort to make it appear that way. On the nightstand beside the bed, someone—I suspect Kinley—has gathered a bunch of greenery. He knows I like grassy tufts and leafy ivy better than flowers. Speaking of ivy, this barn seems just the sort of place that would be covered on the outside.

Motivation!

I push myself into a sitting position. My head lolls heavily before balancing on my neck. By this time, Kinley’s made it back to my side. “Careful.” He evens me out. Perfect opportunity to snatch that notebook. But alas, it’s stowed away somewhere out of reach. Instead, an antique hand mirror hands at his side. It’s one of those ones made from polished shell. He hands it to me and I hold it to my ear. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t you hear the ocean with these things?” I say.

“No, Bexley. Just no.” He shakes his head humorously.

But I was being serious.

Alright, no more stalling. Three, two, one…

I swivel the mirror around and take a hasty glimpse of myself. Meh, not as bad as I initially expected in the hair department. The upside of having constantly messy hair is that it doesn’t look any different when it’s actually messy.

But when I travel down my face, I nearly drop the mirror.

“Whoa!”

The culprits are my eyes. The right one burns turquoise, like the eye of a lightborne leader who’s mastered her magick. Likewise, my right earlobe blares turquoise brighter than ever before. Is that because I stole some of Kinley and Pidd’s? I relive the moment I pulled their energy through their lightstreams and into myself.

…I didn’t take it all, did I!?

Kinley’s earlobe is covered in one of those pesky escapees of hair. I swat it away.

Phew. It’s a little dimmer than normal, but by no means has it gone out.

More… abnormal we’ll call it, is the left side of me. My left ear, which has never shone magick before, shows off now in a most surreptitious way. The lobe simmers with black creeping shadow, the way Kinley’s did when he was a sullen.

As is to be expected when hoping to acquire the power of Nocturne, yes?

Okay, that’s fine. One black left earlobe is just perfectly fine…

What isn’t fine is my left eye.

B-l-a-c-k.

Not the whole thing—not like a demon or devil; the white is still there, but the iris is stained as black as the pupil. And as I move the mirror closer, I realize that the blackness therein is swiveling around, like living ink.

I drop the mirror into the bedding and clamp my two earlobes. “Is that normal?! Is that what’s supposed to happen?!”

“Probably?” Kinley shows his teeth uneasily. “I mean, my eyes remained green when I was a sullen.”

“My point!”

“But Bexley,” Kinley hides his worry in the lights above us. “I was only a sullen, remember? You are the Wilted.”

Truuuue. And judging by my earlobes, I have access to both my light and newfound darkness. So that’s good, right? That’s exactly what we needed to happen.

Judging by Kinley’s face, though. There’s something else.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

…

Silence.

….

“Kinley?”

He lets out a sign. I brace myself. With the barn as my witness, I clutch my knees at my chest and gulp in my breath. Holding up his wrist, Kinley exposes the lightstream between us. It blazes turquoise, per normal.

“So what?” I say.

“How many do you see?” he says.

My empty stomach drops.

There’s one lightstream chained to my right wrist, flowing vibrantly from me to Kinley.

Only one.

Oh my gawd, did I kill Pidd? Did I suck the light out of him like a vampire? Or worse, inadvertently fuel him with my power, popping him like a light bulb?!

I imagine him swelling before shattering, broken bits of minion flecking off into the sun.

“According to him, it’s moved over there,” Kinley says hastily, sensing my quickly onset despair.

The right wrist connects a waker to their ward. And the left wrist connects a ward to their waker. My left wrist has been bare ever since Aiden’s crossing. But now, around that wrist, hangs a chain.

One made of onyx shadow.

“What!” I give it a wiggle. “Pidd’s chain is black?”

Kinley says nothing.

“…Is Pidd a darkling too?! And why is his lightstream—er, shadowstream—over on this wrist, pretending to be a waker’s chain?!” With my gaze, I follow the chain through the far wall of the barn. I concentrate on my ward’s existence. Honing…honing… there! It appears to work the same as a lightstream. I feel his location, a short distance away outside, sitting at a picnic table.

“He feels normal,” I say, relieved. “Alive, at least.”

“Our theory is that in order for you to keep your light, you moved the darkling into him, instead of housing it within yourself.”

“You’re kidding.”

Kinley shakes his head. “Not something I would have thought to do, but a little ingenious.”

Can something be a LITTLE ingenious? Sounds oxymoronic. And what’s more, pushing a darkling into Pidd? I definitely didn’t do that consciously!

Again, I ask—which one of you Bexleys was responsible?

But for the first time since suffering countless memory lapses and losses, I realize:

It’s just me in here.

The other voices are gone. Bexley the First, Second, and Third… I search them in my mind, peering through the keyholes of locked bureau drawers, calling for them, one after another.

I’m whole? Yet I feel alarmingly empty. Like a present filled only with paper, so that shaking it does nothing to entice the imagination.

Bexley the… nothing?

Bexley the something.

If it’s just me, who am I going to blame for my indecisiveness, selfishness, immaturity and bad decisions? This is how normal people feel. This is what they call accountability. Lovely in length, but frightening in connotation. I have to be very careful how I treat others from here on out. It’s easy to give a piece when your heart is fractured.

Having it glued into one beating mass is so much more complicated.

“Is Pidd okay?” I divert, boring my eyes into the reclaimed wood.

Kinley nods. “Just looks different, mainly.”

Looks different?

I want to go see him. But first— “Is there a bathroom in here, or is this a dig-a-hole and grab-a-leaf kind of situation?”

Kinley motions with his thumb to the other side of the barn, past a cast-iron wood stove, beyond a couch-set covered in knitted blankets, and to a curtained-off area. “There’s a toothbrush in there for ya.” He winks.

I cover my mouth. “Fanks.”

By the time I’m cleaned and changed, Kinley is no longer in the barn. I lean on the couch for support. Even drying my hair is tiresome at present. Hoping it will fade if I consume more pearls. I let the damp strands of hair fall around my shoulders, and prepare myself for the state of Pidd, minion extraordinaire.

The door to the barn is a sliding one. Opening it lets in a wave of sunlight. Hiss!

The barn stands in a meadow, backed by a line of trees. Along the side, leans a rusted wheel from some mortal contraption. And beyond that is a picnic table, but no Pidd.

“Mistress!” Alaska pops up like a gopher. “How do you feel?”

Kinley sits opposite of her. Together, they were pouring over the map from Aiden, along with the silver-gold duo of books. The metallic moth sits beside the parchment. Cursed, memory-stealing thing.

“I’m fine…” Even I notice it sounds half-hearted and absent. But it’s hard to be concerned with those two, while the shadowy chain around my wrist slithers and coils like a black serpent, drawing me to my darkened ward.

I see him, standing in a field, looking through the lens of a borrowed camera.

I don’t have a lot of strength at the moment, but I use it to propel myself through the stalks of grass that sway in the afternoon wind, turned golden from the sun. “Pidd!” I call to him as I run, losing steam before reaching him. As I bend over and catch my breath, he closes the gap, and when I straighten my backbone, I understand what Kinley meant.

Looks different.

This isn’t the same Pidd.

The once-blonde boy before me now has hair as dark as night and seems to have grown taller since the last time I saw him. His eyes are dark-lined and intense, his skin holds a silvery hue, and his mouth is crooked to the side. Actually, he resembles the way Kinley looked the last time we traveled into Nocturne.

“Well, well. She rises from the dead at last.” He cocks his head. “Oh right. Dead girls don’t snore, do they?”

I want to counter him, but I’m having a hard time forming the words. They’re lodging up in my throat. I’m not the snorer of the group. That’s Alaska. Me? I purr. Delicately. Like a hummingbird.

Is what I want to tell him.

Instead, “My ward,” I say, “you look…”

Badass.

“Different,” I finish.

“Well, duh, guess that’s what happens when you force a freaking darkling into me.” He doesn’t sound angry, though; his crooked smirk remains.

I size him up cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“Well I wasn’t at first, but…” His expression darkens. “This shit is awesome.” By ‘shit’ he means the string of shadow he’s just extracted from his right earlobe. He kneads it into a ball, which he shifts between hands. “I never could quite catch on to that light stuff, but this?” He raises a hand above his head and a crack of lightning-like darkness crashes against the sky over where he stands. “Hell yes.”

“Neat trick,” I say, struck not with lightning, but with awe. He doesn’t only look different, the air about him is different. That guyish smile of his beams confidence.

“You haven’t seen anything, Bex,” he says. “Watch this.” He opens his palm in my direction, leans backward his head, and then curls his fingers. The darkstream between us swells.

And then it begins twining up my arm like a tattoo over the skin.

“Waaah!” I chicken dance my elbow to fling it away.

He lets out a chuckle and releases the spell. The shadowstream goes lax. “I’ve been messing around with it the past few days,” he says, “and managed to figure out a few things. It’s way easier to wield than that blue light.”

“I haven’t tried it yet…” I graze my own blackened ear with my fingertips. The shadow sticks to the pads of my fingers and clings there until I dust them together to dispose of it. I don’t think it wise to be casting magick in my current state. “What’s the big idea, anyway, with getting your lightstream swapped over to my other wrist?”

That spot was reserved for Aiden.

He shrugs, flicking his darkened eyes to mine. “Maybe I’m supposed to be your master now, Bexley.”

L-like hell!

Argh! The sun is hot. My face is hot. My neck is hot. And Pidd is looking at me in that carefree way I’m not used to seeing him wear. I turn my face from him. “You’re different.”

In a flash, he’s in my ear, leaving a smoky trail behind. “See how fast I am now?”

Too fast. Startled, I lose my balance and crash into the grass, legs shaky because they aren’t strong enough to hold my weight. But I don’t hit the grass—instead, a dark cloud shoots from Pidd’s palms and catches me. Suspended, I dangle mid-fall.

Pretty comfy, actually.

“Sorry.” Pidd offers a hand. “Still getting the hang of it.” He pulls me out of the cloud and helps me steady myself. “Didn’t realize you were still out of it, either. Here—” He settles an arm around my waist and pulls my opposite arm about his shoulder. Kinley and Alaska stand at the ready like faithful guard dogs. “Geez,” Pidd huffs. “Those two are a lot.” He motions to them. “We’re fine.”

We aren’t all that fine. I can’t think of a single thing to say to this new all-powerful version of Pidd. And he’s waiting for something. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “This changes nothing. You’re still a nugget.”

“Ass.”

“It’s a fine one, isn’t it?” I counter, gesturing to my bootylicious booty. Just kidding—it’s pretty average as far as butts go. But, yo-ho! Mission accomplished.

The situation normalizes. Pidd shakes his head at me. That thudding feeling in my neck should be recessing at any moment.

I feel the new look suits his personality. Yes, he’s different, but it seems natural.

I can’t bring myself to say it, though. Another great and terrible Bexley secret, never to see the light of day. Or the shadow of day. Maybe that’s more fitting now.

“Check this out.” He exposes the inside of his elbow to me, where the vein runs black.

“Here too.” I touch his neck, where another black vein pulses faintly beneath his silvery skin. “You probably won’t be able to enter Yggdress with your body anymore,” I conclude. “You’ll look like Kinley did back when he infiltrated the coterie.” A flattened shadow skimming the ground.

“Tch. Worth it.” He raises the Polaroid to his face for another photo.

He’s a much more enthusiastic darkling than Kinley ever was. And so blasé, to boot! Like he hasn’t just undergone a total transformation from light to dark. Like I haven’t betrayed my oath to protect him by forcing a darkling to merge with his soul—all for the sake of retaining my own light.

“Pidd!”

He jumps because he’s literally directly beside me. “What?”

A swell of unwelcome emotion overcomes me, filtering in through the cracks in my conviction. “I’m sorry.”

He wrinkles his nose, disgusted by the show of passion. “Oh great. Here we go.”

“Stop it. I’m serious.” My head falls, and woe-am-I make no attempt to stop it. “I was supposed to take on the darkling, not you! I didn’t mean to shove it into you! I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

He releases his support on my waist and scoots away, uncomfortable.

In true Bexley fashion, I scoot after him, claws out.

“Ack!” He backpedals. “It’s fine. I’m telling you, I like it. And it’s better than full-on becoming the Wilted. That’s still your bit.”

“But—”

“For real, Bex. I don’t mind. And the goal was for you to keep your light while harnessing the darkness, right? If this is the way it had to go down, then so be it.”

I stare at him, trying to pick out signs of deceit.

“Argh!” He messes his hair. “Enough with that goop-eyed stare. I’m not accepting your apology because you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

…

“I mean it, Bexley.”

…

“Okay?”

…

“Okay,” I peep.

He nods. “Good. Now—” He spins me around to face Kinley and Alaska who have remained out of sorts ever since my near-fall. “You better go talk to those two. They’ve been conniptioning ever since you passed out.”

But I spin myself the rest of the way so that I’m facing him again. Through his new appearance he remains the person I targeted in that field so long ago—and the one I found again in my reborn state.

Those other selves are gone now, washed away with the turning of the blue moon.

I am Bexley the Last, one true Bexley and inheritress of all Bexleys come before.

I am the Wilted.

I am the fiend.

In that moment, I feel something. A shift. The world around is the same as it’s always been, but something in the unseen space is changed. The guy with the stained earlobe is mine to protect and to guide.

Still.

Always.

Now and until the end.

I am the end.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell him, feeling earnest. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t, sidekick.”

I leave him without another word because the day is increasingly hot and I can’t stand the warmth swelling in my cheeks; but Pidd calls to me as I trounce back through the swishing grass, in a way that’s barely audible—a whisper riding on the wind:

“You too, my waker.”

It may be the first time he’s ever addressed me as such. I leave him spouting flurries of pitch-black snow.

15

These Words over My Lips

The return to the land of light breeds new challenges. As expected, Pidd’s form transitions to shadow when in the golden tier. He shrinks to the ground in a mass of shadow, slinking along at the rear of the group.

I squat down and pet the mass’s head like a puppy. It darts away, conveying as much grumpiness as a shadow can convey.

I too, am changed. The left half of me flickers every so often before solidifying, leaving me feeling numb and dreamlike on that side. Maybe when it disappears from our world, it exists in another plane.

“Most peculiar…” Kinley’s voice trails.

“Stay back!” I perform a sloppy karate chop.

I won’t let him put his hand through me, for fear I might never reform.

There’s a balance between light and dark I must maintain in able to exist in bodily form, and within a few minutes into Yggdress, we begin to understand what that means for my wards. The mortal tier is one thing, but here, beneath the gleaming sky, I need to pull in more light to combat my shadowy state and remain solid.

Kinley feels it. His ear dims as mine swells. Though he’ll never complain.

Even hindered, we race through the shimmering, twilit world, one thought on our minds:

‘She means to drink direct from the roots of Yggdrasil to amass enough power to secure her victory.’

Aiden is somewhere around us, unseen. And he knows of my half-darkened state now. Knows of his joy’s betrayal. I imagine him zipping around me in a frenzy, plotting ways to make me take it back. I struggle with whether or not I should don the Cog of the Fallen once the night hits. The guilt is hard to bear. Picturing his reaction is too hard to bear, even if his form is nothing but a whizzing ball of light.

All this power and I’m still so weak.

I try not to let the others see it.

The Wilted’s glove remains on my hand. I haven’t taken it off since that night, not even to go to the bathroom, because we aren’t sure what will happen if I do. The balance of light and dark between Waker and Wards is too delicate. Maintaining equilibrium while distributing out the opposing forces of light and dark takes more concentration than we’re able to spare.

I worry what would happen if the Wielder or any of her underlings were to discover us now. We’re severely disadvantaged. And I haven’t even begun to get a grip on my newfound power.

Maybe this is why Alaska and Kinley have been acting particularly paranoid. They spread out and run ahead and halt at even a distant crinkling of leaves.

We run with intention enough to close the gap between our current position and Yggdrasil. It was a five-day journey from the arena, but based on the map and our relativity to our coteries, it seems we’ve only two or so days left. Though we can’t be sure. Traveling through the mortal world and popping back into Yggdress is always a gamble.

Unfortunately, we lost a day resting up in that barn. We had to. I was no good to anyone in my post-transformation state. Imagine confronting Ellie when I could barely stand. Luckily, my strength returned quickly, though I couldn’t tell if it was my own body’s doing, or because I was accidentally drawing light from Kinley. If it was the latter, he wouldn’t admit it, insisting he was fine by pulling down his stocking cap and grinning.

For my own sake and the sake of the worlds, I need to believe him.

Before returning to the land of light, I attempted only briefly wielding the darkness. But unlike Pidd, it didn’t come naturally to me. Light has always been a sanguine force, weightless and obedient. The dark was more reluctant, stickier, thicker, and laggy. I managed to conjure a web, in which my own arm was tangled. I ended up flicking it against the wall, to Pidd and Kinley’s amusement. Alaska hastily sizzled it away with her lavender light.

The light gleams through the trees, once again flickering my left half to shadow for a blinking second. It’s no good practicing now, in a realm where shadow has no legs to stand.

The mass that is Pidd slides up beside me, as if to prove that point. But after swiveling to the left side, he quickly darts over to the right.

“What?” I shrug at him. “Wanna dance?”

No, he’s calling my attention. “Oh yikes! Kinley, Alaska, look what Pidd found!”

Muddying the forest floor, a second pool of sticky darkness has invaded the immaculate realm—this one bigger than the last.

