Page 24

“Why can’t you just teleport us to Baldur?” the Time Master asked after we left the orchard valley behind and braced ourselves for a long walk through a golden desert. There was nothing else around us for miles and miles. Nothing but rippling dunes of gold sand slowly baking in the heat. Even without an actual sun, warmth permeated throughout Purgatory.

“The Mother and the Father demand that we walk to find them,” Brandon said. “It’s an ancient tradition. They may find us anywhere in Purgatory, but we must go the distance if we wish to see them.”

“That’s a little bizarre,” Time muttered.

Edda shrugged. “Yeah, we kind of dropped the ball on a few things around here, but with the realm shifting and fundamentally changing every now and then, we lack the stability we’d need to establish better traditions. Our focus is to herd the souls into their respective afterlives, anyway. Everything else here is just… fluff.”

I didn’t mind the walk. It gave me time to put my thoughts in order. We were slaves to the mechanics of the universe. My only hope was that we wouldn’t miss anything important upon our return. Of course, our goal was still getting to the real island. I trusted Astra would come through for us, but she needed a bit more breathing room for now. It had been pretty intense for her, not just in terms of opening and holding a shimmering portal—although to a different destination by mistake—but also as far as her dynamic with Brandon was concerned.

They’d gone through a change, at least from my perspective, a fundamental shift in how they perceived each other. Brandon had been a killer during his living days. A killer ruthless and evil enough to warrant Order’s attention in Purgatory. The thought chilled me to the bone, yet I failed to reconcile it with the Berserker walking just a couple of steps to my right. Brandon was not a model of good behavior, nor the most noble entity I’d ever come across—on the contrary. But I still couldn’t see him as a murderer.

“What’s on your mind?” Myst asked as we walked between the dunes, which got taller with every mile we put behind us. We were following a clear path on a low level, while the desert rose around us with its shiny sea of gold.

“Quite a lot, actually,” I replied, almost laughing. “I’m amazed by how much my mind can process at once. But I guess the dominant feeling is disappointment. With Order, I mean. That meeting was… anticlimactic.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she sighed. “I had no idea until Edda told us, and I am still utterly dumbstruck. Order is powerless beyond this realm, and it just… it doesn’t make sense, because the world of the living thrives on… well, on order. On the principle of action and reaction. On species and subspecies. On specific formulas that lead to specific results. On justice for crimes committed. One would think Order herself would thrive in such realms.”

“If the forces of the universe were too absolute and all-powerful in every single layer of its endless domain, we’d have a mess on our hands, don’t you think?” I asked, noticing I’d earned a faint nod of approval from a half-smiling Edda. “I think things are the way they should be. The Word in life. Order in Purgatory. Death as dual as ever, the beginning and the end of everything, I guess. And I don’t know what else there is beyond this realm.”

“By that logic, everything is where it belongs. Myself included, here, in Purgatory,” Myst replied, and for some reason, it sounded wrong. Well, it sounded right, but I didn’t like it. “And Brandon, too. But Brandon has been kicked out. Sooner or later, one of us will have to eject him. Where does that leave him and the alleged order of things?”

For a moment, I stared at her with a mixture of admiration and sheer awe. Her wisdom had enlightened me more than once. She’d carried herself with a whiff of self-righteousness that may have gotten on my or others’ nerves at some point, but in the middle of Purgatory, absolutely everything about Myst the Valkyrie suddenly made sense. The glorious attire, the superb sword, the explosion of light coming from within her, the timelessness of her words. Yes, I could see it now.

“Nothing is written in stone,” I concluded with a deep exhale, almost losing myself in her eyes. “As long as we have strength in our souls, I think we can pull anything off.”

“Your optimism is endearing,” Edda snickered, giving me a curious sideways glance. “Myst, this one is definitely special. I can smell the death on him.”

I almost blushed. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

“I kind of do, actually, just by looking at you,” Edda replied. “There is death in you. As a vampire, and as a carrier of one of Spirit Bender’s soul shards. I told you, I smell it.”

“In a sense, vampires are closest to Death’s realm,” I said, unable to hide the pride that accompanied my statement. “Unending, her first Reaper, or who we thought was her first reaper, she’s the source of vampirism.”

Edda sighed, shaking her head.

That got my attention. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m reminded of how comfortable Death is with lying,” she said, then pointed ahead. A forest sprang from the gold sand, with black trees and a sprawling obsidian canopy that stretched for days, enveloping everything beneath it in profound darkness. “Here we are.” Edda seemed glad to change the subject.

I would’ve liked to follow up, but a strange presence emerged somewhere nearby—I could feel it humming in the center of my chest. Whatever Edda was holding back about Death and Unending would have to wait. Baldur came out from the strange forest, and I fell silent.

