Page 18

Ifound it difficult to look away from the queues. The closer we got to joining them, the more hypnotic the view became. The only other thing that drew my focus was the fear so deeply imprinted on Myst’s face. Edda and the other Valkyries stayed close, making sure none of us even thought about leaving. One by one, the spirits were being led through enormous, lavish archways and into the great White Hall of Judgment. The fa?ade was polished to an almost metallic sheen. It sparkled beneath the diamond sky, making me squint so as not to go blind. The copper grass crunched with every step that we took—a sound I hadn’t noticed before, and the only sound louder than my own beating heart.

“It’s the anticipation that really messes with your head,” Brandon muttered from behind me. I stole frequent glances at him, if only to reassure myself that my friends were still here, and that I hadn’t gotten lost in Purgatory’s judicial entrails on my own. Hammer was restless beside him, but the dire wolf didn’t dare leave the line. Not when there were two steel and gold spears pointed at his throat. “That’s the whole point of judgment. You’ve got time to stew and really think about your life and your deeds before you see Order.”

“This is where the fate of people is determined?” I asked.

Myst shook her head. “This is where people determine their own fate. That’s the thing with Purgatory—it is pure and untainted by any moral concepts of the living world. Here, you feel like you’re supposed to feel. If you’ve done wrong, regardless of the reason, you feel guilty. If you’ve done good, you feel light as a feather. Order simply takes all that and analyzes your spirit. What comes afterward is not for us to tell.”

“But I can guess, considering she has Valkyries and Berserkers to usher the spirits into the next realm,” I said.

It was still hard to wrap my head around this, but I’d gotten some training with the Reapers and their dimension. We of the living had spirits bound in physical bodies. We abided by certain laws of physics and magic. The Reapers, the Valkyries, and the Berserkers were spirits with the ability to manifest physical forms, which were in many senses similar to bodies but didn’t function in the same fashion. They did not require food nor sleep, but they experienced pain and even felt love, in their own way. So far, these were the only differences I’d been able to process without much effort. Everything else required additional thinking, and that was low on my priority list as I watched the white tower swallow a few more people from the line.

“Either way, you’d better brace yourself,” Brandon sighed. “Order will peer right into your soul and see things you do not wish to remember.”

“I’m not sure how judgment works on someone like me or Astra. Or Jericho or Dafne, for that matter,” I said. “We’re of the living. We’re not just spirits.”

“On top of that, we didn’t really do anything wrong,” Jericho interjected, his brow still worriedly furrowed. “We didn’t plan on showing up here.”

“We’ll see how Order sees it,” Brandon replied. “She can be iffy at times.”

I’d heard the same about Death. “Watch your tongue, Berserker!” Edda snapped. “This is your maker you’re talking about. Your fate is in her hands. Choose your words wisely.”

“You don’t scare me. Baldur doesn’t scare me. Order doesn’t scare me,” Brandon shot back, unwilling to yield before the so-called Mother of Valkyries. “I’ve had enough of you all, so if you decide I’m no longer needed, so be it. I’ve done my duty. I’ve done my best to withstand the adversities thrown at me, to protect my Aesir, and to respect the laws of Purgatory. It’s not my fault that Hrista up and left and screwed so many of us over!”

“Perhaps we should try not to argue with the powers that be anymore,” Astra suggested. Much like me, she was preoccupied. Terrified would’ve been too strong a word, but it was still in the ballpark. This was new to us, and definitely strange. We didn’t belong here. The judgment… it was too early for us to go through it. None of this made much sense, yet we had no choice but to move forward. “We should focus on the arguments we’re about to make, instead.”

“What arguments, Pinkie? Do you really think there’s a fair trial coming?” Brandon scoffed, crossing his arms. Being out in the open like this made him weak. There was too much light, the wisps of darkness flying off him too fast, as if wasted by the brightness. “Our arrest makes no sense. The trial won’t either. Hrista left, and someone must be held accountable, so Purgatory is looking to blame the suckers who accidentally came back.”

There was anger bubbling beneath the surface, a clear indicator of the history between Brandon and this place. He didn’t seem eager to share any of it, but his conclusions were heartfelt, and not the result of a momentary lapse in judgment or rushed, shoddy theories. He’d lived through things in this place, things that crippled his trust in the system, and I couldn’t help but wonder how that might play out for the rest of us.

