Wyatt Rendell

Triumph 10-07 (Heretical Edge 2)

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“So,” my dad faux-casually began, “exactly how long would you say you made it without getting yourself involved in another life and death struggle after Fossor died? An hour? Maybe less?” 

It was a short time after the meeting with Jophiel and Sachael. We’d left them behind with the agreement to meet the next evening, after everyone had plenty of rest. Jophiel didn’t like letting Elisabet wait that long, of course. But we had all exhausted ourselves way too much. Even if we weren’t planning on any actual Fomorian fighting (or at least as little as possible) by just jumping in, grabbing those two, and getting out again, going in this shape was a bad idea. Because whatever our intentions, we could get into another brawl. And against Fomorian-created creatures, a brawl could turn into total fucking suicide if we went in there tired. 

We had to rest for the night. Honestly, we should have rested for a week, or even a month. But there was no way in seventy-four hells that Jophiel would wait that long. We were lucky she was even waiting this much. I wasn’t sure how I would’ve felt or acted in her situation if it was either of my girls. Or Tabbris. Or–yeah. I knew just how desperate she was right now. 

In any case, we made it back and I went to where my family was to explain what was going on. Guilty as I felt for bringing the mood down right then, they all needed to know the situation. 

Cringing a little at Dad’s words, I offered a weak, “Is it better or worse if the answer is somewhere in the negative numbers, since I agreed to this rescue mission before I ever came back to the present in the first place? The only reason I was able to come back here, the only reason I wasn’t Fossor’s prisoner in the future, is because of Elisabet and Dexamene. Without them, I wouldn’t have made it back here to stop Fossor, period. I can’t abandon them now. No matter how much I just want to… enjoy this.” With those words, I cast a guilty look toward my mother. God, how I wished I didn’t have to deal with this now. My mother was back. After all these years, after all that trauma, she was here. She was here! She was right in front of me. 

But happy as I was to have her here, it would be nothing if I ignored Dexamene and Elisabet. They deserved to be here too. They certainly didn’t deserve to end up either killed or captured by the Fomorians, with the former being the absolute best-case scenario as far as that went. 

It was Deveron who spoke first. “She’s right. We can’t just abandon them. Not after what they did.” He was looking to Mom as he said it, and I realized he was simply saying what she would have. “We all know what the Fomorians are like. Not all of us firsthand, and none of us have faced a full invasion like the one that Gaia and Jos’s parents ended. But… but we all know.” 

“Yes,” Mom agreed. She hesitated, looking over the large front room of the cabin we were in. Deveron stood by the fireplace, with Koren sitting in front of it, perched on the fancy-looking stonework. A bit to the side was a long table, where Abigail and Wyatt sat. Dad was standing by the same table. Lillian (my mother considered her family), who had come while I was away, was standing next to him. And Mom was in the middle of the room, closer to where Tabbris and I were. She had come over to greet me when we came in, then stepped back after that quick yet tight embrace to let me get that whole story out. 

Now, she asked, “You said something about a… ship to get there.” 

With a quick nod, I explained about the prototype Seosten ship, and how they’d been working on getting it to make those instant jumps again. “They think it can probably do a jump there and back. We just have to be careful. You know, come in away from the Meregan world, fly down to get those two, then fly away and jump out when it’s safe.” 

Wyatt immediately piped up, “What if they’re dead already? The Committee woman and the Nereid. What if they’re dead and the Fomorians are waiting for someone to rescue them because they’ve already loaded up the bodies with booby traps, with biological weapons. Then you show up, think they’re alive, bring them back here, and unleash a plague.” 

“Well,” I pointed out with a shrug, “I’m pretty sure I can tell if they’re dead. I mean…” Trailing off, I felt a sharp queasiness form in my stomach at even bringing it up. “I have his power. Not his skill or anything, but between him and Manakel, I think I can tell when someone’s dead. And even if they pull some artificial life biomancer thing, I’ll make sure it’s really them.”

“We’ll make sure,” Mom amended. “There are ways.” 

“Damn right, there’s ways,” Lillian put in, stepping over to stand closer to my mother. “No one’s bringing those two anywhere sensitive until everyone’s one hundred percent sure they’re safe.” 

Wyatt, in a flat voice, retorted, “No one is ever one hundred percent safe. Eighty-seven percent is the absolute highest ‘safe’ level I’ve ever given anyone.”

“You mean besides yourself,” I pointed out. 

Koren, however, piped up with, “No, he’s eighty-five. And that’s a recent upgrade.” 

“I could have been compromised as a child,” Wyatt promptly agreed, giving a slight nod and one of his lopsided, goofy smiles toward the girl who had practically become his protege over the past year. “I can’t account for my whereabouts or memories of the first few years of my life. For all I know, I’m a shapeshifter who took over the real Wyatt as a child and had my memory wiped with implanted triggers. Stranger things have happened.” 

“I really wish I could argue with that last point,” I muttered while shaking my head. “Anyway, um, yeah, they’re working on prepping the ship. Should be ready tomorrow evening. Hopefully.” 

“You’ll need a group to go with, in case things turn sideways,” Lillian noted quietly. “People strong enough to deal with Fomorian threats long enough to get the hell out of there.” 

I nodded. “Like I said, Sachael’s going. Between him, Jophiel, Sariel, and Athena, we have four Olympians. And Haiden’s coming with, he’s pretty strong too. Tristan won’t let anyone go without him, not when it comes to Dexamene. And Vanessa won’t let the rest of her family go without her. Plus, I’m pretty sure Larissa won’t let Haiden and Sariel go potentially face Fomorians without coming along. Not after what… what happened back on that boat.”

With a sigh, Abigail spoke up. “I don’t suppose pointing out that none of you children should be going anywhere after what you’ve been through would do any good. You just… you just fought that monster. You don’t need to be rushing into this nightmare. I’ve… seen and… felt what those Fomorians do, what they’re capable of. Even if you don’t get into a fight, just–just seeing those things…” 

“None of us are children,” I pointed out as gently as I could. Technically, Tabbris was. But even then, she’d always been more than that. She’d never had a normal childhood and never would. The point stood. “We’re young, yeah. But so is Dexamene. And neither she or Elisabet deserve to be caught by those monsters. They helped me. They saved me. Dex put herself in that situation specifically to save me, to save everyone here. If I wasn’t willing to put myself in danger to get her out of it, what kind of person would I be?” 

Both Abigail and my dad looked like they wanted to argue with that. But they couldn’t. Mom, however, stepped over and pulled me to her in a tight embrace. “That’s my girl.” 

“You’re going too, aren’t you?” That was Deveron, watching her knowingly. “Five minutes out from being Fossor’s prisoner for a decade, and you’re about to throw yourself into a rescue mission against the Fomorians.” 

“Of course she is,” Dad agreed, folding his arms as he stared at both of us. “If Felicity’s going, Joselyn is. Even if she wasn’t,” he amended immediately, realizing that my going or not wasn’t the only deciding factor. It was just who his wife was. 

“Would either of you have married me if I was someone who could walk away from this?” Mom pointed out, still holding me to her as she squinted pointedly back and forth between them. 

Dad and Deveron both glanced to one another, and I saw a moment of what seemed to be silent conversation before each flushed and turned away. Dad cleared his throat, looking at my mother. “I know this goes without saying, but be careful, Jos. Please. We just got you back. Both of you. I couldn’t–” His voice choked itself off briefly before he gave a sharp shake of his head. “Be careful.” He sounded strained, like it was all he could do not to start shouting about us going into danger yet again, so soon. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did start yelling. I kind of wanted to yell at myself. But I also meant what I’d said. I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned Elisabet and Dexamene to the Fomorians after everything they’d done to help me. Hell, I couldn’t have lived with myself for abandoning basically anyone to the Fomorians. 

“We don’t need to worry about it right now,” I pointed out after forcing those thoughts down. “We’ve gotta wait until tomorrow night for the rescue mission anyway. Nothing else we can do about it until then. So how about we just enjoy tonight and deal with all that later?” I felt shitty about interrupting Mom’s (and mine, I supposed) welcome home party with all that. But they’d wanted to know where I went and what was so important. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should’ve kept quiet about it until the next day.

Either way, everyone got back to the actual celebrating part pretty easily. Deveron started to say something apparently embarrassing about Mom from when they were in school, before she shut him down with a hard kick, hissing something at him about their kids being present. Then Lillian whispered something in her ear that I didn’t catch, but it made Mom turn red. 

Abigail had stood up by that point, clearing her throat, “Ah, girls, why don’t we go check out the rest of the party for a little while? At least some of us should make appearances before the crowd starts wondering if you all got kidnapped again.” She started ushering Koren, Tabbris, and me toward the door with an added, “Come on, Wyatt.” 

“Yes, I’ll ahh, help you with the crowd.” That was Lillian, who patted my dad on the shoulder before moving to join us. 

I knew what they were doing, what the whole deal with getting the rest of us out of the room to leave Mom there with Deveron and my dad was about. They deserved some time alone to figure out their whole thing. Especially after so many years and horrible things. But equally, I reeeeally didn’t want to think about any of that. 

So, after giving Mom and Dad both a quick, lingering embrace and promising I wouldn’t get kidnapped for at least a few minutes (hardy har har), I headed out with the others, to join the much louder area outside, where everyone was still partying like it was New Years or something. From the look and sound of things, they really didn’t need any us to be present right now. They were well and truly off to a rousing celebration completely on their own. One which, I was pretty sure, wouldn’t be ending any time within the next several hours. Or possibly days, for some of them. 

Which was good, because the moment we stepped outside, Shiori and Avalon were right there. I ended up being pulled out of the way with a few quick words about how they’d bring me back. Then we were off to another part of the camp, as I managed a weak, “You know, I just promised my parents I wouldn’t get kidnapped again like, fifteen seconds ago. And yet, here we are.”

“Guess we’ll just have to make breaking your word worth it, won’t we?” That was Valley, who immediately suited action to word by giving me a firm push up against the back wall of the cabin the two of them had dragged me to. 

Then, for a good long while, I forgot all about what was going on with my parents, and about the party itself. And to be honest? Yeah, it was totally worth it. 

******

“Mom?” Hours later, the two of us were standing hip-deep in the lake. I had just finished introducing her to my sharks, and apologized to them for being away for so long. I’d already thanked Tabbris, as well as Shiori and Avalon, for making sure they had enough fish to eat, and for playing with them. 

“Yes, Lissy?” Mom was brushing Quint, one of the Mako sharks. She’d been marveling a bit at how my power had actually made it possible to touch their skin like that without cutting up your hand. Well, cutting up a normal person’s hand anyway. I was pretty sure she was too tough for that to begin with. 

“I was asking Namythiet about that Wandering Woman Ruthers was talking about, and she said that she’s like… one of the first Heretics? Do you know anything about her? The way he was talking, it sounds like you do.” 

For a moment, my mother didn’t answer. She reached out to brush the snout of Brody, the other Mako shark, who had clearly been jealous of his brother. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, she replied, “Yes, I know a bit about her. We’ve had an encounter or two.” 

“Why does Ruthers think I should visit her?” I hesitantly asked, too curious to avoid the question now. 

Mom’s gaze rose to me. “Because he thinks you should give up Fossor’s necromancy.” 

The answer made me blink. “Wha–give it up? Is that even possible?” 

Again, Mom was quiet for a long few seconds before she spoke. “The Wandering Woman, Werethekau, the Witch of Endor, Isis, Freyja, any name you want to give her, she is one of the most powerful beings I’ve ever heard of, let alone encountered. She was bonded to a Primal.” 

“That’s what Namythiet said,” I hesitantly put in. “She said they were the beings who um, who made the weapons King Oberon uses up in Canada, the ones who lived here before the first humans, back around the time of the dinosaurs.” 

With a little nod, Mom explained, “Werethekau was a primitive human, one of the first from the time of stone tools, who found one of the last living Primals. One of the first of one species to find one of the last of another. No one knows what happened, but she was bonded. And in that bonding, she gained the strongest gift anyone has ever seen. The ability to undo.” 

Her words made me blink. “The ability to undo?” 

Mom’s gaze was intense. “Anything or anyone Werethekau focuses on, she can rewind the results of specific events. If you break a stick, she can unbreak it. Shatter a window, she can unshatter it. Stab a man in the heart, she can heal the injury as if it never happened. Cut every limb off, sever the head, burn the body, bury the ashes in seven different continents, she can think about that person and erase it. She can bring him back from all of that. 

“But it goes further than that. She can erase skills by rewinding the fact that you learned them. Blow up a building and she can rewind that, restore the entire place and everyone in it. And–” 

“And she can take away powers by erasing the fact that you got them,” I finished in a breath, staring open-mouthed at her. “How–how is she not ruling the entire universe right now?” 

Mom shrugged. “She has no desire to. That and I’m sure there’s limits to what she can do, but as far as most people are concerned, that might as well be chipmunks guessing about the limits of human beings. No one knows what she wants, honestly. She’s mysterious. You can find her if you know how–correction, you can try to find her if you know how, and if she feels like it, she might respond. Or she might not. You might wait a day for her, or a year, or longer. She goes and does as she pleases. She, ahh, wanders. She has existed since the time of primitive man, simply rewinding any effects of age.” 

“She’s the one who taught people here on Earth how to block time-stop spells, she–” Coughing, I realized, “It’s time-magic. Erasing injuries, restoring people from death, fixing broken things, even removing people’s powers and skills, it’s all about manipulating time. I mean, sort of. Manipulating the effects through time?” Squinting, I shook my head. “I’m not–never mind, I’m gonna go cross-eyed if I try to figure out how that actually works. But this–you’re right, Ruthers wants me to get rid of Fossor’s Necromancy. He wants me to ask this Wandering Woman to use her power to take it away. But that won’t bring Fossor back?” 

“It will not erase the fact that you killed him,” Mom quietly assured me, “only the fact that you inherited his power.” 

Staring at her, I muttered, “He wants it gone. Ruthers doesn’t want anyone to have Fossor’s necromancy. I mean, he doesn’t want the power to even exist.” 

With a sigh, Mom replied, “As long as he’s lived, he’s never understood that it’s the actions, not the powers, that make someone good or evil.” Then she looked over her shoulder at me. “But, in his own way, he is trying to help you. He thinks–never mind what he thinks. What do you want to do about it?” 

I noticed that she was being careful not to express her own opinion on the subject. She wanted it to be my decision rather than a choice I made just because of how she might feel. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. With barely a pause, I shook my head. “I’m keeping the power. Yeah, it makes me feel… gross to have something of Fossor’s. Especially necromancy. But it could also help. It’s like you said, the power isn’t evil. Not even a power like that. I can use it to do good things. Like the way I’m helping some of those ghosts get closure before they move on.” Biting my lip, I hesitantly added, “And, if there’s other evil necromancers out there, it feels like… it’s a good idea to have this power. Not just have it, use it. Exercise it.”

With a smile, Mom stepped over through the water and put both hands on my shoulders. “Have I told you how proud I am of you, Felicity?” Her voice was soft, the slightest hint of tears in her eyes as she stared at me. “You are my girl. I missed you so much.”

The words took me by surprise, a thick lump forming in my throat that made it impossible to respond. I tried, but nothing came. Nothing save for a small, almost animalistic sound before I quickly stepped forward, putting my arms around my mother to cling onto her tightly. There was so much I wanted to say right then, but I couldn’t. I had nothing. Just that simple hug. 

Mom returned it, seeming to understand that I couldn’t speak. For a minute, the two of us simply stood there, embracing as we stood hip-deep in the water. I could feel the eyes of my sharks on us, watching silently and with more understanding than any normal shark. I still wasn’t sure exactly how intelligent they were, but it was clearly pretty high, as far as animals went.

Eventually, we made our way back up onto the shore, each of us producing a field-engraver and using a spell that dried us off immediately. On the way, I looked over and saw Haiden and Sariel having some kind of intense conversation with Vanessa, Tristan, and some other girl I didn’t recognize. She was incredibly thin, almost sickly-looking, with very pale skin and dark hair. 

“Friend of yours?” Mom asked, looking the way I had glanced. Even as she said it, I saw her eyes narrow very slightly. Not at the pale girl, but at Sariel. At the same time, the blonde woman herself turned her gaze to look our way. Their gazes locked, and even though neither of them moved or said anything, there was something there. The two were exchanging some kind of communication that I was pretty sure wasn’t all one hundred percent friendly. It wasn’t actively hostile or anything, but still. Mom obviously wasn’t Sariel’s biggest fan in the world. 

Yeah, I had no idea what was going on over there with that new girl. But I was pretty sure that leading my mother away from the situation was the best thing, so I took her hand and started to head in the opposite direction. Whatever the deal was with the girl Tristan and Vanessa had brought to their parents, they could handle it. 

After all, I still had a rescue mission to a planet infested with Fomorian monsters to deal with.

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Triumph 10-04 (Heretical Edge 2)

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We didn’t go straight to the camp or star-station, of course. Even though we were on a truce with the loyalists, there was no sense in taking unnecessary risks. They knew where that quarry was, and there was nothing stopping them from deciding to quickly go back and check the portal signatures to see where we went. None of us trusted that they wouldn’t go that far. Even if Ruthers himself didn’t (which I wasn’t sure about), some of the other Committee members would almost certainly do it themselves or sign off on it. Like Litonya, the second she found out. 

So, we made multiple quick jumps instead. About seven or eight in total, just to be safe. We’d come out of a portal, check to make sure everything was clear, then jump again. And we weren’t all together either. There were over a dozen groups jumping to different places, just to confuse any attempted pursuers even more. After everything that had just happened, the last thing any of us wanted (or needed) was to have to fight a bunch of overzealous loyalist Heretics. I was with my team, Shiori, my family, and Mom’s team. None of us really said anything, too focused on making certain we made it somewhere safe without more problems. 

Yeah, I was pretty sure everyone else was just as tense as I was, half-expecting something horrible to pop up just because things were going entirely too well. Every time we came through a portal (created by Roger and Seamus Dornan in our case), I had my guard up. I wasn’t going to be able to relax or believe any of this was really how it would end until we were somewhere safe. Even then, it would probably take awhile for me to actually accept it wasn’t a dream. 

Finally, the last jump carried us to right on the edge of the Atherby camp, on a bare hill overlooking the cabins and lake below. I could see other groups popping up around us, everyone shaking off the disorientation and kind of sagging with some level of relief when they saw where they were, and realized that the rapid series of jumps was over. We had made it. 

Still, no one moved much or said anything. We were all quietly looking around and waiting, still at least a little bit tense. That was, until Gabriel Prosser arrived with the last batch. The hill was crowded by that point, people spread out all the way down basically into the camp itself. Everyone turned when the man himself appeared, looking to him expectantly. Even the people from Wonderland were waiting silently to see what he said. I was pretty sure they, like me, were ready for him to declare that we had been followed and were about to be attacked. 

Yeah, sue me, I was having a hard time believing that this whole thing was going to end this well. And judging from the looks of the people around me, I was nowhere near the only one.

Prosser, on the other hand, didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he looked over to my mother. The two of them locked eyes for a few seconds, seeming to communicate silently. Then Prosser gave a short nod before turning back to everyone else. He raised his voice to be heard by everyone. “We’re good!  No one followed us and our trail is clear. It’s safe.” 

That was the trigger, apparently. The tension immediately vanished from everyone around me the moment he said it was safe. No, it didn’t just vanish. It morphed into utter jubilation. Everyone up to that point had been fairly quiet and subdued. They were all keeping themselves under control while there was still danger of being attacked again. But the second they got the official all-clear from Prosser, loud cheering suddenly erupted. People were jumping up and down, hugging each other, even shouting in each other’s faces about what had just happened. There were tears of joy and relief with the realization that this whole thing was real, that the dark, evil cloud known as Fossor, hung over everything and everyone for so long was finally gone. He was dead. He was officially and completely dead. More than dead. He was disintegrated, his essence completely erased. There would be no coming back for him, no last-minute tricks. He was gone. And from the sound of the cheers and wild celebration that had broken out around me, I wasn’t anywhere near the only one euphoric about that. 

Well I was still reeling from the sudden outburst, Sands and Sarah were there. They made it to me first, both launching themselves to grab me in a tight hug together, nearly knocking me down. There were a lot of words flying at me, mostly from Sands but some from Sarah too. Mostly about how glad they were that I was safe, that I’d made it home, and about how amazing it was that Fossor was actually dead. There were tears too. The twins hugged me tightly, and I hugged them right back. 

Others were right after them. The rest of my team, my girls, Koren, everyone took a turn to grab on. It was almost like we hadn’t already had a quick reunion back in the quarry. But that was the whole problem, I quickly realized. It had been a quick reunion while still on potentially dangerous ground. Now that we were home–or at least somewhere completely safe, the reunion was happening all over again. Actually, I had a feeling it would happen a few more times before everyone was satisfied. Not that I was complaining at all. In fact, I was pretty ready to have nothing but this for the foreseeable future. 