“Another one?” Alaska wastes no time streaming her energy into the puddle, making it recoil.

“Hold on!” I drop to my knees beside the tar-like substance. Pidd travels to the opposite side with the same idea.

“Bexley, you shouldn’t,” Kinley protests when he realizes my intention.

“I’m half sullen now, remember? Let’s see what the what this thing’s about, shall we?”

He repositions his glasses. “Not smart.”

“Listen, if the beast we’re up against is all light, then having an untapped source of darkness just lying at our feet seems like a godsend, doesn’t it?”

I don’t give him further time to protest, before I plunge my ungloved hand into the void.

After, his face is one of horror.

But I catch it only a moment before my own eyes flood black and my lighted side flickers transparent. Of course, I don’t see this happening to myself, but I feel it. Feel the slinky darkness come into me, filling the space behind my eyes. Feel my right half detach from reality.

I’ve made a mistake, I’ll admit. Another rash decision. Sure, Bex, let’s just stick our hand into an uninvited puddle of darkness that’s defied all odds and managed to infiltrate the lighted realm.

I struggle to take my hands up out of the sticky abyss, but it fights me, latching my fingers and drawing me deeper.

And into the black canvas of my mind rushes an image.

The great tree, blinding, radiating, regal and majestic, sits atop a hill breached up out of the crying forest. The leaves are indiscernible, for they are nothing but a mass of light purer than any I’ve witnessed before. The trunk gleams golden with smooth, unadulterated bark, crafted by the Creator of the worlds—the diameter equivalent to the skyscraping coterie. The boughs reach far and bow low.

This fabled being, giver of life and light, the stories didn’t do it justice.

There is no greater tree, none wider or taller or more resplendent.

Light pours from it, purifying the air, sending spots of dazzle all around it, creating an overpowering aura of light that is more gold than gold and at the same time, more silver than silver. The closest thing I’ve seen in the mortal world is the sun’s reflection on water in the peak of summer, but even that is slight compared to this ancient stronghold.

My body isn’t actually before the tree. I know I’m not truly in its presence, but my vision has been transported to the base, and then down into the ground, where ancient magickal roots reach out through our realm and into the human world, carrying power and life.

Yggdrasil’s veins are a two-way passage through the earth, flowing out light, and drawing in human emotion. I feel their tears and joy warming the roots, providing sustenance to the tree, which converts to light and flows again out into the world to create life anew. I am part of Yggdrasil, sensing what Yggdrasil senses. Experiencing what Yggdrasil experiences. Tasting the light and dark and the balance of the worlds.

In a distant part of the tree’s reach, the darkness, counterpart to light, stretches towards the roots, ushering humans towards the light—a gift to the Creator—but the gap is too great.

The ends of the roots darken and melt into piles of decay.

This is what I’ve touched.

Yggdrasil’s dying root is in my hand. It squeals and writhes in pain.

And then it shows me something that is yet to come.

The crumbling of massive structures both in this realm and beyond, falling between dimensions. The moon, swelling and crashing into the sea. Kinley and Pidd, Cello and Kray, Alaska and Erron, everyone, sucked of their light and flesh—limp corpses of bone and skin floating through nonexistence. A cataclysmic end.

If the light dies, we all die.

They all die.

Everything dies.

“Bexley!”

I fly backwards from the tree’s light, through the forest and back into my body, where Kinley has been shaking me for some time now, judging by his reddened, distraught face.

“I’m here.” I blink at him.

“Oh, thank god.” He falls forward into me, but I’m shaking too hard to provide him any comfort.

I look past him to the shadow that is Pidd, whispering. “Did you see that?” He bobs up and down, though I can’t tell what that means. “If you saw what I saw, if you saw IT, move over there.” I point to a pile of leaves near Alaska.

Pidd shifts over straightaway.

We, waker and ward, have laid eyes upon the tree of light and lived to tell the tale. We’ve seen the dying roots firsthand, just like Aiden.

And in my head, a resounding song of death echoes.

I am not a selfless person. I’ve been unenthusiastic, at best, regarding this entire world-saving mission. I would rather go back to messing around with Kinley, hanging off his balcony and daydreaming about challenging the establishment.

But I don’t have that luxury.

It’s time to buck up.

I stand from Kinley. “I saw the tree. Everything Aiden and Erron said was true. And I saw what will happen if things go on unchecked. We need to go. And we can’t stop until we get there.”

I march on, leaving the others to catch up.

The guilt I’ve felt over my transition disintegrates into dust and falls off onto the forest floor, that emotion replaced by something more ravaging. I’m angry with my late waker. Furious, even. He saw the dying roots firsthand. Did he also see the premonition I saw, or was that a special treat given only to the Wilted? If he did see it, how dare he make me his kept pet? How dare he put me before the entire world?

“Damn it, Aiden. What were you thinking?”

The only answer is the chiming of the forest.

No, Aiden may have had an unhealthy obsession with me, but he wouldn’t have let things go on this long if he had seen what I’d seen. Because in doing nothing, he was putting me at jeopardy right along with the rest of the worlds’ inhabitants.

I look to the glove on my hand. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the reason Pidd and I were able to see that vision of the future.”

Lucky me.

Argh! I throw back my head in surrender.

Maybe Aiden didn’t now the gravity of the situation. Maybe only I was privy to that part of the vision. I admit, when I heard the tree was dying, I thought they meant in the distant future. A slow burn kind of death. Like when you hear about pollution or melting ice caps or any of those other catastrophes Moll from the Café on Grand rants about between refills of coffee. Maybe those impending threats never seem that pressing until you’re staring them in the face. After all, there’s always a chance the unidentified ‘they’ is wrong. There was always a chance it’s all overreaction.

And to be fair, Aiden wasn’t really doing nothing.

‘I am not the Wielder, and you, my joy, have it all wrong. The reason I’ve separated your ward from you isn’t to keep him from becoming the Wilted. It’s to force him to become the Wilted.’

Too bad. I am the Wilted, I know that now, beyond a shadow of a shadow’s doubt.

And for the first time since stumbling into this adventure, I feel the truth of what I’ve agreed to. I will die. And it will be noble, and historic, but I won’t care about any of that. Maybe I’ll end up like Aiden, watching my friends from the beyond.

Do the dead envy the living?

I don’t have the luxury of wondering. There are many people, mortal and non, who have had it worse than me. And there will be many to come who will live lives of suffering.

I’m not dumb enough to think I deserve something glamorous.

I have a purpose. I don’t know why I was the one born with it, but it’s mine.

Although as a sidebar, I do think I’m a funny choice, out of all the self-righteous, pompous types that would have done everything cleaner and more efficiently than I will, had they been chosen. Whoever’s writing my story sure made the squishy choice.

Regardless—

“I am the Wilted.” I’ve said it in my head at least a dozen times, but this is the first I’ve said it aloud.

Something happens, for unbeknownst to me, those particular words in that particular order are special. More than magic; they’re magick. Of the drippiest, thickest kind.

The glove on my hand wiggles as if it’s been waiting for me to speak just such an incantation, and I feel a sharp, stitching pain—“Ah!” I double-over, cradling my hand because it feels like someone’s sticking a thick needle into my pores.

Kinley and Alaska trot up from the rear to see what’s happened. But I writhe, hiding my arm into my shirt, as though cotton can save me in some way. My face heats from the pressure of my rushing blood. I suppress the curdling pain, only unveiling my hand once it’s over.

In an enchanted turn of events, the three-fingered glove has become fused with my flesh.

I am the wilted.

There’s no going back now.

16

Cravings

I can’t say I’m particularly fond of the leather piece bound to my skin. Wearing it is one thing, but to have it embedded in me—less ‘cool biker chick,’ more ‘post-apocalyptic mutant woman.’

Although that might be fitting, depending on the outcome of our quest.

Immediately following the morphication, I try casting a few spells, both of light and dark. Even with the glove hitched to my paw, the shadow attempts are laughable. So it seems I’ve gained no new power, even after that stint of excruciating pain.

Maybe fate just wants to ensure I don’t back out and remove the thing.

We run through the forest, swifter than before, eyes set on the prize. Kinley, worried about my mental state after seeing Yggdrasil’s appalling vision of the future, tries to take my mind off of it with lighthearted remarks and reminiscences of our memories together.

That time on the roof beneath the mortal moon, while the humans shot exploding light into the sky.

That time we stole a raft and let it drift us along the current. I felt like a sunbathing reptile. Something exotic with a long tail.

That time we broke into Aiden’s chamber, in search of the sacred tomes… and found a stash of scantily clad portraits buried beneath a stack of faded books.

But it all feels so long ago. Even our recent kissing sesh, as much as I hate to admit it. Is it because I’m Bexley the Last now? Did I make the right choice?

Never kiss someone when you’re conflicted about them. Lesson learned.

But I don’t have a lot of time left to be wishy-washy with another person’s feelings. This charming glove is a testament. “Pssst. Kindler.” I beckon him over, away from the others. “Can I talk to you about something, mid-grade serious?”

He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing… yet.” I smirk back, waiting for Alaska to move out of earshot. “Naw, I was just wondering, how do you feel about—” I gesture to the forest: “All of this?”

The suspiciousness remains. “As in this forest?” he says.

“No, not the forest. I already know how you feel about that. It’s redundant and there’s no moon and bla-bla-blablabla.”

“Wow, I can see you really value my options, B.” He rolls his eyes, playing with me. “Ohh, you mean as in this journey?” he concludes.

Though he definitely knew what I meant all along.

“Well, yeah. I mean, we got reunited and right away it was like ‘go, Team Bexley!’” I mimic the sounds of a cheering crowd. “After I abandoned you all that time, you’re just so willing to help me. Not to mention, I’ve gone through something of an identity crisis since then. Aren’t you a little… pissed off at me?”

“Of course I’m pissed off at you,” he says, blunt.

Well that was a quicker response than I expected! I at least thought he’d deny it a bit first!

“Th-that’s fair,” I stammer.

“Bexley.” He halts and takes his elbow in his opposite hand. “You know I’m a realist.” A leaf flutters onto his shoulder and he blows it off.

I nod at him.

“And as such, I understand what you’re going through. Well, to be honest, one can never fully understand Bexley Lightborne, but I have a pretty good idea.” A hint of a grin appears but disappears just as quickly. “I mean, I’m trying to work through my own feelings about you too, after all.”

The confession hits me like a sack of melons.

Seriously?! After all of that ‘I want it all’ business from the other night? It never even occurred to me that Kinley might be wrestling with his feelings over me while I wrestled with my feelings over him.

It’s because I’m self-centered isn’t it?

Or I could lie and say it’s because I’m focused on my role as the Wilted.

That feels nicer. I’ll go with that.

“What you did to me was actually quite messed up, you know?” Kinley carries on, “Just disappearing like that? One day we’re basically living together, the next day nada. Not even a note? I get why you did it, but it was still a dick move, B.”

I can’t deny that. It was a dick move. Back then, I could think of nothing but making Pidd the Wilted. I was willing to forfeit everything. My memory… my relationships… my promises.

‘It’s you and me, remember?’ No. Because I made a conscious decision to abandon it.

Luckily, Kinley doesn’t make me repent my sins. This is his moment. I won’t dilute it.

“The other night—that was me trying to get a handle on my feelings and yours, and it felt DAMN good. I craved you.” He swallows, not meeting my eyes. “Or at least I craved the you you used to be.”

Ouch.

“Up until then, I thought things might go back to the way they used to be. We could just slip into it again.” He looks to the sky, forlorn. “We’re good at that. We’ve got that…”

Heat.

He tips his head and meets me with his emerald eyes. “But since then, it’s all gotten pushed aside for me, in lieu of everything else we’re up against. I mean, you invited a demon inside of you. Heck, I remember what that was like. Not a lot of time for flirting and sneaking away in the dark. I’m guessing it’s the same for you, right?”

He waits for an answer, and I nod.

“That’s only natural. After all, what brought us together in the first place was our shared history. We agreed to take down the bastards that wiped out our people and we’re doing it. I cannot express how deeply satisfying that is. For me, that takes precedence now. I believe in you first and foremost as the Wilted, Bex.” He squeezes my hand. “And I’ll be here for you in whatever capacity you need from me, until all of this is over. After, we’ll see what’s what.” He knocks me in the center of the forehead with his knuckle. “Does that help whatever mess has been going on in there?”

Again, I can offer him nothing but a nod.

“You sure?” he queries, sizing me up.

I won’t ask him if he still loves me. I don’t want to know. And I feel foolish for being conflicted over him as though he were a thing. Kinley’s role in this has always more than as my love interest. He deserves more credit than that. He fights now for the end he fought for all along.

Still, selfishly, it hurts. He believes in me first and foremost as the Wilted. When did he come to that conclusion? Was it the moment he found out I was the Wilted? Was it after our kiss?

“Bex,” he prods.

“It helps.” I squeeze his hand as he squeezed mine. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

Now’s probably not the best time to mention I’ll be dead before the week is out.

17

If There’s a—Will You Stop It?

We carry on through day and into the night, and because I haven’t decided yet whether or not to face Aiden, I opt not to wear the Cog of the Fallen, instead tasking Alaska with keeping tabs on our otherworldly entourage of wisps.

It’s the first time she and Kinley witness the phenomenon.

“Heavens to Betsy! Ancestors!”

She takes much more acceptingly to it than Pidd and I formerly did. She spreads her fingers through the air in front of her, welcoming the hosts unseen to the rest of us. Though we can’t see them, their presence is apparent in the way Alaska willows her hands poetically through the air, eyes dazzling with stardust. Right away she begins calling out to Aiden, beckoning him to distinguish himself from the other wisps.

“He’ll stand out,” I tell her. “Look for one maybe a bit flouncier than the rest.”

She shakes her head. “Nothing yet.”

“He said he was going to try finding Kray and Cello’s whereabouts in order to clear our names with the other lightborne. Maybe he’s still busy with that.” The words slip through disappointedly and I can’t mask them. Guess I wanted to confront him after all.

It’s better this way, though. Gives him time to cool off once he inevitably sees my darkened half.

“I’ll let you know,” Alaska promises.

As we progress through the enchanted forest, the nighttime moaning increases, making communication with one another less than ideal. Eventually, we stop talking altogether. My hairs prick, as if sensing the distance from Yggdrasil closing. Apparent to this are the masses of shriveled roots that begin to dot to floor in messy, goopy piles, sparsely at first, but growing more frequent as night goes on. This is when the jogging turns to hurdling. Maybe we resemble gazelles, heads bopping up and down as we flee. More likely, we’re nothing so graceful. Possibly kangaroos. Yeah, kangaroos. Did anyone ever have a kangaroo familiar, I wonder, during the light wars, all studded out with gears and chains?

Are they rideable?

…

…

I can’t tell when it happens, but eventually my mind drifts from the strange front-pouched creatures to something else. Something beautiful. First, it’s distant on my mind, a beacon at the end of a long darkness. The tree on the hill, dripping silver and gold—was it more oak-like or more willow-like? It was neither and both. A tree unlike any in the realms.

It shimmered with light and warmth and soul.

Get there.

Get to the tree.

I can’t think of anything else. I run ahead of the others, turquoise chain and shadow chain linking me to those in pursuit, until at some point, I can no longer feel my feet hitting the ground.

Get to the tree.

Sesha and LaMar… they don’t really fight for the light. I fight for the light. I fight for the light. My name is darkness, but I fight for the light.

Get to the tree.

Get to the tree.

The glove on my wrist pulsates with turquoise light.

Get to the tree.

And I can no longer hear the others or see them through my peripheral.

But I can’t look back. There isn’t time.

Get to the tree.

Time passes.

To the tree.

We should be just over a day’s journey from the source of light. Strange thing is, I had expected the forest to brighten as we neared the great tree, but it doesn’t look to be brightening at all.

If anything, it’s dimming.

Or maybe my Wilted eyes are just adjusting to the light. If the others share the concern, they don’t voice it.

But there is another concern on their tongues.

“Bexley!” I hear the shouts eventually, only after the forest’s oppressive moaning has changed to delicate chiming, signaling day—though based on Kinley’s tone, I reckon this isn’t the first time he’s called my name. Still I’m compelled to run on, to keep going and not turn back. Why? Kinley’s lips press my name, which means I ought to stop and turn around. That’s what a polite person would do.

To the tree.

Yet my legs continue propelling the rest of me onward. It’s a fight to get them to stop. I’m not used to obstinacy from my own limbs.

“I fight for the light.”

I hear the words. Taste the words.

I spoke them?

“Bexley! Please!” The desperation coming from Kinley is what settles the struggle. Creaky, I turn to find him and Alaska propped against trees, panting and worn. Pidd’s shadow is nowhere in sight, but the darkstream on my wrist lets me know he isn’t too far.

The veil drops.

“Ah! Why did I say that? And what happened to you guys?”

“You can hear us?” says Alaska, relieved. “At last.” Her cheeks are flush, her neck coated in sweat. She looks sidelong at Kinley, who’s in a similar state. “I told you it would break eventually,” she says.

‘It’ would ‘break’?

“What’s going on?” I look between the worn out pair of them, confused as to why my skin is dry if theirs is so wet. I’m a sweaty person too, aren’t I? I mean, maybe not as sweaty as darling Alaska, but still.

I don’t like the way they’re looking at me, either.

Almost like they’re…

Afraid.

Of something behind me?!

But when I spin, I find nothing.