I’d hoped our flesh would be key, but I was beginning to doubt such hopes as we approached the doorway. The tension made the air thicker, and every breath that I took filled my lungs and dropped lead weights in my knees. Each step felt laborious, and my thoughts scattered, preventing me from forming strings of coherent sentences.

“Order is fair,” Myst told me. “Brandon may have strong feelings about both her and Purgatory, but they are based only on his personal experiences.”

“Absolutely, they are. Go on, tell him I’m wrong, and it’s just my perception,” Brandon growled, unwilling to back down. He calmed almost instantly when Astra took his hand in hers and squeezed gently, whispering something in his ear that smoothed out every crease on his forehead. I welcomed the effect she had on him. Brandon was our friend and ally, and I didn’t like seeing him so anxious and displeased with the realm that was supposed to be our salvation.

“Let us speak to Order, per the regulations,” Myst said, giving him a faint smile. There was sympathy in her voice. She knew more about him and his plight than any of us, so her patience made sense. “Each of us will go before her, and we’ll have our chance to say everything she needs to hear. Everything about Hrista, about what she’s done to the realm of the living, all of it. We shall see then if a standard trial is what we will receive.”

She seemed to doubt her own words, however. A subtle wavering of her voice gave it away. I doubted Brandon or the others noticed. She had Edda’s full attention, though not for the doubt but for the content of her statement. “Tell Order every single detail. I will be listening.”

I understood her position now. This was out of her hands. Even as ruler over the Valkyries, Edda reported back to Order. We were here because Order had demanded it. There was no question about this anymore. We were but pawns on a massive gameboard, and Order was playing with us—and, hopefully, not against us.

“You have to believe me,” Myst tried to tell Edda, but the Mother turned away.

“Typical,” Brandon chuckled bitterly. Edda may have been assigned the motherly title, but she wasn’t really the Valkyries’ mother, just like the Valkyries weren’t really sisters. It was the idea of family that they and the Berserkers had adhered to. “She gives you an inch of understanding, then yanks it all away and leaves you to fend for yourself.”

Edda scoffed. “Better be grateful Baldur isn’t here to tear you a new one.”

“Like he ever could.”

Brandon was easily coming across as the troublemaker. The black sheep of this deeply dysfunctional “family,” with a strong personality and a mind of his own. He was a contrarian, too, making it hard for me not to smile or even laugh whenever he opened his mouth. He thrived on stirring the pot and making people sizzle. Astra was receptive to that, liked it, even. Edda, not so much.

Everything faded as we stepped into the White Hall of Judgment. Behind us, the queue was as long as it had been. Every minute, another soul was brought from somewhere to wait their turn. The process never stopped. Spirits came and spirits went—the only difference being that they would never come back from where they were sent, not after this. Life had many levels, many realms through which it permeated. Ours was the simplest and most intense, enriched with a body and internal chemical reactions that generated and amplified emotions and states of mind. Death’s realm was supposed to be a transient state, a five-minute pitstop for those who died. A single breath’s worth of being and no-longer being before the spirit was reaped and sent… here.

“I’m not overreacting if I admit that I’m scared out of my mind, right?” Jericho muttered. His gaze darted all around us, briefly captured by one soul or another.

“No,” Dafne replied, her hand tight in his. “This is terrifying.”

“If you’re living, yeah,” Brandon replied with a shrug. He gazed at Astra, carefully analyzing her expression. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “I’m just being difficult and overly dramatic because it’s how I like to be in this place.”

“Brandon speaks the truth,” Edda interjected without looking at us. “He loves being overly dramatic.”

I glanced back at the Berserker, chuckling softly.

“Silence,” a voice echoed through the hall. From the outside it had seemed huge and imposing, but on the inside, this place was simply magnificent. The walls were covered in pristine marble bas-reliefs of scenes from different worlds and with varied protagonists, from the familiar humanoids of so many realms to the more peculiar ones with wings and talons, horns and claws, thick furs, and animal features. These were snippets of life, I realized. Moments frozen in time and immortalized in the white stone.

There were images of violent wars with archers and chariots and devastating fires. There were conquests of winged men and women with armor and spears. There were births of kings and queens before whom the subjects bent their knees and brought offerings of fruits and flowers and other riches. There were caravans that crossed entire nations. Lines of majestic horses with long manes and dragonfly wings that galloped through immense canyons, ridden by fae-like men with fireballs in their hands. There were weddings and celebrations too. Bits of joy and laughter and love. Every emotion. Every single deed of the living. It had all been registered here in one form or another.

