Page 10

10

TRUTH

G etting blasted by a hundred megawatts of pure Archangelic power has launched me right out of my body and up into the Void. As a tremendous shock fills me, I somehow feel how Insinio’s got me, far below, cradling my limp body in his arms as my entire system tries to sort out what the fuck he just did to me.

Because it’s not a bad thing, as I drift far up in the universe, gazing at the black. I see the Void of Ancestors, endless stars glittering all around me in the universe.

Souls, ancient and wise.

I feel them surround me now, all those bright stars zooming in as they draw close. They feel me, feel what I am; a Bloodwalker of the ancients, they bow to me, though I don’t actually see any figures doing it.

I feel presences all around me in the Void as I drift there, however, weightless. My kin, my people long dead and gone, they’re here to help me, summoned by whatever Insinio has done.

They’re drawn like fireflies to the light, as I shine like a lodestone now in the darkness. I see that light is coming from Aesa’s silver stone, still upon my chest, even here in the Void. It swirls crimson, gold, and white, pouring through with ancient rune-work that I have no hope of understanding, as it responds to Insinio’s might.

Aesa herself rises before me now; I see her in the darkness like a shining gold-white light, a massive dragon of white and gold with ruby eyes glittering at me through all that ancient starlight.

Her gargantuan, blocky head is noble; magnificent, her serrated white scales are tipped in gold. Incredible spines shoot from her back like golden spears as she flexes gold-tipped white talons. Glorious, her mantle has ancient gold runic patterns shining through the white. Her eyes blister for battle, brimstone red, though they have a ring of opal white around them.

Turn, she says as she stares at me, raking her powerful talons through the stars. Turn and see yourself, Rikyava…

I turn in the Void. I can see my own dragon-aura now, churning as I float in the darkness along with Aesa. My massive dragon fills my vision; as big as Aesa, maybe even bigger, my Bloodwalker drakaina is towering in her might, with massive serrated scales that shine gold, ruby, and white in the darkness.

But something is wrong with her, as she writhes and coils up into a spiked ball over and over. She’s in pain, as I see millions of tiny and not-so-small holes punched all the way through her.

Bleeding her beautiful light back into the darkness of the stars.

The Council has done far more than Excommunicate you, Bloodwalker, Aesa says now as she turns to me, nodding her tremendous, elegant head at my writhing, keening form. Someone has cursed you so badly that you bleed all your incredible might back to the cosmos from whence it came. It is a move to undo you; to un-make everything you are, and return you to the Ancestors before your time—you and all your drakes. For your life-essence is tied to theirs, and theirs to yours. See. And feel the same holes growing throughout their flesh.

As I look now, I see three different coils of auric energy, streaming from my Bloodwalker drakaina and connecting to my drakes .

In the Void, I see Bjorn’s drake, shining gold with red markings through the darkness, defiant of the night. As he roars, in just as much pain as I am, the dark red and green drake next to him gives a tortured growl, as well.

Strom’s dragon is weathering this agony better, because I see a connection running between him and the next drake, a towering behemoth of black mamba darkness and cruel chartreuse light, feeding Strom some of his power.

But even Mikkel’s dragon has coiled up barbs-out now at what our connection is doing; as I watch, I see all three connections to my drakes pulling from them, sapping them of their power, diminishing and darkening them.

As similar holes open all through their auric flesh also, like a cancer.

My curse. It’s not just draining me, it’s draining them, too, thanks to our Bloodbonds. I know, as I look back at Aesa. Each time my drakes bolster me with their power, their touch, or their sex… it drains more out of them. Before long, they’ll start exhibiting the same memory loss I’m having. The same loss of identity… until it claims us all, completely.

Yes. Aesa stares me down through the Void. But this magic goes far beyond a simple Black Dragon Knight’s Excommunication ritual, Rikyava. I know: I designed that ritual myself. That magic was only a blocking spell to forget one’s home and people if someone opposed the Knights and our One True Mission to bring the Black Dragon down. It was not meant to drain a soul to death… returning them to the Void from which we all come. Only one person’s magic could do that. Only one drakaina I’ve ever known has had the sheer brilliance and utter ruthlessness to design magic like that. My sister, Hedda, originator of the Dragon of All Souls. Beware, for I believe your enemy has discovered Hedda’s magic. And is using it against you… rather than relying on the Black Dragon to bring you down.