“We have been TRYING to get you to stop for hours,” huffs Kinley, “but you were in a FRICKEN trance or something. We couldn’t get through. Look, we don’t have whatever godlike power you’re wielding, and while it’s easier to dash here than in the mortal tier, we can’t keep on like this. Unless you want to physically drag us, we need sleep. You’re killing us, B.”

Slowly, my tunnel vision widens, and I realize: I’ve forced them on throughout the night, blind to everything except:

Get to the tree.

I look to the fused glove on my wrist in revulsion. “Get it off! Get it off, get it off, get it OFF!” I squish my own cheeks between my hands. “I am so sorry, you guys! I didn’t realize! It’s this cursed thing! Ever since it melted into my skin, I can’t think of anything but moving the tree!” I stretch that arm as far away from my body as possible. “It’s brainwashing me! Did you hear what I said?! Like those two grunts, Sesha and LaMar!”

And I was already borrowing from Kinley to remain in my physical form. No wonder he looks like a deflated beach ball!

I’m a wretch.

“Ahhh!” I run up next to them and begin inspecting them for injury. “Shh, don’t move. What can I do? Should I carry you? Where can we go?! Pidd? Where are you?”

Kinley bops me on top of the head with a fist. “Settle. It’s fine. This is all new territory for us too. It isn’t your fault.” He eyes the glove uneasily. I do the same, but looking at the place where the leather meets my flesh makes me shudder sickishly.

Alaska stands, buns uneven and spurting out tiny bits of hair. “I’m enthusiastic that you’re enthusiastic about your duty, Mistress Wilted. But it’s true that if we don’t rest, we’ll fall easily in battle. You too should rest before we make the final stretch for the tree.”

I help Kinley stand, as from around a grouping of skinny trees comes Pidd’s shadow. It looks unaltered. Good thing he’s in that form.

I can’t imagine how he’d be reacting right now otherwise.

“This doesn’t seem too far out of the way.” Alaska points to a square on the map. “May be a shelter.”

“If it’s a known building, someone may be able to reach it with intention. Someone being you-know-who,” I say.

One, evil bitch Ellie.

Kinley stands on his own and relieves me of his weight. “But we don’t have the strength to open a portal to the mortal world right now, and I doubt there are any this far out,” he says. “I vote we scout it out, at least.”

Alaska nods. “Options are limited.”

It’s the least I can do to agree with them.

My shadowy ward butts against my feet irritably. “Sorry Pidd-o, you’re stuck like that for now.”

><

“I don’t understand,” says Alaska, leaning over the table where the map is spread. “We ran all day and night.” She rubs her tired eyes, gesturing to Kinley. “That happened, right?”

But Kinley isn’t much in the way of responsive at the moment. He’s cuddled up in a boyish ball, head resting on the wall. Cute. Snuggleable.

See? It’s those residual feelings.

“Yes,” I say, diverting, “it happened.” As much as I hate to admit it. “But don’t worry about it. Get some sleep and we’ll reconvene in the morning. I’m guessing we just overshot the target by a little.”

The map took us to a small colony of structures high up in the boughs of a grove. Treefort-like, the makeshift buildings connect together by hanging rope bridges, threadbare and untrustworthy. We had set out for a box on the map, but once we reached it, we realized our relativity to our coteries had shifted greatly.

The map hasn’t changed. But our position has shifted somehow. Yggdrasil no longer feels just a day away.

And we’ve found ourselves at a completely different area of the map.

Alaska looks at me fretfully. “Mistress…”

“For realsies. Get some sleep. You’ve done more than enough.”

She shakes her head. “You should be the one to rest. You have the most important task of any of us. In truth, we are little more than sentries.” She pushes her face into her knuckle and contemplates me through those lovely eyes. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?” I blink at her. “Actually, I’m feeling okay. Well, aside from earth-shatteringly horrible that I forced you two on and on and on like that. I reckon Pidd’s pissed too.”

She giggles through her fatigue. “I’m guessing you’re right. But don’t worry about me or Kinley. We understand. You’re being driven by something the two of us will never get to experience.” She says it almost longingly.

Dude, I’ll totally trade with you.

If it weren’t for that whole dying bit.

“Hey Alaska? Can I ask you one more thing selfishly before you collapse out of overtiredness?”

She perks up, slamming both hands on the table and making Kinley rouse. “Of course!” I wait for him to begin breathing heavily before continuing:

“Crazy scenario for you. Say you were moving to a coterie far, far away—like super far away—and you knew it would leave someone feeling unresolved after you left, would you tell them ahead of time and ruin their week? Or would you let them go on thinking a lie up until you left? I guess… which would be more selfish?”

Her cheeks flush, and her eyes slide sidelong in Kinley’s direction.

Don’t look over there! This is a hypothetical, Alaska. A hypothetical.

She takes her time answering, and when she does, she taps her finger to her chin astutely: “I think… that there are different kinds of love. And I also think love can transform from something physical into something more familial. And I don’t think that’s always a bad thing. Sometimes that’s the natural progression of a person’s feelings.”

“W-who said it had anything to do with love?” I say, curt. In truth, I was referring to the fact that I’m dying and have yet to tell Kinley, despite him baring his soul to me earlier.

“Ah, of course that was just one example! I am getting mighty loopy.” She points to the side of her head, where one of her buns has drooped low. “And to be honest, when a girl asks me for advice, it’s usually about love.”

“Amen to that,” I tell her. “Sappy, the whole lot of ‘em.”

I snort through my nose and she does the same. Nothing better than a pair of women snorting.

With a little more persuasion, wise Alaska moves to another corner of the room, fashions herself a messy bed and collapses. Immediately, she begins to snore. I study her a moment, curled up and catlike, arms pulled into oversized sleeves. Aiden’s true little sister, both wards of the same waker. I do see some similarity—that garish conviction. Both endearing in their own right. Alaska is something unique, though. She’s one of those galpal gals. The kind you’re lucky to find, rare as they are.

I tell her so, only because I know she can’t hear it now:

“You’re a good one, Al. If I had more time, I suspect we’d overthrow the world together.” I drop my voice even lower, musing: “Take care of Kinley when I’m gone, will you?”

She answers with a particularly hoggish snore.

I feel a twinge in my chest.

I’m not supposed to be amassing more people I care about right before my untimely demise.

Pidd skitters into the room, finished with whatever mischief he was outside making. Kinley and Alaska are exhausted, and I should be too, but I’m not, which is a drastic difference from how I was just yesterday. I’m not even the hollow sort of running-on-false- adrenaline tired.

I’m just… here.

In this small box, hanging from a limb.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here…” I tell Pidd, without continuing. I make a jazzy hand at him. “Get it? Out on a limb?”

The shadow doesn’t move for five seconds, and then it backs away very slowly.

“Oh come on! This is, like, the only place that pun works, right?”

He continues to back away.

“Fine. Fine. My humor is lost on you.” I waft a hand at him and return to the map. Just to double-check, I focus through my lightstream, searching the void for my coterie’s location. It’s the strangest thing. Based on my perception, we are indeed in a distant corner of the map, not at all near the box we initially set out for. How did we skip through so much space in such a short amount of time?

“Maybe we can’t trust our position relative to our coteries, after all,” I tell the shadow that is Pidd. “Or maybe the forest pushed us away?” I glance again at the ghastly glove implanted in my skin. “Maybe the great tree doesn’t want to be found.”

Pidd’s shadow crawls up the wall and drops onto the table.

“Wanna see?” I turn the map so that it’s facing him. Pidd doesn’t move. I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he can speak or give any input as to our current predicament.

Then again, maybe he can.

A few minutes later, a slinkier strand of shadow separates from the greater mass of shadow.

“Egad, Pidd! What part of you IS that?” I pretend to look horrified before winking at him. I imagine the shadow glaring at me in return. “Settle down. I was only joking,” I say. Whatever part of Pidd it is, it slips up the side of the map. “Yeah, that’s where we are,” I tell him. “Pretty sure, anyway.”

The shadow shifts just a little to the left of our position on the map. “Huh?” I squint, bending in closer for a better look. “Is there something there?” I take the map and tilt it to the left and to the right. If there is something there, maybe it’s like a holographic foil card.

I’ll be damned if I know what a holographic foil card is.

Regardless, the motion seems to work. Tipping the map to the side reveals a tiny eraser-like mark.

“Pidd! Do you think that’s something?”

The shadow retracts its arm and sits motionless. I imagine he’s staring at me like ‘duh.’

I take my fingertips to my right ear and light them turquoise. After, I press my thumb to the eraser mark. Beneath my thumb, the top layer of paper seems to peel away, revealing miniature scrolling writing. “Ahh! I need a magnifying glass or something!” Alas, there’s nothing like that here. Except…

I creep over to sleeping Kinley and very carefully relieve him of his glasses. He groans and turns over, cheek already red from resting on his hand. He’s had these spectacles since before he awoke as a lightborne. Unfortunately, deficiencies like those don’t reverse just because a person becomes warded.

I hold the glass out a ways from my face.

Better. Still hard to read, but better.

Come on, eyes. You can do it.

“Alphine drego lumorious?” I can barely make it out. “Delight in their luminosity?” I reread it twice to make sure. “Yeah, delight in their luminosity.” I lean back in my chair. “Whatever the heck that means. Anyway, nice find, Pidd-ato! Get it? It’s like PO-tato.”

I imagine him telling me that Piddato is nothing like ‘potato.’

“Welp—” I rise, leaving the map on the table. “I, for one, am going down to check out the grounds. Maybe we were sent here for a reason. MAYBE there’s something off to the west, just like where the imprint was on the map! What do you think?”

No response, as expected.

Pity he doesn’t have even an expression or anything. I can’t even tell him to blink once for yes. Then again, this might be the one opportunity to converse without any of his guff. Think of the endless possibilities—mwahahah!—though he’s kind of pathetic like that. The fruit would be hanging too low, as they say.

“It’s okay if you want to stay and get some rest,” I tell him. “Not sure if you, -er, get tired or not. After the darkling came through us, I was so exhausted I could barely stand. But the crazy thing is, it’s like a whole new world now. All I did was say one sentence out loud and it’s like I have an unending supply of energy or something. I wonder if you can feel it too.” I look to sleeping Kinley guiltily. “I just hope it’s not at Kindler’s expense.”

Without another word, I scoot through the doorway and down the hanging ladder. It was the only one intact enough for use. The other treehouses either lack them completely, or have only remnants that may hold Alaska’s weight, but certainly not mine.

Seems weird there are a gathering of tree-forts way out here in the first place. I thought all coteries were grander than this. Maybe this is where the most primitive lightborne resided, clothed in nothing but light.

Disclaimer: I don’t have any sort of evidence to back up that theory.

The forest floor here’s peculiar too, in that it’s devoid of leaves. These particular trees don’t drop them—though they look just like all the rest, topped with scarlet, ocher and beige. Whatever the purpose of this place way-back-when, I’m guessing enchants still remain in the wood and twine. The trunk supporting our particular dwelling is white, nicked with spackles of dark brown.

This world is serene. We have no pollution, no grime. What will be left of it when I remove the light?

I can’t think about things like that.

Resolve, Bex. Resolve.

I head toward the place where the imprint was on the map. Nothing out of place as far as I can tell. Tree. Tree. Oh look—

Another tree.

I take a hand to the ground. Warm. Solid. I wonder if the roots of Yggdrasil writhe underneath. If they do, I cannot feel them.

Something dark catches the corner of my eye.

“Pidd?” He’s more prominent out here, on the ground devoid of leaves. “So you’re not tired either, huh? Fine. Let me know if you find anything.”

I continue to inspect the area. Delight in their luminosity. Delight. Luminosity. But as much as I search, I don’t see, feel—smell, even—anything different. I rummage through a mess of shrubs in search of a secret; claw at the bark of a fallen log and listen for a whisper.

From yonder comes a rustling noise.

“Pidd?”

I realize he’s drifted away somewhere—doing his due diligence of searching for whatever anomaly the map was hinting at. I didn’t know he could rustle. Maybe he’s suddenly learned better how to interact with the physical world.

I trail after him, in the direction of the darkstream—the direction of the rustling.

It’s my first large mistake as Bexley the Last. Second if you count the sprinting.

“Pidd?” The rustling comes from behind me now, but when I twist back to look, the grove and tree-forts have disappeared.

And as though I’ve leapt through space, my relativity to my coterie shifts, though I don’t need to press my lightstream to figure that out.

I can see it with my own eyes.

Somehow, stepping a few yards away from the lofty structures has put me right up beside my old home—in the courtyard to be exact—before a mini army of rose and amber lightborne.

18

The Final Battle

Ellie is nowhere to be found, but she’s left me with a welcoming party:

Sesha, LaMar, and Jobel to name a few. Nekt is there too, but he isn’t on the ground; rather, he’s on the balcony of a high-up window, bandaged around the waist.

Heh. Serves that doink right.

I want to ask them how they’ve pulled me through space and time and transported me to the coterie, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. I’ve never taken too much notice to Jobel’s physical nature, his most prominent feature being that voice that belts like a radio personality’s, but now he leans, almost cockily, against one of the stone pillars, which is still stained from our last battle.

I suspect he may be responsible for whatever ingenious act of magick brought me to their doorstep.

I give him the dirtiest, stinkiest stink eye I can muster. I’m not impressed with you, fool. Don’t you know I’m the great and powerful Bexley, wielder of dark and light, bringer of the end?

And actually, the more I remember that I am indeed the Wielder, the more I notice the uncertain way Nekt’s peering down at me.

Ah, so when they forced me here, they didn’t know I’d taken on the darkling, did they.

They didn’t know I’d fused with the Wilted’s glove.

They didn’t know they’d be tuffling with the next Meínne

Sesha and LaMar stand side-by-side making an almost identical expression. Since when did LaMar become Sesha’s clone? It’s in stature only, though. Sesha exudes exquisiteness in a fitted suit, and that weird geared headpiece clamped around her hair, pulsating with floating bits of amber light. Not ideal for fighting, dummy. Meanwhile, LaMar looks the same as usual, accentuating the goods with a low trimmed shirt, her curly hair piled high in a gathered mohawk. It seems she’s leaved the donning of the ancient Artifacts to Sesha. Good, they aren’t befitting of her.

While those two stand proudly to the side of Jobel, the rest of their minions—eight or so—hang back, looking as uneasy as lameass Nekt.

I lock eyes on one particularly meek looking one. “Come at me, brah,” I say. In return, the dude shifts uneasily.

“No, no, no.” Jobel stands, smiling wide and crocodile-esque. “This isn’t the time for that.”

“Oh?” I ready my fingertips. “Educate me. What time is it then?”

“Time for you to be the deciding factor in a little game we’ve arranged for you, defiled one.”

Defiled one? A bit harsh, don’t you think?

“Wonderful, I’m great with word games,” I answer. “Not so much with cards. What’ve you got?”

Taking a signal from rose leader Jobel, Nekt disappears behind a heavy red curtain made of velvet, returning a moment later with two sets of lackeys—two rose, two amber—each pair courting a prisoner: pretty, rosy Cello and stocky, lavender Kray—mouths and limbs bound, each worse for the wear but intact nonetheless.

My heart skips in my chest.

Alive!

Both comrades alive and—well, not well, per se, but alive!

“SEE, I didn’t kill them,” I say under my breath to no one. If only the unidentified ‘they’ from Erron’s coterie could see it now. Argh! Faithless scallywags!

“Kray, Cello! Hold tight, I’m gonna get you down from there!”

And now that I’ve made that promise, I’d best get started on a plan. I look from Sesha and LaMar, both of whom haven’t moved, to cocky Jobel, up the side of the grand coterie stained with heartache and homeache, to the two former leaders bound up in chains.

Jobel saunters forward in my direction, and I respond by conjuring two handfuls of magick—one powerful turquoise, the other meager, wispy shadow.

He frowns at the shadow but doesn’t seem concerned. How dare he underestimate the great and powerful Wilted?! Though I have to admit, the shadow does look especially puny. If only Pidd were able to take on human form here. Then I’d like to see the look on Jobel’s stupid smug face!

Speaking of Pidd—I can sense he’s close, on the other side of a crumbled stack of marble covered in flowered vines. He may not be able to help me now, but at least I’m not alone.

Jobel meanders closer. He was always so leader-ly at coterie meetings. So diplomatic. It’s hard to believe that sneer belongs to the same man that used to address us as brothers and sisters, and go on and on about boring politics.

“Well—” I stand my ground. “Let’s have it. What’s this game of yours?”

Jobel stops and folds his hands. “Maybe I misspoke. Less of a game and more of a choice, really. Though there is a prize, should you choose correctly.”

I can already tell I won’t be ‘choosing correctly.’

Jobel takes his time eyeing my darkened half up and down. “My, you have changed, haven’t you, Bexley. Sorry to say, it appears to have worked out only halfway. I’ll have to inform the Wielder that she’s only half a Wilted to conquer.” He chuckles in a sickening way. “Does this mean poor Aiden fell for nothing?”

At that comment, I see Sesha shift weight.

All right, I’m sorry Nekt, but I may have to cheat on you here. Long have you held the role of most exasperating a-hole. But with Jobel’s current mood, he may just win the title. Most likely to annoy. Most loathsome one. The biggest bastard.

He can have his pick. They’re all relevant.

“Don’t you DARE speak my waker’s name! You lot don’t deserve to hear his name, say his name, or remember his name!”