Long strands of silver hung from the domed ceiling overhead. From each, clusters of diamonds captured the white light that blazed through the tall, narrow windows. The light refracted and danced across the bas-reliefs in a dizzying multitude of greens and yellows and pinks. It was an astonishing sight, and for a moment, I did not want to ever leave this place.

“This is the only place in the universe where every single nation meets. On the walls and down here on the floor,” Myst explained.

Each line had people from everywhere. Humans of Earth. Fae of the Supernatural Dimension. Druids and incubi and succubi of the In-Between. Daemons and Hawks. Lamias and Maras. Imen. Perfects and Faulties. Even creatures I had never seen before, of worlds yet undiscovered. I should have been scared in this moment, so close to a power that could make or break me, but I was excited. I only wished my parents were here to see it all. To witness this glorious encounter of life from each corner of the grand universe. I let out a heavy breath, and Myst nudged me softly. “It can be overwhelming, I know.”

“And then some,” I managed.

The voice that had demanded silence boomed through the hall once more, reminding me of our purpose here. “Next,” she said, ordering one of the souls at the head of our queue to step forward. He’d been a man of Earth, likely European or North American, judging by his appearance. Order took my breath away.

“I haven’t seen her since I was a child. I remember her perfectly though, and still… I’m overwhelmed,” I heard myself whisper.

Order was the perfect blend of Valkyrie and Berserker, I now realized. She was a stunning entity with lush curves and rock-cut muscles. Her armor was a mélange of shiny gold and cold stainless steel, tongues of metal weaving around her torso and calves with rhythm. The lobstered shoulders were pure gold and covered with emeralds and amber teardrops, and a seemingly endless cape of white silk poured from her back.

Her hair was spun gold swirling down one shoulder in a richness of curls, while her eyes were the same blue fires found in the Valkyries and Berserkers alike. In many ways, Order resembled her enforcers. I recognized the leather thigh and upper arm coverings as Berserker gear. Everything else had come from the Valkyries. She sat on a massive throne made of glass, sculpted with insanely detailed filigree that required a closer look to understand the design patterns. Yet no one dared to take a single step out of line. Her sword rested against its side, hidden in its bejeweled scabbard. It reminded me of Myst’s weapon, though it was a great-sword, much larger than the Valkyrie’s.

Order had no need for it here, it seemed, so I wondered what it did. I wondered if it had powers like Thieron. Or perhaps it was just a symbol of authority. It didn’t really matter at this point, for her flaming blue gaze was set on the man before her. “State your name,” she demanded.

Her voice was sweet, but there was a sharpness to it that compelled the addressed to respond quickly and truthfully. “Eric Dancer,” the man said, shaking like a leaf. He’d been a big man, I noted, with broad shoulders and meaty arms. Not necessarily athletic but definitely large-framed. I couldn’t see his face from where I stood, but his tone was heavy and gruff.

“Tell me your crimes,” Order replied. “I presume you know them.”

She certainly knew. That much Myst had whispered in my ear. “She looks right into your mind and learns everything in the blink of an eye,” she added. “You cannot hide anything from her.”

“I am a man of faults, I admit,” Eric tried to say, but Order shook her head.

“Try again.”

Eric looked around, hoping for some kind of assistance. All he got were a few burning glares from Berserkers nearby. Their darkness was weakened, much like Brandon’s, though never gone. Never impotent. Order’s enforcers were always present here, watching over the procession and taking the souls away once the judgment was done. I’d lost count of how many there were, but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be in this realm for much longer.

Or so I’d hoped.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Astra murmured behind me. “Time isn’t on our side. Hrista is in The Shade as we speak, doing who knows what…”

“You forget that time does not exist here,” Brandon replied.

Myst glanced back at her. “It’s rather difficult to explain, but chances are that little to no time will have passed in the world of the living. Then again, it’s also possible that centuries will have gone by. One can never tell with Purgatory. What matters is that we cannot stop this. And we certainly cannot rush it.”

“I asked for silence,” Order interjected abruptly. “One more word, and there will be a price to be paid.”

None of us wished to learn what that would be, so we kept our traps shut. Jericho and Dafne were pale as sheets of paper, while Astra’s skin had a familiar pink glow—she was restless and fearful. Of course, she had every reason to feel this way. Unfortunately, there was a protocol to be followed here, whether we liked it or not. I only aspired to see us all survive this moment and move past it. The Shade awaited. Justice was sorely needed.

