“Argon,” she said, laughing with relief, so overjoyed he was alive.
She reached down and clasped his hand with both of hers.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded gently, and she wondered.
“Where are you, Argon? Are you here with me?”
“Partly,” he replied.
She sensed that their time together was short, and that she might lose him again. She felt a burning desire to have her questions answered.
“Argon, your shield,” she said, “you must tell me: will it last? Please. Just answer me this. Will it last?”
There was a long silence, so long that Gwen suspected he would never reply.
And then, finally, Argon shook his head softly.
As he did, Gwen’s heart dropped.
“No,” he declared. “Even now, it is destroyed.”
Gwen’s heart plummeted as she pondered the ramifications. It meant that everything would be destroyed: this island, her people—everything. Her entire life, everyone she loved.
Her breath caught in her throat, as her hands trembled.
“Is there any way to restore it?” she asked. “Any way to protect this place?”
Argon shook his head weakly.
“My Shield—and the Ring—are destroyed forever.”
Gwen’s blood ran cold. She hardly knew what to say.
“Even now Romulus’s dragons approach,” Argon added. “And one million of his men.”
Gwen’s heart was pounding, and she found her hands running cold.
“How can we stop them?” she asked.
Argon shook his head.
“You can’t,” he said. “Soon, very soon, this island will be destroyed.”
Gwen burst into tears.
“And what of Thorgrin?” she asked, between tears. “Will he return to us? Will he help save us?”
Argon waited a long time, then finally shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “He has his own destiny.”
Gwendolyn found herself still crying, wiping back tears, despite her best efforts.
“And what of my baby?” she asked. “What of Guwayne?”
Argon remained silent, expressionless, as he closed his eyes. Gwen’s heart pounded, wondering if she’d lost him.
“Argon,” Gwen pleaded, clutching his arm, “answer me. Please. I beg you.”
Argon opened his eyes again and stared right at her.
“You made a choice,” he said. “In the Netherworld. I am sorry. But vows exact a toll.”
Gwen sobbed, unable to hold back her tears.
“You’re been a marvelous Queen,” he said. “Your people have lived far longer than they were destined. But even for the best of Queens, the time comes. You cannot always outrun destiny.”
Finally, Gwen, devastated, composed herself.
“Is there nothing left to do then but prepare to die?” she asked, desperate.
Argon was silent a long time, until finally, he nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But sometimes, that is all we have.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Luanda stood on Romulus’s ship, not far from him, watching his back as he watched the sea, hands on hips, smiling, victorious. Luanda heard the incessant screeching, and she looked up and watched the host of dragons on the horizon, leading the way, disappearing as they headed north toward the Upper Isles, on their way to destroy her sister and all her people.
Romulus laughed and laughed as he led the fleet of ships, thousands of them, blanketing the sea like a school of fish, sailing away from the Ring for the Upper Isles. Luanda looked out at the horizon, and knew that she should feel satisfaction. After all, she had finally gotten what she’d wanted. The Ring was destroyed; she was avenged. Avenged for Bronson, avenged for her exile from King’s Court. Avenged for never being treated the way she deserved to be; avenged for being skipped over for the youngest. She had avenged herself on everyone who had doubted her, on everyone who had cast her off as meaningless.
But Luanda was surprised to realize that she did not feel triumphant; she did not even feel satisfaction. Instead, as she watched the events unfolding before her, she felt hollowed out—and a deep sense of regret. Now that her plans had become a reality, she could not help but admit that there was a part of her that still loved her people, that still wanted to be loved and accepted by them. That wanted them alive, that wanted things to be the way they used to be.
She had thought all this destruction would make her so happy. But now that there was nothing left, for some reason, she felt sad. She did not know why. Perhaps it was because with her people and land destroyed, there was nothing left to remember her time on earth. Nothing left that was familiar in the world. All that remained now was Romulus and his Empire—all these awful creatures.
As Luanda looked at Romulus’s broad back rippling with muscles, a commander at the height of his powers, ready to conquer every last inch of the world, a tremendous hatred for him built up inside her. He was to blame for all of this. She hated the way he treated her. Like a piece of property. She hated how subservient she had been forced to become to him. She despised everything about him.
Romulus’s soldiers were all preoccupied on deck, and Romulus stood alone at the bow of the boat, his back to all, Luanda the only one allowed to get close to him, hardly ten feet away. She glanced around one last time to make sure no one was looking, then, secretly she tightened her grip on the hilt of the dagger she kept hidden in her belt. She squeezed so hard, she could feel her knuckles turning white. She imagined herself strangling Romulus as she squeezed.
Luanda took a step forward, towards Romulus’s exposed back, a cold gust of wind and ocean spray striking her in the face.
Then another step.
Then another.
Luanda could not rectify wrongs, could not change what she had already done, the mistakes she had already made. She could not bring her homeland back. She could not restore the Shield.