“Oh-ho. Is the little rebel feeling guilty over all of the pain she put her waker through? Plotting, scheming, building secret portals in the woods?”

Ouch.

Yes, I wasn’t always the best ward.

But Aiden knows my heart. He knows I always loved him and always will.

Is he around me now somewhere? Unseen?

Yes. He must be.

I have him and Pidd. And the turquoise chain connects me to Kinley, sleeping in that treehouse. His power courses into me even now, making my body stable.

I’m not alone.

“How could you, Sesha?” I look past Jobel, eyes wetting. “You were his friend, weren’t you? How could you let Ellie do that to him?!”

“Ah, peach. But we were more than just friends,” Sesha purrs, hand to her hip. “But I fight for the light, and the light is more important than physical need. Men come and go, rise and fall, but the light prevails. It is the only constant through the ages.”

An anchor drops in my stomach.

Really, Aiden? More than friends with Sesha?

Is that why she was always slinking into his room after hours?!

…It seems rather obvious now.

I can’t think of those two tangled together, enveloped in a womb of amber. It’s too disturbing. And I shall be ignoring her for the rest of this endeavor, unless it is to attack or repel her light.

Through this, LaMar is unmoving, unblinking, wearing that bored face from the last time we met. Again, I question—is it really her in there?

Holding back the emotion fighting to escape my tear ducts, I return focus to Jobel. “I’m waiting; what’s the choice you’ve brought me here to make? Huh? Out with it.” I fold my arms. “I warn you, my schedule is full, with an ancient tree to uproot and all.”

Sneering sinisterly, Jobel turns up his hand and nods towards Nekt. “They are your choice.”

Obviously it was something like that.

“Great! I pick Cello and Kray. You may keep Nekt. In my opinion, he sucks.”

Jobel looks annoyed.

Mission accomplished.

“See, we’ve kept them alive in the hopes of enlightening them—”

“EnLIGHTening them. Hah! Get it?” I cut him off, perturbing him further.

Heh. Heh. Heh.

“Shut up!” Jobel twists his hand, sending a rod of rose light straight for Kray’s face. It whizzes past her left ear, disrupting her hair before sinking into the side of the coterie.

A second anchor drops in my stomach. This is serious. I can’t press my luck.

Jobel glares at me. “Are you ready to listen?”

I nod one reluctant nod.

The crocodile grin returns. “Good. Now, give up your power, and we’ll let them live. Simple as that. Refuse and we’ll slaughter you all.” The way he says slaughter is unnervingly upbeat—like a psychotic clown.

“You don’t want me to do that,” I counter. “You are the ones that are misguided.” I don’t mean to, but it seems I’ve started to plea. “If we don’t move the tree, it will shrivel and die and all will die with it!”

“Says what?” Jobel challenges.

“Says the ancient scripts! But more than that, I’ve seen it with my own eyes—just like Aiden did. I’ve seen Yggdrasil’s dying roots firsthand! I’ve felt their decay and they’ve shown me what is to come if the balance of the worlds isn’t restored.”

“LIES!” Sesha lurches forward. “Cease your foul words at once!”

Yikes, struck a nerve.

But I can’t stop, won’t stop, can’t catch me now; I’m on a bloody roll! “Don’t you know the true nature of how things are meant to be? The Maker of these worlds first gave the light to the darkness, and humans were created to feed its roots. Separated from their realm, the tree shrieks in agony. Don’t you find it strange that we no longer have the power to harness most of the ancient Artifacts? Nor can we call upon familiars the way our ancestors did. The reason is that the source of our power grows fainter each passing year. We are only a figment of what we used to be! All because we are selfish. We want it all, without admitting we’ll soon have nothing!”

“That is nothing more than speculation!” Sesha shouts. “Our faith is in the light that has never betrayed us. We trust that it will endure. We are small creatures in a great world; why would such a magnificent force need saving from the likes of you? You aim to save nothing but your ego.”

“NO!” I lurch forward at her, formerly unaware of my own inner passion over the topic. “Haven’t you read the tomes stored in the fourth-floor archives? These aren’t just stories, Sesha—it’s the history of our people.” When reason cannot be reached, I seek it elsewhere: “Please LaMar—you have even read the golden tome firsthand! You translated it for me not that long ago. And you’re more down to earth than most of these pompous jerks. You have to at least have the capacity to consider my side. Why won’t you snap the hell out of it!”

“Silence!” Sesha cuts me off from LaMar by positioning herself between us. “Do not speak to my ward in such a familiar way. I will not allow her to be swayed by your falsities.”

…Ward?

Sesha just used the word ward, when speaking of LaMar.

But…

I peek from the strands in time to see a tall, slender woman saunter from Aiden’s chamber. Her name is Sesha, an amber lightborne like Aiden. Though unlike Aiden, she’s never taken a ward.

Sesha was never known to have a ward.

But, come to think of it, LaMar never mentioned her waker. How did I never think to ask? No, I asked, I’m sure of it, between bouts of memory loss. But the answers were vague:

‘My waker is from a distant coterie. You wouldn’t like her.’

‘My waker isn’t around too much these days.’

‘Meh. I’ll introduce you sometime.’

‘Geez, focus on your own waker; he’s been worried sick about you!’

“LaMar… is that why you’re doing this? Some bizarre ward’s loyalty thing? Well, that’s just plain pathetic.”

The air lights in a clash of amber and rose. In a fury, Sesha has chucked a torpedo of amber light at me, while Jobel has jumped forward, creating a wall of rose light to absorb the spell. “We’re getting off base,” he says. “Please, girls, focus. Besides, defiled one, you have it wrong. LaMar has committed herself to me and our cause, and as such, has offered herself as a vessel—an extension of Sesha’s power.” He grins, adding so that only I can hear: “She loves me so.”

Wait.

A mother-freakin’ extension of Sesha’s power? Something like that was possible?!

…Maybe that was a secondary outcome of Sesha’s rummaging around in the Artifacts chamber. Maybe that headdress is built for more than just enhancing her power and making her look like a Victorian light queen.

Now we’ve resorted to flipping MIND CONTROL?

More importantly, that means it isn’t LaMar after all. It’s her husk; she is a casualty in all of this.

I mean, I’m not an idiot. I don’t doubt that even without Sesha’s control, she’d consider herself my enemy. Much of her participation in all this was probably voluntary, too.

Yet…

I’m beginning to draw a different picture of this situation, these lightborne, and their imprudent quest.

Sesha, a purist, believes wholeheartedly in her convictions, uneducated though they may be. But Jobel aims only to further his political career—this whole uprising a convenient means to an end. In his heart, I suspect he’s a nonbeliever, faithing neither in Sesha’s quest nor mine.

His goal is something much more shallow.

It was something decided long ago by Aiden, Cello and Kray—a request from their predecessors—that our coterie was to be managed by four leaders of four different colors. But I was young and unfit, and so Jobel stepped in temporarily.

I have been a threat to him ever since.

And LaMar, being the secret ward of a religious fanatic and a girl my age, was a perfect mark for Jobel’s affection.

Maybe he was the orchestrator of everything, and the rest are just pawns, the unnamed array of rose followers nothing more than young and impressionable—rebellious like I once was.

What a chilling force a few naïve followers can become when coerced by a charismatic leader.

But maybe more amazing is how a heart can change when truth has been pumped into it. I’ve felt the wilted roots, mourned Aiden’s sacrifice, and seen what Kinley, Pidd, Alaska, and Erron have gone through for the cause. They have changed me.

I’m not the person I was before, but that’s okay. I’m something better. Something stronger. Something fed with both light and dark.

I have something to fight for.

And now, more than ever, I want to beat that haughty smirk right off of Jobel’s sorry mug.

“You will burn for what you’ve done. I swear it.”

These are my last words before the world lights blue.

Becoming the Wilted isn’t a choice I consciously make; it just happens. I don’t know if my appearance changes, but the power in my veins does. I sift through the air, feet barely touching the ground, charging between my enemies and building a web around them.

I am a blue spider, faster than light itself.

I entrap the flies in a web and scale the wall, slowing my speed only so that Nekt can get a good look at me and so that I can take in his shock and awe.

That’s right mo-fo, you’ve crossed the wrong extradimensional being!

Wang-twang high for all to see, I bind Nekt up with blue light that crawls like vines around a castle turret. Next, I blast those holding Kray and Cello captive.

“RUN!” I urge them as I blaze past.

But both are women not to be trifled with. I don’t know how long they’ve gone without sustenance or rest, but they fire out rockets of light without remorse—Cello focused on the ambers, and Kray focused on the rose. I tip my hat to them before leaping from the balcony and landing into a cloud of shadow I didn’t even realize I’d conjured.

Are you watching, Pidd?

Am I making you proud to be my ward?

Sesha and the others move into action, nimble and fierce, but not quick enough to combat the Wilted. The mistake was theirs to underestimate me, and the fact that Ellie hasn’t made her grand appearance by now means she’s no longer in the coterie.

Worrisome. Though not time to worry about it now.

What’s important is that I’m confident I can take them down.

“I’m sorry, LaMar,” I speak into her ear as I dart past, before blasting her with blue. Enough to down her but not kill her. After, I draw a hasty cage of turquoise around her—not to keep her in, but to keep opposing colors out.

I’m not a murderer.

Not yet anyway.

And despite everything, she seems like she should be one of the survivors in this tale.

Goodbye friend. May the second-half of your story be better than the first.

The rest go down easily, or retreat into the coterie once they realize what they’re up against. Soon, only Sesha and Jobel remain—each fueled with a passion greater than the rest: Sesha’s a place of faith and devotion; Jobel’s a place of self-seeking incitement.

Amber and rose come at me, staining the lawn and hedge, upsetting the border of falling leaves. There is one thing we’ve got that the mortals don’t.

In the aftermath, our warzones are always morbidly beautiful, painted not with blood but with light.

Kray and Cello continue to fire from the balcony, stopped only when Jobel puts up a wall of rose to separate them from us. After, the women disappear—likely trying to find a way down to the grounds. Warrior ladies, unite!

Meanwhile, Sesha and Jobel come at me with everything they’ve got, rage building in their stances and throws. Hands down, I’m the most powerful one here, but they are strategic, sneaky little fellows. One distracts me from the front with a torrent of light, while the other swivels around my backside, tearing my concentration in two.

I encompass myself in a tornado of shadow and blue—though the shadow ingredient is lacking. If only I’d had time to practice that piece more and really catch my bearings. The tornado repels their attacks but leaves little room for me to go on the offensive.

Still, I’m confident I can win this, even on my own.

I’m confident—

“Ah!”

I’m attacked from both sides at once—orange and pink battering rams slam into me from either side. My magick flickers.

“NO!” I pulse the power out from myself, sending the other two stumbling back. My concentration is dividing, meaning each is only receiving half of my force. I’ll need to devote my attention to either Sesha or Jobel if I hope to defeat them.

Before I can act, however—

“AHH!”

They come at me with a second battering of light. This time it’s enough to make the protective whirlwind fall. Sesha strikes.

I die.

19

I Die

Just kidding.

But it feels like I’m dying.

I lie on the ground, holding my open side that hisses with amber light, wondering how it came to this.

The world above me seems so distant, the grass so vast. I hear the clamor of two newcomers joining the party. Give ‘em hell, Cello and Kray. Show them what you’re capable of.

Their fighting styles are different from one another—Cello’s fluid and lyrical, Kray’s grounded and rash. I fight to make them out through my disoriented sight, which is tough. Sesha got me good. Both concentrate on her, for she is the first line of defense.

That’s because Jobel is over me, set to be my end, grinning a darkness I suspect he’s shown no one else before. Wow, for me? How sweet.

I gave it my best. I dashed and fought better than ever before. I have nothing to be ashamed of. And when I fall, there will be two others to take my place. Maybe, just maybe, Kinley and Pidd will yet inherit the ability to move the tree.

Selfishly, I’m a little relieved.

My eyelids betray me. I meant to stare Jobel down until the last minute, but they won’t let me. Weak, they fall, as Jobel grabs me by the hair.

Not the wang-twang! For SHAME!

My life doesn’t flash before my eyes, though I do become hungry, thinking of all the mortal delights I’ll never be able to taste again.

Except raisins. Fuck raisins. They’re nothing more than glorified fruit boogers. Maybe mankind, womankind, should die, based solely on their invention of raisins.

Just kidding. Another joke. Aren’t I funny?

It hurts.

Whatever he’s doing to me hurts.

“Get off her, you mother-bleeping, bleeping, bleeping, sheep-bleeper.”

I have to bleep it out, for your sake. A curse of obscenities powers through the air more fiercely than anything else in the courtyard. And the voice behind them is familiar. My lids cooperate at last by snapping full open.

I must be hallucinating.

Because it looks like Pidd, engulfed in a flame of shadow and amber light, is holding Jobel by the throat and lifting him clear off the ground. I quickly study the shadowstream on my wrist. Sure enough, it too pulses with amber light.

Light that feels warm and familiar, like a kiss to my wrist. Shivers shoot down my arms as I push myself from the ground.

It isn’t over.

I fuel myself again with shadow and turquoise. The shadow is stronger this time around, though not by much.

“Hold him, Pidd!” I come storming towards them, light formed into a blade, leaving a trail of light to stain the ground. Teeth gnashed, I slice, cutting through flesh the way they cut me.

Jobel falls.

First the bottom half, then the top.

Now I’m a murderer.

Pidd jumps back from the mess of flesh, horrified. Kray and Cello, who have done a fine job of restraining Sesha, turn to face me, Kray’s jaw dropping when she sees what’s befallen her fellow leader. She makes a guttural sound.

Yeah, about that…

Cello places a battered yet dainty hand on her partner’s shoulder. “It needed to be done.”

Kray swallows and nods slowly.

And then she collapses.

I’ll let Cello attend to Kray. They have my gratitude for not turning on me and for fighting until the last, but quite frankly, there’s someone more deserving of my attention in this moment.

“How?” I put a hand to Pidd’s cheek, flushing him with embarrassment. I don’t give a damn if he’s embarrassed. I lean in closer for inspection. “How are you in your body here, Pidd?” In his darkling body no less. His hair remains black, his eyes dark and intense.

Wide-eyed, he stares back at me, befuddled and awkward, before finally answering. But the answer that comes out of Pidd’s mouth is in a voice that isn’t Pidd’s:

“My joy!”

Pidd’s body tackles me, pushes me fully to the ground and begins kissing me: on the forehead, cheek and ear.

I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but:

“AIDEN?!”

With my shoulders pressed to the ground, Pidd’s face hovers over me, inches from mine. Ah! Too close, Pidd, good gawd! But it isn’t Pidd, is it? It’s him. Inside of Pidd.

What in Feínne’s name happened!?

“That brute almost got you!” Pidd nestles into my neck, setting my pulse racing. …Not because I like it or anything; just because it’s not something Pidd usually does. That’s a normal response, right?

“My waker?” I breathe, trying to picture the body on top of me as Aiden’s rather than Pidd’s. Pidd’s face softens as he looks lovingly down at me. Now my chest feels like it might explode. Get a grip, Bexley.

Pidd—no, Aiden—tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and continues drawing his knuckle down my chin.

“Aiden,” I coo, safe in my waker’s arms.

He chuckles. “My host isn’t coping with this well.”

“Host? You mean Pidd. How did you get inside of him? Is your light what’s allowing him physical form here?”

Aiden sits up, pulling me into his lap. I’m transported back into his room, filled with teakwood and smoke, pillows and sashes. My emperor, draped in luxurious robes and shining hair, staring down at me with amber-stained eyes.

“I killed someone,” I peep in a tiny voice.

“Shhh. If you hadn’t many others would have died.”

“But—”

“I have killed,” says Aiden. “More than once. Sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes it is between them or someone you love. Always choose someone you love.”

I squeeze the cotton of his shirt, imagining it made instead of silk or other expensive cloth. “How will I cope?”

“Knowing you, you won’t. So if you have the noctuid, I’ll gladly remove that memory from your soul.”

I shake my head. It isn’t with me now. It’s with Kinley and Alaska, wherever they are. Still, Aiden looks at me as though I have no sin, no defilement.

“I love you, Aiden.”

His face contorts only briefly before he regains control. “Like I said, he’s having some trouble.” He chuckles again. “And to answer your questions, yes, my light is allowing the kid his body. When he saw what was becoming of you, he invoked my spirit.”

“Meaning?”

“…He swallowed me.”

That was a suspicious pause.

“Did he swallow you or did you force yourself down his throat?” I pry.

Aiden smiles wide and taps my nose. Soon, though, the smile falls into frown. “I see you’ve betrayed my wishes, Bex. I’ll have you know I’m exceedingly disappointed.” He takes my gloved hand. “And now there’s no reversing it. You will die, and thus break my heart.” Again, his face contorts, this time into one of surprise. He swallows it down. “Ah, it seems I’ve given away a secret. Forgive me.”

I drill my eyes beyond Aiden and into Pidd. “You can’t tell the others, okay Pidd? Promise me.”

Pidd will do no such thing at the moment, either because he can’t or won’t. Maybe both. Aiden is monopolizing use of his body for the time being.

Pidd’s hands begin to lift my shirt.

“P-Pidd! What are you doing?!”

“We’ve got to mend that wound of yours, haven’t we?” answers Aiden.

I shake my head. “We aren’t safe here. There were a handful of others that withdrew into the coterie. If they’ve any balls, they’re probably planning a retaliation as we speak.”