“I am not sure what I’m doing here,” Eric mumbled.

“You are here because you died. Your soul has left your body behind. A Reaper picked you up and sent you over to us. Do you not remember?” Order replied, sounding bored. It was beginning to feel like a bureaucratic nightmare, not the incredible concept of the beginning of an afterlife that transcended every belief and every living dimension out there.

“I do, yes.”

“Then, surely, you remember your life and how you squandered it?”

Eric’s shoulders dropped. “I did the best I could with what I was given.”

“Pray tell, then. Confess your crimes,” Order shot back with a dry smile. “Confess them, or I shall speak for you, and I’m sure you have already been advised of the consequences for such refusal to cooperate.”

Even I was rooting for the guy to speak up. I doubted anyone here wanted to be on the receiving end of Order’s wrath. Looking around, Eric was still hesitant, likely hoping someone or something might step in and stop this. But all he got was an awkward silence. He was defenseless, and this was his judgment. He couldn’t escape it.

“I’ve stolen,” he finally said. “My family needed food on the table, and I couldn’t provide for them otherwise.”

Myst sighed. “That’s a lie. Even I can tell…”

“Tell the truth,” Order said to Eric. “Why did you steal?”

“Because I wanted to be rich and free. Abiding by the system forced upon me since birth… it just didn’t sit well with me,” he conceded, sounding more confident as he spoke. “I have taken lives, too. Partners I promised to cut in for different jobs, but instead I stabbed them in the back when we took the riches away from others.”

I frowned. “What’s going on here?”

“You’re standing in the White Hall of Judgment, that’s what,” Brandon replied. “No one can lie for long in here. The air is loaded with magic. It compels you to speak truthfully. It’s a slow acting spell, but as you can see, it does the trick.”

“I killed five men after I promised that they would get rich if they helped me,” Eric added. “Two I killed because they were in the way. Security guards. Men with families. Decent men who didn’t deserve what I did to them.”

“And what did all of that get you, Eric?” Order asked, the shadow of a smile settling on her magnificent, oval face.

“Poison in my drink. My girlfriend killed me and took my fortune,” Eric said.

The ultimate authority of Purgatory threw her head back with lively laughter. I almost laughed with her, the sound of it was so contagious. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Word does have a way of paying people back, I suppose…”

The statement made me think twice. “Wait, the Word?” I asked Myst, keeping my voice low so as not to be heard. Everybody else stood quietly, listening. Behind us, Jericho, Dafne, and Astra were transfixed by the exchange, while Brandon looked bored. He had done this so many times, though he had never stood for judgment himself. I figured the usual mechanics of judgment still bored him, though his demeanor would likely change once Order’s attention settled on him as “the accused.”

“The way things happen is more or less undetermined,” Myst replied with a whisper. “In the realm of the living, that’s chaos. Randomness. The unwitting outcomes of cause and effect, nothing more, nothing less. But sometimes, the Word might have input. In those cases, the way certain things happen is predetermined. In situations like Eric’s here, there could be talk of karmic sweetness, I suppose. Order believes the Word is often more involved in the governing of the living than he lets on. He just doesn’t make himself seen, nor does he seek to satisfy anyone’s demands of justice or fairness.”

“So, Order thinks the Word might’ve had something to do with Eric’s demise.”

“Or he just faced the consequences of his previous actions,” Brandon hissed.

“It is poetic, in a way,” Order added, completely ignoring us. “But foreseeable. Certainly not a surprise. Truth be told, Eric, your soul… it is ugly and tainted. You feel no remorse for what you have done. If given an opportunity, you would do it all again, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Eric replied. I could almost hear him smiling, such was the pleasure in his voice as he spoke. “I have lived an incredible life. Beautiful and lush with riches. I ate and drank whatever I wished. I saw all the places I wished to see. I broke many hearts along the way… yes, I would do it again. The stealing, the killing, if only to experience the same joys once more.”

Order didn’t hold back her contempt. “Figures. Rasmus, take him. The eternity that awaits Eric is one of his own making. He will not like it, but Order is Justice.”

A Berserker stepped forward and grabbed Eric’s arm. He briefly glanced our way, the blue fires in his eyes turning white for a split-second before he dragged the spirit away and vanished into the ether. Once again, I was reminded that the white flashes were markers of intense emotions. I assumed Eric would receive his just desserts soon enough. “Can’t say I feel sorry for him,” I mumbled.

