The Soulstone, burning with an intense luminosity on a black velvet pad in the center of the table.
And our possible solution to ending the Black Dragon and stopping the Black Rift, for good.
6
CHOICE
The Soulstone is as safe as Ström can make it, inside a crystal lockbox of complex make, here in his apartments. As it burns so brightly within its containment, I see the box has a crazy series of sigil-phrases scrolling over it, far more than Ström can manifest by himself. I look at him, then Baldur, seeing them both nod with a wisp of a smile on their lips. I understand then that Ström and Baldur created this sigil-warding together, to lock the Soulstone away.
Until we need to break it and destroy the wights’ souls within.
“Think they’re dead? Lithava and her drakes?” I ask as I stare at the Soulstone, voicing the question that’s on everybody’s minds.
“Not a chance.” Ström takes a massive bite of lox and bagel, chewing thoughtfully. “Evil like that doesn’t go quietly into the long night.”
“Evil calls to evil.” Mikkel chimes in now, as he glances at me, danger in his dark eyes. “I think it’s likely Lithava’s Bloodbond got some sort of insane power-up from being overrun by the taint inside that Black Rift. I don’t think we can count them out—not by a long shot.”
“Lithava was wearing her black ring, and so were all her drakes.” Bjorn glances at the silver ring still on my left ring finger, then to my drakes’rings. “The Two Rings drain power from the alternate set when one set is compromised. I think that’s why we’ve been feeling doubly fatigued these past few days as we recovered. Because Lithava and her drakesarestill alive… and their rings have been pulling from us to aid their survival.”
“Only if both groups die simultaneously can all perish.” Baldur nods now. As he closes his eyes, I feel him go way out into the Void. “I don’t sense their souls in the Void.” He opens his eyes again. “Whatever happened to them after we left, I think we can safely assume they did not perish. Not like we might hope.”
“We were about to throw down to the death in that battle—both before the Black Dragon took me, and after.” I examine the silver ring on my finger. Looking up, I glance around my drakes. “It’s something about that black energy, the Rift inside that ruby cavern, which bubbles up through the crack in the upper cavern’s broken floor. Something in there was pushing us to fight to extinction in our battle. It wanted everyone killed on both sides. And it pushed Lithava and me the same way… before you all intervened.”
“No survivors.” Bjorn gives a deep basso growl now, as he sits back in his chair and crosses his big arms over his chest. His lavender eyes flash bright gold with his dragon as he looks at me. “We were goners in that battle, and none of us knew it but you, Rikyava—until you made that deal with the Black Dragon. And that’s what the Rift wants, isn’t it? To pit us against each other and kill each other off to the very last dragon.”
“I was feeling the schism’s insanity pushing us during the battle.” Ström chimes in, his voice quiet as he watches me. “It felt impossible to stop or escape. If you hadn’t made that deal with the Black Dragon, blasting us all out of there on its shockwave… I don’t know what would have happened.”
“All our annihilation, probably,” Mikkel snorts, though his look is dark. “I felt that uncompromising danger flowing through my bones, too, Ström. I wanted to kill our enemies and never look back. I don’t even know any of the False Knights; I have no vendetta against those dragons,other than doing Lithava’s will when she was impersonating Ruta on the Council, coming after Bone Mages. Usually, when I want someone dead, it’s personal. This was… all-encompassing. Impersonal, and all-consuming. Not my usual.”
“Endless.” Lærke nods now, as she backs Mikkel up, a bright flash of chartreuse in her alert lavender eyes. “Whatever lives inside that Black Rift, itwantsthe world to die. Whatever Hedda set up with the Black Dragon, it’s clear she made some sort of deal with that black energy to make her heinous creation. Amplifying it, or giving it fodder. Feeding it with the Black Dragon’s kills, and the endless war the Black Dragon would create.”
“How much of my talk with my sister did you all get?” I glance around my drakes now, not knowing if they were party to everything that was said between Lithava and me inside the Black Rift.