“If they had balls, they wouldn’t have withdrawn in the first place,” says Aiden, ripping a strip of Pidd’s shirt for use as tourniquet.

Fair point.

I allow Aiden to mend me, searching beyond him to Cello. “How’s Kray doing?” I call.

Cello limps over to us, smoothing her ruffled shirt. “She’ll be okay. Just exhausted.” The lovely red-haired, red-lipped girl is more unkempt than I’ve ever seen her before.

“Thank you both so much for abetting me,” I say. “You were seriously badass.”

“I never liked Jobel anyway. And Sesha’s always been a nut. It’s the rest of them I’m disappointed in.” She looks longingly up at the fortress windows. “To be honest, I care less about the quarrel for the tree right now, and more about restoring order to the coterie. You should see it in there. It’s a wreck—everything coated in that distasteful color.”

One of Cello’s quirks; while rose herself, she abhors the color pink. She dusts her hands. “I don’t have much to offer, but is there anything I can do?”

She’s done enough. More than asked.

“Nothing,” I assure her. “Well, maybe except convince Erron’s coterie I didn’t kill you or Aiden.”

“Preposterous!” She throws up her hands. “They believe Aiden’s sacred jewel to have killed her master? Now I’ve heard it all.”

‘Sacred jewel.’ That one’s a little puke-worthy.

“Ah, my dear, it has been too long.” Swooping into the conversation, Aiden puts a hand to Cello’s waist, takes her opposite hand in his and gives her a twirl. It was never uncommon for Aiden to greet people as such, but to Cello, it looks as though stocky, dirtied Pidd is the one doing so.

“Charmed,” she says flatly, wrinkling her brow at him.

Agreed, it is a strange sight to see Pidd acting the gentleman. “It’s Aiden,” I explain. “Aiden’s in there. My ward sort of ingested him, I guess.”

She retracts her hand from Pidd’s. “Excuse me?”

“Although Aiden’s body perished, his soul lives on in the forest,” I say, though judging by her expression, Cello is far from convinced. “…Yeah, I didn’t know that was possible either,” I add.

“There are legends that the lighted realm used to be known by another name: Haven. Or Haeven. Sometimes Heaven.” She folds her arms. “Aiden’s ghost, huh?”

“Why of course, can’t you tell?” Aiden tugs at Pidd’s shirt seductively. “Although I’m not myself at the moment. This body’s a bit greasy for my taste.”

“Prove it.”

“What, do you want me to lick it?”

Cello shakes her head. “Not the greasiness, you dolt! Prove that you’re Aiden reincarnate.”

Pidd’s smile darkens. “What’s in the crate, Chell?”

“AHHH!” Clearly flustered, the porcelain girl waves her hands in Pidd’s face to make Aiden shut up. “A-Aiden?! Truly?! It’s a miracle.”

Damn. What IS in the crate?

Aiden straightens, dropping the ruse. “Anyway, you’re foolish to be more concerned over the coterie than the tree’s predicament, Cello. Now that I’ve crossed into the beyond, my research is complete. The tree will die and it will be in your lifetime. Unless my joy succeeds in her mission, we are doomed.”

Cello puts a hand to her chest, as if to capture her own heart. “Truly?”

Aiden nods, somber.

Cello stands taller, fists balled. “Very well. I will do as you ask. I will go to the skyscraper and tell them what I have seen and heard. And then I will petition an envoy to aid you.”

I shake my head. “There isn’t time to recruit an envoy.” Though that does sound nice. Instead— “Tell me, when was the last time you saw Ellie?”

“Not since that day,” says Cello. “But truthfully, we’ve seen little of anything since that day.”

Kept prisoners in their own home. I look up to the castle in new light.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to call it ‘home’ again.

Not that I’ll need a home when this is over.

Maybe I’ll remain in ‘Haeven’ with Aiden. Or maybe once the tree is removed, there won’t be a place for the departed to rest. Maybe we’ll just cease to exist.

Nihilo.

“Don’t bother with reclaiming the coterie now, Cello,” says Aiden. “Go to Erron’s and stay there. It’s the safest place for you. Instruct them to put up a barrier, reinforced by anyone and everyone available. Prepare for the worst. We don’t know what effect moving the tree will have on Yggdress.” He pauses. “Win or lose, shockwaves aren’t out of the question.”

That’s where we leave frowning Cello, in the ruined courtyard, left with the weight of Aiden’s words. The last glimpse of her is a cursed one—struggling to support Kray while favoring her own injuries.

“Leave it,” Aiden whispers through Pidd’s teeth. “You’ve committed to this path and now it is the one you must devote to. Cello and Kray can carry their own.”

I know that now, better than ever. Yet his bitter tone bites, wolfish in another sense of the word.

I nod at him and begin in the direction of the treehouses, using my lightstream connected to Kinley as a guide. “Not that way.” Aiden redirects me. “We need to make for the tree.”

“But Kinley—”

“Won’t want to see you die.” Aiden stares straight ahead, arm looped in mine, jaw stern. “Will he?”

True. But I haven’t gotten to say goodbye.

That caterpillar feeling runs over me, the one where your smallest hairs prick outward, starting at the neck and moving out through the limbs. I clench my teeth because it’s scientifically proven to help fend off unwanted emotions.

Earlier, when Kinley wanted to reminisce, the memories didn’t quite feel right.

Now, though, they come rushing over me, filling me, flooding me, and escaping out my eyes in tears that reflect the shimmering air. I ache. Because as the Wilted, I’ll never be what he wants me to be. And I can never return to the person I was before everything happened.

And the worst part is that that kiss felt so damn good.

This was my choice. I must remember that.

One goodbye is so small in the grand scheme of things.

Yet it means the world.

As I always say, it’s the little things.

“You know where the tree is?” I too stare straight ahead as we move through the trees, afraid to make eye contact with my disappointed waker.

“Yes.”

“For sure? I’m worried it moves or something. The others and I were close to it, but we turned around and it brought us to a completely different area of the forest.”

“Lest you forget, I have fallen; as such, I have the ear of the other fallens.” He outstretches his hand lyrically. “Even now, they form a trail to Yggdrasil.”

I stare in the direction he points, in search of a glimmer or shimmer or spark.

My unfallen eyes can’t detect it, though.

“How long do I have you for?” I say.

“It is a struggle to maintain control, but…” For the first time since entering the forest, Aiden glances over at me. “I will be with you until the end, in some way or another.”

Good. Stay with me always.

This is how it was when I was a child, back when Aiden first warded me and I clung to him, unable to stand the thought of being alone. Trusting every lie he ever told me, eating them like honey from his tongue. Maybe that’s okay. For me to revert to the way I was then. Maybe I deserve to feel safe and sheltered for this passage of time. After all, the greatest task is still ahead, looming like a darkened sky on the horizon.

We don’t get darkened skies here.

But never say never. The mortal world’s never experienced a turquoise moon before, either.

With his arm in mine, the forest whizzes past, even though we’re taking leisurely strides. Aiden knows enchants and secrets he never divulged to me. Too late to divulge them now. Pidd’s inside him somewhere trapped in the cage that is his own ribcage, probably sputtering foulities. This vessel is the most un-Aiden thing Aiden’s soul could have found itself in.

“By the way,” I muster, “is it true that you and Sesha used to bang?”

Aiden stiffens. Guilty as charged.

No. For real?! Have you no shame!

Before I can convey any of these, Pidd yanks me in for a suffocating embrace. “It was a purely physical relationship, I assure you!”

“I don’t doubt that,” I speak against Pidd’s chest, face mushed up.

“Don’t be jealous, my princess! You are my only greatest love!”

Sigh. Delusion follows Aiden into the afterlife. “It isn’t a matter of jealousy at all,” I say, flat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” I don’t need to tell him it’s a matter of taste.

For a brief moment before releasing me, I hear his heart speeding beneath that cage of a ribcage. Is that his doing… or Pidd’s? What a stupid thing to be thinking about in a time like this. Most likely it’s Pidd himself, ramming to get out.

FOCUS, BEXDIZZLE.

The lighted world continues on, Aiden pulling me between enormous thorns that invade the trees. With the glove fused with my skin, I maintain that godlike endurance Kinley cursed earlier. I don’t feel worn down, even after traveling so long and fighting my fullest against Sesha and Jobel.

Whom I killed.

Killed.

No! I force the thought into a drawer in my mind. The first drawer of Bexley the Last’s bureau.

Besides, the aforementioned statement wasn’t accurate. Fullest.

If I fought to my fullest and still needed Aiden to save me, then I clearly haven’t unleashed the true power of the Wilted, have I? The only one with the power to defeat the Wilted should be the Wielder, and vice versa.

I stop too abruptly. The inertia of Aiden’s swiftness causes us both a stint of whiplash.

“Aiden.” I gaze into Pidd’s dark eyes. “It will only be temporary.”

His expression turns foul. “WHAT will only be temporary?”

“Before we reach Yggdrasil, I at least need to partially learn to wield the power of Nocturne. That was my shortcoming in the last battle, and it will be my downfall against Ellie.”

He scrutinizes me. “So?”

“Pidd seems to be a natural,” I say.

“You want me to recess into him, is that it?” he pouts.

“Unless you know how to wield his darkness?” Though I already know the answer.

“Sure I do!” Aiden conjures a divine handful of magick, which he throws into the air above us.

“Aiden… that wasn’t shadow.” Indeed, amber stars shower over us.

Aiden claws at the air dramatically. “But then he’ll never let me come out again!”

“I’ll make sure he does,” I tell my exaggerative waker. “I promise.”

Aiden heaves a great ancient sigh. I know it’s a lot. To have gone without a body all this time, and then to finally regain control of one…

But imagine how Pidd feels! He was without body, too. And now he’s got Aiden of all people crammed inside of him, forcing him to be all whiffly.

“It will just be until I feel comfortable using my dark half—a crash course. I mean, it’s not like I know how to get to the tree without you. Alaska and Kinley still have the map.”

But in order to get him to commit, I must first agree to five minutes of uninterrupted snuggling.

He gives no warning when the five minutes are up, so I can’t tell if there’s been any crossover when Pidd speaks up:

“You owe me big-time.”

20

Shadow Rabbits

“For the one-millionth time, I’m SORRY.”

Though I’m not reeeally sorry. It’s just that Pidd has been ranting on and on about being dominated by Aiden, wasting our precious time when he should be training me.

“It was TORTURE,” he insists.

“Maybe if you didn’t want him inside of you, you shouldn’t have, you know, INVITED HIM INSIDE OF YOU!” I shout back at him.

“Not like I knew ahead of time how handsy you two were going to be with each other. Disgusting, Bexley.” He turns up his nose.

“Oh stop, it’s not like that. He’s like my older brother.”

“Maybe in Montana,” he says under his breath.

“What’s Montana?”

“Hell if I know!” He grips at his head. “I don’t get why it can’t just be all or nothing, instead of having these mortal-world words popping into my head when I can’t even remember what they mean!”

“Not my problem.”

Geez, I expected him to be grouchy, but not this grouchy. But from the moment he awoke, he’s been nothing but a crab-ass with a capital C, and with his new dark hair and eyes, his combativeness isn’t as easy to make light of as it once was. If birds resided here, they would have all flocked away by now, giving away our position to all our enemies—that is, if the shouting hasn’t already done so.

And so I sit idle, waiting for the storm to pass. Not like I have anywhere to go. With Aiden suppressed, I’m not one-hundred percent on which direction to walk in, and so Pidd and I have been stuck here in a random part of the forest for the better part of ten minutes.

Why do people even say that? Is there a worse part of ten minutes?

The whole thing’s been bad.

Pidd takes out his frustration on the glimmering world, streaking it black without even bothering to tell me how he’s doing so. Perfect billows of black smoke shoot from his palms. The more I try, the more mine comes out as turquoise, even when I attempt to draw from my left side.

“You know what, Pidd? Maybe you should have just done nothing and let Jobel kill me, huh? Then you’d be rid of me once and for all!” The wood lights blue with my frustration.

Pidd tips back his head brutally. “Maybe I should have! You’re going to die anyways, aren’t you?!”

The world falls silent, but for the echoing of Pidd’s latest shout:

Die anyways.

…ie anyways.

…anyways.

…ways.

The next thing to sound is something slight yet dangerous, quiet yet imposing, and with the ability to upset the framework of a moment. This obtrusive, involuntary thing is a sniffle. Uh-oh. I bite my lip. Stop it, Bexley. You’ve been emotional enough for one lifetime.

But the sniffle is followed by a wavering in my chest that seals the deal. No matter what I do to stop it, I understand what’s coming—like a flood pressing against a dyke. I drop to a knee. I’ve acknowledged what moving the tree means, accepted it too. I’ve heard Aiden voice it aloud, through Pidd’s mouth, even.

It cuts so much more deeply now, though, knowing the words are Pidd’s.

I’ve become a sobber in the days since waking Pidd. Now’s no different. I let the tears roll—don’t even try to stop them this time. They don’t feel good. It isn’t a good, releasing cry. It’s painful, tears up my insides. The salt burns.

Pidd turns his back to me. “Here we go. Crying, again.”

What a dick! The worst mistake I ever made was warding someone like him! I watch his back through angry tears, wishing Aiden would reclaim control.

But all that’s a façade.

The real reason I’m upset is because he was never meant to know about my death in the first place. I wanted to go on pretending.

It’s a façade for him too. He bends forward, clutching his stomach. He’s going to be sick?

No, it’s something else he’s trying to contain. From behind, I see it, much as he may wish I hadn’t. He wipes his eyes into the shoulder of his sleeve, ashamed—though he can’t hide it completely. When he turns to face me, his cheeks are rosy beneath dark-stained streaks.

So he even cries shadow.

Our eyes meet. Waker and ward.

In that moment, the world seems to pause. The leaves halt, mid-fall. The air around us is still, but it’s an alive stillness—as if the air is clashing against itself so ferociously that it has no choice but to cancel itself out. We two tormented souls exchange something unspoken. I’ve never seen him look that way before.

Exposed.

I’d gather I look the same.

After an eon, time picks up where it left off. A smile invades the corner of his mouth. “Tch.” The smile grows and lets out the tiniest laugh, birthed from exhaustion.

I copy him, tittering, knocking away the heated moment that yet reverberates in the air around us.

“Faaack,” he swears, shaking his head. The grin remains, turned sheepish.

“What a mess,” I say, standing.

“Yeah.” He shakes his head again and exhales. “So that’s the way it’s gotta be? You’re sure?”

I nod. “Great acts of power require equal sacrifice, and all that jazz.”

“And it’s the only way?” he presses, further wiping the residue from his cheeks.

“Mmhmm,” I lie. Now’s not the time to tell him that it’s a ‘me or him’ situation. That would put an unnecessary kink in the gears.

He puts his hands into his pockets and kicks up a pile of leaves. “Well, when the hell were you planning on telling us?” he asks the tree over my head.

“Obvi, I wasn’t.”

“Yeah.” His head falls. “Guess I figured that out.”

My voice quiets. “It sucks. But it’s bigger than me and you and Alaska and Aiden and Kinley. Kinley… you won’t tell him, right?”

“Ehhhh.” He exposes his teeth uncomfortably.

“Please, Pidd.” I wince before adding: “…It’s my dying wish.”

“Not cool, Bex.”

“Hey, this is the only time playing that card will work. I’ve got to use it before I lose it.”

He chews his mouth before answering. “Fine. You should be the one to tell him anyway. He’s still crazy for you, as much as he pretends he isn’t. You know what I think, I think he’s preparing himself to get rejected because he can tell you’re not feeling it. And you sacrificing yourself? That would classify as the ultimate rejection. It would just be cruel on your part.”

Shut up, Pidd. You aren’t supposed to be wise.

“Can we stop talking about it now? I’m trying to stuff it in a drawer, and it isn’t working,” I say.

He cocks his head to the side. “Drawer?”

“Never mind. It’s too much to explain the com-bex-ities to you now.”

“Was that a lame attempt at a play on the word ‘complexities’?” he grumbles.

“You know it.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’d expect nothing less of my waker.”

><

“So what exactly do you need me to show you?”

Pidd and I stand side-by-side a safe distance from one of the long-as-a-knights-lance thorns. The forest hasn’t changed to moaning yet. Maybe Kinley and Alaska are still dozing, unaware that we ever left.

“I can’t get a handle on wielding the darkling’s power,” I tell him. “Not the way you can.”

“What gives you the idea I can wield the darkling’s power?” Mouth wide, darkling Pidd shoots around the wood, riding his heels on track of shadow, disrupting leaves along the way.

Showoff.

“Seriously! And we don’t have a lot of time, so lay it on me: What’s the secret?”

“There isn’t a secret to it, exactly. For me, it’s just easier to use than the teal light.” He shrugs.

I snap my fingers to summon a puny wad of shadow, saying: “How so? It’s so sticky.”

“Sticky?” Pidd’s face contorts. “Where are you pulling it from?”

“I’m pulling it up through my veins, how else?”

He shakes his head. “Of course it’s going to get gooped up when you pull it through that way.” He looks at me funny. “What?”

“Gooped. Nice word,” I croon.

“Concentrate! I thought we were in a time crunch, here!”

Well, sue me. How else is one supposed to extract power if not through their veins?

“You don’t suck it through your veins. It isn’t light. It’s denser than that. Instead, try this—” He takes in a sharp breath, taps his fingers to his earlobe, and draws out an inky strand of power. “You breathe it to life, I guess is the best way to describe it.”