Do you know who that person is? I ask urgently now, feeling Insinio’s Archangelic protection beginning to wane as he holds me in the chapel. As it does, I notice a strange, shimmering black barrier begin to condense all around me. As if cutting me off from Aesa’s soul, I see her brilliant light diminishing, as if falling behind a veil.

That veil shimmers and ripples with an intense oilslick darkness. Burned with caustic crimson-black runes, I understand it’s a separate curse from the one that’s draining me—a curse that has allowed something in the Void to lie to me, over and over, when I tried to contact the Ancestors.

And it’s blocking me off from Aesa now, though she fights to remain connected to me as her Truthstone burns upon my chest.

Right where Insinio’s hand lies, amplifying it.

Insinio blasts more power into my chest, and the cursed veil rolls back. My connection to Aesa brightens, thanks to how Insinio’s keeping that dark veil at bay for the moment. As Aesa roils in the stars, I feel her urgency now, however.

Knowing we’re running out of time to converse.

Trust no one in the Void until the veil surrounding you falls, she says now, pinning me with her burning red eyes. For you are right: an extra curse lies around you, preventing you from truly reaching us, your real Ancestors. Someone is tampering with your Bloodwalker’s ability, in addition to draining you… tricking you and deceiving you to enact their will. Once the Archangel’s blessing goes, do not contact the Ancestors or me again… until you know for certain the curse around you is gone.

How will I know? I ask quickly now, feeling our connection failing again as Insinio’s power is drained.

Aesa has no more time to speak, however, as another presence suddenly pushes into our conversation. A far more intent dragon-soul reaches for me now, the blue Icelandic drakaina from Riksfold punching through the Void, as she roars up before me.

Sky-blue and roiling, tremendous.

Bloodwalker! She hails me in a strong, martial way that makes me understand she’s a fighter to her bones. Your enemy and mine approaches! Take my blue scale, which you liberated from my death. Find my brother, Baldur Siguresson, with it—it shall be your lodestone and draw you to his flesh.

So you are Baldur’s sister, Hekla Siguresson, I say now, impressed with this beautiful, fierce drakaina before me.

Sad that she was taken from the world before her time.

We have no time to converse, she says now as I feel Aesa push forward again, needing to tell me one last thing before my Archangelic blessing fades completely. Take my scale; find my brother. He knows he is supposed to be yours, just as our people knew our destinies to be Bloodwalkers, and those bonded to Bloodwalkers, in times long gone. Bond him; find our mutual enemy. For she will wreak havoc and ruin all of Blood Dragondom, even the entire world, if we do not stop her. Find her… and bring her down.

But who is this Bone Mage drakaina who is our enemy? I shout now, because I can feel the veil around me descending fast, Hekla’s beautiful sky-blue dragon nearly vanished from me now. Who is the Bone Mage drakaina, Litha?

Hekla is too far away now to speak through my rapidly descending curse anymore. But like a lance of pure, bright noontime sky, I feel one magnificent thrust of her power hit me, spearing right into my brain.

Visions spiral through me, intense and catastrophic. It’s too much; I struggle to hold on to all she’s showing me—of a lithe, small drakaina with nearly my own colorations but far darker, streaking through the skies and decimating others in battle after battle.

I know she’s our enemy Bone Mage, Litha. When the visions change suddenly to a tirade of memories from my childhood, however, I reel, overwhelmed and not understanding.

Because our enemy Bone Mage is not in my visions of my past. Only my parents are, long dead and gone, and my older sister, also dead since the coup she led on King Huttr, which she nearly won, destabilizing the monarchy and decimating the Grand Palace .

All that is ancient history, however, as I fight to understand what Hekla is showing me and get nothing. The blue drakaina’s power exhausts now, and I feel Aesa push in once more.

Even her golden brilliance is almost gone now, as the cursed veil around me rolls back into place.

Take my power, Aesa says, as I feel a thousand megawatts of her energy thrust right through me now, into her Truthstone. Take as much as you can hold to stabilize you until you can find your Fourth Bloodmate. For though my power is strong, ever was my sister’s stronger. You need to find the source of the curse that drains you. Find it and drag it out by the roots. Lest our one, best hope of fighting the Black Dragon be erased. Before you have even begun to challenge it.

