“You’re the Harbinger,” I said. “You were present at my coronation. Also at the Procession of Spirits. You were watching when the kraken attacked me. Were you responsible for the kraken?”
“It’s a start, I suppose.”
“What is your name?”
“Now, now,” he said. “I think we’ve spoken too much. I will let you linger here until your memories are but a puff of smoke, and then I will bring you to him.”
“Him. The Darkest Lord? Your boss?”
“Not exactly my boss.” The man sounded a bit annoyed. “When this is complete, we will be partners.”
I gave a short laugh. “I barely have a memory. I’ve never met the Darkest Lord. But even I can tell you that a person like that doesn’t work with a partner. You are at his beck and call, and you always will be. It’s in your very name.”
“I won’t always be the Harbinger.”
The annoyance returned. I’d struck a nerve.
“I’ve put in my years of service, and when he has succeeded, I will ascend to serve at his right hand.”
“Lies,” I said. “That will never happen. He’s telling you lies. I, however, can help you if only you’ll let me.”
“Can you, now?” That curiosity was back. The glimmer in those eyes. “How do you figure?”
“I opened a portal,” I said. “You saw it. I released many spirits.”
“I don’t want to be released. I am happy where I am.”
“I can help you in other ways. I can help you get to the land of the living. I’m a Fae Queen. I have powers others don’t have.”
He clucked his tongue, but I couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or not.
“Fine, then at least tell me this: why? If my memories are to fade swiftly, it matters not if you tell me. Why does he—and you—want to attack the realm of the living? I don’t understand what it gets you in return to help him.”
“Of course you don’t because you are not one of the forgotten. You don’t glide through life as a forgotten ghost, even during the years you are living. You are not forgettable—your name is mentioned by hundreds, thousands. Your face will be remembered. You live in a world of color and joy and your name will live on after you die. Everyone else is not so lucky.”
I licked my lips. “That’s why he’s attacking us? Because he’s angry?”
“The Darkest Lord was banished to rule over the crumbs of the living realm, of course he is bitter. Who would choose to rule over the dissatisfied spirits he’s forced to collect? You’ve seen this world. Color? Joy? Nonexistent. To have real, true power, the only way is through the land of the living.”
“Why now?”
“The wards have broken down, thanks to you. When you gain power, you will be too strong for him. You will defeat him with a beat of your heart. But until you understand how to wield your powers, there is a sliver. An opening. The first opportunity he’s had in centuries to bring his spirit army to land.”
“But how? The spirits haven’t been able to last on land. Flesh-weaving?”
“A vulgar term for an incredible process. One I perfected myself.”
“Youarethe one who altered the genetic makeup of the kraken and the crimson lycanthrope. You must be.”
“You’re catching on,” he said. “Still no idea who I am?”
I gave a brief shake of my head. I couldn’t figure out if this admission disappointed. He seemed to be playing a game with the two of us, but I didn’t know the rules.
“Did you create the flesh-weaving process?” I asked. The more he talked, the more his voice clanged in my head like the sound of a familiar bell. Sooner or later, I’d get a glimpse of it—his name. His identity.
“I can’t say I created it from scratch, but I have made incredible improvements to the process. It’s an intricate and complex procedure. It’s taken on a rather vile reputation, but in my opinion, that’s far from the truth. If you really break it down, it’s really closer to a miracle.”
“Why?”I paused. “I understand the process is intricate and complex, and probably very challenging. But I can’t understand thewhybehind it. Why would you ever need, or want, to create such a process?”