“Breathe it? Really? Kinley always talked about it like there was shadow in his veins. Your veins are dark too. You showed me them.”

Pidd squats. “Come over here.” He brushes the ground with his hands to clear away a spot of dirt. Taking a fallen branch, he begins to draw an outline.

Not bad.

I can tell at least that he’s trying to draw a monkey.

“What’s a monkey got to do with anything?” I ask, leaning in.

“Monkey?” Pidd tips his head. “That’s a flipping human, Bexley!”

Oops.

He draws lines running through the limbs of the body. “These are your veins, okay? And yes, they are filled with shadow.” He prods my left arm with the stick. “At least this side of you is.” He returns to the drawing, extending the veins into the center of the person. “Instead of pulling the shadow up through your veins, let your veins carry the shadow into the middle of you, where you can breath it up.” He looks to me. “Make sense?”

Not a lick.

But that’s never stopped me before.

I stand tall with hands folded at my chest like an opera singer. I concentrate on the darkness swimming through the left half of me, concentrate on the darkstream on my wrist connecting me to the darkling within Pidd. I visualize the darkness slithering up the chain, into my wrist, through my arm, and pouring into a cavern within my chest. I take in a sharp breath.

The forest resounds with the sound of my coughing as I choke out puffs of black smoke.

Pidd pats me on the back. “Good. That was a good first try. Gotta cough to get off, am I right?”

“I—have—no—idea—what—you’re—talking—about.”

“Me neither, actually,” he realizes irritably. “Another one of those mortal things.”

“I expect you’ve got it worse than me in that sense. I was only five when Aiden woke me. Speaking of him, is he behaving in there?”

“I can hardly notice him,” says Pidd. “It just feels like my stomach is extremely full. Come on, try again.”

The second time goes better than the first, though it still feels as though I’m going to hack up a lung.

“Alright.” Pidd watches me like a tutor. “I think you’re ready for the final phase.”

“There’s a final phase?! Then what have I been doing?” I glare up at him from my doubled-over position. This is exactly the sort of crap I would pull. Nuggets should know their place.

“Final phase,” says Pidd, gleaming. “Once the shadow is inside of your lungs, draw it up into your mind. If you pull it up in that order, it won’t be sticky at all. Unless you’re wired completely differently than me, which, let’s be real, is very likely.”

But as it turns out, our wiring isn’t so different after all. This time, instead of coughing out the shadow, I push it into my mind. My left earlobe sizzles. I draw my pointer and middle fingers up to it, and before even making contact with the skin, the shadow leaps to my fingertips, soft and billowy. I project it towards Pidd, who catches the complacent shadow that’s just soared through the air, per my will.

Well I’ll be damned.

“Pidd! You’re a pretty good teacher!”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” he says, flat.

Now that I’m beginning to understand the consistence of darkness, there’s something I’ve always wanted to try. The first attempt garners a sickly flopping creature comprised of shadow from my fingertip. “Ew, stomp it out!” The second attempt looks slightly more presentable, but still isn’t the shape I’d hoped for. Finally, the third attempt earns me something that could be deemed an animal, though its ears are abnormally long.

Pidd picks up on what I’m doing and gives it a go of his own. Kinley’s trademark shadow rabbit goes frolicking into the wood, complete with a little floofy tail.

He really is a natural.

I practice the spell until it is acceptable, sending dozens of misshapen rabbits off into the forest before managing one that looks normal—though Pidd’s is cuter. Then, I move on to larger prey. Reluctantly, Pidd allows me to use him as a dummy, coiling cables of darkness around him. I loop my finger around my palm, generating a stream of shadow. A much larger stream materializes near Pidd and begins to wind around him. As a creature of shadow, he can easily break through, and he does so each time, allowing me the satisfaction of pinning his arms to his sides only momentarily.

I’m doing quite well… on a willing subject.

You can be dang sure the Wielder won’t be so accommodating.

I wish that I could stop time for real. I need more than the brevity of this training sesh to master the dark. Ellie’s had days and weeks to practice her power—and hers is light, too. Just a much stronger light than we’re used too. No fair.

I’m disadvantaged.

“Where’s Alaska when I need her now?” I mumble.

“Hm?” Pidd lurches out of his bindings with ease.

“That girl is by far the most devoted to the cause out of any of us. She’s a pick-me-upper. Sounds silly, but I feel like I’d do better at this if she were around. She makes me think I can actually do this.”

Pidd approaches me. “Woooow.”

“What?” I say.

“I mean, I think you can do this. What’s so great about her?”

‘What’s so great about her?’ Uh, pretty sure you’ve been making googly eyes at her ever since she joined the Bex-force, there, Pidd.

Hmph. Maybe she shot him down.

Devoid of an answer from me, Pidd continues: “I mean it, Bex. Like I said before, if anyone’s headstrong enough to uproot an all-magickal tree trunk, it’s probably you. You’re too stubborn to let the other team win, for one thing.”

“Gee, thanks, nugs.”

He doesn’t even bother reprimanding the nickname. This next bit comes off his tongue with sincerity, quieter than the rest: “Hell, you’re passionate. I admire that.”

After, he rubs the back of his head, abashed. Never in a million years when I met the boy in the blue hoodie at that café did I think he’d be the one uplifting me.

“Thanks.” I mean it this time. “Alrighty, let’s have another go. I hate to tell you, Pidd, but Aiden won’t let you keep control forever.”

“It’s my dang body!”

“And you can keep it… if you can accurately tell me which way the tree is from here.”

He answers with a scowl. Good. Power that frustration into combat. Become a fiercer foe. Challenge me. Force me. Hone me into the Wilted.

He tips forward his face so that his eyes are shadowed, amassing a pile of shadow in each hand.

I do the same, as all the while, his words resonate in my ears:

‘I mean, I think you can do this.’

“YAAAAAH!”

The forest erupts with darkness.

21

Make a Joyful Noise

Aiden and I leave that stretch of the forest coated in simpering shadow, remnants of the hours of training spent with Pidd.

I’m no shadowmaster, but at least I can hold my own.

That’s something.

With the glove embedded in my flesh, I have yet to tire. Maybe I’m allotted all the strength and stamina of my remaining days, as they would be, were I not about to sacrifice them in the name of the tree. Maybe the years and years of life I was meant to live are all butted up together for me to access now. I’m not complaining.

With every step, something innate beckons me.

Get to the tree.

There isn’t time for rest.

Unfortunately, Pidd doesn’t share the same stamina as Aiden and I. The hours of ruthless training wore on him, and because I can’t feel it, I didn’t notice until it was too late and he could barely stand or conjure. In the end, he relinquished control of his body in part so that Aiden could lead us to the tree—though I suspect mostly because he didn’t have the strength to press on.

Now, he resides somewhere deep in his own body, swaddled up like a baby.

Thank you, Pidd. Only a little longer until you can have it back for good.

Aiden takes my arm like before and pushes me on through the lighted world. Again, trees and leaves and sometimes remnants of fallen civilizations fly past, though it feels like we’re only walking. With the onset of night, the forest’s chiming changes to weeping, but it isn’t as I expect it to be. Instead of that dreadful moaning, it only whimpers softly.

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and I’m too afraid to ask Aiden. He doesn’t offer it up either.

Yikes.

Maybe Yggdrasil knows we’re coming for it.

Aiden pulls me on for hours and hours, or so it feels, until eventually the forest undergoes a change. When I first see it, I root my feet into place, forcing Aiden to halt.

“What is THAT?”

The forest begins to thin, and at the same time, it begins to brighten.

It isn’t an allover brightness; rather, droplets of light fall from the sky like even droplets of rain. They also rise up from the ground in similar strands.

“Is that rain?” I ask, mouth fully dropped. “And is it also reverse rain?”

Each pearl of light exudes rays like a miniature sun. The air here smells differently too, floral and earthy, like a freshly watered garden.

I pull Aiden out of reach of the light. You never know, something so enticing could be a trap. A line of defense around the tree. Maybe if we touch it, it’ll burn like acid.

“It is the brilliance of the tree,” says Aiden, already smiling. “Offspray of the Maker’s light.”

“Is it safe to touch?”

Aiden takes my shoulders and guides me forward. “It is the only way through,” he says.

I put my hand out and let the beads of light bounce off my skin, before capturing some in my cupped hands. Instantly, I warm from the inside out as the light absorbs into my skin.

This is the true light of the tree? We’ve had a diluted version all along.

I step out into the shower of light, letting it pour over me.

“I get it,” I tell Aiden, eyes closed. “I get why the lightborne wanted to steal the tree for themselves.”

Pellets of rain hit me and absorb into me, welcoming even the darkest side of me, welcoming Pidd’s sullen body too. Neither of us sizzles or burns. Instead, we glow, basked in the lighted glory that falls and rises all around us.

“When the others and I tried to reach the tree before, I expected something to happen—not quite this grand, but I expected it to brighten in some way. But instead, the forest only darkened. Maybe we weren’t getting close after all. Maybe that map from Erron’s a sham.”

“Maybe,” Aiden’s voice is in my ear, “you weren’t ready to face the tree yet.”

It’s possible that the giver of all light has the power to shift the forest, and maybe the entire lightborne tier.

“Does that mean I’m ready to face the tree now?” I ask.

I don’t feel ready; I only have the slightest handle on my newfound power. But if Aiden’s theory is true, then having the confidence of Yggdrasil herself is more important than any amount of training, I’d think.

I’ll go with it.

And I continue to go with it, even when Aiden doesn’t answer my question. I don’t really need a proclamation of faith right now. I’ve still got one ricocheting around in my skull:

‘If anyone’s headstrong enough to uproot an all-magickal tree trunk, it’s probably you.’

Thanks, Pidd.

Urgency fuels into me once more, ignited by the warmth that sprinkles through the air. Maybe it’s the tree telling me to hurry. Maybe it’s the glove.

Or maybe it’s practicality.

No sign of Ellie is a bad sign at this point. It means she has the potential to be on ahead of us. My blood writhes in displeasure.

A hand snatches me from the light, pulling me close.

My blood writhes for another reason, because for just a moment, I forget it’s Aiden who’s in control.

“Dance with me, my joy!”

There isn’t time for dancing in the rain or light. “A-Aiden, not right now.”

“Shhh.” He tightens his grip and spins me around the lightfall, making the pearls rebound off us. The world is a blur of light. I can’t see Aiden through the flecks of light splashing all around.

“What are we doing?” I shout.

“Delighting in Yggdrasil’s light, my joy!” He twirls me around, pulling me in and then thrusting me out, before pulling me in again.

Aiden’s lost it. And if Pidd was indeed sleeping in the depths of their shared body, he’s sure as hell awake by now. Aiden shifts one hand to my waist and keeps my hand firmly clamped in his other.

Dancing to no music is awkward.

Dancing in general is awkward.

“Aiden…” I attempt to slip away, but he won’t have it. He pulls me deeper into the light falling in both directions, grinning Pidd’s mouth wide. If Aiden were in his own body, this all might look a bit less unnatural, but seeing it happening to Pidd is downright bizarre.

“We need to get to the tree!” I press him. “This isn’t time for dancing, you dope!” Yet as he spins me this way and that, the particles of light begin to settle all around my body, encasing me like armor.

“We aren’t merely dancing, Bexley!” he retorts with a laugh. “We are delighting in the tree!” He presses his lips close to my ear, whispering: “Do it. It’s the only way to get through.”

My heart flickers.

‘Delight in their luminosity.’

Is this what the indent on Erron’s map meant?!

“A little warning would have been nice,” I counter to Aiden, slipping my hand to his waist. If we’re going to be dancing, I think I’d like to lead. With new purpose, I pull him close and rock with him, imagining a song I heard playing at the Café on Grand once.

One-two, one-two.

And dip!

Aiden’s shock reflects through Pidd’s face as I dip him low and pull him back up.

“A-ah, my princess?”

I’m not a princess.

I am world-hopping, evil-fighting badass.

I twist Aiden around, through the drops of light, giggling at his surprised expression. That’s right, A! Can’t stop, won’t stop. And with sick moves like this?

…I mean that in the sense that I dance like an actual sick person.

In turn, he chortles at my glee. The warmth of the glittering air sinks into my skin, infusing me with the breath of all life, filling the emptiest parts of me. And suddenly, I feel better. I didn’t realize how terrible I felt until the feeling washes away, forced out by the light.

I haven’t been fine in a long time, though I confessed so only to Pidd.

Something now tells me a different story, as if the light itself is saying to me: ‘You’ll be fine. Life isn’t all there is.’

“I’m fine,” I call out to Aiden in the midst of our dancing. “It was always meant to be me. And I’ll be fine.”

Aiden is silent, but his dancing pattern changes. Again, he pulls me close, taking the lead and setting Pidd’s neck to my cheek. Since when did Pidd get this much taller than me?

“I know,” Aiden whispers through clenched teeth. “But I wanted to protect you.”

“You did a fine job, my waker. And I love you.” I squeeze his hand. “We’ll be together in the everafter, okay? And all the people we love will be safe.”

“I love only you, my joy.”

“Untrue!” I push him at arm’s length. “You also love your waker, Erron. And you love your sister ward, Alaska. And I know there are others.”

Aiden doesn’t answer, and it’s hard to make out his expression, as we are now both fully covered in suits of light.

“This will be our greatest adventure, Aiden. And when it’s over, I will join you on the other side.”

He tips my face upward by his knuckle on my chin. “You have changed, Bexley Lightborne.”

I’m not the same as I once was.

I smile up at him. “You haven’t.” And I kiss him once on the cheek, which he cups in the aftermath. “Now, how much more delighting do we have to do before the forest lets us through?”

He looks down at Pidd’s glowing arms. “I would expect we’re nearly there.”

“In that case, I say we give ‘em hell.” I tear my hair loose from its twang and shake free the locks in a blaze of light. “WOOHOO!” Aiden in tow, I go chasing and tearing and leaping through the light, accumulating more and more layers of lighted armor until I’m swelled in a mass of gold and silver. The forest clears until we can no longer see a hint of tree or leaf.

“Wait!” Aiden calls, though I keep on running. “I’ve lost the trail! The fallens are gone!”

But it’s okay. I think I know the way. I run on and on and on. A thousand years I run on, until the suns in the distant sky have all burned out—though in the mortal realm, mere seconds have passed.

Our stop is abrupt, for the falling light ceases without warning. The suits of light around us melt off, and Aiden and I are left standing and the foot of a tall hill made of grass too green to fathom. I take in a breath that I forget to release. I’ve seen this before; although, it was slightly different in my vision.

“Bexley?” Aiden is what reminds me to breathe. He gives my hand a shake. I inhale deeply, gasping over my own awe.

“We’re almost there!” I cry. But when I turn to show him my grin, it isn’t Aiden staring back. Wide-eyed, Pidd gapes around us.

“Pidd? Is that you?”

“W-where is this place, Bex?”

“What happened to Aiden?” I say.

Confused, Pidd begins frisking his own body, coming up with: “I’m not sure. It feels like he’s gone.”

Weight crushes me. Gone? “He can’t be gone because you’d be a shadow again,” I say, slowly.

Pidd shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe this place is special.”

Well, there’s no doubt about that.

“Are you sure he’s not in there somewhere?”

He nods, mouth solemnly downturned. “Sorry, Bex.”

But… I didn’t get to say goodbye. Again.

I choke back the emotion, swallowing until it’s securely in my belly and I’m sure it won’t try coming back up. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’ll never see him again. Never be in his wakerly presence. No, I can’t think that way. Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize. Gone is okay because I’ll see him soon, on the other side of the beyond. It won’t be long now.

I turn to Pidd with new resolve, nodding up the looming hill. It’s the sort a person needs to climb using hands and feet. “Are you ready?”

“No?” he wavers.

Too bad. “Let’s go transport a tree.”

I’m not supposed to notice or care that he hasn’t yet dropped my hand.

Pidd follows me up the hill, using whatever stamina remains inside of him. I don’t fathom how a full-on sullen is able to materialize here, if Aiden’s soul is truly gone from him. Maybe Aiden left some of his light in there, stained Pidd’s soul. I bet Pidd would be overjoyed with that theory.

Although, as he said, this place is special. I can tell by the glimmer of the air, the perfection of the sky and grass, the flawlessness of the landscape behind us.

We climb up the hill, fingers raw with dirt, fear echoing in our chests. Either Ellie hasn’t made it here yet, or she’ll be waiting for us at the top of this climb. The thudding of my chest gets louder the higher we crawl, moving up my neck and into my head, until my very eardrums beat with the sound of a thousand drums.

I know Pidd is scared too, there isn’t anyone in the worlds who wouldn’t be, but he doesn’t show it. His dark eyes are narrow and determined as he gazes up to the target.

Somewhere over the days, his baby-face matured into something structured. His jaw is defined, his chin peppered with stubble, his neck masculine.

‘I’ll keep you safe until you can keep yourself safe.’

It seems so long since I told him that. And now, the tables have turned. The one feeling safer in the other’s presence is me.

The top of the mount nears. Any moment we shall witness that gleaming beacon, and one of us will even live to tell the tale. Poor Pidd has been through hell since I snatched him from his life. If it weren’t for me, he’d be capturing photos of bridges and sand. Maybe he’d become a famous photographer. Or at least have a stellar Instagram.