“All of it.” Ström is honest as he lifts an eyebrow at me. “What you know, we know, Rikyava. Our bonds were wide open; we were giving you everything we could while we were on our way to rescue you. Even though the whole situation was fucking draining us so much, we barely made it there at all.”
“Hedda made a choice, descending into her darkest magic to create her creature,” Mikkel says now as we put all the pieces together. “Something about the Black Rift pulled her there, thanks to that ruby cavern beneath it, and how it broke our Ancestors’ ceremonies long ago.”
“Creating the Usurper in that already-ruined place made Hedda’s ceremonies go awry right from the beginning, as she formed some kind of pact with the energy there,” I say, as a deep instinct fills me about what happened way back then. “That energy is divisive. It pits kin against kin, dividing us from each other and ourselves. When Hedda used its power to make her creature, she wanted to build something that would unify us and end Blood Dragon in-fighting. But what she actually made was the opposite. Something that would divide us until the end of time, as all are swallowed into its heinous Void. Feeding the Black Dragon and the Rift with our deaths… forever.”
“Just like our most ancient Ancestors did,” Baldur says. “For they were already Bloodwalkers when they created that sigil-cavern and tried to go after more power for our Lineage. Somehow, their process got infected with the division energy beneath the cavern. And they blew up their precious ritual… creating the Black Rift.”
“And caused our own Rift, in our magics. Dividing their Bloodwalker energy from themselves,” I say now, understanding how it all went down at last. “Blood and Bone Magic were split from each other in that event; ever after, our kind were born either as one or the other, rather than both. Except for a select few modern Bloodwalkers who managed to retain both powers, our Lineage has been split into two warring sides, forever.”
“Which Hedda, then Lithava, are seeking in a seriously fucked up way to undo.” Ström’s dark look speaks volumes.
“Our ancient Ancestors called incredible energy with what they wrought,” I say, thoughtful now as I digest this. “But they called somethingdivisivebecause of their divisive intentions. So it dividedthem instead of giving them more power. It divided their magic and caused a division right through our entire Lineage. It split them and their Lineage’s power into two sides. A bright side—Blood Magic—with heart, love, passion, and rage. And a dark side—Bone Magic—with will, hate, wrath, and retribution. Our Rift.”
“Where does this Rift-energy come from, though?” Lærke asks now. “Is it a god, a demon, a demi-god? Our Ancestors must have drawn some massively ancient power down into our world to manifest the Black Rift and break our magics.”
“I don’t know what the Rift-energy is, or where it comes from.” I sigh, though for some reason, my entire Bloodwalker power sings within me now, rocking me from the surety of some understanding I don’t quite fathom yet. My gaze is stern, however, as I look around the table. “But it is our task to figure it out now. Fighting is not the answer where this is concerned. If we do, we’ll only end up giving it what it wants. All our deaths to feed it—forever.”
Silence envelops the table as we see what we’re up against. Baldur’s soft words interrupt our reverie, as he gives a soft exhalation. “How does one fight a war without fighting? And a battle without battling?”
“We find another way.” Bjorn surprises me as he uncrosses his arms and slaps one big hand firmly upon the table. Glancing around us all, his eyes burn the pure gold of his dragon as he regards me last. “If fighting each other to the death is what the Black Rift wants, and what powers the Black Dragon, feeding the Rift more, then we need to find another way. Continuing to engage our foes in battle will only make this diabolical wheel turn more. These battles have been happening ever since the Black Rift was formed, so we need to cure the source. We need to figure out what happened long ago—what our ancient Ancestors did that created the Black Rift. And then we need to address it and heal it… before the Black Dragon and the Rift devour everything we love. And make us fight to our deaths in the process.”
It’s a sage tirade that comes from Bjorn, as my most battle-ready drake professes that we shouldn’t go to battle on this one. The problem is we don’t know what to do if we can’t fight our enemies.
As the table comes to silence, I feel how no one is sure what happens now. I don’t even know where to start. But as a blood and bone-deep intuition strikes me, both my inner dragons heaving through my sinews, I know what’s next.