With that, Aesa’s presence before me snaps out. I’m falling from the cosmos, back into my body as the bitter, oily veil of my Bloodwalking-prevention curse surges up around me once more.

Insinio has me, cradling me on the floor as he pours a silver-brilliant Archangelic light into my flesh. I gasp awake in his arms and he ceases.

Still cradling me until I can come all the way back.

It takes a while. I don’t know how long it is before I blink and am finally aware of my surroundings. As I come back to myself, I don’t just register Insinio now, but Bjorn before me, sitting cross-legged on the chapel’s floor, with Strom and even Mikkel beside him.

Standing behind her brother, L?rke watches me with intense concentration, her fingers gripped into her arms so hard, she’s left marks. As I finally take a deep breath, my attention roving them all, I see each of them relax. Bjorn scoots in now, claiming me from Insinio’s arms.

And the big Archangel lets him.

Bjorn cuddles me on the floor, as Strom scoots to our side and reaches out, touching my face. Mikkel’s not touching me, but his dark eyes are wary with concern and even a budding affection, rather than wrath or lust as he leans in, rapt. Rubbing my chest, I feel the hot glow of Aesa’s Truthstone slowly fade .

Though her protection moves all through me now, filling me.

It’s not quite complete, as I close my eyes, using my inner vision to find my true Bloodwalker drakaina again in my mind. Where those cavernous, black holes of my curse were, a shimmering golden light fills them now, helping me be whole again.

I see in my inner sight, however, that Aesa’s power is being drained now instead of mine. I know she’s sacrificed herself to stabilize me for a little while, as I swallow hard.

Aesa’s given me her everything to help us vanquish the Black Dragon. This curse will drain her, just like it was doing me. Taking her who-knows-where in the Void.

Before it starts draining me again, and all my drakes—completely.

“We don’t have much time,” I say now as a fierce motivation fills me, knowing what to do. Glancing around my drakes and L?rke, I pin them with my gaze, feeling the full, robust sensation of my Bloodwalker power roar up inside me at last. “I spoke with our blue Icelandic drakaina in the Void just now; she was Baldur’s sister, and she gave us a way to find him. We need to get to Iceland, stat. She said he already knows he’s supposed to be my mate, he’s already expecting?—”

I don’t get to finish my thought, however, as Mikkel touches me. As if he couldn’t quite help himself, he only touches my boot, not even my skin—but his vast dragon sweeps me now, and all my drakes, into a tremendous metaphysical dragon-knot.

Of memories, visions, and fear.

Because Aesa’s power, even Hekla’s, are all tangled up with mine right now; I feel the amalgamation of so many dragon-magics inside me blast us wide open—visions, memories, and more roaring through us now in a tumult.

As each of us relives the deepest fears of our life, thanks to Aesa showing us our deepest inner truths, I see it all. Not only that, but Hekla’s strange visionary power catapults us each into seeing how those fears might play out in the worst possible way, as future visions of terror and death claim us.

Mikkel’s and my darkness careens through all of it, twisting us up into one terrible, powerful knot. Though he’s been revived, Bjorn is no match for all that, as our emotions and fears suddenly get rolled oh-so-terribly dark.

We twist in the pits of hell, screaming and fighting to get through it. As we all descend into a kind of spontaneous Bloodwalking I never want to repeat, we are each faced with truths about ourselves we’d rather forget.

For Strom, it’s memories of all the people he killed while he was in Denmark, under the sway of Alfhild Fey. He’s aware of all those deaths now, and has come to terms with the fact that he was coerced to kill. He hasn’t forgiven himself, though, as he roars and I feel tears fill his green eyes, ravaged. It was his magic that did the deed, and Strom punishes himself for it. It drives his Bone Magic to wrath, deep inside.

Adding to our group’s darkness.

For Bjorn, it’s knowing that he’s not strong enough to be the shining knight we need right now. It makes him doubt his entire life and his future: of what might happen when he finally faces off with his father again, and whether he might fail. It makes him doubt his true strength—the strength of his passionate, roaring heart. His deep doubt makes him dimmer amongst us, less able to oppose our terrible Bone Magic.

As the darkness inside his own self takes too deep a root.

