The next time was that same day when Alfhild trapped us on the lighthouse beach, and I thought she was going to tear Ström from our bond and kill us.
And just recently, I produced it all by myself, after Mikkel’s and mydisastrous fuck session in the gaming hall, when my magic resonating with his made me go utterly dark.
Just as it did those times, our combined power explodes now. As it blazes into a true firestorm of magic, razing the underground cistern, I catch my breath, astonished that Ström’s towering emotions have been able to blast this strange phenomenon from us once more.
I don’t know how to control it, or what it takes to ignite; but somehow, Ström triggered it, as at last, that tremendous firestorm gutters out.
Nothing is left of Alfhild’s sanctuary as the fires of our combined magics recede, only winds of swirling white ash that blow around the scorched walls and steaming water of the cistern.
The table that held Alfhild’s moonstone jewelry is gone, as is the bed. The necklace, bracelet, and earrings Ström left upon the table have been obliterated; he stares at that vacancy and the blowing ash a long moment.
Before he nods.
Turning, he leads the way through the dark passage, towards the Jarl’s palace. It’s a long trek to get back to the center of Copenhagen. Not only that, but these ancient tunnels twist and turn, often branching in a way that makes Ström pause before he closes his eyes, feeling for the next cursed door.
Ström is confident as he draws on Baldur’s power to light up his curse-breaking skill like wildfire now, however, feeling the next passage we have to take to get to the next cursed door, and the next. He has a memory as good as mine, but I feel Ström’s inner darkness devouring him as he moves through these old tunnels where he last went with Alfhild Fey.
It startles Ström and me both when Baldur steps to Ström’s side, taking his hand as we walk. As Ström startles, stopping in the passage and glancing at Baldur, I see Baldur’s sad, honest smile. I feel him open his power even further, offering Ström light to banish the darkness. Ström takes it gratefully as he heaves a deep breath.
Squeezing Baldur’s hand with an easier smile, before dropping it and moving on.
It takes a long while, an hour or more that Mikkel doesn’t have, to get through the ancient labyrinth of underground tunnels. I feel Mikkel pass out two more times from torture as we walk—before Baldur stumbles in the passage, driving down hard onto one knee.
Baldur closes his eyes for a long moment before Ström helps him back up. I go to him in shock now; because I’ve only just noticed Baldur’s got a massive funnel of his power wide-open in our bond.
Right to Mikkel.
Baldur’s been expertly hiding it from me this entire time, that he’s been feeding Mikkel his own brightness to keep him going. He’s been doing it not just here in the tunnels, but all night; as we drove here, as we found Alfhild’s lair, even when Mikkel was first captured. It’s only now that I realize Baldur’s been dividing his power ever since my Third Drake was captured, sending Mikkel the largest part of his energy.
To keep him hale and alive until we can come and free him.
“Baldur!” I come to him, my Fourth Drake leaning heavily on Ström now.
Wiped.
“Couldn’t hide what I was doing from you anymore, could I?” he says wryly now as a sad smile takes him. As I come to him in the passage, cupping his face in my hands, I feel how deathly cold he is.
Not Baldur’s usual—his incredible sunlight nearly tapped out.
“Jesus! You’re cold as stone,” I say as I cuddle close to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“I’ll be alright a little longer.” He is calm as he kisses my temple.
“You’ve been healing Mikkel this entire time.” Something like respect is shining in Bjorn’s eyes now as he comes to us. “You’ve been healing Mikkel after each round of torture. That’s why he hasn’t been permanently maimed, even though he hasn’t been able to shift.”
“His power and mine are dissimilar enough that I can’t give him what he needs to shift and break his chains.” Baldur is apologetic now as he watches Bjorn, then me. “I could only give him power to heal after eachround of damage. Unfortunately, it makes his guards just give him more each time they see his flesh cease to drip blood—and it takes more from me than I had expected.”
“Take mine.” Bjorn steps in now, as he offers Baldur his hand. “Use my power, because Ström needs his for curse breaking right now, supported by Rikyava. I’m not needed in that fight—use my power with yours to bolster Mikkel. It’ll go better if there are two of us.”
“Are you sure?” Baldur lifts an eyebrow at Bjorn, as shocked as I am that Bjorn has suddenly decided to play nice.
But my First Drake knows when all hands are needed for a battle, and he knows how to cooperate when lives are on the line. He says nothing, only nods.
And Baldur takes his hand.
I feel it as the most amazing power-up happens between them. Like with Ström when Mikkel became mine, a magnificent combustion of power flares between Bjorn and Baldur, as their inner Blood Magics recognize each other.
They’re like a towering blaze of light in the darkness, as both suddenly flare white-blue and crimson-gold from their united power. I’ve never seen anything like it, as both their magics rush around the space now in a united Bloodwind, hurtling out from their inner drakes joining in an ancient, timeless dance.