Yes, even I’ve heard of Instagram.

Just before the top, we find an inlet wide enough to stand on. I give my ward’s shoulder a squeeze and tell him softly to: “Wait a moment.”

His expression is one of insistence. “But we’re almost there.”

I nod. “And this is where you stop. While I need a witness to pass the following events on to Kinley, Alaska, Erron and Cello, I won’t put you in danger for nothing. We don’t know what’s up there, and I won’t chance you getting caught in it.”

Pidd opens his mouth in protest, but I put a finger up to stop it.

“This is my dying wish.”

He lets out mature-rated swear, followed by: “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I shake my head and look away from him because I can’t bear for him to see my face as it is now. Sappy theatrics would only make it harder on him in the long run.

“Goodbye, my ward. I love you…” I tuck my hair and add: “with a waker’s love.”

“BEX!”

But I’ve scurried on with the speed of the Wilted, leaving him in the dust as I clench off those betraying wet droplets.

The climax of the hill nears.

Nears.

Nears.

Nears.

When I reach it, I stumble backwards, nearly jack-and-jilling it.

It isn’t due to awe or splendor.

That shining, magnificent, radiant tree upon a plateau shown to me in my vision was a lie. There is no such tree. There is no such radiance.

It’s all a lie.

22

Who We Are

The tree at the top of the steep, steep hill is a sad, sad sight. To be sure, there IS a tree. But it’s a decoy. Its trunk is malnourished and shriveled; its leaves barren and gray.

And the whole thing stands no more than four feet tall.

The ground at the top of the plateau is a perfect circle. In my vision the trunk alone would have extended far beyond the edge. And now those edges mock the tragic plant at its center, laughing over the barren expanse of space where the real tree’s trunk should be.

“This isn’t Yggdrasil.” I drop to my knees, disillusioned. The forest led us astray, fooled us to this place. Aiden’s spirits were in on it. On Ellie’s side. She’s most likely at the real Yggdrasil as we speak, vampiring off its roots, gaining power to wipe us all out in one fell swoop.

And now we’re stuck here, on the other side of a magickal lightstorm, without a map, without Aiden, and without a clue.

Self-pity befalls me, drooping my shoulders.

Why did I think I could do something like this—become a creature from legend and save the worlds? Delusions of grandeur, that’s why. An inflated ego, that’s why.

On my own, I’ve really accomplished nothing at all.

I drag my feet the long way to the center of the highland, to where the fake Yggdrasil stands, pathetic and small, deciding the best way to tell Pidd the news. Popping my head over the edge and saying: ‘JK,’ is the leading option so far. ‘Gotcha, Pidd. Good one, huh?’

I reach the decoy tree that looks like it’ll fall over if a heavy enough a person leans against it, and size it up. No key as to how to reach the real tree of light. Despaired, I stretch out my fingers and graze the bark.

A great tree fills the space before me, blinding, radiating, regal and majestic, sitting atop this hill breached up out of the crying forest. The boughs reach far and bow low. The trunk gleams golden with smooth, unadulterated bark, crafted by the Creator of the worlds. It fills in beneath my fingertips, replacing the puny, dried bark formerly there.

I stare up into it, sheltering my eyes. The leaves are indiscernible, for they are nothing but a mass of light purer than any I’ve witnessed before. Light pours from it, purifying the air, sending spots of dazzle all around it, creating an overpowering aura of light that is more gold than gold and at the same time, more silver than silver.

This fabled being, giver of life and light, the stories didn’t do it justice. There is no greater tree, none wider or taller or more resplendent.

I cry out a nonsense word of surprise and retract my hand, quick as if I’d just touched something disagreeable and probably oozy.

Removing my hand from the bark removes the vision; while replacing my hand brings it back.

I flicker back and forth between these two images, replacing and withdrawing my hand over and over until I’m sure.

It wasn’t a lie.

Though it is disillusioning.

THIS is the tree of life.

This wimpy, scrawny, naked tree is all that remains of Yggdrasil. …Oh my gawd! It’s way worse than I could have imagined!

I can’t say whether it’s the glove on my wrist or true emotion, but I’m overcome with sadness for this sapling, drained of light. I weep for it and the tree joins me, filling the air with quiet sobbing.

I understand now, why I awoke during this time. Why the Wilted had to be me.

It isn’t because I’m special or destined, gifted or worthy.

Simply, the tree was in dire need of saving, running out of time.

And the pickings were few.

We turquoise are a dying bloodline.

Pidd still keeps his promise, down yonder on the hill. Perfect. I won’t call him up just yet. I won’t call him until the very end. On my right wrist, my turquoise dangles off into the void. Though I can’t feel Kinley’s presence, I’m not all that worried. If anything, that curtain of light between us is disrupting our frequency. Aiden, on the other hand, I hope is near. He promised he’d remain with me until the end ‘in some way or another.’

“Give me strength, my waker.”

I circle the tree, and look to the Wilted’s glove, unsure how to proceed. I guess the one good thing about the tree being in this position is that it’ll be much easier to move than if it were its full giant self.

I neglected to hone my upper body strength for this event. To be fair, I also neglected to train my lower body. As I frown at my own out-of-shaped-ness, a familiar voice calls to me, reverberating between my ears.

To the tree.

I’m here.

Touch the tree.

I did.

Before, when I grazed the tree, I used only my ungloved hand. Now, though, the stitches binding me to the Wilted’s glove wriggle beneath my skin.

That’s the key.

Giving one last look to the metal gears on the wrist, I say a silent prayer before extending my Wilted hand around the tree and gripping the feeble trunk.

Or at least I would, were it not for the blast of power that hits me from behind and sends me flying.

The power knocks the wind from me and shoots me a great deal from the tree. I fashion myself a cushion of shadow to blanket my fall. Damn it! I dallied and dillied too long! The Wielder has come!

But lo, when I look up, it is not the Wielder I see. It is Pidd who runs towards me, arm outstretched and lips scowling. I’ve just been attacked by my own ward?

“What the hell, Pidd?!” I shout. But he keeps charging, teeth bared, brazen and fierce, showing no sign that he intends to answer me. I roll to my feet, practicing some of that fancy footwork from our earlier training. A second time, I call to him. “Are you possessed or what? S-stop it!”

He readies another handful of darkness.

I didn’t think he could hurt me with that stuff! Moreover, I didn’t think he’d want to.

There’s no way, right? No way he’s somehow secretly on the other side? Not after all this time together!

‘Hate to admit it, Bexley, but you’re the most lightbornest lightborne out of any of us… I believe it.’

No, this isn’t who we are. Pidd doesn’t shoot magick at me for no reason, and I don’t distrust him for no reason. I’m missing something.

I relinquish my focus of Pidd, showing him my back as I turn to inspect the space beyond me. Nothing there but perfect space. I complete the circle, coming back to face Pidd in time to see an arrow of rose light come shooting up the edge of the plateau behind him

I reach behind myself, taking a finger to my stinging back, and swipe the wound.

ROSE.

Pidd wasn’t the one to attack me. We’ve got company, after all. And it’s my least favorite kind.

At last, my ward is within hearing distance: “HURRY, BEXLEY! SHE’S COMING!” His face is red from previously undelivered calls of warning.

I nod to him—though I suspect he can’t distinguish a nod at that distance—as I make a leap towards the tree. If I could only get my gloved hand around the wood of it!

But alas, the rose shooter is powerful, their spells precise. This time, they nick my turquoise arm.

“AH!” I falter and grab the wound hissing with escaped blue light. I ready a shield weaved of darkness and turquoise and limp on towards the tree.

Almost there!

Almost…

Almost…

“MOTHER-FUUUUUUUUUUUUU—” Pidd’s curse resounds through the air, stopping me in my boots. The tree is so close, I shouldn’t even look at him. I’m sorry, Pidd, but I need to keep on. This is the final stretch…

Aw hell, who am I kidding. I think it’s obviously apparent I’ll choose Pidd over some dumb tree, even if that tree is the key to saving all man and womankind.

“HOLD ON, PIDD-O, I’M COMING FOR YOU!”

Swelling up masses of light and shadow in either hand, I change course, sprinting in Pidd’s direction. He isn’t alone, but the air around him augments with rose and shadow, forming a haze, and I can’t make out the scene properly. I shoot my darkness into the mix, aiming for where the pink light is most prominent.

“Cease this at once.”

I forgot about that. Ellie’s voice isn’t any natural sort of voice; it’s a dozen voices layered over one another, channeled through one petite girl. Frightful. I wonder why mine doesn’t sound like that. Not complaining.

As the haze clears I see that she’s got him. My enemy of enemies, clad head to toe in mechanical gear, pink hair even pinker than the last time we confronted. Today, it flows out from the metal headpiece that’s decorated in clock parts, drifting out around her head as though a tepid breeze is perpetually blowing at her. The gears of the headpiece dance in electric rose glow, lighting her fair skin soft, silky pink. In one hand she holds the jeweled staff that glitters rubies red as any evil queen’s lipstick. In the other she holds Pidd.

By the neck.

Right up off the ground.

His legs dangle and kick as he claws at her hand delicately placed around his neck.

ARGH! I hold myself back from bursting forward at her. I can’t risk it, not with Pidd in such a compromised position. And so I murder her with my gaze, cut it into her, rip her to shreds, though in reality the only flesh torn is that of my own ungloved palm, damaged from my nails digging into the pad of flesh.

Normally a girl of Ellie’s build and height wouldn’t be able to lift something half Pidd’s weight, let alone the full stockiness of him; but fueled with hoity-toity, sorceress-esque power, she holds him as easily as she would a bag of bread.

She stands perfectly still, staring right ahead at me, staff hovered just over the ground threateningly. That’s right, this little one has the power to command earthquakes at her will. Has she also tasted from the roots of Yggdrasil as Aiden warned she might? Is she jacked up on even more power than before?

She doesn’t look all that different from the last time. That doesn’t mean I can rest easy.

“Where are your minions?” I shout to her, trying to keep my tone steady, when in my head, my own voice rams against my skull:

Let him go, let him go, LET HIM GO!

“You know well enough of the ones you bested.” Her stare is creepily still. She is a painted mannequin, devoid of soul, enveloped in pink radiance, and speaking with the voice of the devil.

“And the others?” I say while eyeing Pidd up uneasily. His struggling is getting laxer and floppier, and that’s not good. The vessels of my heart wrench and pop.

Let my ward GO!

Ellie obeys, though I haven’t said it aloud. She releases him onto the ground, where he coughs and rolls.

Get out of here, Pidd. Run away and don’t look back!

Ellie takes a step towards me, trailing a train of light behind. “The others have already given themselves unto me,” she says.

“What does that mean?” I ask, only to distract her from Pidd, who shuffles away from her, clutching his throat.

“I waited a long while for you in that stretch of starfall. The days were elongated in that space, and in my hightened being, I require a more direct source of sustenance.”

So she was lurking in the falling light before we got here. Lurking all along like a… a lurker.

I guess if she considers herself a guardian of the tree, it would be a good hiding place, close enough without being exposed.

As far as that sustenance part, though, I’m not following, either because of the vagueness or because I’m too preoccupied with Pidd’s scooching. He looks to be doing a little better, but the moron isn’t listening to my silent pleas for him to flee! Rather, he seems to be gearing up for an attack.

NO, you dingus!

“Did you feast from the tree, Ellie?” I put a hand on my hip to keep her attention locked on me. Behold the power of sass! “Is that why it’s in such a pitiful state?”

She doesn’t voice an answer, though it all becomes brutishly clear a moment later when she opens her palm lazily to the heavens, and slowly begins to lift it. As she does, a mess of shapes rise out from the gleaming light-curtain behind her.

On second thought, not shapes. They rise higher from the afterglow, exposing them for what they are:

Bodies.

My sass falls as the hand on my hip falls. Two-dozen or more bodies, most of them familiar, lift up from the forest and hang there in the sky. I think I might be sick.

Scratch that.

I am sick. I lean to the side, coughing up the displeasantries, right here, on this sacred plain, the birthplace of all light.

I can’t help it. Not only are they bodies, they’re mummified bodies. I lock eyes on Pidd. His are equally wide.

Yeah, you see now, dummy? Get out of here!

Instead he motions to me something I can’t decipher.

No, Pidd, whatever you’re planning won’t work!

“What did you do to them?” I demand of Ellie, massing light enough to distract her from my disobedient ward.

“I drank of them,” she says, twisting her wrist to allow the bodies to spin before releasing the spell and dropping them into the forest below.

…

…

…

“YOU WHAT? As in you sucked them dry? Like a spider?!”

Ellie is expressionless. “For the sake of the light. Those of true faith went willingly.”

Yeah, I’ll bet there were loads of those.

Well, if there was ever a doubt as to whether or not I was a good guy or a bad guy, I guess that settles it. I may have repeatedly let the darkness into the mortal world, I may have been unable to make up my mind about Kinley, but at least I never mummified anyone.

…Though I did kill that one person that one time…

Shh.

“Is this really what you are, Ellie?” I gesture obscenely towards the forest. “You’re a person that drinks from other lightborne for their power?!”

“It was necessary. Yggdrasil was already too weak for me to drink from her roots.”

“And even after seeing it with your own eyes, you don’t believe we need to move it?” I implore, stepping towards her. “It isn’t too late. Help me move the tree, Ellie. PLEASE. Together, we can save it. And then maybe you’ll be redeemed of this heinous thing you’ve done to our brethren!”

Lies. There will be no redemption for her. Not now. Not ever.

I’ll see to it that she burns.

She doesn’t fall for my fake attempts at camaraderie anyway.

“Silence, defiled one! You side with the darkness—a power which has diminished our light to nothing. The tree withers, lo the darkness has kissed her roots. Your name is murderer for your sins are many. You and your despicable mate tore at the breaks in space, ushering in more darkness to feed off of the tree’s last light. Disposing of your kind for good will restore life anew into our Mother! You shall be the first great sacrifice of many, for after I drink of your power, I will devoid the realms of turquoise forever!”

Sure, me and my filthy turquoise bloodline. Blame us for the mistakes of all lightborne. Dispose of us, for we are the only ones able to live symbiotically with the darklings.

Ellie has it wrong.

“The tree isn’t dying because of the shadows that haunt it, you stupid, single-minded tyrant! It’s dying because WE have squandered her light! And I don’t mean WE as in my turquoise ancestors. I mean WE as in all lightborne—turquoise, lavender, amber, and rose, alike. WE are one family and together we bear the sins of our fathers and mothers. Shame on us for sucking the tree dry!”

A spread of mummies flashes into my mind. Ah, maybe I ought to avoid using the word ‘sucked’ for a while.

I continue, “We are all responsible for drawing too much light. We stole the tree for ourselves, and look where it’s gotten us. Feínne was a fool to capture it in the first place!”

“Silence!” Down drops the butt of the staff, quaking the hill and forcing me to my knees. Shockwaves ripple the very realm beneath my feet, but I won’t be silenced.

This lewd display of power reminds me that I must have power to match somewhere deep within myself. I am Ellie’s counterpart, just as light is to dark, and so her mistake is to show me a reflection of what I myself might do.

And I’ll do it without mummifying any of our family, too.

“The mortals are children of the tree, and we lighted ones are meant to be its protector!” I stand, beginning to undergo a change. “But we have failed. We pretty much suck! And so I say it’s time to return the tree to its rightful place in the mortal tier.” I give my darkened ward one last look of desperation—for he refuses to leave—as flames of blue and black fire up around me, called into being by nothing more than an utterance:

“Pacha yelram Noctus, lottei Y’ggdress!”

Yes, dark unto light, I take it from my ward, up the darkstream connecting me to him. I take the darkling that was meant to be mine, hold it within the cocoon that is my chest, incubating it in preparation for release.

When I speak next, the voice that comes through isn’t my own:

“If you’ll stand in my way, Wielder, then I have no choice but to end you.”

23

No, THIS Is the Final Battle

Darkness is a girl’s best friend.

That’s a saying somewhere, right?

My turquoise is lost as I succumb fully to the darkness. I don’t know what I look like, but I feel similar to the times Kinley swallowed me and brought me with him into Nocturne.

I am enveloped in soft, familiar shadow. It slips through my teeth and down my lungs. I see things as they truly are. Behind me, the prism separating the worlds quakes. The great tree diminished to nothing, quakes under the rage of Ellie’s staff against the ground.

If it shatters by my hand, and my hand alone, it will all be over.

Everything we’ve worked for will be complete.

I am the Wilted.

I am the fiend.

I am the end.

In shadow form, I realize how much slower everything else moves. I fly, feet immaterialized, between Ellie and Pidd. Maybe I’m a cloud. Maybe I am a darkened phoenix. It’s hard to say. Meanwhile, my ward has returned to his former self, the darkness gone from his hair and eyes; his ear shining proudly the color of our dying bloodline.

“Get out of here, Pidd!”

“Bexley!”

“I have taken my final form. It is best for you to go back to the others!”

“But the others are here, damn it!” he lashes. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Furiously, he motions down the hill. I rise up into the air to get a better look, darting between the blasts of rose Ellie shoots at me. The best part about becoming a flighted being is that her annoying staff will no longer be a hindrance, at least.

Whatever elation gained by that revelation, it quickly falls.

“Ah! NO!”

I couldn’t see from where I stood before, but indeed, Kinley and Alaska lie bound, entwined in rose restraints just over the edge of the hill.

