Soft fingers trailed over his hand, leading up his wrist and across his forearm until Nanshe tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm. Her presence soothed the fear and anxiety he hadn’t realized was beginning to swell within him. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the quiver of his heart and the shakiness in each breath he took. Quietly thankful for her support, he continued.
“It was about a week before the moon was scheduled to come. I started feeling different and my dreams were terrifying. I didn't know it then, but I was seeing the Chaos Realm. I would be trapped in this black and gray world, unable to get out with the power swirling around me. It didn't feel good or like I was gaining ground. Instead, it was eating at me, tearing at my insides and soaking up my blood. Each day I grew closer to the moon becoming full was another day I was tortured by this power. It was ravenous for me, coming each night without fail. I started to worry for my eventual survival of the transformation, but no wolf had ever dealt with this problem before, so I had no one to help me. My mind began to fracture and was pulled in different directions.”
Carlo shook his head, even now struggling with how to explain it.
“It was like a weave, different places, different times, all layered on top of each other,” Nanshe offered.
Carlo’s wide eyes met hers. “How did you know?”
“Because that is how my power comes to me.”
Lennox shifted his weight. “What would your power have to do with his, Nanshe?”
Leave it to the mage to ask what was most important. There would be no reason for a wolf to mimic the power of a past Norn.
“Keep telling your story, Carlo. It is important.” Nanshe nodded encouragingly.
With a deep breath, Carlo proceeded. “Like Nanshe described, I saw places I shouldn’t have, towns I didn’t know the name of, people speaking languages I couldn’t translate. It felt so real, like I was right there. It made me feel crazier and crazier. I woke up under the light of the full moon looking through the eyes of the wolf and couldn’t understand who I was. I had no name, no purpose, nothing. Only the wolf senses mattered. It took Arturo six months to get me calm enough to transform back into a human.”
“Six months?” Lennox’s eyes grew wide. “That's unheard of for a wolf. It is surprising you didn't die.”
Carlo grunted. “Don't you think I know that? But I did survive, and I'm here. After that, I wasn’t like I was before. Speaking took another year or two to get to a level that was coherent, but most of my memories were gone. I'm able to remember them now, since I was pulled back together the second time I was inside the Chaos Realm, but I had nothing during the time my mind was gone.”
“You say you were fixed after the second time you went into the Chaos Realm, right? But you've been in the Chaos Realm, or at least in a portal, a couple of times since then and it did not affect you. Why?”
“Lennox, I don't really know the answer to that.”
“Yes, you do. Remember.”
At Nanshe’s soft-spoken words, she pulled him deeper into her arms and against her body. Her voice echoed through his skull, a whisper in his ear.
“Remember.”
But remember what?
“The second time we were in the Chaos Realm.”
As if she had ripped the veil shrouding his mind, Carlo’s memories rushed back at him. The scent of deep earth filled his nostrils and sweat dripped down his face as he worried for Zoey and Dominic. Primo stood, waiting to kill them. It was as if he was reliving the moment.
Benedict held his hand toward a portal, fighting to keep it open moments before Dominic was pushed inside. Zoey followed, screaming that she could help him with her earth and map magic. Carlo’s heart fluttered in his chest as he shouted for her to stop, but she didn't.
“Come home, King of History. Come home.”
Carlo gasped, coming out of the memory. He stumbled to his feet, breaking away from Nanshe. What did that voice mean? What was it trying to tell him? The King of History. He’d heard that before. Somewhere.
Lennox stood. “What is it, Carlo?”
“I remembered something. When I went into the Chaos Realm, it asked me to come home. It called me the King of History.”
Nanshe’s cry stopped any further conversation. She hit her knees, gripping her head and wailing.
“The King of History remembers. Time is his. But so is death. Which shall he hold dear?”
Her voice was as it had been when she’d fought against Skuld, weaving and multiplying upon itself and swelling into the room.
“What the hell is she talking about?”
Carlo didn't know how to answer Kallan’s question, and even if he did, he wasn't sure he would have been able to reply. His focus was only on Nanshe, pulling her into his arms and rocking her. “Let it go. Whatever you're trying to say, let it go.”