But there was still one thing she could do, time for one last remaining act of redemption before she died. She could kill a barbarian. She could murder Romulus. She would get vengeance, at least, for herself, and vengeance, at least, for all of them. If she could not have anything else in life, at least she could have that.
Luanda tightened her grip as she extracted the dagger and took another step. She was but two steps away, seconds away from killing this monster. She knew that she herself would be captured and killed shortly thereafter—but she no longer cared—as long as she succeeded.
There he stood, so smug, so arrogant. He had underestimated her—like all of them. He had seen her as property, as someone not to be feared. Luanda had been underestimated her entire life. Now she was determined to make him—and every other man in her life—pay. With one stroke of the blade, her life would find satisfaction.
Luanda took the last step, raised her dagger high, and anticipated the satisfying feeling of her blade puncturing his flesh and putting an end to this creature’s life for good. She could already see it happening, could see him dropping to his knees, collapsing face first, dead.
Luanda plunged the blade down with all her might—and yet, the strangest thing happened. The blade suddenly stopped as the tip hit his back. It was like hitting steel—it could not puncture the skin. It hovered there in midair, and no matter how hard she tried to push it down, it just would not enter his skin. It was as if he were protected by a magic shield.
Romulus turned around, slowly, calmly, a smile on his face as he shook his head and stared back at her, holding the blade in midair, harmlessly. Luanda looked at the blade, wondering what had happened.
Romulus shook his head.
“It was a good attempt,” he said. “And any other time, you would have killed me. But you see,” he said, leaning in close, his pungent breath in her face, “while this moon lasts, I am invincible. To every man, to every blade, to everything of this earth. Including you and your dagger.”
/> Romulus leaned back and laughed, then reached out and calmly took the blade from her hand. She was helpless to stop him. He raised it high, grimaced, then suddenly stepped forward and plunged it into her heart.
Luanda gasped as she felt the cold metal entering her heart. She felt her heart stop, felt all the life and air leaving her body, felt her body go limp, numb, felt herself collapse to the wooden deck of the ship. She looked up and saw Romulus’s laughing face before her eyes closed for the last time, realizing that nothing in the world would stop Romulus. Nothing.
Her final thoughts, before all life left her, were, strangely enough, of her father.
Father, she thought, I never meant to disappoint you. Forgive me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Thorgrin fell through the air, yelling, flailing, feeling the cold air rush past him at breathtaking speed as he plummeted for the ocean and the cliffs below. He fell hundreds of feet, feeling his entire life rush by. He knew that in moments he would land, dead, and it would all be over, here, on these rocks, at this ocean, so close to finding his mother. Here, in this Land of Druids, land of dreams. He wondered how it could be, how it was possible that he could strive for something his entire life only to have it slip away, just out of his grasp.
Somehow, he had failed. He had become the greatest warrior he could be on the battlefield; and yet, he had not conquered the depths of his own psyche. The one opponent left in the world whom he could not defeat was himself.
He’d been defeated by himself. What did that mean? He tried to understand it, at lightning speed, as he fell. To him, it meant that there must be some part of himself that was stronger than another part. A part that could defeat himself. A part that was so strong, it could overcome anything. It was a great force within him.
Thor had a sudden realization: that great force, even it was destructive, was still a part of him. It was still a force that could be harnessed. Which meant that he could find that dark part of himself, and harness it for the good. Energy was energy—it just needed to be redirected. Perhaps he could get that part of himself to work for him, instead of against him. If Thor could use that power to defeat himself, perhaps he could tap it to save himself.
Thor closed his eyes as he fell through the air, and he tried to summon his inner power, the power of his mind. He had been relying too much on his physical side his entire life, he realized. He was starting to realize that his mind was just as powerful as his body—if not more so. He could use his mind to do wonderful, miraculous things, things that his body could not.
Thorgrin focused, and as he did, he used the power of his mind to slow the world, to slow the very fabric in the air.
Thorgrin felt the world slow, then come to a stop. He felt himself floating in midair, frozen in the fabric of time and space. He felt the part of himself that was creating the time and space. He felt the infinite power within himself, the power that was not separate from the universe. He tapped into the endless stream of energy flowing through the universe, as Argon had often taught him, and he felt himself right in the center of it.
Thor held his hands out wide, palms up, and felt his fingertips and palms tingling through the very fabric of the sky. They felt as if they were on fire, burning with energy.
Thor went deeper, until he reached the place in his mind where he began to see no separation between his mind and the universe, between the energy flowing into him from the universe, and the energy flowing out. He began to see that he could control it. He could control his environment. He could also create everything around him. He saw that he could create his circumstance. And that his mind and his energy were more powerful than the manifestation he was in.
Thor commanded himself, the part of himself he could not control, the darkest part of himself. He commanded it to stop manifesting this circumstance. To change everything around him. And in the process, he forced himself to stop resisting, to let the universe be what it was. To let himself be who he was. Once he felt a complete acceptance of the universe, a complete acceptance of himself, then a deep peace overcame him, a peace unlike he had ever felt.
