As I take it all in, beyond horrified, I see now what happened to my sister and her mates a day ago. Because they were not devoured inside theruby cavern by the Black Rift then, they were super-powered by it—and that understanding suddenly makes me despair.
Bjorn was right; they didn’t perish in its terrible sways, only transformed into something different, powered up by its evil taint. My sister and her mates have all become disastrously cursed by the Black Rift now; with diseased black-violet and crimson sigils shot through every inch of their flesh, even their eyes have gone black as night with those terrible sigils careening through them.
Lithava and her mates look like Hedda and her wights now, with those black sigils possessing them and the terrible tentacles of the Rift writhing all over their flesh. And I know this is what must have happened to Hedda and her mates when she gave herself up to the Rift. When she dove into her own deepest darkness to gain unrivaled power for the Black Dragon’s creation.
Rather than remaining in her united Bloodwalker light.
As terrible sigils from the Rift bury themselves anew inside the Black Dragon’s flesh, plus sigils from my sister and her drakes, the creature screams like a mad thing. Its flesh is recreated, as those gods-awful sigils dive in; although we had seen it regain some of its previous state with every dragon it killed and every village it decimated, it thunders back to its former glory now, as flesh knits and sinews replace.
Bones thicken and lock into place; joints are restored as I watch from afar, horrified. Skin of glossy black leather blossoms out all over it now, festooned with terrible oilslick-black and violet spikes. Gargantuan crimson sigils spiral throughout every serrated scale, out to every talon and clawed wing-tip; as its tail thrashes now, covered in spikes, the Black Dragon fights the leviathan taint that holds it.
It ceases to scream inside its mind now, as I feel Hedda’s black energy overtake it once more. Her will still lives in the world, and we failed to capture her spirit inside the Soulstone; as the greater part of her spirit pours back into the creature now, I feel it regain her mind, rather than its own.
That mind is not complete without her four mates; but even as I feel Hedda turn inside my mind now, snarling at me from where she once again lives within her creature, blazing down along my mind-connection to it, I feel her derision.
And her desire.
Come to me, Rikyava,Hedda says now as her terrible black eyes blaze at me from the creature’s Void, that Void filled with shrieking, mad stars.Come and be my perfect instrument, wielding my Jormungandr, at last. It is your destiny.
As Hedda fills me now, her soul-essence inside the Black Dragon careening into my mind like a night devoid of stars, I roar and surge back. Though she tries to get her talons in me, I heave a massive burst of my Bloodwalker power down through that connection now, sundering it—as I pull like bejeezus from each one of my mates.
With a snap, my connection to Hedda and the Black Dragon is broken, but not before I spill to the floor, barely caught by Jarl Jorg’s fast hands.
As all my mates roar now.
Shuddering on the couch, at how I just hauled power from them all in a riptide.
9
HELP
My mates all need a moment to recover after I just so mercilessly pulled power from them to get myself out of that connection to Hedda, via her beast. It leaves us in a dire state now, as Jarl Jorg hands around fresh drinks and everyone gives us time to come back to ourselves. We’re unsettled, however, as the reality of what we’re up against hits us anew. After we’ve recovered enough, Jarl Jorg asks for a quick rundown of what just happened.
And I tell him, holding nothing back.
“So. Time is of the essence now, if Lithava and Hedda have begun the Black Dragon’s restoration ceremonies,” Jarl Jorg says, as I finish. Surveying everyone, his gaze pins Ström, then me again. “We need to make our move with the Soulstone at once, whatever it is to be. We cannot form a proper battle-plan unless we know which direction we are to take. Do we weaken the creature by destroying Hedda’s mates, then entice or trap it somewhere far from the Rift, so we can fight it and have any hope of bringing it down? Or do we use the Soulstone to glean information from the Void to gain critical insight that might end our worst enemy, thoughthat enemy is uncountably ancient—the Black Rift itself? The choice is yours.”
As Jarl Jorg’s eagle gaze drills into me, I know only I can make this decision. Because this entire choice rests upon me and my drakes, and our various powers; if we cannot do anything with the Soulstone in the Void, and Lithava gets it somehow, restoring the Black Dragon fully, then Jarl Jorg or even our King’s forces won’t have any hope of battling it.
Only I can make this decision for us; but I’m not a monarchy, my Bloodbond is a collective of equals. As I gaze around my drakes, all of us restored upon our couch, I see readiness in each of their eyes.
Though Bjorn’s hold reticence.
“How do you vote?” I ask them all now, pretty certain I know how this is going to go, though I have to ask.
“Fight the Rift. It’s our only hope of ending all this,” Baldur says immediately, as his dark blue eyes shine, almost cobalt in the light of the chandeliers.
“Risks are taken in war,” Ström agrees as he glances at Baldur, then at me. “Though this risk is massive, using the Soulstone to discover the creation of the Rift, I think it’s worth taking.”
“Some evils never sleep,” Mikkel concurs, his dark eyes flashing viciously. “The Black Rift is an evil that will never sleep until it takes down all of us. Forever.”
“Bjorn?” I ask him now, already knowing my vote, and how his is against it. Somehow, I feel we need this vote to be unanimous if we are going to try such an insane thing with the Soulstone as to find Ancestors so ancient they aren’t even alive in the Void anymore.
Bjorn’s got his arms crossed tight over his chest. From his scowl, I know he still thinks we’re risking too much, using the precious Soulstone for delving into the ancient past, rather than just shattering it and being done with it.
“We do them back-to-back. Promise me, Rikyava,” Bjorn says at last, ashe stares me down. “We do the Bloodwalking ceremony to find the Ancestors who know something about the Rift, then fucking turn right around in that same ceremony and shatter the Soulstone. We can’t risk it falling into Lithava and Hedda’s hands; especially now that they’re already giving the Black Dragon its first power-up. The second ceremony returns Hedda’s drakes to the beast. She’s going to come for that Soulstone soon, you know it and I know it. We’re out of time. As soon as we’re powered up enough again to do a proper Bloodwalking, we fucking go for it. And destroy the Soulstone, just as soon as we’ve gotten the information we need out of it.”
“I promise.” I give Bjorn my vow as I extend a hand now.