My throat closed up. Darkness poured off him like thick ink and not in the usual wisps I’d seen on Brandon and the other Berserkers. Baldur was tall and muscular, with long arms and broad shoulders. His hair was a mess of black and indigo blue, braided and tumbling down his back in an imposing mane. His cold eyes cut right through me as they met mine. Leather covered his torso and legs. He wore an ornate breastplate made of silver and steel, tied on both sides with hide strings and covered with mother-of-pearl and watermelon-colored tourmaline inlays. His thigh and calf armor pieces were made from the same material, enriched with runes that glimmered like the sky of diamonds overhead.

Our group came to a sudden halt as Baldur clenched his square jaw and revealed his weapon, a monstrous axe with a long handle made of sculpted bone and wrapped in slick black leather. Its blade shone hungrily and sharp, aching for blood and pain most of all. I never wanted to find myself in its way.

Myst’s hand found my wrist and gave it a good squeeze. There wasn’t a need for words between us. I knew this meant that she had my back, calmly urging me to let her and the other beings of Purgatory take the lead. Baldur saw me first, though, and he seemed a little too curious for my comfort, so I doubted I’d manage to sail through the incoming conversation unnoticed.

“Hm. Four beating hearts. Plus a Reaper and a ghoul. This is strange,” Baldur said, looking at each of us carefully. He narrowed his eyes, for good measure, just to make it clear that he was studying us.

“Baldur, my brother. I come in peace,” Edda replied, taking a step forward. “We need to talk. It’s important.”

“Sure, but first… I need to know who this wondrous being is,” Baldur retorted, confidently walking toward Astra. Instinctively, I moved to get in front of her, and so did Brandon. Even Jericho and Dafne were about to step in, and Hammer was already restless and growling—but none of us stood a chance.

Myst pulled me aside, while Aphis yanked the dragons back with a low hiss. Baldur waved Brandon and Hammer away like a pair of bothersome flies, a cool grin slitting his face from ear to ear as he beheld Astra. He stopped mere inches from her, taking a deep breath to capture her scent. He groaned softly. “You smell of life and light, little jewel, and I cannot make sense of you.”

“She’s a Daughter-Sentry,” Edda said firmly. “And my guest here.”

“Your guest? Don’t be ridiculous,” Baldur snorted a laugh. “She’s an intruder, much like the rest of these breathers, plus the gloomy fellas. Oh, and let’s not forget you, Brandon. You’re not supposed to be here anymore.”

“I take it you heard the news,” the Berserker muttered as he picked himself up off the ground. Hammer shook off some of the sand but didn’t make another move toward the Father of Berserkers. Astra, the poor soul, stood frozen and speechless and wide-eyed.

“You’re exceptional,” Baldur said, ignoring Brandon and the rest of us. The leader of punishers was absolutely shameless, and irrevocably smitten. “You’re a work of art, a marvel of the universe, a most exceptional accident, Astra Hellswan. And now, you’re here, in front of me… within my reach.”

He tried to touch her pink hair, but Astra had the sense to pull back. “Whoa, there… do I know you?”

“No, but he’s already read your soul,” Brandon interjected, his shoulders slumped. “It’s part of his power. He just looks at you, like Order would, and he knows everything, though not as deeply as her. Enough to creep you out, for sure.”

“Did I allow you to speak? Shush, rogue,” Baldur cut him off. “The only reason I haven’t ejected you yet is because this wonderful girl seems to like you, which is a terrible shame. I hope to rectify that.” He smiled at Astra. “Give me your heart and your body and you will never experience emptiness or sadness or darkness ever again.”

Edda scoffed. “Oh, enough with the syrupy garbage. You’re the Father of Berserkers. The epitome of darkness. If she lets you do anything to her, she invites shadows that will haunt her forever and probably into the afterlife, as well. Stop it.”

“I can’t help it. Can you not see how gorgeous she is?”

Baldur was quite the character. And judging by how Myst pressed her lips together so as not to smile, I began to worry. Was the father of Berserkers all bark and no bite? They would’ve said something prior to this meeting. No, that didn’t make sense. Was he insane?

He sure looked like he had at least a streak of madness going on.

“You are creeping me out,” Astra replied dryly and crossed her arms for good measure. It made Baldur throw his head back with laughter.

“What a firecracker you turned out to be. There are legends about you, Astra, of life and death bonding in a body,” he said. “Legends that transcended the realm of the living and made it all the way to my curious ears.”

“Baldur,” Edda snapped, her voice thundering across the black woods. Their obsidian leaves rustled with troubled clinking, like wind chimes made of glass. “Hrista has taken over a living realm. She will inevitably provoke the powers that be with such actions.”

Suddenly, the humor vanished from his face.

There it was. The shock. The anger. It flared like nuclear sapphires beneath his dark eyebrows. “Damn that firefly. I told her not to do anything stupid,” he grumbled.

Baldur had seen this coming. He’d at least suspected that Hrista had the potential to do something awful. We’d brought him bad news, and his fascination with Astra subsided as quickly as it had emerged. There were bigger problems to deal with, and finally… I saw the real Father of Berserkers, the force that Edda would need to help us. Our world was not yet lost.