Except I couldn’t. Even as I was exchanging an embrace with an exhausted-looking Roxa, the realization came. I had to talk to Tristan and Jophiel. I had to tell them what was going on. 

Roxa, for her part, raised an eyebrow after stepping back. “You okay? You should be happy-face right now, but you’re worried-face. And tired-face, but that’s more understandable. You’re not thinking of running out to find another super-Necromancer to pick a blood feud with already, are you?” Pausing, she added, “I’m kidding. But really not. Please don’t do that for at least a month.” 

“More like a year.” That was my dad, putting both hands on my shoulders from behind. He was grinning, pulling me back against him tightly in a reverse embrace. “You hear me? No Necromancer supervillains to go hunt down for a year. We’ve had more than enough.” 

Oh God, how I just wanted to forget everything, melt into my dad’s arms, see my mom, and let everything wash away. I wanted to party. Everyone around me was still in that zone. They’d produced music somewhere down in the camp, and people were heading that way. They were having an actual party, a real celebration. I could see Mom, still with Wyatt and Abigail, and surrounded by a veritable horde of people wanted to talk to her. Everyone who had known her before was getting close, apologizing for not saving her, or just congratulating her on being free again, on being herself again. Mom looked overwhelmed, but was dealing with it, talking to everyone at once. It clearly helped that her eldest children were there, and that she could see me. 

Still, she’d been a prisoner for a long time. It was obviously going to take awhile before Mom truly relaxed. I was having a hard enough time, and I’d only been held by Fossor for a tiny fraction of how long Mom had been trapped. And he had… he had done worse to her. A lot worse. 

But she was dealing with it. I almost felt like speaking up, asking people to back up. Yet, seeing her like that, I was pretty sure this was actually good. She had been alone, save for Fossor, ghosts, and vile people she had to fight and kill, through basically all that time. As I watched for those brief seconds, I could see that she was tired and still reeling. But happy. She was happy, being right here with everyone. She could see Dad and me. She had Deveron right there, along with Abigail and Wyatt. Her best friend, Lillian, was there along with the rest of their team. 

Yes, it was a lot. But it was a lot of good. Mom needed it. She was happy. Maybe in a few minutes we could ask everyone to back off for a little while and give her some air. But for the moment, I was pretty sure this was doing more good than harm. 

“She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?” Dad murmured in a voice filled with awe and reverence while his hands squeezed my shoulders. He knew where I was looking. Probably because he couldn’t take his eyes off her either. He was giving her time to be with the others for the moment, though I was pretty sure it was all he could do not to march over there, pick Mom up, and carry her somewhere quiet where they could talk about everything. 

“Super-amazing,” I agreed before tilting my head to look up at him. “You’re allowed to call dibs and go somewhere with her, you know.” 

Dad gave me a small smile. “Soon enough. These people have been waiting to see your mom back again even longer than we have. And believe me, I know just what it’s like to miss her.” His voice caught a little. I could tell that, despite his words, it was taking everything he had to wait here. 

Prosser had clearly noticed too. The man moved up beside us, hand finding its way to Dad’s shoulder. “You’re a fine man, Lincoln. A brave and very understanding one too.” Turning his head a bit, he cleared his throat. “Now put that aside for the moment. Let’s go rescue your family and get you some privacy. I’ll handle everyone else. The celebration can go on without her. You all deserve time alone.”

Time alone. Time with just my family. My reunited family, with my mother safe and sound. God, did I have any idea what that was going to be like? The thought made me happier than I could even process. But it also made me strangely nervous. I was afraid of what that was going to be like. Was that weird? Was it strange that I felt confused and worried by the prospect of actually winning this whole thing and getting my mother back safe and sound? As happy as I was, I couldn’t shake the tiny knot in my stomach. It kept telling me that something was going to go wrong. I tried to shove it aside, and was successful for the most part. But no matter what I did, I always heard that dark, worried whisper coming from that little knot in my stomach. I had a feeling it was going to take a long time for it to fully go away. 

Or maybe I was just permanently paranoid. Maybe Wyatt was rubbing off on me. I’d ask him how he dealt with it. Though I was pretty sure that would end with him teaching me a bunch of new alarm spells. 

It took some doing, but Prosser eventually managed to separate my family from the rest of the celebration. Everyone was making their way down to where food and drinks had been laid out, and where the music was loudest. There was dancing, cheering, laughing, and a lot more going on. This was a party that was going to last long into the night. 

Eventually, after Mom promised to separate and go spend some time with Lillian and the rest of her old team (the Dornans and Tribald), our family was by the cabin. Prosser gestured to the door, remarking that he’d make sure no one bothered us. 

“Go.” With that word, I nodded to my mother and the others. My hand caught my dad’s, squeezing firmly. “Go ahead without me. I’ll be right there, I promise. I just have to talk to someone first. It’s–” There was a lump in my throat that I had to swallow down. “It’s important.” That felt like an understatement, so I added, “Life and death.” 

Dad and the others looked uncertain, but Mom met my gaze before nodding. She smiled, reaching out to take my father’s hand. “Come. We have a lot to talk about.” 

So, my parents, Deveron, Abigail, Wyatt, and Koren went into the cabin together. That was good. I’d already had time to reunite with my mother. Even if it was under pretty terrible circumstances, I’d still had weeks with her. Weeks of sleeping in the same bed, of sharing quiet secrets, of just being with her. The others deserved to have time with her too, time where she could focus on them. And she deserved to have that focus. She’d been separated from one husband for ten years, and from her other husband and two eldest children for a lot longer than that. Several decades she had spent imprisoned by Ruthers and his people, then a couple more decades either mind-wiped or imprisoned by Fossor. 

They deserved time. I would join them, after I took care of this part. But for the moment, letting Mom and the others have their own reunion felt like the right thing to do. 

Feeling a presence next to me, I glanced over to see Tabbris there, staring up. Her eyes were a bit watery, voice a quiet whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. We’re supposed to be partners and I… I wasn’t… I couldn’t…” 

My head shook quickly, and I quickly wrapped both arms around her, hugging the girl tight up against me. “Stop that. Stop it right now. If you weren’t where you were, we wouldn’t have been able to kill Kwur. And if you were with me, Fossor would’ve had a way to drive you out. Then he might’ve–” My voice caught, and I hugged her even tighter. “We’re fine, Tabs. You, me, we’re both fine. We’re all fine. And he’s dead.” Saying it outloud like that made a shudder run through me. I had to say it again. “He’s dead, he’s gone. He’ll never bother anyone again.” 

We stood there, embracing like that in silence for a minute. Well, not really silence. Even though we weren’t talking, there was a lot of cheering, music, jubilant screaming, and more from nearby. Looking up finally, I saw people dancing, running around with colorful torches, some flying through the air. 

Colorful torches… fire… light… wait. 

“Hey,” I finally blurted, my gaze snapping back to the girl. “What about those wings? Where the hell did those come from? Is that–I mean are they… umm…”

Tabbris giggled, but also looked a bit nervous. Squirming on her feet, she stared up at me with those big, innocent eyes and hesitantly explained, “They’re… my… biological father. He’s one of the Dyeusai–err, that’s the archangels. Jegudiel. Michael checked, he used a spell to see the signature and said my father is Jegudiel.” 

She told me a bit more then, about how this Jegudiel guy apparently made the most sense as someone who would have given genetic samples to Kushiel for her experiments because he wanted to build some kind of legacy, that he had been disappointed when it seemed as though the archangels (or Dyeusai) couldn’t pass on their energy wings to any children. 

“So, if–when he finds out that you did get the wings…” I murmured under my breath, trailing off as the thought made me grimace.

“I’m not going anywhere with him!” Tabbris declared firmly. “I have a dad. I have a great dad, a real dad.” 

Hugging her tightly to me, I nodded. “You do. You always do, Tabs. Don’t worry, we’re not going to let anyone take you away. I promise.” Inside, I was reeling. Tabbris was the daughter of one of the archangels. I’d known that, of course. I’d known that from the moment she first used them. But hearing it outloud, having confirmation, made my knees weak. Tabbris being the daughter of an Olympian and a Dyeusai. No wonder she was so amazing. And was it bad that I wanted to cling to hope that her bio-dad would be reasonable about the whole thing? Tabbris should get to know him if it was possible that he could be nice. 

“Are you okay, Flick?” the girl asked tentatively, staring at me with that worried expression, like she was afraid I would treat her differently. 

“I’m fine,” I insisted, hugging her tighter. “Whatever happens, you’re my sister. That doesn’t change just because we know who your biological father is. I love you.” 

“I love you, Flick.” Her quiet voice murmured the words as she clung to me. 

We stayed like that for another minute, before I reluctantly released her for the moment. “Okay,” I started, “let’s–” 

And that was when a loud squeal made my gaze snap to one side, just in time to spot Namythiet fly straight up to me. She zoomed in, doing wild circles and loops around my head as she babbled on and on about how great it was to see me, how worried she’d been, how many nasties she’d stabbed and killed, how much fun she was having with everyone at Wonderland, what it was like being the new Tiebreaker’s apprentice, the places they’d gone, and so on. It all came out in a quick jumble, and she was doing those loops around my head the whole time. Luckily, I had practice deciphering that kind of talk, and finally managed to lift my cupped hands to give the girl a place to land. “Hey there,” I greeted affectionately once she came down, standing on my palms. “Good to see you too, Namythiet. Glad we had you on our side back there.” I was serious too, given what she was capable of with that Cataclysm of hers. The little thing had a lot of power behind it.

And speaking of having a lot of power, I hesitated before asking, “Hey, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of that ‘Wandering Woman’ that Ruthers wanted me to visit?” 

Hearing that, Namythiet hovered lower in the air, almost like she was half-hiding behind Tabbris’ head. Her voice was quieter. “Um, I don’t know very much, but from what I’ve heard, she’s a really powerful witch. Like, one of the first witches. One of the first Heretics.” 

I blinked at that. “One of the first Boschers?” 

Her head shook quickly. “Natural. One of the first Natural Heretics.” 

For a moment, I stared. “One of the first… Natural Heretics. One of the first humans on the planet to bond with something is still alive?” 

The pixie sort-of squirmed in the air. “Uh huh. I mean, there were others before her, but she’s the oldest, the one who stuck around the longest. They say umm… they say she’s not bonded to anything that exists anymore, that she was bonded to one of the Primals.” Quickly, she added, “One of the beings who created the weapons the King of Canada uses. They were beings that lived here back during the time of the dinosaurs all the way up to primitive humans.”

Briefly, I wondered if Aylen’s Grandfather would know this Wandering Woman. He had to, right? Shaking that off, I asked, “So if she’s bonded to some mythical being that helped build the superweapons that Oberon uses, she’s gotta be pretty strong.” 

Namythiet, in turn, stared at me. “You know how people use spells to counter those time-stop powers so they don’t get frozen?” When I hesitantly nodded, she continued. “Almost everyone here on Earth who uses those learned them either from the Wandering Woman or from someone else who learned from her. Or–you know, down through the line. They originated from her.” 

I whistled low. “That’s… pretty impressive. I guess it makes sense if she’s been around for so long. They call her the Wandering Woman because she–uhh, wanders a lot, I guess? Does she have a real name?” 

“They called her the Witch of Endor,” Namythiet piped up helpfully. “Oh, and Werethekau, they called her Werethekau too, when she was in Egypt. And Isis too. She had both names. Sort of interchangeable.” 

That made me do a double-take. “Wait, this Wandering Woman is the Witch of Endor from the bible and she’s Isis? As in the goddess Isis?” 

Shrugging at me, the pixie pointed out, “A few different goddesses. She was Freyja for the Norse too.” 

Yeah, that wasn’t helping my confusion and awe. “Isis, Freyja, Witch of Endor, why the hell does Ruthers want me to talk to her? Is she part of Crossroads?” 

Namythiet’s head shook firmly. “Nuh uh, she never joined up with them. She does what she wants, goes where she wants. Sorry, that’s umm, basically all I know.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Thanks a lot. I’ll try to find out more from someone else, see if we can figure out what Ruthers thinks she can do for me.” 

Setting the pixie on one shoulder then, I started to walk while talking some more to her. Not about where I had been. I didn’t want to think about that, let alone talk. Instead, I asked about her new mentor, only to stumble as she cheerfully started talking about Jeanne d’Arc. Joan of Arc was her mentor. And was also someone who was quite close to the Seosten Michael, apparently. 

“Wow,” I started, before suddenly spotting one of the people I’d been looking for. Tristan was with Vanessa, Sarah, and a couple others, intently watching some kind of show that a few other pixies were putting on. 

Seeing the boy, I was reminded of what I had to tell him about his friend. My hand moved to gently pat the pixie on my shoulder as I swallowed back the nervousness and fear about what could be happening on the Meregan world. No way would I be able to keep Tristan calm if I didn’t start that way. 

“Okay,” I murmured, taking a breath before walking toward the group. “At least I’m starting with the easy one.” 

Because I had the feeling that however Tristan reacted to the news, Jophiel’s reaction was going to be a lot more complicated. 

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Triumph 10-03 (Heretical Edge 2)

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It had been on the cusp of night throughout the battle with Fossor, the quarry itself filled with shadows that had grown longer and blacker with each passing minute. Now, as we emerged through the opening in the forcefield, darkness had fully settled around the place. But the quarry itself was filled with enough lights from various bits of magic and powers that it might as well have been the middle of the day. But beyond the quarry, things were pitch-black.

There were also a lot more people here than had been present for the battle. I saw groups from Wonderland, more Fusion school people, and other rebel-aligned groups gathered up on one side. Meanwhile, Ruthers and those few other Committee people had been joined by a small army of Crossroads and Eden’s Garden loyalists. Everyone had formed up onto either side to stare one another down, with hushed, yet clearly heated discussions between groups.

That heated discussion, however, stopped instantly the moment my mother and I emerged with the others. As soon as we came into view, every bit of conversation stopped short, as their eyes turned to us. I felt the weight of hundreds of people staring at us. Some, on the side of the rebellion, were focused on my mother with expressions of joy and welcome, amazement at her presence and her survival. I saw a few raise their hands to their mouths in shock, tears visible.

That was when it really struck me. This wasn’t just about people who believed what my mother said. It wasn’t just about following her words because she was powerful and cunning, or because she happened to be the one in charge. This was beyond anything like that. They didn’t simply believe in her cause. They loved her. They loved my mother more than I could ever have truly understood before that moment. And seeing her right there after all the time that had passed (now that their memories were back) was akin to seeing their savior rise from the ashes. Their true leader, their champion, the one who had brought the original rebellion together, had come back. 

Meanwhile, the reaction from the loyalist side was far more mixed than the one from the rebellion. Looking that way, I saw some who looked sad. Whether because they hoped Mom had died, or were lamenting the side she had chosen, I wasn’t sure. There was also plenty of hatred, outright disgust, and other strong, nasty looks. But still others looked confused or uncertain. It seemed like they didn’t know exactly how to feel right then. 

That mixture of uncertainty, regret, hatred, and just… sadness made me hesitate, staring that way while the others all formed up behind us. I couldn’t actually feel other people’s emotions, of course. This was all just taken from reading the expressions on their faces. But I had a pretty strong impression that if I could feel what they felt, the sheer force of it would’ve knocked me down. These people, all of them on both sides, had very strong emotions about my mother. 

Mom had stopped when I did, her hand moving to touch my arm. Wyatt and Abigail were on her other side (the right), while Koren moved up with me on the left. When I felt Mom’s touch, I swallowed the thick lump in my throat before nodding with a whispered, “I’m okay.” 

Movement from the loyalists side was met with a rush of motion from the rebels. Ruthers had taken a step our way, only to be met by a dozen figures on our side who moved to intercept and block him. Which had made more people from the loyalists jolt as though to jump in. 

“Stop.” That was Mom, her voice loud and clear. The single word made not only all the people on our side freeze, but also caused those loyalists to stumble a bit. Aside from Ruthers, of course. He just kept walking, albeit gradually, clearly in no rush. The rebels who had moved to stop him parted at a nod from my mother, leaving an opening for the man to walk through. 

He didn’t come right up to us, stopping a good twenty feet away. Not that that sort of distance actually meant anything when it came down to it. If he wanted a fight, he would have a fight. 

Oh boy. If tensions throughout the quarry had been high before, they were damn near stratospheric right now. The people on Ruthers’ side were clearly only waiting for a single word from him before they would jump into battle. And those on our side, though tired from the fight with Fossor, were just as willing to throw down the instant anyone made a move. The slightest wrong word here could result in a catastrophic battle so soon after we had beaten the monster.

No one said anything at first. No one moved once Ruthers had stopped. All eyes from both sides were on him, waiting to see what he did, what he would say. Whatever happened, whatever came next, everyone was ready. 

“I’m sorry,” Ruthers said. 

Okay. So I was wrong. We weren’t ready for whatever would come. Because I was pretty sure I was far from the only person who was floored and reeling from those two words. There was a collective gasp throughout both sides. It was clear that no one saw anything like that coming. 

But if he noticed the reaction, Ruthers gave no indication of it. He focused solely on my mother, still speaking in a flat, gruff voice. “Not for fighting you. Not for stopping you. Not for trying to make sure you never poisoned any more of our people with your rhetoric and naive thoughts. I will never stop working to make certain you are put away where you can’t destroy our world, where you can’t doom humanity. I won’t stop fighting you until you’re no longer a threat, Joselyn.” There was anger, brittle rage and hate that had built up over the past century. 

“But,” he continued, just as I started to think this might go sideways after all. “I took it too far. I let…” He paused, trailing off with a shake of his head before pushing on. “I involved your family. I involved children. Your children.” With that, his gaze flicked toward Abigail and Wyatt briefly, before returning to our mother. “I lost it. I lost… I was no better than the things that want to destroy this world. For that, for them, I am sincerely sorry. It was wrong. It was evil. And I will never allow anything like that to happen again. You have my word. Whatever comes next, however this goes, I will not allow things to go that far.” He was speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear, on both sides. A glance past him showed that the loyalists were whispering amongst themselves, clearly confused as to exactly what he was talking about. 

Mom, who had been silent through all of that, finally spoke up. Her own voice was as brittle as his, making it clear that the hatred he felt for her went both ways. “Do you think that’s enough?”

There was a brief pause before Ruthers shook his head. “Probably not. But we all have darkness in our pasts, things we wish we didn’t have to do. Or things we should have chosen not to. You and I, we are alike at least in that.” He took a breath, letting it out. Somehow, the tension in the air grew even thicker. It felt like it was hard to breathe through the certainty that any second, violence would start and blood would fly. 

Ruthers, however, kept talking through it, even as people on both sides shifted dangerously. “You are wrong, Joselyn. You have always been wrong. The creatures you court, the ones you believe to be your allies and friends, they will betray you. They cannot be trusted. And the moment you accomplish their tasks for them, they will prove that. The people you love will be killed. Your family will be torn apart. You would sell this world out to those creatures, allow them to destroy humanity because you refuse to see the truth.” 

“I see plenty of truth,” Mom informed him in a flat voice. “Between you and Litonya, I think it’s been pretty well proven that it doesn’t take horns, a tail, green skin, or anything like that to make a monster. It just takes someone willing to do monstrous things.” 

Ruthers, for his part, dropped his gaze to the ground briefly, then raised it to stare at her. “Stop this now, Joselyn. Tell your people to stand down and for things to go back to the way they were before your daughter restored their memories. We have a chance, right now, to stop this war. I’ll let you come back. We will let you come back. Not just you. Your family, everyone. Things can go back to the way they were supposed to be, before any of this happened. We can end this civil war, we can all go back to fighting the monsters we’re supposed to be fighting.” 

Mom, for a moment, just stared at him. When she spoke, her voice was almost awed. “If you believe I would do that, you’ve truly never understood anything about me. And if you believe I could do that, that my words would mean anything to all these people if I betrayed them and everything I’ve ever stood for, then you’ve never understood them either.” 

There was a moment of silence before Ruthers exhaled. “You’re going to go back to pushing this open warfare, aren’t you, Joselyn? Look at what was accomplished today. Fossor is dead. His body has been taken apart and disintegrated, just to be certain of that. He’s dead and gone. We have a chance for peace now, a chance to make things better and avoid all the bloodshed and suffering that you know is coming. We have a chance to avoid all of that and for all of our people to stand united against the threats we both know are out there.” 