Thor slowly opened his eyes, and he knew, before he saw anything, that the universe around him had changed. He’d stopped himself from falling, and instead, was now floating upwards, gently, higher and higher, turning to an upright position, faster and faster, until he reached the top of the cliff. He set himself down gently, and he stood before his mother’s castle.
There was no longer any danger, no longer any fear. He’d gone to his deepest depths, and he’d risen above it. Here he was, alone, facing the entrance to his mother’s castle. He’d crossed the skywalk, the place he could never cross in his dreams. He had finally managed to cross to the other side.
Thor examined the castle in awe. Before him were two huge, golden arched doors, five times as tall as he, and five times as wide. They shone so brightly they nearly blinded him, each with massive handles carved in the shape of a falcon.
Thor sensed intuitively that grasping those handles and trying to open the door would do no good. He knew it was a magic door, the most powerful door in the world. That the only way in was if the doors were opened for him.
Thor waited for them to open, but they did not.
“I demand to be let in!” Thor boomed out.
“You are not worthy of being let in here,” boomed out a voice, dark, male.
Thor stood his ground, determined.
“I am worthy!” Thor yelled back, feeling worthy for the first time.
“And why are you worthy?” came the voice.
“I am Thorgrin. Son of my mother, Queen of the Land of the Druids. Son of Andronicus, King of the Empire. I am he. I, and no other. I am not worthy because of my powers. I am not worthy because of my skills. I am worthy because of who I am. I deserve to be let inside these doors. For no other reason than for who I am.”
Thor felt his entire body vibrating as he spoke the words. He felt that he had finally reached the deepest truth of this training. Acceptance of himself.
He began to see that everything he manifested in the universe was a result of how he felt about himself. All the dark forces, they were real, and yet they were also all figments of himself he had to overcome. The deepest, hardest foe to overcome was how he felt about himself.
He had viewed himself his entire life, he realized it now, as undeserving. He still did now. When he let go of that, when he accepted himself fully and completely, just for who he was, then all doors in the universe would open for him. That was the final step towards conquering himself.
Thor felt a deep sense of peace as he realized all of this, as he accepted himself.
He opened his eyes slowly, and he looked up to see the doors shining more brightly than they ever had, and opening, slowly, wider and wider, the most beautiful sound in the world as the hinges opened effortlessly. Light flooded him, a golden light, pouring out from inside the castle, all-embracing, warmer, stronger than he could imagine.
He took his first step. Then another.
He felt warmer and warmer, and he knew that in just a few more steps, he would be inside this castle, with his mother. Finally, his destiny would be complete. In just a few more steps, all would be revealed.
And his life would never be the same again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Alistair found herself flying, looking down over the Ring, and she did not know how. She had no wings, she rode on no dragon, and yet still she floated, soaring above the landscape of her home country, looking down at it all from above.
As she looked down, she was confused. In place of the summer bounty she had left, in place of the fertile fields, the endless orchards she had grown accustomed to, there was a scorched land beneath her, destroyed by the dragons’ breath. Nothing was left—not a single city, town, village, not even a hamlet. Every last structure had been burned to ashes.
The trees, once so lush, ancient, were all burnt-out stumps, and there were no more structures to mark the landsc
ape. There remained nothing but waste and devastation.
Alistair was horrified. She flew low, covering the entire Ring, and found herself flying over the Canyon, over the great crossing. She saw below her Romulus, leading an army of millions, stretching as far as the eye could see. The Empire now occupied her homeland.
Alistair knew then that her homeland had been destroyed forever, and the Shield destroyed with it. The Ring was occupied, was now the property of the Empire. What once was would never be again.
Alistair blinked and found herself standing before her mother’s castle, her back to it, facing a great skywalk, which twisted and turned its way miles below to the mainland. It was a long, curving path, and on it there walked a sole figure. He came close, and she realized it was her brother, Thorgrin, here to see their mother.
Thor looked up at Alistair, and she was so relieved to see her brother, the last person alive in a world of desolation. She felt that in moments she’d be meeting their mother, the three of them together for the first time.
Thor came close and smiled as he held out a hand for her. She reached for him.
Suddenly, the skywalk beneath him collapsed, and Thor fell through it, plummeting through the air and toward the rocks and ocean below.
Alistair looked down and watched, helpless, her heart breaking; without thinking, she dove down, over the cliff, to save him.
“Thorgrin!” she cried.
Alistair found herself landing not in the ocean but rather on an entirely new landscape, atop a plateau, looking down over thousands of people of the Southern Isles. She turned and saw Erec standing beside her, holding her hand, each of them dressed in their wedding attire, in luxurious silk robes.
But something was wrong with Erec when he smiled: he smiled wider, and blood poured from his mouth. He then collapsed, falling face first off the edge of the cliff, arms out wide by his side, trailing blood, as his people reached out to grab him with open arms. Alistair lifted her hands, covered in blood, and found herself standing there alone, her groom diving, dead, into the masses below.