Ahead of us, a young fae stepped up to face Order. She seemed scared, her blue eyes wide while her spiritual form flickered with anxiety. I saw the blood on her white dress where a blade had pierced through, rending everything in its path. That was the trouble with the spiritual form. Sometimes, especially in particularly traumatic circumstances, it retained the violence of the body’s demise, at least in appearance, after death. I’d only hoped that would fade away upon reaching the afterlife, having wondered if my dad had suffered a similar issue—I’d seen him whole thanks to Myst, of course, so I was inclined to believe that the afterlife did fix things.

“I take it you know Rasmus?” Astra asked Brandon, and he grunted in confirmation.

“Don’t be afraid, child,” Order said to the young fae in front of Myst and me. “Come closer. I won’t bite. Tell me, what happened to you?”

“I was stabbed,” she said.

Order sighed softly. “Where do you hail from?”

“The Fire Star.”

“And who stabbed you?”

The girl burst into tears, covering her face with both hands. My heart broke for her. “My brother…”

Order breathed out slowly, gazing across the entire hall and analyzing each expression she encountered. For a moment, she noticed me, and the world, the universe, my existence itself stood still. There was knowledge in the two sapphire flames she had for eyes. There was truth. There was my past in its absolute entirety, no detail spared. I saw it reflected in her look, and I knew that whatever conversation she and I would soon have would change me forever. “Killing one’s kin is an abominable sin. Regardless of faith and culture, of education and species, the murder of one’s sibling is an unforgivable slight. Tell us why your brother did this to you,” Order finally spoke again.

“I’m to inherit the family fortune. Well, I was to inherit the family fortune. My brother had been disowned for previous, egregious crimes. He’d hoped he would have the castle and the lands upon his return from prison, but when he found me in charge instead, he… could not accept such a fate. He’d thought the letters from our estate handlers were fakes. Bad jokes, he said. When our parents passed away, he thought he’d have it all.”

“Your brother spent a decade in prison for a variety of fraud crimes, right?” Order asked, and the girl nodded once. “Well, then… I see he advanced to murder. And not just any kind of murder, either. The worst of the worst.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to that guy. Would he be found and arrested? Would a boulder fall out of nowhere and crush him? The world was in dire need of more poetic justice, but I doubted it would come to pass. The universe did not respond to our demands for righteousness nor to our desires. It didn’t work like that, and it had taken me years to figure it out. I had also learned not to mess with the natural balance. I could easily tell Taeral about this guy upon my return, but something told me that the almighty Order wouldn’t let us remember these moments, anyway. Everything about Purgatory had been kept under a tight lid until now. I doubted she’d relinquish control over that.

“Helga, please… she deserves better,” Order said to one of the Valkyries, then smiled at the young fae girl, already knowing her name. “Irin, you will be fine. I cannot say anything about what follows, but I can promise you won’t have to deal with that wretched brother of yours ever again.”

The fae girl vanished with Helga.

“I don’t feel so good,” Myst whispered.

I looked at her, and the blue in her eyes had turned white. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never stood before her this way. I’ve never been on trial. Valkyries and Berserkers are chosen before they reach the White Hall of Judgment,” she managed.

Suddenly, Order’s attention was on us, and my spine stiffened. “Myst. Step forth, please.”

Myst gave me a terrified glance, but I couldn’t help her. For the first time, she seemed lonely and vulnerable, and I was useless and scared. I would’ve liked nothing more than to grab her and my friends and get us out of here, but that was impossible. Astra was too tired to open another shimmering portal now, and I doubted Order would let us escape anyway.

Seeing the Valkyrie like this made my very soul hurt. She’d done nothing wrong. I could only hope that Order would reach the same conclusion. Had it not been for Myst, we never would have survived in Hrista’s manufactured hell.

“So, it begins,” Myst sighed and turned her back on me, facing Order.

The air thickened with a mixture of doubt and anticipation. Even the spirits of the departed, who had no idea who she was or why she had been brought here, watched Myst with fascinated interest. They could clearly tell she was different and shouldn’t be here to be judged this way.

I braced myself and decided I would do everything in my power to make sure Myst walked away from this unscathed. It was the least I could offer as my gratitude… perhaps as a token of my affection, too. I could no longer deny it. The Valkyrie had burrowed into my chest and taken hold of my heart.

The last thing I wanted was to lose her to Purgatory.