Kinley, my lover from a time before, loyal to the last, though I haven’t been able to give him the bulk of my heart in return.

And Alaska, true believer in the cause, as quirky as she is steadfast, with that lovely face and even lovelier presence.

Pidd is bad enough, but why are they here!? And when did Ellie take them? Was it during whatever spell forced me to the gates of the coterie? Did she descend upon them while I left them unguarded?!

“Release them!” I challenge the Wielder. “This fight is ours.”

“Indeed,” says Ellie, body now encompassed in an even thicker wave of pink. “Hence, I shall use them in service to the tree.”

I can move faster than any mortal, faster than any lightborne, and still I’m not fast enough. I see Ellie’s aim, understand it only as it’s happening, and even as Pidd and I both shoot opposing forces at her, Ellie descends upon her mark mere dividends of a second too early.

And I am a mere dividend of a second too late.

“ALASKA!”

‘Use me, Mistress Wilted. I am your servant!’

Alaska.

Lovely, darling, strange as hell Alaska.

I am too late to save my self-proclaimed servant. In a hiss of pink, her flesh dehydrates onto her bones as Ellie clamps her mouth onto Alaska’s lavender earlobe and siphons away her light.

It only takes a moment for the lifely girl to deflate.

Only a moment to ruin and end a life.

I can’t comprehend it. It doesn’t feel real.

But when Ellie rises from her fiendish crouch, Alaska lies dead. And Ellie wipes her mouth with an embroidered handkerchief, as though she’s just divulged in a fancy dessert.

Death.

Sudden. Definite.

Irreversible.

I’ve only felt, smelt, tasted the death of a loved one two other times.

It isn’t any easier the third.

My cries resound through all of Yggdress, though I no longer have tears to shed in my current form. She was a good one. A really good one, undeserving of such a horrid fate.

And I swear to the Maker, I will use my dying breath to avenge her. Aiden too. And for all those fallen in the forest—

I will rip that evil bitch to shreds!

“AAARRRRGHHHH!” Before she can move on to Kinley, I power up, calling from all my emotion, darkness, memories, and pain, coiling it all around me in a tsunami of darkness. “I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND IT’S GOING TO BE EPIC!”

I pummel her into the ground, creating a crater in the side of the hill, shaking our world and the one beyond. She fights back, stinging my skin with rose. Again, I thrust my entire self into her, shouting over my shoulder—or at least the space where my shoulder used to be:

“Save Kinley, Pidd! And then get the hell out of here!”

I ramp up to my fullest, taking on as much darkness as my current state can handle. I hear the satisfying sizzle of Ellie’s skin as I push my power into her. She retaliates with more vigor, throwing me high into the air and spouting beams of rose light from the end of her shaft.

I’m going to take that shaft and cram it a place you won’t like, dear Ellie.

We fight on and on. We are evenly matched. Even with her ingesting the light of two-dozen lightborne, we are still evenly matched. I am holding my own.

But unfortunately, that’s all I’m doing.

I need an edge. Something to give me the upperhand!

“…xley…”

Through the clash of rose and shadow I hear something faint.

“Bex…y!”

I hone in on it.

Kinley and Pidd stand side-by-side at the far edge of the plateau, waving their hands over their heads stupidly. SERIOUSLY!? Those guys are STILL HERE?!

“Bexley! This way!”

They seem so small now, like beetles. ‘Ants’ is overplayed. Fine, they’re so small now, they look like ants. Have I really grown in size, or has my perception of the worlds changed? I hone in on them further while continuing to combat my mortal enemy.

Between, sobs of grief over his fallen coterie-mate, Kinley gestures to something on his chest. I focus harder to bring my perception to their level.

The Cog of the Fallen?

“Bexley!” Kinley forces his shouting through wrenching sobs. “Move towards the light!” He gestures to the lightfall separating Yggdrasil’s mount from the rest of Yggdress. “There are a slew of souls coming through. I think… I know they mean to help you!” Even broken, even mourning, he pushes his voice stable enough for me to discern.

I cannot see the creatures of light, but as I obey Kinley’s advice and lower myself back into the lighted realm, I feel them, all around me; fluttering, soft and birdlike. It stings at first when they clash with my darkness, but the pain settles and smooths as they sink into my skin. That is, if I still have skin in this form.

Aiden’s army of wisps. Wisdom becomes them, for they have seen the world beyond. They know the truth of the tree, and what needs to be done.

“I humbly accept you and your aid.” I open myself, my very soul, to the wisps of the fairchildren. Warmth fills me as ancestors of the forest flow through me—lavender, rose, turquoise and amber. I hear their thoughts, their prayers, sifting past me—a myriad of voices shifting into me. I call them ancestor, though not all are ancient:

‘Mistress!’ One voice is familiar above the others.

My heart gives a leap. Joy and sorrow fight for control. Bittersweet is what it’s called.

“Alaska. Well done, good and faithful servant.”

I cuddle her voice closer than the others, pressing her light into my heart. I will carry her with me through the end of this task—a task she so admired. A task for which she gave her life. She will become the savior with me, feel the tree uproot through my hands. We are in this together, until the end.

But I can’t devote more thought to her now. There’s still one evil bitch to put an end to once and forever.

I feel different from before, though I’ve yet to discover what my physical body actually looks like now. Whatever it is, the awe of it reflects in Pidd and Kinley’s expressions. They cower distantly below me, as I turn my attention again to the Wielder.

Ellie is unrecognizable—a creature previously indescribed in storybooks. I understand now, why our people chronicled Feínne the way they did—known only as a great force of light; a torch, incapable of depiction in portraits.

I can scarcely describe her now.

She is a terrible creature, born of stolen light.

I, on the other hand, contain light willingly given, and that’s got to count for something. The Wielder clashes into me, stabbing her staff through the center of me.

But I am something more than the Wilted. I am countless souls forged into one body. I am Bexley the Last, bringer of the end. I am Alaska. I am shadow. I am light.

I do not bleed. I do not cry. I simply say:

“Be gone.”

And Ellie is no more.

24

Bexley’s More Important Choice

In the aftermath of the battle, the grounds around the tree are stained a multitude of color and shadow. The fight is over. The war is won. I hover above the landscape and let the truth of it wash over me.

My vessel is swelled, for it houses a congregation of spirits.

Thank you for lending me your power.

One-by-one, the fallens escape me back into their eternal rest. For some, this was redemption. Some fought on the other side in the last war. For others, this was retribution. Those unjustly killed due to prejudice and bigotry. One-by-one they feed me their stories as they pass into the fray.

Not all of them, though. One remains, deep within my chest. I cup her close.

We kicked some butt, didn’t we, Alaska?

But it aches. I ache for her. She died for this cause, and I didn’t have the speed to save her. Swiftly, the warmth of her fills up the void. Another ache arises on the other side of my heart. She spreads to fill that too.

Some people are all good, it seems.

Slowly, like air being let out a pinprick in a balloon, I shrink back down to my normal size near the base of withered Yggdrasil, though judging by the way Kinley and Pidd look at me now, I’m not back to my normal shape. Each comes trotting over, words astutter.

They stare at me, unsure on what to say to the creature before them.

Fine, I’ll go first:

“Preeeety crazy, am I right? Ugh. Does my voice still sound like this? Lame!”

No matter what I look like now, neither seems to care. They throw their arms around me and together we fall down to the ground, down into a pile of cursed turquoise. Kinley is strained, thinned out, emotion stretched. And yet he holds me in relief, muttering ‘you’re okay’ over and over. Pidd, on the other hand, mutters something indistinguishable. I picture him dangling above the ground held by the neck, and I hug him harder.

Hard to believe he stuck around this long.

My two wards, cursed to live with this color, persevering until the last.

Okay, so I love them both. Just in different ways.

And that’s fine.

As Alaska said, sometimes love transforms.

Not that I’ll admit it to either of them.

I hold them both for too long because I’m not ready to let go. Letting go now means letting go forever.

But I have to. I’ve already come so far.

Moving the tree requires a sacrifice, and perhaps my greatest sacrifice isn’t my life at all; maybe it’s losing these guys. I’m not the same as I once was.

Through the embrace, a word arises, escaping from Kinley’s distraught lips: “Alaska.”

“She’s with me, Kinlder. She became the Wilted right along with me.”

We stay that way until the emotions subside.

“I knew.” Kinley pulls me into a hug of his own, separate from Pidd. “I knew you could do it, B. Our descendants, our turquoise line, is finally avenged. After all these years. After all our struggle.” His cheeks are stained and red, yet through it, he shows bliss. His expression differs from Pidd’s because Pidd knows the truth. To Kinley, this is our greatest triumph. “Thank you, my most troublesome waker.”

‘It’s you and me, remember? Even I the world burns, it will always be you and me.’

But Kinley doesn’t hold me to that promise here and now. He knows it no longer holds true. He’s always been frustratingly good at reading me. My first love. I put a hand to his face tenderly. Comprised completely of shadow, the appendage at least resembles a human shape.

“Kinley, Pidd, I would like to offer you something, if i can manage it.”

Pidd remains abnormally quiet, stern-lipped.

“I’d like to remove your memories of me.”

At last, Pidd speaks up, in unison with Kinley: “What?”

I lock eyes with Pidd because he already knows, and then with Kinley because he does not.

“When I move the tree, I won’t be coming back. I will join Alaska and Aiden and all the others who have died for the cause. As the sole survivors of something like this, i don’t expect the recovery will be easy for you. it isn’t just me, it’s the loss of Alaska too, and the horrible things we’ve witnessed here. I wish to relieve you of that trauma. You’ve both already fought so hard.”

Kinley locks onto me dead-on. “What to you mean you WON’T be coming back?”

“Powerful acts of magick require equal sacrifice. It’s a cliché as old as time, and as it turns out, it’s true.”

Kinley’s red cheeks redden, as if he’s holding his breath. His eyes bulge unhealthily.

Pidd turns his back to us, hands securely in his pockets. “She’s gotta—” He kicks at the ground as his voice cuts out squeakily. “Bexley has to die.”

The world silences in a way it hasn’t before. Not even a peep from the tree. Not even a quiver of breath or a fleeting of wind, until—

“You can’t be SERIOUS!” Kinley acts up. “TELL ME YOU DIDN’T KNOW THIS AHEAD OF TIME.”

But please don’t. It’s too hard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so eternally sorry.”

“Oh my GOD, Bexley!” Kinley throws up his hands, puts them behind his head and marches away from us. “What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice breaks.

Surprisingly, Pidd steps forward. “Seriously dude? Calm your shit.”

Kinley slaps his hand away.

“Is this really how you want to spend your last moments with her?” lashes Pidd. “Jeez man!”

No Pidd, he’s right. I can’t blame him. I would feel the same way if I had been betrayed the way he has. True, he had his own motives in coming this far. He was the first of us to develop such deep hatred for the other colors over what they’d done to our bloodline. Albeit, he would have come this way, even if I weren’t involved…

But our history is long, and our love was deep and dark and encompassing.

“I wanted to spare you for as long as I could, Kindler. I know it was wrong of me. I only have so much strenghth. And it wasn’t enough to tell you before. I should have. I struggled.”

He takes my shadow hands in his and stares me down with blazing emerald eyes. “This is what you do, Bex. You just put yourself in these situations, where I can’t reach or save you. And maybe that’s my fault, for wanting to save someone that didn’t ask to be saved.” He bends a knee to me, and I react awkwardly, tripping backwards.

“Kindler?”

“Thank you, Mistress Wilted,” says Kinley, strained. “Thank you for your contribution to the light.” When he tips his head down, he refuses to bring it back up to meet me.

I’ll never see those emerald eyes again.

If I had tears to cry, I would.

If I had tears to cry, this moment would be a mess.

><

In the end, only one of them takes me up on my offer. Using the noctuid tucked in Alaska’s mummified body, I retract the memories from one of my wards, intending to bring them with me into the beyond so that the spell can never be undone.

After, I turn from them because saying goodbye takes more strength than I have to give. I keep my eyes sternly on the goal. Soon. Not much longer now.

Are we ready, Alaska?

But I stiffen because one of the men behind me has just made a painful sound of protest.

Oh gawd, I’m going to miss them, but I’m especially going to miss him. If only he’d revoked his memory of me, this would be so much easier. I grip the mechanical moth, keeper of stolen memories, firmly to my chest as I outstretch a shadowed hand towards the meager trunk before me.

I will restore it to its grandiosity.

I will right the wrongs.

I tell my feet to move, but they protest, longing to turn back for one last look at the people I’m leaving behind. I’ll miss you, my little schniblettes.

Suddenly, I feel an imprint on my shoulders.

“We’ll go together, my joy.” Aiden in Pidd’s body holds me close from behind.

“Aiden?” I whisper, happiness mounting—that is, until I hear myself speak. “Awk! I hate my voice like this! What is with that? Who are all of these other people?”

“It is rather ugly,” he agrees.

“Gee thanks.” I lean backwards into him because he feels world-endingly good. “I thought you’d gone,” I whimper.

“Only to rally the troops,” he says.

“Ah. Yeah, that was awesome. I don’t think I could have done it without that.”

“Besides,” he whispers, Pidd’s teeth to my ear. “I told you I’d stay with you until the end, didn’t I?”

“Thank you, Aiden.”

I take in a breath longer than any I’ve breathed before. And then, with my waker’s embrace, I reach towards the abused tree.

I done good, eh?

And while I’ve made a few mistakes, I think I’m proud of the life I’ve lived.

There is a flash.

And I die.

For real this time.

P

Bubble Tea

I can’t stop looking at her. I should, but I can’t stop.

She sees.

It’s awkward.

We both look away.

I wait a few seconds before looking at her again.

I can’t help myself. The girl in the blue hoodie is like me, and it’s so very rare to see someone like me.

A fact she’s forgotten.

I bring my hand to my right earlobe. A small glowing orb of turquoise radiates from the skin there and pulses at my touch. It isn’t a tattoo or a piercing; it’s proof of what I am. The girl in the blue hoodie has a matching one.

For now, my light is dim. Hers is dimmer. It means she hasn’t reawakened yet.

Her hair’s a mess, all pulled at and crazy. Means she’s having a rough day. I stall a moment, remembering her obnoxious tendencies. Her buzzing quirk that amps up at each and every damned chance.

Am I sure I want to do this? If I do this, it means forever. It means a lifetime of weird bird noises and lame puns.

‘Piddlywink.’

‘Pidd-o.’

‘Mr. Piddy P. Piddrock.’

Damn. I’ve got to, haven’t I?

Because…she’s…

Making a decision I might possibly regret, I reach out a hand and flatten it against her face.

“Wake up, Bex.”

The girl that is actually sort of charming once you get to know her blinks at me like a hen. Hah! That look. She has no idea what’s in store. After all she’s put me through, it’s payback time. I can’t help the maniacal smile crawling over my face. “I’m the one in charge now, Bexley.” I laugh an evilish laugh and shake our light chain. “And YOU may call ME master.”

“Bater?” she chirps, dazed, shaking her head as her earlobe lights. After, she stares at me with those eyes that are always so bright and excited. They’re growing even brighter as she remembers who she is.

Suddenly, there’s an annoying sort of warmth spreading through my chest. Uh-oh. It’s coming up. That feeling that comes up every now and then like vomit. I can’t stop it: “I missed you.” I blurt.

After, I’m ashamed of myself.

I can’t look at her.

When it comes to her, it feels like losing, doesn’t it?

“PIDD!”

Fwompf!

And now she’s around me. Literally crawled over the table to get to me, without any regard for the people eating here. See? This is exactly the sort of thing I was talking about. She’s practically a goddamned lunatic! And I’m pretty sure her knee is in my puddle of ranch.

But her face is all nuzzled up in my neck. Like it fits there. And her hair is all pressed against my nose. Smelling the way it always does. Kinda girly and sweet.

My hands move around her back.

Yeah, I missed her.

More than I care to admit.

Thank Medusa sacrifice only meant sacrificing the darkling in her.

“Pidd?” she mutters into my ear.

“Y-yeah?”

“Let’s go for bubble tea.”

But not yet. I need to hold my ward just a few seconds longer.

For the eightieth time I wonder what it would be like to kiss her for real.

A

Haeven

They say the great tree Yggdrasil now resides in the mortal realm.

The mortals can’t see it, but it is there.

And even without it, Haeven stays lit in the perpetual glow of twilight.

From what I hear, the darklings no longer go after humans. Now that the tree is adjacent to them, they don’t need human bodies to feed the tree. And so the lightborne are decommissioned, left instead to guard the gates to Paradise.

Some see their glow and call them angels.

But there is only one angel.

And here I wait for you, my joy, until the day you cross into the twilight.

Until we meet again, try to stay out of trouble with that boy.

The Bexley Chronicles, Act 2: END

Thank you for reading Nightborne!

If you liked this book, please write a review and tell a friend!

If you enjoyed the style of this book, you may also enjoy The Pursuit of Zillow Stone, The Death & Romancing of Marley Craw, or Heart of Farellah, also by Brindi Quinn!

About the Author:

Never without a pencil close by, Brindi began her writing career straight out of college in 2011. Since then she has written over a dozen young adult novels, beginning with her debut epic fantasy series, Heart of Farellah. Brindi considers herself an avid fangirl, indulging heavily (when she can) in video games, anime, and good sci-fi TV.

Brindi loves connecting with other readers and writers on social media. Follow her at:

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Cover artist: Facebook.com/VictoriaCooperArt