“Are you blind, or just an idiot?” Those words came not from Mom, but from Abigail. She had suddenly spoken up, drawing everyone’s eyes and more than a few gasps. When Ruthers’ gaze settled on her, she continued. “Yeah, hi. It’s me, the grown-up version of the toddler whose head you held a metaphorical gun to. Or maybe it was a real gun, I don’t know how literal you make your threats against children. The point is, look around you. The people who fought that Necromancer, the ones who helped kill him? They weren’t all humans.” 

Ruthers was silent, and I had the feeling he was taking a moment to tell himself not to start another war right here. His hand moved before a small flask magically appeared, which he took a sip from before making it disappear again. Only then did the man seem to trust himself to speak. “I’ve never said that Strangers are incapable of working alongside humans for limited times and toward goals that help them. Only that they will always eventually fall back to their baser natures or their own self-interests and hungers. Fossor made many enemies. The fact that these creatures wanted him dead and saw this opportunity as the best way to make it happen does not change anything about what they are and what they will always be.” 

“Fossor is dead, Ruthers.” That was Mom again. Her voice shook a bit. “You said it yourself, he’s gone. You’re right, this is a chance. It’s a chance for us to let all of that go. The rage you’ve felt, the hatred you’ve put on everyone who isn’t human since the moment that one man betrayed your trust? Let it go. These people, all these people, they don’t have to be your enemies. We can all be united against the actual threats in this world, human or Alter. We can avoid this entire war. You can help turn the tide and shift the Committee and Crossroads itself to being the force for rightness and good that it should be. He’s dead. He’s gone. Let it go and move on, Gabriel. Please.”

Ruthers said nothing to that at first. Instead, his gaze turned toward me, eyes narrowing. “You,” he said flatly, managing to keep any sort of judgment he had about me out of his voice, “you killed the Necromancer. Your second Necromancer kill, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Um.” I swallowed, offering him a small shrug. “I’d say it was more of a giant team effort. But if you mean I was the one who took the last hit, yeah. I did. It was right there. Believe me, I know you or my mom had a better claim to–” 

“I don’t care about that,” the man informed me sharply. “But he is dead. You felt the… he didn’t fake his death somehow, didn’t switch with something else. Our people said the body was his, but you…” 

Realizing what he was asking, I quickly shook my head. “Err, no, he didn’t fake it. Trust me, that–he’s dead. One hundred percent dead.” 

“You’ve felt his power then,” Ruthers pressed. “You’ve felt an increase in your own strength, your own… necromancy.” He said the word with obvious disgust, making it clear what his own feelings on that particular style of magic were. “You have his gift.” It was perfectly apparent in his voice that he didn’t exactly see it as an actual gift. 

“I–” My mouth opened, then shut. Was this a trap of some kind? Was he trying to establish a reason to want to come after me for having Fossor’s power? Was–fuck it. I gave a short nod. “I’ve felt it, yeah. It’s easier to–yeah, I’ve had an upgrade. I mean, it’s nowhere near the sort of things he could do. I mean–” 

“Fossor wasn’t capable of the things Fossor did when he first started out,” Ruthers informed me simply. “But he got there. And you–” 

“Are different,” Mom snapped shortly. “I’ve told you what we can do here, Gabriel. If you–” 

It was his turn to interrupted, cutting my mother off with a short, “We’ll leave.” There was a renewed firmness to his voice. “This is a day for celebration and relief. Fossor is dead. I was… wrong, about you working with him.” That last sentence came with a slight hesitation, but he did at least meet my mother’s gaze through it. “But this–this I am not wrong about. The creatures you call your allies will turn on you, when it is in their best interest to do so. I only pray that it will be when they sense weakness because the humans on your side are about to be beaten, and not when you have fulfilled your purpose by killing enough of ours.”

Mom’s voice was sad. “These people helped kill Fossor, the abomination you’ve rightfully raged against for all this time, the one who began your obsession. And it’s still not enough. You still can’t let go of your blind hatred enough to see the truth.” 

“I see perfectly clearly,” the man insisted, starting to turn away from us. “I see that you will drag our people into a war because you are incapable of letting go of foolish naivety that you should have grown out of by now. But for now… for now we’ll leave, as I said.” He paused briefly before speaking again with dark bitterness. “Your obsession with allowing humans to kill humans for the benefit of monsters can wait.” 

“My mother!” Beside me, Avalon suddenly called out. I felt her hand grab my arm, gripping tightly as she demanded, “Where is she?” 

Glancing back toward us at those words, Ruthers hesitated before answering quietly. “Gaia is safe. She won’t be harmed. I promise you, whatever happens, she will not be used as a pawn or hostage. She is a prisoner and she will stay that way.” 

From the way Avalon’s grip on my arm tightened, I had the feeling there was a lot more she wanted to say to that. But she kept quiet, aside from a very quiet snarl under her breath. 

Ruthers obviously heard that, but made no comment. Instead, he looked at me. “For your sake and for those you claim to care about, you should go see the Wandering Woman.” His gaze moved to Mom’s before adding, “You know it’s for the best.” 

Before I could ask who that was, the man snapped his fingers. A portal appeared nearby. With varying degrees of reluctance, the Crossroads loyalists began to move through it, some making comments about how this wasn’t over. One of the last of which was Liam Mason. He stood by the portal, staring over to where Larissa, Sands, and Sarah were. All three were watching him. There were obvious emotions there, but the girls held firm. For a moment, it looked like Liam might say something. His face was twisted, mouth opening as though to call out. But, in the end, he just sighed visibly and shook his head before turning to step through the portal. I caught the barest glimpse of his face in the process, once he had turned away from his family. It was torn by grief, tears in his eyes as he forced himself to step through that portal. I had the feeling there was more to that whole interaction I hadn’t seen. 

In any case, they left. Ruthers, Calafia, and Teach were last, the three standing together to give one last look our way before stepping through. 

They were gone. Which left the rest of us standing here, alone in the quarry. For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then I heard Prosser speak up loudly, his voice filling the whole area. “I’d say it’s past time we all got out of this place. Preferably before our friends who just left decide to change their minds about saving our fight for another day.” 

Everyone started to disperse, and I looked to my parents. Both parents. Both of my parents. My mom was there. Right there. After all this time, not only the past ten years, but all the time since the moment her twins were taken, she was finally back where she belonged. She was back with her friends, her teammates, her people. She stood with both of her husbands, her three living children, and her granddaughter. Her family. 

 “What–” My throat caught as I saw them together after all this time. “What now?” 

“Now, like Gabriel said, we get out of here,” Mom informed me with a small, yet stunning smile.

“And we move on.” 

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Triumph 10-02 (Heretical Edge 2)

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Please note, the non-canon chapters were published over the weekend! You can find the Heretical Edge chapter here and the Summus Proelium chapter here

Koren reached me first, and the two of us embraced tightly before she leaned back to shake her head at me. “Can you go a week or so without some big apocalyptic kidnapping or whatever, please? I don’t think me or my mom can take another one for awhile. It’s a bit much.” 

Snorting at her words despite myself, I felt the giddy rush sweep its way back through me. It was an almost physical sensation. I was so relieved, so shocked, by everything that had happened that just kept repeatedly hitting me. I was alive. My mother was alive. And free. 

And Fossor was dead. He was dead. He was really, truly, forever dead. He was fucking gone. Everything he’d done, all the atrocities he’d committed, not only to my family but to so many countless others, and he was actually totally and completely dead. He was worm food. Except even worms didn’t deserve that. He was nothing. He was manure to be tossed into the cow–

Tabbris squeezed my hand, and I blinked, seeing Koren staring at me, mouth open to ask if I was okay. Quickly, I spoke up, using my face-shifting power to ensure I didn’t blush. “I’ll do the best I can, believe me. But hey, at least one major reason for those kidnappings is gone.” 

“Damn right, he is.” That was Deveron, who took his turn to embrace me as soon as Koren let go. And he did more than hug, literally lifting me off the ground to hold tight. It felt like he might never let go again. “Kid,” the man informed me with a voice that was full of relief and awe, “you are definitely your mom’s daughter. Including the scaring the living hell out of everyone who cares about you part.” 

Flushing a little, I returned the hug before shaking my head. “I didn’t–it wasn’t my fault. I mean–” Hesitating, I finally settled on just raising my foot to kick him in the leg while still being held off the ground. “Next time, maybe you should get kidnapped by the evil megalomaniac.”

“He most certainly should not,” Mom put in, stepping up beside us. As Deveron put me down, her right hand found my cheek, while her left squeezed his arm. Her eyes were on me. “My girl.” The words came in a shaky, fragile voice, one that made it clear just how terrified she really was that all of this would turn out to be a dream, or a trick, and that she would wake up once more in Fossor’s clutches. It made me wonder how many times she’d had dreams like that through the years, dreams of being freed, of killing him, of being back safe and sound with her family.

But this wasn’t a dream. This was real. Absolutely real. To prove that, I reached up and pinched her shoulder. It didn’t hurt her, of course. Given how tough she was, I was pretty sure she barely felt it. Still, Mom knew what I was doing. A beautiful, amazing smile broke across her face, and she took her turn to embrace me once more. Her grip was even tighter than Deveron’s, her voice a whisper in my ear that cracked from emotion. “I love you, Felicity.” 

God, it was too much. My body shook, a shudder running through me. Not of disgust or fear, but of… of happiness? Relief? Emotions I couldn’t actually understand or quantify in that moment. My eyes closed tightly as I hugged my mother, losing myself for a brief time. “Mom,” I managed with some effort, “I love you. Mommy. Mom. I love you. It’s okay. We’re here. We made it.” 

We released each other then, Mom turning to Deveron as he pulled her into his arms once more for what was clearly the latest of several moments they’d had since Fossor’s death. 

For a second, I just stared. My mother and Deveron, finally together. Seeing them like that, seeing them embrace and… and kiss, made me… happy? Yes. Yes, it did. My mother loved Deveron. And she also loved my dad. Just like I loved Shiori and Avalon. She didn’t love one more than the other. She loved them both. 

And really, all I wanted, all I desperately hoped for, was that Mom would be happy. After everything she’d been through for the past decad–no, century. After everything she’d repeatedly sacrificed to help and protect those she cared about, she deserved to be happy, damn it.

By that point, Wyatt had found his way to me and I was yanked closer, his gangly yet strong arms holding me tight as he babbled apologies for not being able to find and save me sooner. 

“Stop it, you did everything,” I insisted. “Fossor would’ve escaped without you. He’s dead because of you.” Even as I said it, a protesting yowl made me release Wyatt, looking down to see Corporal Kickwhiskers poking his little gray head (he was a British Shorthair) out of his owner’s jacket pocket, annoyed that I had yet to pay any attention to him. So, with a smile, I took the gray cat into my arms and gently scratched behind his ears. 

“He’s dead because of all of you.” That was Abigail, slowly stepping closer. Her head was shaking in disbelief. “It’s really–you really…” Swallowing, she stared at me in stunned silence for a few long seconds before managing a quiet, “You are an amazing young woman, little sister. And you’re going to drive everyone who cares about you into an early grave.”

Snuggling Kickwhiskers briefly, I handed him over to Wyatt before moving to embrace Abigail, careful not to hug her as tightly as the others given she was much more fragile without the kind of powers that others had (though she did at least have some). My head shook at her words, as I retorted, “Tell all the bad guys to leave me alone–wait, you’re a lawyer, can you draw up a restraining order that says they have to stay several continents away from me at all times? That’d be super-useful.” 

Snorting clearly despite herself, Abigail returned the hug as tightly as she could. “I’ll see what I can do,” she murmured before adding in a more serious tone. “I’m so glad you’re alive, so glad you’re safe. You–” Swallowing hard, she leaned back to stare at me. “You’re incredibly brave.” 

“Believe me, I was terrified the whole time,” I assured her with a shudder. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t make it back t-to this, to any of you. I was…” 

In mid-sentence, I trailed off as Abigail nodded past me. Turning that way, I saw him. My dad. He had just come through the opening in the forcefield that Prosser was maintaining. Our eyes locked, and then… then something happened. I didn’t know what, because I moved too quickly to register it. The next thing I knew for sure, I was there. I was hugging my father, tears streaming down my face, blinding me as I clung tightly to the man. I was babbling something incoherent. There was something about missing him, about loving him, saying Dad a lot, things like that. But it was all jumbled together and impossible to decipher. I was just babbling as I clung to him, my tears straining his shirt while I pressed my face to his chest and sobbed. 

Maybe it should have been embarrassing to lose it like that. I didn’t care. I didn’t give a shit what it looked like. My dad. This was my dad, after I had just spent so much time in the clutches of– that. A shudder ran through me, but it vanished immediately as soon as my father felt it and hugged me tighter against him. He was saying my name, lifting me fully off the ground. I could feel his tears too, both of us completely losing it for the next few moments as we held each other. My dad. My father was here, right here. After the past months, after all the time I’d spent away from him, he was right here. 

One thing, one thought, was all it took to finally make me draw back a bit. My eyes widened with realization, as I gasped softly. 

I wasn’t the one who had been torn away from him the most. I’d been missing for months. That was a drop in the bucket compared to–

“Lincoln.” That single word came from my mother. She stood a bit away from the others, having approached a few steps. Deveron, a bit behind her, watched with a small smile that told me he knew just what the two of them were going through just then. Probably about the same thing he and my mother had gone through a few minutes earlier. 

My father, meanwhile, straightened with a gasp of his own. Setting me down, he stood at his full height, staring over at my mother. For a few long, silent seconds, no one spoke. No one moved. My dad simply swallowed, his breath clearly catching several times as he tried to speak. In the end, all he could manage was a weak, barely audible, “Joss…” 

Slowly, Mom took one step, then another. Her own voice quietly murmured my father’s name. Her face twisted up a little, emotions clearly ripping through her as she crossed the last few feet between them. As soon as she was close enough, her hand rose to tentatively touch his chest as though she was afraid he would vanish the moment she did. “Linc. My chainman.” 

I saw the way my father shuddered, the way his eyes flickered. He swayed a bit on his feet, like the slightest breeze could have pushed him over. His shaking hand rose, finding its way toward the side of my mother’s face. But he hesitated just a little before making contact. Hesitated, that was, until Mom’s other hand, the one not on his chest, rose to touch his wrist. Her fingers slid gently down his arm, then back up again. Locking eyes with him, she guided his hand down to her own face. Once it was there, cupping her cheek, they each made a sound. It was part relief, part joy, part something I couldn’t even begin to understand at that point. And it was love. It was absolute, definitive, unbreakable love. 

“Joselyn,” Dad murmured. That time, when he said her name, was different from any other time I remembered hearing it. For years before Crossroads, my father’s voice had been filled with pain, with anguish and loss when he said my mother’s name. For months after he was brought in on the truth, he’d spoken her name with fear of what had been done to her, and whether we would ever free her. 

Now, the fear was gone. The anguish was gone. The loss was gone. All of that had been vanquished. In their place was joy. An unspeakable, indescribable joy. He spoke her name, and I heard the love in his voice. I felt the love in it. 

They embraced. Mom’s arms went around Dad’s, and they were locked into one another. Then they kissed. They kissed and I–I turned away. Yeah. It felt wrong to spy on them like that. Especially when it was clear neither of them remembered (or cared) that anyone else was around. They’d been cut off, torn away from each other, for the past decade. They deserved to have a moment, just as Mom and Deveron had deserved their moment. 

Okay, they deserved a hell of a lot more than a moment. But still. The least I could do was not stand there and gawk while they were involved with one another. Besides, we had time. Fossor was dead. He was dead and gone and he wouldn’t fuck with our lives anymore. Ever. 

There were still problems. Still a lot of things we had to deal with. But right now, at this moment, I didn’t care. My mother was safe. I was safe. Fossor was dead. Fuck everything else that might want to rear its ugly head. All of it could wait its goddamn turn. Patiently and quietly, if it knew what was good for it.

Yeah, it was possible I was a little bit giddy after everything. But who wouldn’t be? 

That whole giddiness thing got even stronger a moment later, as Tabbris murmured my name. Looking up, I saw that she was looking toward the entrance once more, where two figures stood. Avalon and Shiori. They were there, looking uncertain as to whether they should interrupt or not. Seeing them, I felt a lump in my throat. Yes, I’d seen them earlier, during the fight. And that had been joyful enough on its own. But this was different. Now there were no other world-ending distractions, no terror that they would die any moment. 

They were there. My girls were safe, sound, and right there. 

And a second later, I was there too. I lunged that way, using my boost to get there faster. My arms caught hold of both of them at once, as I hauled them close. Not that they were complaining, exactly. All three of us simply clung to one another tightly, unable to speak. All I wanted just then was to touch them, hold them, smell them, be there with them

Okay, I wanted more than that. I wanted a hell of a lot more. But right then, being with them was enough. Knowing they were safe, being safe with them. Knowing my mother and father were right nearby, having their own reunion. Knowing Fossor was dead and would never bother us again. I was pretty sure I had never been happier in my life than I was in that moment. Which seemed fair enough, considering how not happy I’d been for so long throughout the past weeks while I was imprisoned by Fossor. 

“Flick, Flick,” Shiori managed while Avalon was still just clutching at the back of my head. “You made it. You really made it. You–you’re–” Her voice choked off then, tears streaming silently. 

“I made it.” Putting one hand up against Avalon’s face, I leaned to kiss Shiori. It was urgent, hungry, a desperate need that was barely sated by the kiss, which itself was strong enough to make my knees weak. 

Then I was kissing Avalon. Both. I loved them both, and I felt absolutely no confusion or uncertainty about that. Maybe others would have been put off, but this was our business. Our relationship. I was with Avalon and I was with Shiori. They weren’t with each other, though they were friends. 

It worked for us, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

For the next few minutes, the three of us stayed right there. Shiori and Avalon both had a lot to say. And none of us wanted to let go. They asked about how I was, about what had happened in the future (they were avoiding the subject of what had happened at Fossor’s), likely to avoid ruining the mood. 

So, I told them. Well, the Cliffs Notes version anyway. There was a lot to get into, but I just gave them the short explanation, before my eyes widened. “Jophiel,” I blurted. “I have to find Jophiel. She wasn’t– I mean I didn’t see her with–” 

“We haven’t seen her,” Shiori informed me quietly. “But I’m sure someone around here can find her. Why–” 

“Elisabet, Elisabet’s on the Meregan world, with–” Cutting myself off, I shook my head. “I have to find Tristan too. His… his friend. It’s a long story. His friend is with Elisabet on the Meregan world too, and they’re both in really bad danger.” Swallowing hard, I focused on them both, staring into their quizzical gazes. “Fomorian danger,” I managed flatly, making it clear just why this was so important that I would bring it up now of all times. “The Fomorians took over the Meregan world, and now Elisabet and Dexamene are there, and I promised I’d bring help as soon as possible.” 

Yeah, so much for things waiting. But to be completely honest with myself, if I just let it go, if I waited just to selfishly have my own reunions and then later found out that Elisabet and Dexamene had been taken by the Fomorians during that time, there was no way I would be able to live with myself. 

“If we go outside this forcefield,” Avalon quietly informed me, “we’ll have to deal with Ruthers and the others before anything else happens.” 

“We don’t think they’ll push for a fight right now,” Shiori hurriedly put in. “But they’re kind of insistent that they see and say something before anyone leaves. It’s… tense, but not as bad as it could be.” 

Avalon gave a slight nod. “I think Ruthers is still happy about Fossor dying, so he’s willing to let more go without pushing too hard. But I don’t think that mood will hold forever.”

“Then we should go and talk to him.” That was my mother, there with my father and Deveron, with Abigail and Wyatt on the other side, close enough for Mom to touch. Her voice was… tired, but happy. 

“Seeing you like this is going to piss him off again,” Deveron noted pointedly. “He saw Fossor as the bigger threat, so he played nice for that long. But now that that threat is dead, he might just decide today’s a good chance for a two-for-one.” 

“If he makes a move, we’ll deal with it,” Mom replied quietly before shaking her head. “But I don’t think he will. Not right now. Ruthers is an asshole, but he has his own… sort of code.” She exchanged a glance with me, our eyes locking. I’d told her what I’d learned about Litonya wanting to assassinate Wyatt and Abigail as babies, and how Ruthers had abducted them to save them from that. It didn’t exactly make him a hero in her eyes. She still hated him, considering he could have given the children back after that instead of using them to force her surrender. 

He was still a piece of shit who held toddlers hostage. But… yeah. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Deveron asked her, my father echoing the sentiment. 

Mom, in turn, offered a shrug. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to stay in this forcefield forever. We need to go out there. I need to see him face-to-face. 

“So, let’s do this.” 

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Triumph 10-01 (Heretical Edge 2)

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My eyes opened. 