Mikkel’s deepest inner truth hammers me also, as I feel his darkest vision come to life. In him, I feel a despair so vast, it doesn’t even have any light, as he fights against the vicious, innate instinct of his dragon, born into him as he was gestating.

I feel how he fears he’s a demon, in truth; that he’ll never be able to find that bright place inside him to be a better man— human , rather than suffer forever in his dragon’s wrath. It’s why he developed such incredible control over his dragon so young. He’s afraid of what unleashing the fullest might of his demon might look like .

And if he could ever forgive himself, afterwards.

The saddest vision I receive is from L?rke, however, whom I didn’t even expect to, because she’s technically not a part of our Bloodbond. I see a youth of struggle and hate, of rape when she was just a youngling, by fierce older drakes who corralled her into bad situations as she was learning the grifting trade.

L?rke’s magic matured later than Mikkel’s, so she had to fight for every bit of power, and every scrap of dominance, until her dragon-magic came online in her late teens, powerful in the extreme.

I feel how her inner hate swamps her. I feel how she fights to not go black, with everything that’s been done to her and how her power wants to wrath. It makes far too much sense now why L?rke is strangely prudish for a dragon.

And why Mikkel is so protective of her.

But the worst vision comes from me, as I twist in that nowhere-space of our sudden, spontaneous Bloodwalking. Because some deep part of me knows there’s something terrible I have to face before I can bring down the Black Dragon.

And that something terrible—is me.

I know there’s something inside me that’s even worse than that behemoth, as my towering vision takes me. That something is already devouring me, as I see an image now of me in the Storm Dragon fight-hall recently, battling against Mikkel.

Because I went into my darkest state then, a place of terrible power, as my inner Bone Magic bested my inner Blood Magic. That place is strengthening inside me, I know, as I see it all again in my vision.

And this is just the beginning; I’m confronted with the worst in my vision now, as I watch my Bone Magic dominate and take over my Blood Magic so that my darkest power forces a unity of my dual magics.

It creates not my red, white, and gold Bloodwalker drakaina, but the most fucking horrifying Bloodwalker I could possibly ever be, as I see this even more powerful Bloodwalker fill the skies.

She shines darker than wrath, darker than night, an unholy thing as she spews Mikkel’s poison, wields Bjorn’s rage, and uses Strom’s curse-magic to dominate the skies.

She’s what I might become, if I give in to how Mikkel’s power is pushing mine without a Fourth Bloodmate. If I can’t stabilize my magic, if I can’t balance the two sides of my dual inner nature… then I become this.

A terror of the ages—perhaps even worse than the Black Dragon.

I feel it as L?rke rushes in then, hauling her brother away while Insinio charges in also, liberating me from the rest of my drakes. The visions and that terrible knot of fear and power snap out as soon as we all lose contact, though I still feel horrible echoes of what each of us went through, devouring us black.

As I heave hard breaths in Insinio’s arms and fight to get my shit together, L?rke’s pale gaze pins mine, on fire with wrath and bitterness. As we all gaze at each other and heave hard breaths in the sudden aftermath of that truly vicious Bloodwalking, I feel how all those revelations went many ways.

It wasn’t just me who got those deepest truths, but everyone who got everyone else’s. Because in this bond, our power is shared.

Along with our darkness.

Something else echoes through us now, however, on the backlash of our spontaneous Bloodwalking. It’s a sudden vision of an invasion, of a nightclub that’s just getting ready to open for the night.

With a start, I realize it’s The Chartreuse I’m seeing. Dragons are crashing in everywhere. And they’re not the twins’ people, as bartenders, servers and more are shifting up and battling back.

It’s a furious fight, as we all startle. But none shock so hard as Mikkel and L?rke, as they both grab for their phones.

A call beeps through on L?rke’s phone, even as she hauls it out. She answers quickly, as a matching beep comes from Mikkel’s phone in a pocket of his pants. He blinks, answering it, as well. L?rke’s face has gone dark at the news she’s already receiving. It’s Mikkel’s visage that truly gets me, however, as I see him go stone-cold now.

His humanity vanishing—as he stares at me with the eyes of his beast.

We don’t even have a breath before Mikkel’s roar thunders through the chapel. And then he’s shifting up into his black dragon.

Spewing chartreuse green devastation, as he takes to the skies.