Somehow, I’d passed out. The rush I’d felt after… after killing Fossor… had been so overwhelming I’d actually fallen unconscious. How much of that was from the actual power and how much was from the emotional release of ending the piece of shit who had tortured my family for so long, I wasn’t sure. But the point was, I had been completely out of it. So out of it, apparently, that by the time I opened my eyes, I was lying on some kind of fairly comfortable cot.

We were still in the quarry, so it hadn’t been that long. Though we weren’t in the hole anymore. Wherever the cot had come from (someone had most likely magically summoned it), I was pretty sure only a few minutes had passed since I… since the blade of my staff went through Fossor’s head for the last time. 

My mother was there. As was Tabbris. Both of them were kneeling on either side of the cot, Mom’s hand pressed gently against my face. The expression on her face was one of wonder, the expression of someone who almost didn’t dare believe what was happening around them, despite what their eyes told them, because it was too much. It was too good, after everything she had been through. It was the gaze of a woman who had been through so much pain and loss that she was afraid to actually be happy, waiting for the other shoe to somehow drop. 

Our eyes met. I saw the rush of emotions go through my mother, as her hand pressed tenderly against my cheek. Her mouth opened to say something, only to stop as a lump was clearly caught in her throat. Her eyes closed, and then she opened them again before trying once more, speaking softly. “My baby. My sweet, wonderful little girl. My beautiful, brave one.” There was a slight tightness and physical pain to her voice, and a glance downward showed me that the wound in her stomach was still healing. It wasn’t horrific by that point, having closed up so it wasn’t openly gushing blood or anything. But it wasn’t great either, and clearly still hurt. 

“I love you, Mom.” It was all I could say. It was all I needed to say. Nothing else mattered in that moment. The most important thing, right then, was for me to say those words to my mother, with no terrible darkness surrounding us. That weight was gone. The horrific, oppressive evil that Fossor represented wasn’t here anymore. It had vanished, like the brilliant sun splitting its way through thick clouds and burning them away. My mother was here, and Fossor was gone. 

My mother was here… and Fossor was gone. 

A smile finally found its way to Mom’s face, as if my saying those words had finally given her permission to feel the emotion that had been building up in her. “I love you, my Felicity.” 

With that, I managed to shove myself up, wrapping my arms around her neck and holding on tight. The tears that tried to burst forth from my eyes were stupid. So fucking stupid. Why would I be crying right now? Why now, of all times? I was happy. I was so fucking happy right then, so why would I start sobbing like a little baby? 

I had no idea how long I kept crying like that while holding so tight to my mother. Probably only a few seconds, no matter how it felt. Through it all, Mom held me just as firmly, as if she never wanted to let me go. She pulled me up from the cot, the two of us standing together, locked in that embrace. After everything we had been through, after the horrific events not only of the past weeks but of the past years, we would take as long as we wanted to be here, with each other. 

Finally, I spoke, pulling back a bit to stare at the woman I had hated for so much of my life, the woman who had given everything she had to protect me. “It’s over,” I announced in a voice that shook from raw emotion. “He’s gone, Mom. H-he’s really gone.” Gone. That didn’t say it enough. It didn’t mean enough. Him being gone wasn’t the right word. “Dead,” I managed in a flat voice, speaking the word that actually conveyed the finality of the situation. “He’s dead.” 

“Yes, Lissy.” My mother’s voice held just as much emotion as mine had. She moved her hands to my shoulders, squeezing tightly. I saw the way her body shuddered. She was exhausted after everything, but didn’t care. The raw relief and sense of freedom that came with the death of the man who had imprisoned and enslaved her for so long was much stronger than any fatigue. “He’s dead. He’s dead and gone and he is never coming back.” 

My legs were shaking. Scratch that, all of me was shaking. My entire body shuddered as I stared into my mother’s eyes, repeating her words back to her. “Gone and never coming back.”

Only then, once the two of us had assured one another of that fact, did we both stop to look around. The small, open area we were in was surrounded by a forcefield, about twenty feet wide and glowing dark blue. Too dark to see through. There was one opening, where Gabriel Prosser stood with his back to us. The forcefield was his, as the man kept everyone else out to give my mother and I time to have our actual reunion before being set upon by anyone else. 

Swallowing hard, I reached out to take hold of the small blonde girl who was the only other person in this place. “Mom, this is Tabbris. My little sister.” I had told her about the Seosten girl while we were held prisoner in Fossor’s place, had explained that entire situation. But this was her first time really meeting her. 

A smile touched my mother’s face, as she lowered one hand from my shoulder to rest against the side of the clearly quite nervous younger girl’s face. “Hello, Tabbris. Thank you so much for taking care of my daughter. I hear you are one of the bravest people she knows.” 

Tabbris, in turn, blushed deeply. Her head shook. “Flick knows a lot of brave people,” she insisted. 

“And yet,” I insisted, “it’s still true. Everyone I know, all those people, and you’re still one of the bravest people I’ll ever meet.” 

Yeah, that blush was even worse. Squirming on her feet, Tabbris hesitated before quickly heaving herself my way. Suddenly, she was hugging me tightly, as tight as she could. “I’m sorry,” she all-but sobbed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I couldn’t help before.” 

Okay, time to nip that in the bud. Shaking my head, I put both hands down on either side of her face to make her look up at me. “I’m glad you weren’t there, Tabbris. I am glad you weren’t there. Do you understand? You helped now, but you couldn’t help then. You being there would have been bad. Believe me.” 

From the look on the other girl’s face, she still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But she just hugged me tightly once more. The two of us stood there, embracing like that, for a few seconds. 

Glancing up, I saw Mom staring at me with a soft, tender expression. Then I looked past her and nodded that way. Words failed me. I couldn’t speak, not in that moment. 

Following my nod, Mom turned to look behind her. There, she saw two figures standing side-by-side, having been let through by Prosser. Wyatt and Abigail. The two were staring at my–our mother. From here, I couldn’t read the expressions on their faces, but it was still very clear that there was a lot going on, emotionally. The two of them were standing quite close, shoulders touching. They had instinctively grabbed for each other’s hands, seeking the comfort of their twin despite being separated for so many years. 

None of us moved for a few long seconds. Tabbris was silent, pressed up close behind me as she peeked out to watch. I felt her fingers dig into my back and arm while we stood there. 

Finally, Mom snapped out of it. Tentatively, as though afraid moving too quickly would cause the vision in front of her to fall apart like a rock hitting reflections in the water, she stepped that way. One step after another, at first moving so slowly I could barely tell she had even started, before speeding up just a little. But she still walked. She walked, rather than ran, though I could tell a part of her desperately wanted to sprint that way and grab the two. But this was a moment she wanted to savor, a moment she would relive over and over throughout the rest of her life. She wouldn’t rush it. 

One step followed another, before Abigail and Wyatt finally broke out of their own moment of paralyzation and moved to meet her. I heard a choked sob, a noise of the purest possible joy, escape our mother as her arms opened to enfold around both of them. From the outside, it may have looked as though adults embraced right there. But in reality, it was a mother grabbing her young children, the children she had lost decades ago, and pulling them back to her. It was a mother-our mother, stepping through all those horrible years trapped in one prison or another, and reaching the children she had sacrificed those years for. She held them tight, all three locked in an embrace that stretched across the decades that had separated their last touch.

I didn’t go to join them. It wasn’t my place to interrupt, not right then. There would be time for group hugs, for full family hugs, interaction, reunions, all of it. But in that particular moment, it was time for my older siblings to have their chance for a face-to-face with our mother, their chance to see her, touch her, talk to her. No way was I going to take that away from them. 

Ghosts. They were behind me. Sensing them coalesce, I turned to find Ahmose appear first, the tall, purple spirit with red eyes forming slightly ahead of several others (including Jorsher). He was watching me carefully, but with a sense of relief that was palpable. “The abomination has been destroyed. It is no trick, no falsehood. He did not find a way to escape. Fossor is dead.” It sounded as though he’d have to say it out loud another fifteen million times or so to be fully convinced. Or maybe he just really enjoyed saying it. I knew I sure as hell liked thinking it. 

We weren’t the only two either. Behind Ahmose, Jorsher and the other ghosts repeated those three words in what sounded like a mantra. Fossor was dead. He was gone. He wouldn’t be here to enslave and torture them anymore. The monster who had destroyed their lives even more thoroughly than mine was gone for good, leaving these guys, and the rest, free to… well…

“What are you going to do now?” I finally managed, after passing my gaze over them and feeling their relief wash over me to mix with my own. It was kind of a giddy feeling. “All of you, I mean.” There were more than just these few, given how many had escaped back at the estate.

“Now,” came the quiet answer, “most of us will rest.” Ahmose smiled faintly as he clarified. “For good. Our final rest. We will allow ourselves to dissipate and return our energy to the universe. We have been here for far too long, have seen too much… death. Too much suffering. We wish to move on, whatever that may entail. It is time.” 

I started to nod silently to that, wishing I could give them something better than to simply cease existing. Or at least say some words of encouragement that would mean anything at all. But I didn’t even know what kind of afterlife they believed in, particularly considering they were ghosts of various different species. If they believed in any at all. Then I blinked as his exact words struck me, curiously asking, “Most of you?” 

There was a brief pause as Ahmose and the other ghosts behind him looked to one another. They were silently conferring. Then they turned back to me, and their leader started in a voice that sounded apologetic. “It is too much, more than we should ask. But there are those among us, those who have not… who have died recently enough that their families, those they care about, still exist. If there is–if it is not asking for more than you can give, those few would like to perhaps, when there is time, be taken to say goodbye to their loved ones before they move on.”

It took me a second to realize what he was asking. Then my eyes widened a bit. “O-oh, you mean I could take some of you to see your living families before you… umm… yeah. Yeah.” My head bobbed up and down quickly. “After what you did–you brought everyone here. I’d be dead without all of you. So would my mother. Hell, so would everyone I care about, as soon as Fossor finished his spell. The whole universe would be doomed, pretty much. Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want. I mean, it may take awhile, and I’m not… can they keep existing long enough for that? I don’t know if I’m a strong enough Necromancer to hold onto that many,” I admitted. 

Again, there was a brief, silent conversation between them before Ahmose spoke gently. “You have killed the abomination, Lady Chambers. His power is your power. You may not feel all of it for some time, may take many years to fully control it. But his power is yours. You are far stronger than you may believe right now.” 

His power… of course. After that rush I’d felt when Fossor had died, of course I’d absorbed his power. His own necromancy had been added to what I’d taken when Manakel died. No wonder I’d been able to sense them before they finished appearing behind me before. 

Not long ago, the thought of having Fossor’s power would have disgusted me beyond belief. The thought of having any connection at all to him would’ve made me want to throw up. Let alone how unsettled and uncomfortable the concept of having necromantic powers in the first place would’ve made me.

But that was wrong. Fossor’s power wasn’t the evil thing, it was how he used it. I believed–knew that Alters weren’t evil just because they weren’t human, so Fossor’s Necromancy wasn’t evil just because it existed. The things he’d done with it, the atrocities he’d committed, that was what was evil. And as for Necromancy itself, that too depended on what was done with it. 

And yet, despite all those thoughts, I still felt a shudder of revulsion got through me. Fossor. In some ways, I would never be rid of him now. He was connected to me. I’d killed him and now his power was mine. What was I supposed to do about that? 

Use it for good, of course. Use it for better things than he had. Practice with it. Train with it. Prove that it was the man who had been evil, not his power. Like now, the ghosts who were asking me to help give them closure. I could do that. I could help them. 

“Yes,” I finally managed, meeting Ahmose’s gaze. “Anyone who wants to stay and get closure before they, um, move on, I’ll help them get it. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I’ll do it. I’ll take them wherever they want to go, talk to whoever they want to talk to until they’re ready.” 

“Our gratitude to you,” the tall, violet ghost murmured. “For that, and for all that you have done. And our apologies, for all that we were made to do to you and to your mother.” He said the last bit even more quietly, crimson eyes glancing over my shoulder to where Mom and my older siblings were still reuniting. 

“But you’re moving on,” I noted. “You’re not going to stay and say goodbye to anyone.” 

“There is no one left for me to say goodbye to,” he confirmed. “Everyone I could have cared for was… is long gone. I have no connections to this or any other world. It is time for me to leave it.” 

“Now?” I blinked. “Like, right now?” 

A very slight smile touched the ghost’s face. “There is no sense in stalling. Those of us who are ready to go will disappear, and those who wish for your help will give you all the time you need first. Simply… pull at them when you are ready to begin helping. They will feel it and come to you.” 

“Thank you.” After saying that, I quickly amended, “Not just for that. For all of it. For bringing my friends. For coming back and risking being enslaved again. For–for helping. Thank you.” 

“We could do no less to ensure that the abomination was destroyed,” he insisted, with a collective murmur of agreement from the others behind him. “And we thank you, for what you did to give us that opportunity.” 

That was it. With those words, Ahmose literally began to disappear. He offered me a smile, and a wave, before vanishing. As did most of those behind him, save for a few. I felt their essences, the Necromantic energy that bound them together, fade away. They were moving on. The few who were left, including Jorsher, watched me briefly and nodded before fading as well. But their fading was different, less permanent. They were giving me space, but I could still feel them if I tried. They would be there when I was ready to help them get closure. 

And speaking of ghosts who had needed closure, I felt another figure appear nearby. Turning that way, I saw her. “Rahanvael.” 

“He’s gone.” Her voice was very quiet, gaze looking off toward the sky. Toward their own planet? I wasn’t sure. “He’s really gone.” 

“Do…” I hesitated before asking, “Do you want to see the body?” It sounded morbid, but I thought it might give her closure. Not that I knew exactly where the body was right then. 

Her gaze turned to me, head shaking. “No. I don’t need that. I–he is dead. He is gone. The monster has been destroyed. I know when my brother died, and it was not today. It was long ago.” 

That said, she moved closer, sounding a bit more hesitant. “I… should move on as well. It has been far too long for me, and now that my brother can rest, I should do the same. But if…” 

Belatedly, I realized, “You want to go home.” 

“I would like to fade away on my own world, yes,” she confirmed. “I know that it will take some time. But when you are ready, after you have rested and recovered, and done all the other things that will be clamoring for your attention, I would like to take you and those of your choice to my world, to tell those who are there that they are free. I would like to tell them that he is dead and our world can move on, before I let myself disappear.” 

My head bobbed quickly. “We can do that. I mean, I hope so, anyway. We will. Just–time. I’ll find a way to get you there and let your people know they’re free. I’m sorry, it’ll take awhile. But eventually, I promise.” 

“Thank you, Felicity,” she murmured, a genuine, beautiful smile touching her face. “Thank you for everything.” 

Before I could respond to that, my name was called. Turning, I saw Tabbris waiting silently nearby. But it was Mom who had called me. She was there with Abigail and Wyatt. Koren had joined them, as had Deveron. All were looking my way, waiting for me. 

So, I walked that way, reaching out to take my little sister’s hand. But I didn’t stop there. Instead, I pulled her over into a tight hug, squeezing firmly enough to make her squeak. For a few seconds, the two of us clung to each other. Then I smiled at her. One of the first genuinely happy, unstressed smiles I could remember giving for quite some time. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of reunions to get to.

“And I can’t fucking wait.”

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Kairos 9-02 (Heretical Edge 2)

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A/N: For those who haven’t seen it, there was a new commissioned interlude posted yesterday that focused on the Alter-Natural Heretic organization Section Four. If you haven’t read that, you can click the previous chapter button above to do so. 

“Kill me?” Fossor chuckled, though it sounded more deranged and emotional than he probably meant it to. “Has that ever worked for you, my dearest woman, mother of my child? Oh…. I suppose I can’t call you that now, can I? Not after our girl over there got her own brother killed. Now how is that going to affect your relationship?” 

Mom’s voice was calmer than I would have expected. Cold, really. “Over ten years together. More than a decade. And you still know nothing about me.” 

“He knows little about what it means to care for anyone at all.” Those were the words that came from Rahanvael, as the ghost girl hovered nearby, her hand lightly touching her own throat, where I could see what looked like… marks of some sort. As if Fossor’s invisible grasp had left an impression in the… well, ‘skin,’ or whatever that would be called. 

As for the Necromancer himself, he actually looked a bit upset by what she’d said, his face flushing a bit as he snapped, “I have always cared for you, Rahan.” Again, he pronounced it ‘Rain.’ “Everything I have done, everything I’ve become, everything that has– it was all because I loved–love you. It was all because I wanted to protect you! I only wanted to keep you safe.” 

“You’re right.” Rahanvael’s voice was soft, barely audible, yet somehow filled with raw emotion. It quaked, the words hoarse and broken. “Everything that you have done started because you were trying to protect me. We lost our mother, and when we visited her spirit to say goodbye, you felt her. You tried to keep her there. That’s how you found out about your power, Mera. You felt her and you tried to stop her spirit from moving on, and when they wouldn’t let you, when our father forced you to let her go, you… you were so afraid. We lost our mother and you were afraid you would lose me, lose your twin. So you did what? You withdrew even more. You spent seven years obsessing over learning to control your power on your own, experimenting on animals in the woods. Seven years when we could have been living our lives.” 

“If you and Father had only listened to me, we could have had an eternity together!” Fossor… yeah, he was clearly unstable. Facing his sister like this wasn’t doing wonders for his emotions. Still, he took a moment, mastering himself (at least outwardly) before speaking again, a bit more coldly. “But you didn’t. He didn’t. He–he interrupted. I would have brought you back.”

“You did bring me back,” Rahanvael reminded him, voice still quiet. “And I have spent millennia watching you commit more atrocities, more… evil than I could have imagined entire civilizations being capable of. Your crimes may have begun when you cut my throat, Mera. But everything you’ve done, everything you’ve become, that is what tears my heart from my chest.” 

Her voice was even more hollow by that point. She finished with the last thing she needed to say. “I loved my brother. He was my everything, my Mera. You are not him. You are an empty, soulless abomination that needs to die.” 

“You…” For a moment, Fossor looked… almost lost, really. It was so brief that I might have passed it off as my imagination. But it was there. It was absolutely there. He saw his sister, saw the way she looked at him, heard what she said, and it looked like those words struck home, for just a moment. But then it vanished, either hidden away or dismissed entirely. In its place was anger. Cold anger, the sort that would leave any soul that could feel such emotion a barren wasteland. 

He spoke again, voice far emptier than I had ever heard it. “Each of you will learn the cost of your efforts. Because you seem to have forgotten one very important thing. You cannot harm me.” 

With those simple words, he straightened, blue-white flames flickering around his feet before extending out into the shape of a serpent that coiled up and around him almost protectively. It was like a… ghost. It was a ghost snake. A giant ghost snake. Fun. 

“My life is connected to those of my world–of our world,” he amended, with a look toward his sister. “How many of our people will you allow them to sacrifice before bowing to the inevitable? A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand? More? How many will you let them put to the flames?” 

His words had an impact. I could tell that much. Rahanvael swallowed, floating there next to me. But she refused to break eye contact, staring back at him with a sad, broken voice. “Whatever it takes,” the girl informed him very quietly. “You must be stopped. A man who has already murdered millions cannot bargain with the lives of those he would kill anyway.” 

The ghost-serpent around Fossor drew itself up a bit, even as the man coldly snarled, “Then, by all means. Come and stop me.” 

Even as he said those words, the ghost-snake launched itself toward us. The thing was as big as a bus, mouth stretching wide as though it was going to try to eat us. I had no idea if it was even capable of that, given the whole ghost thing. But nor was I going to test it. With a quick thrust of my staff, I triggered the boost on it, sending myself up and over the lunging snake. Below me, Mom vanished from where she was standing, appearing off to the side while producing a glowing blue energy sword in one hand that she used to cut into its side. 

The snake wasn’t the only issue, of course. Fossor still had a literal army of ghosts and zombies he could throw at us. And throw them at us he did, as what looked like a tidal wave of the undead creatures came swarming in from all sides. The Necromancer wasn’t fucking around anymore. Even as I launched myself up, I could see an army of the creatures coming in from all sides, practically falling in on us like a tidal wave. This wasn’t a few ghosts, or a handful of zombies. This wasn’t something he expected us to fight. He expected us to be massacred. 

In mid-air, I dropped my staff, focusing on using the object-stopping power I’d just learned about. The staff froze, even as my feet came down on it. The freeze would only last for a few seconds, of course. But for those few seconds, I could stand on the staff in mid-air as though I was on solid ground. And I used that by summoning a dozen or so coins to each hand. Coins I had prepared over my time spent in the future waiting for the time travel spell to be ready. 

With those coins in hand, as I perched on my frozen staff, a very slight, humorless smile touched my face. Then I threw the coins out in every direction, scattering them through the air while blurting the command word. 

That swarm of Fossor’s minions kept coming, even as the coins were flung into their midsts. Then the spells activated, and the coins exploded into several clouds of blue-green mist. Every ghost or zombie that was touched by the mist immediately turned on one another. Which made others around them, those not affected by the clouds, turn back to defend themselves or be dragged to the ground. No longer were they a coherent army sent to attack us. Thanks to my frenzy-undead spells (learned courtesy of Petan himself, actually), huge portions were stuck blindly fighting each other.

By that point, the item-freeze had ended, and I grabbed my staff while it fell. A quick burst sent me flying forward and to the ground, where I landed on both feet in an open space that had been created by the frenzy spells. 

Mom was still dealing with the giant snake. Fossor was moving to the altar. More of his minions who hadn’t been either affected by the frenzy spells or attacked by those who had been were closing in on me. I’d dealt with a large portion of his army with that little trick (one I’d deliberately been saving until Fossor actually committed himself to using more of his forces), but not nearly enough. There were still dozens, even hundreds in the way, coming for me. Coming to stop me from getting to their master. 

But it wasn’t enough. Not this time. I wasn’t going to let anything, not even a literal army, stop me from getting to that son of a bitch. Focusing, I took off, running straight toward Fossor, which put me on a collision course with the largest concentration of the undead creatures. 

I couldn’t control all of Fossor’s minions. I wasn’t that strong or skilled yet. Fossor was far better than I was at Necromancy. At most, I could control a few at a time, even after all the practice I’d had recently. 

But here was the thing. I didn’t need to control all of them. I only had to control the ones directly in front of me, the ones close enough to actually touch me. Because only those few were a real threat. Only those few, the ones near enough to reach out and scratch, claw, or bite me were the ones I needed to worry about. And those were the ones I took control of. With effort that manifested itself into a literal scream tearing its way out of my throat, I shoved my will into the handful of ghosts and zombies that were directly in my way. The four nearest pivoted, throwing themselves into those behind them to form physical blockades. 

Dashing through the opening that created, I instantly released my hold on those four, shifting it over to the next small handful. Two ghosts and three zombies all turned on their companions, freeing up another small bit of space for me to move through, even as I shifted my control yet again. 

I made my way through Fossor’s army like that. Yeah, I couldn’t come close to matching his power or skill, even while he was distracted. But there was only so much space around me, so all I had to do was control the ones right there for the few seconds while passing through the area. It didn’t deal with the problem entirely, but that was a lost cause anyway. The problem was Fossor, not his minions. He was the one I had to get to. 

Between using my own Necromancy to briefly control very specific figures, my ghost-fire enchanted weapon to cut through others, and a few strategic boost from my staff, I made my way quickly through the army that was trying to cut me off. Fossor. I had to get to him. That was all that mattered. Nothing else. All I had to do was stop him from getting to that altar. 

He could have made it. Even with everything I’d done, all the practice I’d had, he could have gotten there if it wasn’t for one thing: my mother. It was obvious that, while he’d dumped an army in front of me and left them on their own, my mom was a different story. She’d already dealt with that giant ghost snake, but Fossor kept sending more and more things at her with each step he made toward his actual destination. Burning metal spikes tore themselves up out of the ground. A dark, acidic fog that dissolved anything it touched. Skeletal creatures with a few scraps of rotted flesh hanging from their bones. Balls of greenish-white flames. Anything and everything he could summon was being thrown at my mother just to keep her busy, just to keep her away from him while he took those last few steps toward his destination. He wasn’t worried about me. He was worried about her, and it showed in how much focus and effort he was putting toward occupying her. The power, the spells, the sheer force of everything he was dumping into that one small spot where my mother stood was staggering. 

And yet, Mom met everything. She shattered his attacks, broke them apart like waves crashing against a boulder. Her powers, her skill, her magic, all of it matched what he was sending at her. He was so much older, so much stronger, but he couldn’t break her. Not as distracted as he was. His attention was torn between trying to get to that altar and keeping her busy. All while he simply ignored me, trusting the army he’d tossed my way to be enough. 

It was a mistake I would be glad to make him pay for. 

With a violent, inarticulate scream, I tore my way through the last of the ghosts in my way, the blade of my staff cutting through the glowing figure. The ghost disintegrated, leaving a clear, open space between us. Between Fossor and me. 

Four steps. He was four steps from the altar. My hand thrust out, creating a portal even as I triggered the boost from my staff and gripped the small bit of wood that was installed near the middle. A piece of wood that allowed me to possess it, disappearing into my own staff while the boost I had triggered sent it flying through the portal I’d created. 

I came out through the portal directly in front of Fossor, emerging from my staff immediately and catching it in one hand while glaring at him as I stood in his way. “No.” My voice was flat. I didn’t threaten him. I didn’t make some kind of cutting remark or give a witty comment. That single word was all I could force out through the thick lump that had formed in my throat. 

A cloud of ashes swirled around Fossor, pulled from that canteen before they settled in front of his feet as he took one more step to put himself closer. In the same motion, he lashed out as though to backhand me despite the fact that he wasn’t quite close enough. Still, my staff snapped up to block it. 

But he wasn’t trying to hit me with his hand. Instead, in response to his gesture, a giant skeletal version, almost as large as my entire body, tore itself out the ground and slammed into me with so much force I was sent staggering backward. He immediately followed that up by summoning two more smaller hands to grab my ankles, but I stopped one by throwing my own will against it, forcing the hand to freeze. The other I cut off with a quick slash of my staff. 

Fossor was there, right in front of me. His fist lashed out, and I ducked, my staff snapping up to drive the blade into the side of his wrist. I might as well have been hitting a mountain for all the good it did. His arm didn’t even move. The blade of my staff did nothing to him, any damage it might have been capable of simply and casually passed off to any of the billions of hostages he had. 

The Necromancer, clearly angry by that point, followed up with three more snake-quick strikes. I blocked one, twisted around the second, but the third caught me. He was so fast. Loathe as he obviously was to actually physically involve himself in a confrontation, he was still so fucking fast. And strong. That single blow, a contemptuous backhanded strike, knocked me to the ground. It was a momentary opening, but one that Fossor took advantage of, foot snapping out with deceptive casualness to kick me in the face. It was like being hit by a train. I was thrown to my back, dazed and barely conscious through those brief, crucial seconds. 

Standing over me, Fossor moved to finish up by summoning some kind of ghostly spear, sending it down at my chest with a quick, dismissive gesture. 

But I wasn’t alone. In that instant, the very moment that I was in real danger, Mom was there. She appeared, glowing blade lashing out to cut through the ghostly spear and knock it aside. Instantly, she followed up by summoning a ball of flame, sending it into Fossor’s face. 

It did nothing. He passed off the damage, snarling in annoyance before launching himself at my mother. Not just the man by himself. He summoned more arms, more flames, more blades, all of it filling the air with two intentions: to kill me and to kill my mother. 

If I had been by myself, I would have been dead. But I wasn’t. Mom protected me. With every motion, every snap of her sword, every flick of her finger, she stopped another attack, broke another of Fossor’s summoned blades, or disintegrated another of his ghosts. 

Through that, I somehow forced myself to my feet, intercepting a couple of those attacks myself. And beside me, Rahanvael appeared. She couldn’t do much, but, being a ghost, she could catch some of the intangible spears and blades that were sent at us. She was one more thing to take some of the attacks. 

Between us, between Rahanvael and myself, we managed to give Mom an opening here and there to actually counter-attack. She didn’t have to put everything she had toward saving us. She had a few moments to lash out with attacks of her own. Attacks that would have killed him. Again and again, my mother could have put that fucker in the ground. Her blade cut through his throat, tore into his stomach, her fire engulfed him. But nothing stuck. Nothing could stick. He passed all of it off to his hostages. No matter what we did, no matter how many times Mom fucking killed him, it never mattered. 

Finally, glowing ghost-like bars appeared, rising around Fossor to cut us off from him. I could see the effort on his face, could see that we’d had an effect, no matter what he may have wanted us to think. He was angry. But more than that, he was winded. Everything we’d done, it mattered. He couldn’t dismiss us, couldn’t just knock us aside like weeds. 

“You,” the bastard snarled, “cannot stop me. You will fail. You will fall. Your bodies will be buried here, alone and forgotten. Y–” 

And then a shovel slammed through those summoned bars, shattering them like crystal before crashing into Fossor’s face to send him flying backward from the sheer force of the blow. The evil fuck crashed onto the ground a good couple hundred feet back, just as one of his ghosts disintegrated itself under him so his body wouldn’t hit the dirt without the protective ashes. 

“Not alone,” Gabriel Prosser informed him, straightening to stand beside my mother. “And never forgotten.” 

Nor was he alone. All around us, throughout the quarry, more figures appeared. Sariel, Apollo, Dare, Gwen, Nevada, Kohaku, Carfried, Hisao, Asenath, Seller, Twister, Brom Bones, Mercury, and more appeared. Mateo and his werewolves were here, including Pace and Roxa. May and April were here. Misty and her brother Duncan appeared. Enguerrand, Larissa, and Haiden too. My brother, Wyatt, appeared with Koren beside him. Avalon and Shiori, standing together with Aylen, Miranda, Columbus, Sands and Sarah. Sean was there too, in his still-confusingly older form right alongside his brother Ian.

“No…” Fossor snarled, his eyes daring around to find himself surrounded as he picked himself up. “No, this is–no, you cannot be here! The beacons have not yet broken through the shielding! You cannot have been summoned, you cannot be here!” 

“We had a little help finding the place,” Apollo casually informed him. And with those words, more figures appeared. Ghosts, but ones who had not been summoned by Fossor. 

They were the ghosts I had freed, the ones I’d given the same power as Rahanvael by cutting them away from Fossor’s control. I saw Ahmose at their head, his eyes blazing with fiery hatred for the man who had destroyed and enslaved him for so long. 

“It ends,” the ghost informed his former master, his words echoed by the rest of the ghosts who had accompanied him to this final confrontation. The ghosts who, instead of running and hiding from the monster who had done so much to them, had found my friends, my allies, and brought them here to stop him once and for all. 

A hand touched my arm. My gaze turned, and I saw her. My little sister. Tabbris stood there, tears filling her eyes as she stared at me. “You’re okay,” she whispered, voice so soft it seemed as though she was afraid I would shatter. 

“I’m okay,” I confirmed. Then I extended my hand to her. “You ready for this?” 

Her tears melted away, expression hardening into determination, as she met my hand with her own. “Ready.” 

Then she disappeared, possessing me once more. Back where she belonged. Back with me. 

Now it was time. Either we would stop Fossor here and now. Or we would die, and the Earth would be his forever. 

As one, the army that had arrived to end Fossor once and for all fell in on him. 

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Patreon Snippets 16 (Heretical Edge 2)

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The following are the Heretical Edge edition of the next requested Patreon Snippets from our $10+ donators. In this case, there are only two snippets, but one is 4500 words long, so… less snippet and more ‘about a chapter and a half.’ Hope you all enjoy them, and thanks for everything!

 

Denuvus and Trice

“How is our new guest settling into his quarters?” Denuvus casually asked her young assistant. The two of them stood in a fairly dark room, with a holographic globe of the Earth hovering in the air to take up most of the space within, serving as the only source of illumination. Her fingers played over part of the globe, turning it idly while she watched a line of energy that drew itself up and away, off into what would be open space.  

“The bogeyman is fed and watered,” Trice retorted. The green-haired young Heretic folded his arms while adding, “You gonna tell Miles and his buddies that we’ve got his dad?” They had used the distraction of the assault on Fossor’s compound to snatch up the man. 

“Not just yet,” came the quiet, distracted answer as Denuvus leaned in close to examine the glowing line. “We’ll keep him safe and taken care of for now. Miles and his friends could still be of some use very soon. When the time comes, we’ll give them a target and allow them to rescue Caleb while taking care of a… situation for me. No sense in throwing away perfectly good weapons before making use of them, after all.”

“That guy finds out you’ve had his father and didn’t tell him, he’s gonna be pissed,” Trice noted. 

Denuvus’s response was a dry, “The quiver of my fear at the prospect of such a thing shall shake the foundations of the Earth. Yet I soldier on through grim determination.”

With that, the dark-haired woman raised a hand to point. “Come here and look at this, see what we’re about to do.” 

Frowning, Trice stepped that way, staring at the line. “What the hell am I looking at?” 

“This,” the woman informed him, “is the trail of the magic that our friend Fossor used to send Miss Chambers away from this world and into the future. But by the nature of time travel magic, it can be… twisted, if one acts quickly enough at the exact moment of its casting.” 

Trice gave her a look. “Is that what you were doing while I had to drag the bogeyman dude out of there? Messing with the time travel spell?” 

“I want Miss Chambers to end up where and when I need her,” came the casual reply. “Not where and when Fossor wants her to be. I simply gave the spell a slight… wait.” The calm, confident reply turned faintly, yet noticeably uncertain that last word. 

“Wait?” Trice echoed, glancing at her. “What?” 

“This,” Denuvus informed him while indicating one flickering part of the line, “is where I interfered to send the Chambers girl where I want her.” Slowly, her finger moved up to a different flickering point further along. “This is someone else.” 

“Someone else?” Trice blinked that way. “What do you mean ‘someone else?’ I thought you said you’d have to interfere with the time travel spell at practically the exact moment it was cast.” 

“Yes,” the woman confirmed, “you would. You would also have to be an incredibly gifted and powerful mage to adjust a time spell that had already been adjusted once.” 

Trice looked to the line, then back to her. “So what does that mean?” 

For once, Denuvus looked slightly annoyed, and not entirely in control of the situation. “It means,” she managed through somewhat gritted teeth, “that someone else took control of the spell to move Miss Chambers beyond where Fossor or myself wanted her.” 

“But who the hell could do that?” Trice demanded. “Who was strong enough and knew to do it at that exact time?” 

“That,” came the slow, deliberate response, “is a very good question.” 

 

***********

 

Tabbris and Lincoln

 

“Are you certain this is something you want to do right now?” Sariel Moon asked quietly as she and Lincoln Chambers watched one another in a dimly lit room, the two of them only barely visible to one another through a couple of faintly flickering candles positioned at opposite ends of the table that sat between the pair. “Unlocking your Chimera gift is something you can’t ever do again. Not like this. If you would rather wait until your older daughter is here…”  

“I need to help.” The man’s voice was rough. He’d been through a lot in a short time. They had been so close to getting both Felicity and Joselyn back, and then that was snatched away. Not to mention his discovery that both of his own parents had disappeared, with no one having any idea where they were. There’d been worry for a time that Crossroads or Eden’s Garden had grabbed them, but neither of those groups had made a peep about it. The entire point of taking them would have been as leverage against Felicity and Joselyn, and yet there was nothing. And none of the whispers that the Atherby clan and rebellion at large had heard from those sympathetic to their cause within the Heretic organizations had heard anything about it. 

Maria and Arthur Chambers had simply vanished. Which, given the kind of things Lincoln now knew were out there, made him very anxious about what had prompted such a disappearance. Between that and the thing with Felicity and Joselyn, he hadn’t been getting much sleep. 

With a low sigh, he continued. “I can’t just sit around. I need to help. Felicity–she has a way of getting in trouble. Between her and Jos, and my parents going missing, I can’t just sit here. I’ve been learning a lot about–” He coughed, forcing the word out, “–magic, and believe me, that’s still a thing I can’t believe I’m talking about seriously. I’ve been learning a lot about that, but it’s not enough. I can’t become a normal Heretic–which is also a phrase I can’t believe I’m using– because of my… whatever, my blood, my mutation. I can’t become a Natural Heretic like any of these other humans. I can’t just pick someone to bond to and naturally grow their… gifts.” 

Sariel nodded once. Lincoln was a Chimera-blood, so any bonding he underwent would be temporary. He’d have their gifts, quicker than a normal Natural Heretic would. Yet unlike a normal Natural Heretic, he would go back to normal in a few hours or days, depending on how much genetic material was used to bond him in the first place. 

“As I said,” she quietly reminded the man, “once you unlock your Chimera gift the first time, you will be able to temporarily form a bond with any Alter whose bodily fluids you come into contact with, even through your own skin. Simply touching the blood or saliva of an Alter will create the temporary bonding.” There was a brief pause before the Seosten woman added, “I’m told that the Atherby clan has their own… traditions around the bonding process. A ritual, of sorts, that they have performed for generations. I believe they would greatly appreciate your participation.”

“These people are Joselyn’s family,” Lincoln murmured quietly, watching one of the flickering candles briefly before turning his attention back to the woman. “And they’ve taken care of Felicity and me for a long time now. There’s no way I’d refuse their traditions. Not after everything they’ve done, everything they’ve risked… everything they are. So yes, I’m up for it.” Again, there was a scratchiness to his voice, emotion lurking just under the surface of his words. The Atherbys had done more for his family and the people he loved than Lincoln himself would ever understand. He knew that. And he would be damned before he refused any invitation to participate in their traditions. They were Joselyn’s people, her family, even if that fact had been stripped out of her memory when he’d known her. They were important to her, so they were important to him. The things they did and cared about were important to him. 

Sariel offered him a faint smile that was barely visible, as the shadows and candlelight dueled with one another across her face. “I’m glad our daughter has you for a father, Lincoln Chambers. Which reminds me… as far as your first bonding goes, Tabbris will be very upset if you don’t choose her.” 

“It was always going to be her,” Lincoln assured the woman. “Like you said, she’s our daughter. The kid slept with me at night before I even knew she existed, and she’s been protecting her sister since… since she came to Earth, since before she could even talk. How could I choose anyone else? 

“Besides, between you and me, pissing that kid off feels like a bad idea.” 

*******

The next evening, shortly before sundown, Gabriel Prosser stood at the edge of the lake with his hand outstretched over the water. His eyes were closed as he murmured a quiet yet long spell. The sense of power that came off of the man, power that seemed to infuse itself into the lake, was intense enough to make the hair on the back of any onlooker’s neck stand up. And there were a lot of onlookers. Every single one of the Atherby camp inhabitants who weren’t very young children, up at the Fusion school, or off on one mission or another had shown up. There were dozens of them, all standing in a group as they watched their leader work a spell that most of them knew by heart, given how important it had always been to their people. Some were even murmuring the words to the spell under their breath along with the man, almost akin to a prayer.

Between Prosser and the other Atherby people stood three figures. Sariel, Lincoln and Tabbris. The latter two wore white robes with gold trim, the hoods raised over their heads. Across the back of the robes, also in gold, was the design of a sword held high in a clenched hand. A sword that many of the clan still recognized as the blade of their original king, Arthur Pendragon. 

At Tabbris’ feet sat what looked like an ordinary, small goldfish bowl with a thin glowing forcefield across the top. It was far more than that, however. The interior of the bowl was as large as a decent sized bedroom, and was full of hundreds of bright, colorful fish of all kinds. There was an entire habitat inside that deceptively small-looking fishbowl, and Tabbris could adjust both the sides and top to look at any part of it at any time. They were her fish, the bowl a gift from her mother and its occupants gifts from… well, everyone. 

If Tabbris couldn’t have Flick here for this moment, she’d damn sure wanted her fish friends to be there. 

As he finished speaking the words of the spell, Gabriel grew silent. The rest of the clan followed suit. For a few precious seconds, the only audible sound was that of the waves gently lapping against the pebble-covered beach. There was stillness, a sort of magical peace. The sun had begun to set by that point, sending its red-orange glow across the water. Still, no one broke the silence. 

Finally, the tall dark-skinned man spoke while still facing the lake, his voice filling the air. “In the times of the king, those who were chosen as his knights, his select warriors, were gifted with a strength beyond their own. They were gifted with augmented strengths and powers, raising them above what they could achieve on their own. Arthur’s Dragon gifts allowed him to make others stronger. The man himself, our founder, did not simply protect his people. He enabled them to protect themselves. Our forebears, the people of Camelot, stood against the tyranny and darkness that have threatened this world for millennia. And their cause has not been forgotten. Their beliefs, their strengths, their ideals have not been forgotten. 

He turned then, facing the others while the lake behind him was lit by the fading sun. “In the absence of Arthur, we lack the ability to pass on the enhancement that he was capable of. Yet we are not without strengths of our own. As is the tradition of our people, those humans who join us are bonded to their Natural partner not only once, but twice.” 

Lincoln, of course, had been told about this ahead of time. As had Tabbris. They wouldn’t have ambushed the pair with such a revelation. Still, hearing it out loud like this made the man blink, his hand reaching down to touch the shoulder of his younger daughter. She leaned into it, and the two returned their attention to the man who was still speaking. 

“Our second-bonding,” Gabriel continued, “must be with the same species as the first, but need not be the same individual. A Natural Heretic who is bonded a second time this way will find their gifts growing faster and stronger than before. It is not the same as Arthur’s Dragon-boost, but it is our method of preserving that same idea. A way of giving our people any advantage we can, against the forces assembled against us.” 

As those words trailed off, the man focused on the trio directly in front of him. A slight smile touched his face. “Here we have Lincoln Chambers, husband of our true and rightful leader, Joselyn.” 

He spoke the name simply. Yet the moment the name of Lincoln’s wife left Gabriel’s mouth, every member of the Atherby clan spoke three words together. “True and free!” The words came instantly, filling the air with the force of thunder. True and free, it was a motto that had existed in one form or another since as long as almost any involved with the clan could remember. Yet that meaning had been greatly expanded, embraced, and exhibited by Joselyn herself in her time as the leader of the rebellion that the Atherby clan had been attached to. True and free. Their lives, their goals, their struggles, could be summed up, in large part, by those words. They fought for the truth and they fought for freedom. Freedom to live. Freedom to exist. 

“True and free,” Gabriel echoed in quiet agreement. It was a motto that had remained dormant for a long time, since the loss of Joselyn and her children. Invoking it now, at the moment when one of her husbands was about to go through the bonding process, felt right. It was hope, despite all the setbacks. More than that, it was a statement of determination, a declaration that Joselyn herself, and her youngest daughter, would both be free. 

Once those words had echoed across the lake, the man continued. “Lincoln is special, not only because of his family, but because he himself is quite the accomplished journalist. He is a man who seeks truth, and delivers it to others. Could any of us who know Joselyn be surprised that she would find a man like him?” He was smiling faintly, head shaking a little before adding, “And Lincoln here is also of the Chimera-blood.” That pronouncement made a few people’s eyes widen in surprise, as Gabriel went on. “The bonding process, first or second, will not be permanent. Yet it will unlock his gift to bond with any Alter much more easily. And Lincoln has agreed to undergo the second bonding as well, in keeping with our traditions. For that, we will now prepare.” 

As soon as those words were spoken, the group of Atherby clanspeople began to move. They passed Lincoln, Sariel, and Tabbris, a few offering quiet words of encouragement and gratitude. Over the next few minutes, the people spread out around the edge of the lake, putting enough distance between themselves that would reach all the way around and come back around the other side. 

“What happens now?” The question came not from any of the trio who stood there waiting, but from Abigail Fellows. Joselyn’s eldest daughter stood beside her twin brother and her father, the three having just been revealed when the rest of the clan moved to position themselves around the lake. They would not have missed this for anything. Not considering how important Lincoln was to Joselyn. 

Deveron straightened to his full height. The fact that he now looked like he was in his twenties rather than his teens still sometimes threw everyone who primarily knew him from his two years of deception at Crossroads, but they were gradually growing accustomed to it. “Now,” he answered in a soft voice, “they take the walk.” 

Wyatt, his eyes heavy and dark given the effort he was going through to find a way of bringing his younger sister back from the future, managed to mutter, “Traditions are a bad idea. People take advantage of traditions. Poison the ritual, invoke obscure rules to their benefit, create an ambush. Traditions are routines. Routines are stupid.” 

Deveron glanced to his son, casually replying, “See those birds out there?” Raising his hand, he pointed to a flock of dark crows that were gliding across the trees in a slow circle around the lake. “A few of our Seosten friends are using them to keep an eye on things. We also have guards in the woods, a few emergency teleports set up just in case, and I put a few whispers out that the Atherbys were doing something special for Lincoln near Laramie Falls, just in case.” 

There was a brief pause from Wyatt, before the gangly man gave a somewhat reluctant nod. “That’ll have to do, I suppose.” He knew himself. He knew he was anxious because of Flick, angry that he hadn’t been able to find her in time and now couldn’t drag her backwards through time to bring her back. He was running himself ragged and barely listened to anyone’s attempts to get him to rest at all. Intellectually, Wyatt knew there were few places on the planet safer for this than the Atherby camp. But that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild with all the possibilities of what could go wrong.

Meanwhile, Gabriel had turned to face Lincoln and the other two now that the rest of the clan had assumed their positions. He offered all three of them a smile, as well as his hand. In it was a small, ornate-looking dagger with a red hilt and intricate runes along the slightly curved blade. 

Seeing the blade, Sariel promptly asked, “Are you sure that’s not too big? It’s–” 

“Mama,” Tabbris interrupted while picking up her fishbowl. She held for her mother to take. “It’s okay. I can do it.” With her pets safely held by her mom, she turned back to Gabriel, her small hand rising to take the offered handle. Holding the dagger tightly, she recited the words she had been taught earlier that day. “Sire of Atherby, I am to share with one.”

“Do you share by your own will and choice?” Gabriel recited. 

Her head gave a short nod as she lowered the dagger to hold at her side. “It is a gift, given of choice.” 

“Who holds your left, and who your right?” The man’s next question came. “Who receives your left and right?” 

In some situations, a donating Alter would be attended by two, such as both parents, or siblings. In this case, only Sariel spoke. “I hold her left. I hold her right.” Tradition, of course, meant that she did not say that she held her left and right, but rather, that she spoke the words exactly as they would have been spoken had there been two people. 

Lincoln took his cue to speak then. “I receive her left and right. I accept and welcome the gift as it is offered, by one I trust with my all.” 

“Begin the walk,” Gabriel intoned, stepping back and raising a hand to indicate that they should move to the left. “And when you complete the circle, know that you will both return to this camp as more than you are now. Your bond will never be broken, however far you may part. Leave as halves, and return as whole.” 

As he finished speaking, Sariel took up the next part. “I wait to receive you both, as one.” 

With those words, Lincoln moved forward while taking Tabbris by the hand. Together, they passed Gabriel, stepping right out onto the water. As they did so, the spell that the Atherby leader had cast took effect, turning the liquid firm, yet slightly springy under their feet. 

Turning left, the two began to walk together. Tabbris’ voice was quiet. “I miss Flick.” 

Eyes closing briefly, Lincoln gave a short nod as he squeezed the young girl’s hand. “Me too, Cookie Bear.” He took a breath, forcing himself to continue. “But you know her. You know how she is, who she is. She’ll be okay and we’ll pull her back here. Or she’ll find someone in the future to… to send her back here. But we have to make sure here is as good as possible. And be ready the next time she needs help. Right?” He managed the last word through a tight throat. Keeping it together for Tabbris’s sake was actually helping Lincoln not fall apart entirely. His parents, his wife, his eldest daughter, all of them missing with no idea where or how they were doing. But he had his younger daughter here, and he would be damned before he lost it in front of her. 

By that point, the two had reached the first of the assembled figures who lined the entire length of the lake. Standing on the beach while Lincoln and Tabbris stayed atop the water, Misty (the young Natural Ogre Heretic) extended a hand with a wooden bowl held in her palm. “What do you give? What do you accept?” 

“I give of myself to this clan,” Tabbris recited, her voice cracking just a little bit as she was obviously still thinking of Flick. “I accept this bond.” 

Lincoln, squeezing the girl’s hand slightly before releasing it, spoke the next words. “I give of myself to this clan. I accept this bond.” 

“I, Misty Proell, accept this bond,” came the response, before she murmured a single word of a spell and offered the bowl forward. The bit of magic she had instilled into it made a few runes on the side of the bowl glow briefly. 

Tabbris, taking a breath, carefully raised the dagger and touched it against her forehead, then to her lips, then raised her free arm. A small opening in white robe revealed the pale skin of her arm beneath, where she touched the edge of the blade and drew a very slight cut. Blood lined the blade, before it glowed briefly and the wound healed. There was no hiss or any other reaction from the Seosten girl, given the way the dagger had been enchanted. It immediately healed any damage it did and caused no pain. Fairly useless as a weapon. But then, it wasn’t meant as one.

With a very slightly shaking hand, Tabbris touched the blade to the offered bowl. Immediately, that very small amount of blood was magically pulled from the dagger. Once she did, the bowl vanished from Misty’s hand, even as she nodded for them to continue. 

Next was Misty’s older brother Duncan, who controlled metal using his Natural Ullmis Heretic gifts. He held the bowl that his sister had held moments earlier, as it passed magically down the line to him. In a grave, serious voice, he spoke the same words she had, and they gave the same responses, and he spoke the one-word spell to add a bit of his own power to the bowl. At the proper time, when the bond was accepted, Tabbris touched the blade to her arm once more, drawing another painless, rapidly-healed cut to take another small bit of blood.

The bowl vanished from Duncan’s hand, and they moved on down the line. One by one, working their way around to the midway point on the far side of the lake from where they had started, Tabbris put more of her blood into the bowl. It was only a small amount each time, a few drops. But it added up gradually, as each member of the clan voiced their acceptance of this bonding.

Finally, they reached that halfway point as the sun finished setting, leaving the lake fairly dark. A woman stood there, clad in blue and black form-fitting armor with the white emblem of a griffin in flight across the chest. Guinevere of Camelot held the bowl, which had been about a quarter filled by that point. Rather than repeating the same thing the others up to that point had, however, she instead intoned, “In the name of the King of Kings, your bond is accepted. Your alliance is your strength, as it is all of Camelot and those who have descended from it, still holding those ideals. Let it bring forth your power, so you in turn may stand against those who would see freedom broken.” With those words, the woman spoke the same empowering spell the others had, followed by another two words. Those words triggered the power in the bowl that had been built up by everyone thus far, sending an electric crackle through the blood before she held it out to Tabbris. 

The young Seosten took the bowl, staring at the empowered blood within it. Blood that had been in her, and was now charged by magic from each of the people along the first half of the lake. Empowered so that it would be far more likely to ‘take’ and create a Natural Heretic on the first try. 

“My blood,” she announced quietly before holding the bowl out with both hands toward Lincoln. “I give it freely.” 

“I accept it freely,” Lincoln confirmed, taking the bowl gently before breathing out. They had assured him that the bowl would enchant the blood so that it tasted like nothing, but it still took some effort to get past the thought of what he was doing. Finally, the man raised the bowl to his lips and drank it down as quickly as possible. Once the bowl was empty, he bowed his head and returned it to Tabbris, who in turn returned it to Guinevere. 

Gwen, in turn, took the bowl and spoke once more. “Your gifts are received. And as you make your way back to where you began, they will be strengthened. Go, and see your bond reach beyond what you imagined.” 

For his part, Lincoln felt… stronger. He felt as though years had lifted from his body. He’d been in decent shape anyway, but his age was getting to him here and there through various dull aches. Yet all those had disappeared so suddenly their absence was immediately obvious. He abruptly felt like he was twenty years old again, though there were no physical changes. He was lighter on his feet, his hearing was better, sharper. His eyesight too, had been improved. Taking on, even temporarily, the Seosten powerset had essentially made him the best possible physical version of himself. And that was just the passive enhancements. Was this what it felt like to be a Seosten all the time? 

Turning, he and Tabbris moved to the next person along the shore of the lake. Vanessa. The blonde half-Seosten smiled at her younger sister as the wooden bowl appeared in her hands. “Your bond is unbroken,” she spoke carefully, “Let it serve those in need. Let it protect you, yours, and those who stand before evil. Let it reach from sea to stars.” With those last words, Vanessa first crouched to touch the bowl to the water, then stood and raised it toward the dark sky, as though offering it to the very stars she had just mentioned. Finally, she lowered it, extending the bowl not toward Tabbris, but to Lincoln while speaking a word of empowering magic. 

He, in turn, took the blade that Tabbris offered him, cutting a bit of his own exposed arm before allowing the blood to drip into the bowl. Then they moved on. There were no words for Tabbris and Lincoln to speak at this point. Their duty was to remain solemn and quiet, hearing the words being spoken to them. 

Tristan was next, followed by Haiden. Each spoke the same words Vanessa had, performing the same actions, touching the bowl to the water, then raising it to the sky before offering the bowl to them as they spoke the word to add their power to the spell on the bowl. Throughout that, Lincoln and Tabbris took turns cutting themselves, each mixing their blood in the bowl until they returned to the spot where they had begun. 

Finally, they stood in front of Gabriel once more. The man himself held the bowl with their mixed blood, offering them a soft smile. “Your journey has begun,” he informed the pair. “You have been bonded once, and will soon be twice. You will never be truly apart, despite any distance between you. You are forever linked through these bonds. Bonds that do not hold you, but instead free you. The clan of Atherby, descendants of Arthur’s Camelot, welcome you to our fold. We are as one.” 

With that, he spoke the words that triggered the bonding spell, sending another electric crackle through the blood before offering it to the man across from him. 

Again, Lincoln drank from the bowl. Not all of it, only about half. Then he lowered the bowl and held it to his younger daughter. “We are as one.” 

Tabbris, in turn, drank from the bowl to finish the contents before quietly echoing, “We are as one.” 

She and Lincoln both turned to face one another then, linking hands together while Gabriel put one hand on each of them (on Lincoln’s back and Tabbris’s head). The Atherby leader spoke out loud, while the rest of the clan approached from their positions, walking across the enchanted lake. “We are as one. You are bonded, linked for all of your days.” 

Together, Gabriel and all of those who had gathered to witness the event spoke seven intricate words. They were Mayan in origin, the spell a gift from those people. As the spell was triggered, the blood that had been in the bowl (and was now in both Lincoln and Tabbris) triggered. Both felt a rush of power, a burst of nearly electric shock that made them jump. The second bonding, meant to strengthen the first and give the Natural Heretic a boost to their gifts, had been successful. 

Several long seconds of silence followed, before Tabbris hesitantly and quietly asked, “Dad… are you okay?” 

Lincoln, in turn, nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured before looking back up. “It feels pretty… Tabbris?” 

“What?” Only belatedly did the young girl realize that the man wasn’t the only one staring at her. So were Gabriel, the other assorted clanspeople, her mother, siblings, everyone. “What? What? I don’t–” In mid-sentence, Tabbris turned to look to the side, only to stop short. A single brightly glowing wing made of solid-light energy was there. A glance to her right revealed the same on that side. A pair of energy wings had sprouted from her back at the moment the second bonding boost had been triggered. 

“Your father…” Sariel managed. 

“He’s one of the archangels.”

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Summer Epilogue 21 – Avalon and the Victors (Summer Epilogue End)

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A/N – This is the second chapter posted today. If you have not read the previous one, you may wish to use the previous chapter button above to check that one out first. 

Through the light, yet steady drizzle of rain, a red, nondescript SUV pulled into the parking lot of an old motel several blocks from the beach in Panama City, Florida. The vehicle rolled to a stop just inside the driveway, as a tall man in a raincoat emerged from under the nearby stairwell. He crossed to the driver’s side as the window came down. Several words were exchanged back and forth before the man pointed to a spot. It was the only empty parking space on that side of the motel, sandwiched between two heavy-duty vans with delivery service decals. 

The driver’s side window went up once more, and the SUV pulled up to that spot. There was a brief moment of silence as the engine shut off, save for the patter of rain against the vehicles and the roof of the motel. Then the doors all opened at once. Four pairs of feet hit the ground almost as one, as Avalon Sinclaire and Flick Chambers stepped from the back, and Seller and Abigail Fellows emerged from the front. Wyatt Rendell, Miranda Wallbern and Gordon Kuhn emerged from the back a moment later to join the others, and all moved to the rear of the SUV. 

The seven came out to stand directly in the rain, but no rain actually seemed to hit them. Avalon gave a glance toward the water-repellent enchantment badge clipped to her jacket. Wyatt had passed them out to each of them just before they got out of the vehicle. It made the rain divert about an inch around them as they stood watching the big man from before approach.

His name was Croc, one of the Unset. Avalon had seen him around before she was forced to leave Garden a year earlier, though she hadn’t really spoken to him, of course. Flick had had more interaction with the man in her own short visit there than Avalon ever had. 

“Glad you could make it,” the large Native American man rumbled as he stopped in front of them. He hadn’t bothered with any kind of spell to keep the rain off, simply allowing it to run off his short-cut black hair and enormous arms. “Hope the runaround wasn’t too much.” 

Realizing after a second that the others were waiting for her to respond, Avalon cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sudden lump that had formed in it. Being here now, coming to see the leaders of the organization that she had loved so much before they had all turned their backs on her when she needed them the most, it brought up… feelings. Feelings that were best left bashed over the head with a shovel and buried in an unmarked grave. 

“Five false destinations in two different cities,” she managed after another second of collecting herself. “Not too bad. Wyatt thinks you should’ve gone with at least eight and three to be safe.” 

Wyatt himself gave a short nod. “And one of the spots before this should have seemed to be the right one. You could have had us get out of the vehicle, even go as far as meeting body doubles or illusions just to weed out any possible pursuit or deception.” Though his words were the same as he’d normally say, Avalon noticed the man actually seemed a little more… flushed than normal. He wasn’t really looking directly at Croc, but more toward the man’s abs. 

With a wink, Croc replied, “What makes you think that’s not what this is?” His tone was a bit teasing, making Wyatt flush before he looked back to Avalon. “Ah, do you mind if I ask, is it Avalon you prefer, or Miss Sinclaire? Or ahh, your old name? I’m not quite sure what you–” 

“Avalon,” she quickly put in after giving Flick a brief glance. The blonde girl had smiled reassuringly but silently at her, making Avalon’s own heart flip over before she forced herself to focus on the man in front of her. “Avalon’s fine. That’s my name.” She didn’t mind Hannah, honestly. Hannah Aken was also who she was, as she had so defiantly informed her father in his last few moments alive. That was a part of her that she wouldn’t let others take away. But to keep things relatively simple, Avalon would be fine. Besides, it was as close to a Garden name as she had ever received, and she wanted the Victors to use it. 

Also, it was the name Gaia had given her, and she was damn sure going to hold onto that now.

“Avalon it is, then,” Croc agreed. “And Flick, how’re you doing?” He nodded to the other girl before looking over to the one next to her. “It’s Miranda, isn’t it?” Receiving a nod, the man’s attention moved to the woman at the back. “Abigail,” he greeted her easily, getting a small smile in return.

Finally, the man looked to the remaining member of their entourage. “Sorry, you I don’t know.”  

“This is Gordon,” Avalon informed him, gesturing to the boy. “He’s here to ask the Victors something too. You know, while they’re feeling talkative.” She said the last bit with just a hint of the vast reservoir of resentment and anger that she felt toward that group. It was enough to make Croc raise an eyebrow, his gaze seeming to give her another thorough once over. 

Abigail spoke up then. “We’re all here to see what the Victors have to say. Some of us have questions. Others simply want to judge just how honest and forthright your leaders are ready to be.” Her voice was far more diplomatic than Avalon’s, though hers too had a bit of an edge to it.

Giving a slight nod, Croc turned to walk. “I’ll take you to them. They’re waiting in the dining room around the side.” With that, he led the seven through the rain. On the way, they saw a dozen more people standing around. There were two near a bus stop, a couple walking past with a dog, several more across the street seemingly arguing over a map, and more. Though they appeared to be civilians, Avalon knew better. They were Heretics, Eden’s Garden people who were watching for any kind of attack from their own former friends. Where the rest of what had to be hundreds of people were, she wasn’t certain. Probably still spread out up and down the Florida coastline to avoid drawing attention. And these, the ones they could see, were probably only the tip of the iceberg in the area. The Victors would be heavily protected. 

While she was considering all of that, Croc led them to a door with an unlit open sign. “They’ve cleaned the place out so you can have some privacy, but there’s food waiting.” With a small smile, the big guy opened the door while looking to them with a quietly murmured, “Turns out they really like having a chance to eat at actual Bystander restaurants.” 

Letting out the breath that she hadn’t even noticed she was actually holding, Avalon moved through the doorway first. The restaurant behind was fairly dimly lit, though whether that was for ambiance or just to save a few bucks, she couldn’t say. Behind her, the others came through, and Avalon walked toward the only real source of somewhat brighter light in the room, a series of long tables where seven figures sat, clearly waiting for them to approach. 

It wasn’t Avalon’s first time seeing them, but most of those instances had been either from a distance or very briefly. She’d never been important enough for the Victors to pay attention to until… well, until they had believed Trice and his cronies over her and refused to listen to her explanation. That flash of resentment boiled up once more before she pushed it back down. Now wasn’t the time for dwelling on that. Not when there were much more important things. 

Instead, she focused on examining the group while Croc moved around to speak to them in a hushed (clearly kept private through powers or magic) voice. Her gaze moved over the group. In the middle of the table sat the twin leaders of the Dust Striders, Alexander Helios and Cleo Selene. Their somewhat darker olive skin, black hair, and brown eyes made their relationship to Egypt and their more famous mother even more clear than the name of their tribe. The Dust Striders had gone through several names in the past, but they always in some way related to ancient Egypt or the desert. They were also, to Avalon’s recollection, one of the only tribes whose leadership had not changed the entire time that Garden had been a thing. Most of the others had at least varied it up somewhat over time, but the twin children of Cleopatra had kept a firm command over their tribe since its first inception. 

To the right of Alexander Helios sat the old cowboy, Jack Childs. To his right was his partner, the dark haired, wide-faced man called Lamorak. Both leaders of the Fate’s Shepherds tribe were watching Avalon with expressions she couldn’t read. The two men watched her like that for a moment, before Lamorak leaned over to whisper something in his partner’s ear. They too were obviously using something to prevent anyone from overhearing, because Avalon couldn’t make out any of it. 

The woman who sat next to Jack, at that end of the table, had long red hair, with a single bit at the front that was jet black, which matched the faint black flecks in her otherwise gray eyes. She looked young and beautiful, though Avalon knew she had been alive at least since before the black plague. Her name was Aniyah Keita, and she was one of the leaders of the Reaper tribe. The other Victor, the old Native American called Quevias Quarter, had apparently stayed with the loyalists. Their tribe had been split between their leadership. 

Finally, to the left of Cleo Selene, sat the also young-looking Asian woman known as Fu Hao, and her partner in leading the Vigilant Sons tribe, the small man with dark blue hair (dyed from its natural blond) known as Carseus Elsen. It was to those two that Avalon looked and focused on the most. They were the leaders of the Vigilant Sons, the tribe that she was supposed to belong to. The tribe who should have backed her up against threats both outside of Garden… and within. It was they who she felt the most resentment toward, despite herself. 

They were both staring right back at her, and she felt their gazes sizing her up, likely in more ways than she could possibly comprehend. For a moment, as Croc spoke in magically protected privacy, there was silence from Avalon’s perspective. Through that, she stood still, her gaze locked on the Victors of her old tribe. She would not be the first to look away. Not now. 

Finally, Fu Hao stood. The ancient-yet-young-looking Asian woman silently stepped around the table. All eyes moved to her as she moved smoothly and gracefully to where Avalon stood, stopping in front of her. 

“I am told that you prefer the name of Avalon Sinclaire now, after she who has stood by you.” The voice was loud, filling the room to ensure that all heard it, yet also somehow soft. There was incredible power and strength there, along with a soft reassurance that came from a hundred lifetimes of raising and caring for children, grandchildren, and all who came beyond. It was gentle now, but with a clear sharpness lying just behind that cotton coating. 

“Yes, Victor,” Avalon managed past the lump that had formed in her throat. How she had longed for this voice to reassure her before, the days and nights she had spent wishing that Fu Hao would speak up on her behalf when it had really mattered. She fought to keep her own voice, and her gaze, as steady as possible. She would not show any reaction. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing how they could still affect her. Not that it mattered, given how easily they could read her emotions using any number of their powers. But still, how much she willingly showed was her choice. 

“Avalon Sinclaire,” Fu Hao started then, the sound of her voice dropping to a far more personal level. “We… I… am sorry. I failed you. I failed to stand by one who belonged to my tribe. Not through any fault of yours, but because I did not see one person as being worth antagonizing the leadership of the Lost Scar tribe. Whether you were guilty or not… I did not put the time, effort, or resources into determining that I should have. And I certainly did not give you the aid to gain a fair trial that you deserved. That is my failure, and it was one made not from a lack of capability or by any mistake. It was a deliberate choice, one that I should not have made. I put maintaining relations with Victors Bennett and Dalal over you, because you did not matter to me. You were simply one more recruit. I was wrong. Not because of who your ancestor happens to be, but because if we do not stand up for our own, we have no reason to exist.

“I cannot promise to never make such wrong actions again, but I will, to the best of my ability, remember this. I can offer you nothing better than my deepest, most sincere apologies. I am sorry. I was wrong. I will not insult you by assuming you would desire a return to membership within the tribe, though if that were to be something you would like, it would be yours in a heartbeat. I believe, however, that you have moved on. So I offer you instead a promise that anything you need, should it be within my power to provide, I will do so. 

“You have my apology, my promise to remember this moving forward when it comes to others, and my oath to you that I will provide whatever is within my capability to provide. I was wrong to treat you the way that I did. I was wrong not to care, to see you as a simple number. I do not ask your forgiveness, not now. But I will strive, in the future, to be the sort of person who you deserved to have when you needed her, for others who come after.”  

That… was a lot to digest. As Avalon stood there in silence born more of surprise and uncertainty than the stoicism she had originally been going for, Fu Hao was joined by Carseus Elsen. The short man with his heavily muscled arms stepped around to stand by his partner, also watching Avalon. “She’s right,” he agreed. “We treated you like shit because you didn’t matter, because we didn’t see one person as worth risking conflict with the Lost Scar tribe. She’s also right that we can’t make up for that, and that the timing here, you being spoken to now because of who your ancestor is, that’s just… worse. It doesn’t help anything. So… yeah. I’m sorry too. Not that I expect it to change anything, but I am. Truly and genuinely, I’m sorry. We should have been your tribe leaders, we should have been your tribe, your family. We should have had your back and at least made sure you were given a fair shake. We didn’t. No if’s, and’s or but’s. We failed. I… I’m glad you found someone who you could count on. And I hope she ends up alright at the end of this.” 

“You want to make up for what you did by not being there when I needed you?” Avalon finally managed. “Then promise to help the person who was there for me. Gaia. She took care of me when you didn’t, when you wouldn’t. You want to make up for it? Promise you’ll help free her when we get the chance. They’re going to have more security and protection on her than on anything else. We’ll need really big guns, big guns they might not be expecting, to save her. Be those guns. Help us figure out where she is, and help us get her out when we do. That’s what you can do. That’s how you can make up for it.” 

The two exchanged brief glances and silent communication before Fu Hao bowed slightly to Avalon. “You have our word. Our power and resources will be put to freeing Gaia Sinclaire and returning her to you.” 

That done, the two returned to their seats, and Cleo Selene spoke. “Avalon Sinclaire–Avalon. We’re told that you have something quite important that you would like to tell us. Something that will change quite a bit of how we see this entire conflict.” Her eyebrows were raised, as she sat back in her seat and watched the girl. 

For a moment, Avalon was silent. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing both Seller and Flick standing together. They gave her encouraging nods, and she swallowed before turning back to the assembled seven. 

“Yes. Yes, I do. But first, talk to him.” She gestured to Gordon, watching the group’s eyes move to the boy. “He’s got a question for you. Maybe you can answer.” 

With everyone’s attention centered on him, Gordon hesitated before taking a small step forward. His voice was mostly flat, with a very slight tremble of emotion. “Where is my father?” 

That made the group of Victors exchange glances, Jack Childs slowly speaking up. “I’m sorry, we weren’t aware that the father of a Crossroads student was one of our–” 

“Slaves,” Gordon interrupted before the man could finish referring to him as one of their Heretics. “My father is one of your slaves.” 

Cleo Selene stood from her seat, her gaze laser-focused on the boy in front of the tables. “Are you saying that–” 

“I’m a Hybrid,” Gordon interrupted. “Yeah. My dad is a Hrimthur named Sindri Koraug.” More quietly, he added, “If you know their names. If not, I can–”

“He’s not here.” The answer came from Aniya, as she tapped the table a couple times thoughtfully. “I know the Hrimthur you’re speaking of. Now that I think about it, I can see him in you.” 

Gordon’s eyes focused on the woman, as he swallowed hard. “You–you know him? He’s your–”

Her head shook. “Not mine. He was never part of the Reapers. He’s one of the Lost Scar’s… slaves. But I have seen him. We needed a group of cold-acclimated workers for the world known as T9T2 a year or so ago, and he was there. As far as I know, he’s still part of their workforce.” 

“How is it,”  Alexander Helios began, “that Crossroads has come to have Hybrid students? And how long has–”

“I’m quite certain those questions can wait,” Fu Hao murmured pointedly before looking to Gordon. “We will seek information about your father’s current whereabouts and condition. Anything we find out will be passed to you.” She waited for him to nod before returning her attention to Avalon. “Is that acceptable enough for you to deliver this important news?” 

Avalon hesitated, then inclined her head. “Yeah. And.. yes, I do have news. News that a lot of you and your people probably aren’t going to like. I want to tell you about people known as the Seosten. The people who caused all this. I want to tell you about the people who created this entire situation, who made the Bystander Effect, who use us as their meat puppets in their war against the Fomorians. I want to tell you about them, and… and about my ancestor. I want to tell you the truth about the man you see as a savior, the truth about Hieronymus Bosch and how he was used as much as anyone else.”

“Now hold on just a second,” Jack Childs interrupted. “Just what exactly are you going on about? What’s all this about Sausten?” 

“Seosten,” Avalon corrected. “Say-oh-stun. They’re the alien empire that rules half the universe, created the Bystander Effect so they could make us kill everything not-human we could find in order to make us strong so we’d be good soldiers for them to possess and take against the Fomorians, who control the other half of the universe.” 

“Yeah,” Flick finally put in, “the race of Imperialistic bodysnatchers who manipulate our entire society from behind the scenes and manipulate us into murder-machines are technically the de facto good guys in this situation. I mean, in comparison to the ones who just want to genocide the entire universe.” 

Alexander Helios looked from Flick to Avalon and back again. His mouth opened, but his sister leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, and he remained silent. 

When it was clear that neither he, nor any of the others, were going to say anything, Avalon pushed on. “It’s a lot, I know. The Seosten have been setting up Crossroads from the beginning. They have the ability to possess people, to control them completely, change their memories, all of it. We already know that there is at least one possessing one of the Eden’s Garden Victors. We don’t think it’s one of you, but…” This was going to be even harder. “… but we had to be sure.” 

“Excuse me?” Fu Hao started with a frown. 

Instead of responding, Avalon looked toward Croc. The man gave her a nod, tossing something her way while speaking up. “They’re all clear.” 

Catching it, Avalon showed them the choker in her hand. “This… used to be the ring of Anuk-Ite. It’s one of the only things that can identify when someone is possessed by a Seosten. Croc just checked each of you in the past few minutes while we were talking. You’re clear. Which means the Victor being possessed is one of the loyalists.” 

For a moment, the Victors all turned narrow eyes toward Croc, examining him carefully as they worked through whether they were offended by the duplicity or not. In the end, they chose to let it go, turning back to Avalon as she continued. “So you’re clear. Which means we can move on. And… and for the record, I know none of this is going to be easy for you to hear. No one likes to be told about how they’ve been manipulated at all, let alone for so long. But you need to hear it right now. Because most of all, I want to tell you about how we’re going to change things. About how we have one year to fix this whole situation. We have one year to pull ourselves together.” 

With a frown, Jack Childs spoke up. “Okay, wait. What are you talking about now? First you’re going on about these body snatchers and now you’re trying to–no. No, I think we need to go back to the start. Because with all due respect, this sounds like paranoia born of–”

“Quiet, Jack.”  The words came from Aniyah, the lone Reaper Victor, as she kept a hand on the arm of Lamorak. “The girl’s right about the Seosten.” 

“Yes,” Lamorak himself agreed, rising to his feet. “She is. Aniyah and I have been keeping stuff from all of you until it was time. Now it’s time.” He looked to Avalon, his eternally-surprised expression at odds with the knowing look in his eyes. “I guess if I was waiting for a sign to start talking about Camelot and who our true enemy was, having someone named Avalon show up is a pretty big kick in the pants.” 

“Lamorak?” Alexander Helios started slowly. “You have something to say?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, glancing to Avalon once again. “From the sound of it, we have a whole lot to talk about to get everyone caught up and on the same page. 

“So maybe we should go ahead and fill our plates before we get too far into it. Because this is gonna be a long night.”

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Summer Epilogue 14 – Lillian Meets Joselyn’s Children

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“Can I just say, I never thought I’d actually think, ‘I’m glad I don’t have Aylen’s responsibilities?’”

As she said those words, Flick shifted the fishing pole in her hands while glancing over her left shoulder to where Abigail was sitting. Wyatt was to her right, the adult twins’ younger sister sitting between them. All three held poles with the lines out in the water, perched as they were on the end of the dock.

Abigail made a face. “Telling that girl she’s supposed to be the one who awakens…” She took a breath and let it out again, looking as if she couldn’t believe she was actually saying the words. “… King Arthur. She is supposed to bring him back to life, or wake him up, or whatever she’s supposed to do? Shoving that kind of responsibility onto a teenager… telling her that she’s the only one who can do that?”

“Something tells me Aylen can handle it,” Flick pointed out. “I mean, for one thing, she was never just an average person. She’s part Reaper. She came to the school to rescue her grandfather in the first place. Her grandfather who, by the way, just happens to be the thing that gives all Bosch Heretics their power. So, that’s a thing.”

“I knew there was something off about her,” Wyatt grumbled. “I told the headmistress when she showed up that that girl knew more than she ought to, that she wasn’t surprised by enough, but did she listen? Nope. She dismissed it right out of hand. I should’ve looked deeper. I should’ve checked into her backstory even more.”

With a little smile, Flick nudged him with her elbow. “For all we know, Gaia already knew this stuff. I mean, she did have a lot of secrets.” She looked up to him then. “Besides, if you’d found out more about her, things might’ve been a lot worse. If the Seosten thought Joselyn Atherby’s son was getting too close to the Merlin Key… they might’ve reacted badly.”

While Wyatt grumbled his agreement with that, Abigail spoke up once more. “Actually, it is kind of funny that one of the biggest, most important mythical legends in European history, the one and only King Arthur of Camelot, is supposed to be awakened by a Native American.” She paused then, considering while tilting her head. “Is that cultural appropriation? I’m not sure.”

“I think it’s kind of a gray area,” Flick replied dryly.

They sat in silence for a minute, considering that. Then Wyatt nodded out into the water. “Your sharks are still watching us.”

“Yup,” Flick confirmed. “I promised them we go swimming later. And they’re still confused about why I’m bothering with this,” she hefted the pole, “instead of just letting them bring all the fish we could want. I explained it, but I’m pretty sure they still think I’m crazy.”

Coughing, Abigail replied, “So, your pet sharks think you’re crazy because you explained fishing to them? Yeah, I can’t see anything wrong with that.” Letting out a long, low breath, she muttered, “This is such a strange world.”

“It’s a lot more than that, Mom.” With those words, Koren joined the trio at the end of the dock, dropping down beside her mother. “Remember, there’s lots of worlds out there. It’s a strange universe.”

With a groan at the reminder, Abigail passed her fishing pole to her daughter. “Make yourself useful and reel in something tasty.”

Koren glanced to Flick. “Your sharks are right, by the way. You should’ve just had them bring some fish for you. That would’ve made this whole thing take like two minutes, tops. Much more efficient.”

The other girl scoffed at that, “And let them have all the fun? No way. Then we’d miss out on this.”

Squinting disbelievingly, Koren muttered, “Yeah, right. Wouldn’t want to miss out on all this excitement.” Turning back to look at the tranquil lake, she added in a low monotone, “Whooooo.”

Flick shook her head at that. “No, see, it’s not exciting. It’s calming. And that’s a good thing. Especially if you know who actually makes it today. Cuz that’s gonna be exciting enough on its own.”

Wyatt nodded quickly. “Lillian. Our mother’s old roommate.” His voice held a mixture of anticipation and worry for how that might go.

“And best friend,” Abigail added. “I wonder what she’s like. Did anyone talk to her at that family day thing before it was all…” she swallowed hard. “Before it was interrupted?”

Flick’s head shook. “I didn’t really get much of a chance. I just saw her from a distance.”

“I talked to her a little bit,” Koren put in. “You know, before…” She trailed off, making a face at the unwanted memories that crapped in despite all efforts to suppress them. “Before Ammon.” Sighing as they all thought about how that had gone in silence for a moment, she then pushed on pointedly. “She seemed nice, and funny. She was teasing Rebecca a little bit about having this crush on…” She hesitated, before shaking her head. “… on somebody. She never actually said who. Some boy in our class. Rebecca was throwing things at her to make her shut up.”

“Good,” her mother primly informed her. “It’s none of our business who Rebecca has a crush on.” She paused before but slyly adding, “Although, I wonder if it’s that boy who was…” In mid-sentence, she stopped talking, looking thoughtful.

“Who?” Koren prompted. Getting nothing but a little smile from her mother, the girl groaned and pushed her arm. “Oh come on! You can’t do that!”

Before Abigail could respond to that, Flick cleared her throat and turned to look over her shoulder. As the others did the same, they saw two figures walking toward the dock. As diminutive as both were, it wasn’t hard to know their identities at a glance, even before they saw their faces in the dim, early morning light.

“Hey, Rebecca!” Flick called, pushing herself to her feet while leaving her pole sitting right beside her. Unfortunately, the very second she let it go, something on the other end of the line bit down and the pole was yanked off the dock to disappear into the water. Spinning that way to see it go, the blonde girl exhaled long and hard. “Yeah, that figures.”

Rebecca and her grandmother had reached the dock by then, the latter stopping short as she let her wide-eyed gaze move over all four of the people there. “Oh Gods,” she murmured, “It is you. The twins. You’re alive… You’re…” Tears had already sprung to the woman’s face as she hurriedly strode that way, grabbing Abigail in a tight hug as the woman stood to meet her. “Baby girl! Oh sweet baby girl!“

Shipping on her feet, Abigail slowly return the hug while coughing. “Not gonna lie, it’s been a long time since anyone called me that.”

“Sweet little pudding cup,” Lillian managed in a teary voice as she leaned back to look up at the taller woman. “I remember holding you when you were so tiny. When they took you, when we thought you could be…” Her eyes blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her face as she looked over to Wyatt.

The man instantly froze with a deer-in-headlights look, hands up. “There’s no need for hugging,” he put in a bit stiffly. “Our introductions, or reintroductions, can proceed just fine without…” He trailed off then, as Lillian had stepped over in front of him.

“Young man,” she began, “I am not in the habit of forcing the people I care about to do anything that makes them so uncomfortable.” Clearing her throat, she raised a hand and extended it to him. “I will hug you when and if you ask, no sooner.”

Wyatt, for his part, looked a bit uncertain, but raised his hand to shake hers. He hesitated, before asking, “You really knew us as children?”

“Hardly more than infants,” the woman corrected before nodding. “But yes. You were both so clingy to each other. You couldn’t do anything unless the other one was either in your line of sight or touching you. The scene you must have made when they separated you…” She grimaced, her fist having tightened so much the whites of her knuckles were visible.

Flick and Koren exchanged glances, before the latter spoke up. “Ruthers is a real piece of work, huh?”

Squeezing Wyatt’s hand once more with a warm smile of assurance, Lillian turned to the younger girl. “And you. Somehow, I knew that you were more familiar than you should have been. I couldn’t understand it then, but now…” She took a step that way, embracing her. “I can’t believe your mother remembered the name Koren.”

Abigail nodded vigorously. “Neither can I, honestly. If I was an infant the last time I heard it, how would I remember it? The only thing I can think is that someone used the name where I could hear them when I was older, after they already adopted me out. Maybe one of the Heretics came to check in or something?”

With a slight nod of agreement, Lillian murmured, “Yes, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if that bastard sent people to check in on you through your whole life.”

Rebecca, who had been quiet throughout the encounter so far, finally spoke up. “Abigail isn’t the only one who remembered her name, though. Grandma remembered the name Joselyn, and Flick’s mom remembered the name Lillian.”

Flick glanced to the girl before returning her gaze to Lillian. “She’s got a point. And those names were magically erased.” She paused before quietly adding, “I guess that’s just how much you and Mom meant to each other, huh?”

It was her turn to be hugged then, as Lillian stepped over and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You look so much like your mother,” the woman breath while holding her tight. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I didn’t immediately see it the second I saw you. And everything you’ve done, she would be… She is so proud of you.” She leaned back them to look at the rest. “She is so proud of all of you. I know she is. You’re together. You’re helping each other. You’re…” Her head shook and she had to take a moment to collect herself. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” Pausing then, she looked over Flick’s shoulder to the water and cleared her throat. “And you’ve made some interesting friends, I see.”

Turning with the others, Flick looked that way to see one of her sharks poking her head up from the water with the missing fishing pole in her mouth. Immediately beaming, she made a small portal with one hand and stuck her hand through to reach the shark’s head, which she patted fondly. “Good girl, Simpson! See? Even if they think I’m crazy for this whole fishing pole thing, they’re still willing to help. Now let’s see…” Pulling the pole through the portal, she began reeling in the still somewhat weakly struggling fish. In the end, it came through the portal and into her hand, and she held it up, beaming. “I caught a fish!”

Koren sniffed airily. “I think your shark gets like three quarters of the credit for that one.”

“It totally counts,” Flick insisted, briefly sticking her tongue out at the other girl before admiring her catch. “See, I told you I could catch one.” Pausing, her head tilted. “Now what do we do with it?”

Lillian answered, “Gut it and clean it.”

Blanching, Flick looked at the fish in her hand, then promptly turned to throw it to the waiting shark. “You’re right,” she informed Koren. “Simpson deserves most of the credit. I shouldn’t be greedy.”

While the other is all exchanged doubtful looks, the blonde girl clapped her hands once. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but fishing and meeting people makes me hungry.

“How about we go get some breakfast?”

******

“So, you were really my mom‘s best friend?” Flick asked a couple hours later as she and Lillian walked together along the side of the lake. They had eaten breakfast with the others before the woman took a little time with just the adult twins. Now it was Flick’s turn to be alone with her.

“Am,” Lillian corrected. “I am Joselyn’s best friend. At least as far as I’m concerned. Anyone who wants to take that title away from me is going to have to fight me for it. And I bite.” She winked before looking more seriously at the younger woman. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been there at all.”

Flinching at that, Flick quickly shook her head. “It is so far beyond not your fault, it’s not even funny. You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t remember any of it.”

Lillian stopped walking then, turning to put a hand on her shoulder. “That doesn’t stop me from being sorry that I wasn’t there. Your mother was always there for me. She helped me with so much, taught me so much. She made me laugh, she made me…” She sighed and murmured, “I should have been there. And I will be from now on.”

Hesitating, Flick asked, “What about your daughter? Rebecca’s mom, I mean.”

“I don’t know where she stands just yet,” Lillian admitted. “She or her husband. I haven’t heard from either of them. But I’m going to find out. And I’m going to make sure they understand. I’m going to bring them into this, if… if I can. I just hope they’re okay. If Ruthers’ people have done anything to them…”

“I’m sure we’ll find them,” Flick quickly put in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel even more worried than you already are. Gabriel’s people will probably find them. Or maybe one of the other runaway Heretic groups will know something. Like your group, I mean.”

With a small smile, Lillian nodded. “Thank you, Felicity.”

Hearing that name made Flick hesitate before she quietly asked, “If you’re my mom‘s best friend, could you tell me where she got that name from? I kind of have the impression it’s something important.”

“Oh, it is,” Lillian confirmed. “I mean, first, you know what it means, right? Felicity means happiness.” When the younger girl nodded, she went on. “But of course, it’s more than that.”

“I figured it was,” Flick murmured. “Where did she get it from? Why does the name Felicity mean so much to her?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the woman replied before glancing back to the girl as she started to walk once more. “It’s because that’s where I was born.”

Blinking twice before quickly following, Flick blurted, “Wait, what? Where you grew up?”

Lillian nodded, stopping to grab a rock from the ground, which she tossed out to skip over the water as she continued to walk. “Yep, Felicity, Ohio. That’s where I was born, and where I grew up before Crossroads. It’s a tiny town. I mean, even now, let alone then. I think it’s got like a thousand people there today. It’s barely a blip on the map. Not even on lots of them. But it’s there, and it was home for a long time.” She was smiling faintly at fond memories that obviously came with those words.

Walking beside her, Flick hesitantly asked, “So, my mom named me after your hometown?”

“It was better than calling you Ohio,” Lillian teased with a wink. “But yes. It was when we were still at school. We were telling stories in our room a long time after we were supposed to be asleep. I told her a story about going camping with my brother and what it was like out there, and she said, ‘Lillian, you’re my best friend. I am going to name my daughter after you.’ But I said she couldn’t do that because then her daughter and I wouldn’t know which Lillian she loved more.”

She fell silent for a few long seconds, her eyes adopting a far-off look as she remembered those much simpler and more innocent times. Despite her silence however, Flick knew better than to interrupt or prod the woman. She remained quiet as well, walking slowly alongside her.

Finally, Lillian exhaled a little sadly before speaking once more. “Anyway, Joselyn said, ‘Fine, then I’ll name her after your hometown. I’ll call her Felicity. Because Felicity means happy, and you make me happy.’ She… she used to say that Felicity was the source of her happiness.” Pausing, she reiterated. “Felicity was the source of her happiness, because that was where I came from, and I made her happy.” There were tears in the woman’s eyes then, and it took her a moment to somewhat shakily finish with, “Because that’s where I came from. Felicity, Ohio.”

She stopped walking then, hanging her head a little. “She’s my best friend, and I haven’t been there for her at all through any of this.”

Flick didn’t hesitate. She stepped around in front of the woman and embraced her tightly. “You’re here now. You remember now. That’s what matters. I’m just glad you’re okay, and she will be too.”

Lillian returned the hug just as tightly. “Yes,” she promised. “I’m here and I’m staying. And we are going to find her, do you hear me? We are going to find that piece of shit necroasshole and get her away from him.”

Meeting her gaze for a moment, Flick slowly and seriously nodded. “Yes, we are.”

Reading her expression easily, Lillian lifted an eyebrow. “And when that fucker tries something on your birthday, we’ll be ready for him.”

Flick swallowed at that. “Right. Yeah, we’ll… be ready.” Taking another breath, she tried to make things better by asking, “Could you maybe tell me a story about you and my mom in school?”

Calming herself for the girl’s sake, Lillian managed a soft smile. “Felicity, I have more stories than I could tell you in a whole year.

“Why don’t we start with the one about the Codell Tornadoes?”

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Summer Epilogue 10 (Heretical Edge)

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“Oh damn it, I liked you as a teacher!”

The outburst came from Tristan, as the boy put the heels of both hands against his forehead, fingers pressed against his scalp. “Seriously, dude, you’re possessed too?”

Wyatt, meanwhile, had a hand against his own forehead as well. In his case, however, the man was repeatedly slapping himself. “No! No, should’ve known. I did it wrong. I knew I did it wrong. Had to test. I had to test and it was supposed to work. What did I do wrong?”

There was a brief pause as the man in the doorway blinked at her, before stepping fully inside. “First, Mr. Moon,” he began simply, “I promise, the man you enjoyed having as an instructor is basically the exact same guy you always knew. My, ahhh… influence runs pretty much the same way as Sariel there. You know, I act as subtly as possible, and only taking direct control when I absolutely have to. For the most part, all the teaching you experienced was from Benji himself.”

Flick was pointing at him. “You–that–we tested you! I tested you! I swear, I used the choker thing and you didn’t show up as Seosten. And Wyatt! He’s right! Wyatt used the ejection rune thing on everyone who came in here. Why wouldn’t it work on you? Why didn’t you show up as Seosten before? What?”

Holding up both hands for peace, the Seosten-possessed-man carefully replied, “There’s a reason for both of those not working. My old friends here, they already know.”

“Amitiel,” Sariel herself announced neutrally, already having moved to step in front of the man.  

“He prefers Mercury,” Apollo reminded her as he put himself beside his pseudo-sibling. “Right?”

The man wearing Benji Carfried gave a very slight swallow before his head bowed. “Yup. That’s right. Mercury’s my name. Just like Apollo is yours. Do you want to explain why their tests didn’t work?”

“It’s Mercury’s Olympian power,” Apollo murmured, glancing to the others. “It allows him to extend, delay, or quicken the effects of any magic that’s used on him. When you tested him with the choker, or the expulsion rune, he just delayed the effect long enough to convince you it didn’t work, then got out of sight before letting it happen.”

Wyatt, cursing rapidly under his breath, yanked a well-worn notebook from his pocket once more and set about rapidly scrawling in it. He tore three pages out, looked around briefly as though looking for somewhere to throw them, then simply shoved the paper into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before setting out to scribble even faster.

“Errr, right,” Mercury murmured at that before shaking his head. “But before we get too far with this, I ahh, I’d kind of like to speak to you guys directly. Without my host, I mean. Do you have a place for him to rest for the time being? He and I… we need to have a conversation about where we’re going from here, if he’s up for it. But that can wait. This seemed more pressing.”

“So you’re not going to try to possess him against his will again?” Flick put in, staring intently at the man. She too had enjoyed Carfried as a teacher and didn’t know what all this meant for that, despite Mercury’s words. “You’re not just gonna make some deal about jumping back in?”

The man offered her a brief, genuine smile. “You know, I’m pretty sure the days of that are almost gone as it is,” he pointed out. “After all, Liesje’s spell must be pretty close to being ready to go. So I would’ve revealed myself eventually regardless.”

He heaved a slow sigh. “No, I’ve no intention of forcing control of Benji again, after this. I’d… ahhh, kind of like it if somebody else would sorta… talk to him and explain the situation. Tell him that, if he wants, we can have a face-to-face conversation any way he wants. Or I can leave him alone. His choice. Either way, it’d  be best if he hears it from someone other than me, at first.”

Vanessa spoke up then. “You really don’t take much control of your vict–host?” She was squinting suspiciously at him.

Clearing Carfried’s throat, Mercury quietly pointed out, “Yeah, I get your doubts, trust me. All I can say is that you’ll see for yourself when you talk to him enough after I’m gone. You’ll know it’s him. He’s your teacher and he always was. I took control only when I had to for my mission. Or to protect some other Seosten secret. For the vast majority of my time with Benji, I was a passive observer.”

“He definitely sounds different,” Flick pointed out. “I can’t explain it, but he’s not really talking like Carfried does. If I didn’t know about Seosten or anything, I’d almost say they were twins.”

From the corner where she was still standing, Gwen agreed, “She’s right. This guy may look like Benji Carfried, but you can tell the difference. He’s not trying to blend in. I can’t say if that means that he wasn’t acting different before, or that it proves what he’s claiming about not taking control. But he is different now.” As she spoke, the woman continued to look the man up and down with a hard, yet thoughtful expression, still deciding exactly what she thought of him.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail suddenly put in, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole ‘Flick, Tristan, Vanessa, and Tabbris have been co-opted by Aphrodite to convince an intergalactic evil empire to completely change everything about itself in order to win a war against another intergalactic evil empire full of even worse monsters, and they have a year to do it’… thing. Now this guy’s another Seosten?” She paused, taking a breath before exhaling long and hard while muttering, “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss law school.”

“Don’t worry,” Flick assured her sister with a hand on her shoulder, “we’ll let you learn Seosten law so you can help convince the Seraphs not to kill all of us.” As Abigail lifted her head to squint at her, the girl raised her hand to give a thumbs up. “You got this.”

Lincoln finally spoke, standing up. “Well, Mr… ahh, Mercury. Whatever’s going on, I guess you can put your… host over in the bedroom here.” He waved for the man to follow while heading that way. “He can sleep on the bed, and we’ll explain things to him later.” Pausing, he added, “I should probably make sure there’s alcohol nearby at the time.”

While the two went to do that, Gwen took a breath before quietly asking, “Are you sure we can trust him to tell us the truth about the Merlin Key?” Her eyes were on Sariel and Apollo.

The ‘twins’ exchanged glances before Sariel spoke. “He has no real reason to lie right now. It’s in the best interest of everyone who stays on Earth that Arthur be awake before the year is up. The Seraphim are much more likely to listen to alliance suggestions if we make them from a position of strength.”

Apollo nodded. “Kinda hard to get any stronger than a natural Dragon-Heretic. If you guys say that Jophiel sent him, I don’t see why he’d lie about anything here. He has to know that that would be a bad idea for the trust they’re trying to foster.”

“And,” Sariel added, “he’s the one who first convinced us to… to save Chayyiel. He begged us to find a way to get her out of Tartarus. He was willing to risk everything, willing to do anything, to save her.” She paused briefly, before finishing with, “I’d say we can trust him for that, if nothing else. Besides, as we said, he has no tactical reason to lie right now.”

Tabbris, holding onto her mother’s arm, asked, “Does he really possess people like you did?”

“As far as we know, he does,” Apollo confirmed. “Mercury was always getting in trouble for not taking more control, for not having a… firm hold on his hosts. If he says he’s barely been doing anything with Carfried, I’d believe him.”

“Thanks.” That voice, unknown to most of them until now, came from the doorway where Lincoln stood with the actual Mercury. He was shorter than the man beside him, yet taller than his host, standing just over six feet. His hair, dark red to the point of nearly being black, was worn long, with a tight ponytail, and his skin was very tanned, with firm, lean muscles. He looked like a lightweight boxer, with eyes that were bright green.

“I’d like to say it’s nice to meet all of you face to face,” the Seosten observed. “Honestly, I would’ve preferred to do it without all this tension, but I suppose that was pretty inevitable.” Taking a breath, he stepped forward and extended a hand toward them. “Let’s start this again. You can call me Mercury.”

Haiden was the first to step that way, taking the man’s hand firmly as he looked him straight in the eyes. “I hope my wife and brother-in-law are right about trusting you with this.”

“Yes,” a new voice announced from the entrance into the cabin. Athena stood there, watching the other Seosten as she let the door close after her. “So do I.” Glancing to Flick and the others, she added, “Guinevere has brought me up to date about what happened. I…” She paused to consider, then finished with, “I’m sorry you were put in that kind of position.”

Vanessa offered her a weak shrug. “We’ve been in worse. I mean, Jophiel isn’t that bad.”

With a small smile, Athena agreed, “Yes, there were certainly worse people who could have discovered Tabbris at the lab that day.”

She and Gwen exchanged brief looks and a silent conversation passed between the two before Athena turned back to the others, her gaze finding Mercury once more. “As tense as it may be for some of us, for this alliance to ever work, we are going to have to trust each other.”

“In the… interest of that,” Mercury began slowly, “there’s something that Chayyiel was trying to convince me to do a long time ago. I resisted. But it’s probably time, if it’ll help with trust.” While the rest of the room looked uncertain, he focused on Flick. “The Anuk-Ite choker, do you have access to it?”

Of all the things he could have said right then, that was probably one of the most surprising. Blinking at him, Flick hesitated before looking over toward Athena. Only when the woman nodded to her, did she hold her hand out. “Tabs?” Tabbris, in turn, produced the necklace and passed it over.

“Go ahead,” Mercury urged gently while putting his hand out, palm down. “Test me.”

“But you’re–” Stopping herself, Flick put the choker on, adjusting it. Giving one last look to the others, she shrugged before putting her hand on his. Her eyes had just begun to squint that way when she jumped, stumbling backward a step. “What–the–but you’re–”

“SPS,” Abigail murmured. “You’re an SPS-Seosten, like Theia, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure what that stands for,” Mercury replied, “but I am what my people call a Lie, yes.”

Sariel was staring at him. “You… you’ve been like this the whole time. Back in the lab, you were supposed to have disappeared, run off with some supplies or something. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“And that’s why Chayyiel trusted you,” Apollo added. “Why you were so intent on saving her. And why you prefer the name Mercury instead of Amitiel. Because you’re not really Amitiel.”

“She kept my secret,” Mercury confirmed, swallowing visibly. “She… she was my friend, in the lab. The original Amitiel saw me in her room when I went to visit her, and jumped to conclusions. We fought. He was gonna…” He grimaced, looking away. “He was going to kill me and tell them that I was doing things to Chayyiel. She was my friend. I would never–” Cutting himself off, he sighed. “I possessed him. We… struggled. I won. I was going to turn myself in, but Chayyiel convinced me not to. So it’s been a secret. Our secret. Until now.”

Flick, who had been staring at the man that whole time, swallowed hard. “That… you’ve been keeping that kind of secret for that long?”

“Yeah,” the man murmured, “saying it out loud like this is pretty… pretty hard.”

It was Tabbris who moved to him then. Stepping in front of Flick, the young girl squinted before speaking softly. “It must’ve been really scary to hide for so long, around so many people that would’ve hated you.”

Meeting her eyes, Mercury slowly sank to one knee. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I kinda got used to it. Mostly, anyway. But I never forgot that I didn’t belong there.”

After a very brief hesitation, Tabbris reached out to embrace the man. “It’s okay,” she informed him. “You can belong here, if you want to.”

Flick glanced to her younger sister and partner before nodding. “Yeah,” she murmured, “she’s right. If you’re open about things now. Which means telling us everything about this… Merlin Key.”  

Taking that as her opening, Gwen stepped forward with a nod. “Yes. Everything.”

Glancing up to her, Mercury offered a slight smile. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad to have good news for you, your majesty. And not just because I’d rather not have to face you when you’re angry.”

He straightened then, standing up to face the woman. “I should probably explain first. You see, Chayyiel… she wants to bring back Arthur too. She had me track down and keep an eye on the Merlin Key, to make sure they’re safe.” Pausing, he amended, “Well, technically my official orders from Metatron were to make sure the Merlin Key didn’t do what they’re supposed to do, and that no one found them.”

Raising his hand, Tristan asked, “Not that I’m objecting, but they didn’t tell you to just… kill this Merlin Key?”

The man shook his head. “No one exactly knows how the Key is supposed to wake up Arthur. They’re worried that if the person is put in too much danger, that could be what wakes him up. The rules were to keep an eye on them and keep anyone else from interfering or doing anything that might set things off. Chayyiel wanted me to watch for the right moment and… help things along.” His gaze moved to Gwen. “When I saw you, as you, that’s when I figured it must be about time. At least… time to tell you all the truth about it.”

“Yeah,” Abigail put in, “I’ve kind of noticed that you’ve been really careful to not even give away the gender of this Merlin Key while you’re talking. It’s all ‘they’ and other such words.”

With a slight chuckle, Mercury bowed his head to acknowledge that. “True. I ahh, sorry, product of spending a long time keeping secrets. I’m a little too accustomed to being careful.”

“Okay,” Haiden acknowledged. “So who is this Merlin Key? Are they here at the camp?”

Holding up a hand, the Seosten man murmured, “First, yes, they are here at the camp. But before we get into the who, we need to make something clear.” His eyes moved over everyone in the room slowly, his voice firm. “This is the one chance to bring Arthur back. One. If we fuck this up, he’s gone forever. And here’s the thing, even the Imperium doesn’t actually know what might make him return. We know who is supposed to bring him back, but not how. Putting that person in danger might be the thing that triggers it. Or that might stop it. No one knows. But we do know that if Metatron and the other Seraphim find out that you know who it is, let alone that you’re trying to make it happen, they might just panic. The last thing we need is panicking hostile Seraphim in the middle of a truce. So everything we talk about here, everything, has to stay secret. I mean it cannot leave this room. At all. I don’t care how much you trust someone else, things have a way of getting out there.”

Abigail’s mouth opened to respond to that, but Athena spoke first. “He’s right. We won’t get another chance to bring Arthur back. If this goes wrong, that’s it. So we have to make it perfect. Which means not letting the information out of this room. If anyone here isn’t okay with that, you’re free to leave.”

Apollo nodded, arms folding across his chest. “Believe us, if the Seosten Empire can stop Arthur from returning, they will. Too many of them will always see him as too much of a threat to their power, instead of as the ally against the Fomorians that he could be. So we’re gonna have to play this perfectly. Which is gonna mean keeping secrets. For now.”

“We can do that.” That was Vanessa, her voice soft and reflective. “If it’s a chance to bring Arthur back to life, I think you’re probably right about keeping it secret.”

“But if the Imperium already knows who it is,” Flick put in, “what if they get jumpy and order something done about them?”

“I’ll be the one they ask,” Mercury pointed out. “And I’ll give you the heads up. That’s another reason for why we have to keep it secret. If they find out I’m talking to you, this whole thing blows up.”  

Slowly, and with various degrees of reluctance, everyone in the room agreed to keep the identity of the Merlin Key secret, until the time was right. Once they had all done so, Tristan offered, “You know, this might be a bad time to ask, but are we keeping the whole Merlin Key thing secret from… well, them? The person themselves, I mean. Cuz that could be a pretty big conversation all by itself.”

“It’s okay,” Mercury informed him simply, “that’s not a conversation you have to have. Mostly because I already had it. I’ve revealed myself to the Merlin Key and I’ve been talking them through it for the past few days. It felt like something they should know ahead of time. I’ve been helping them deal with it.”

“You have?” Tristan blurted, snapping his fingers. “Oh. Well, I was kind of thinking it’d be Avalon. You know, the name Avalon and all. It seemed appropriate.” He frowned then. “Except they were trying pretty hard to kill her before… huh. Okay, that doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s no one in this room,” Mercury assured him with a slight smile. “Though I have asked them to come here. Now that we’ve talked it out this far, they should be–”

Once again, the people in the cabin were interrupted by a knock at the door. As everyone else looked that way, Lincoln stepped over, glanced to the others, and then opened it.

Everyone watched then as the person destined to bring back the Once and Future King stepped hesitantly into the room, the door closing behind them.

“Uhhh… hi. I umm, I guess back when Arthur was still… right before his village was attacked, right before he… before he became a Dragon-Heretic, my grandfather was the Reaper who met him.

“Which I guess means,” Aylen Tamaya continued, “I’m the one who has to wake him up.”

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