Caleb and Mister Midnight met Alexandra in the solar, an upper room with glass ceilings and three walls of glass, flooding the room with the perpetual golden gleam of Sunset Square. It had been too much for Caleb to handle the first time he’d visited, before Alexandra had examined his eyes, but with his new glasses, seeing the world more as an Enchanted sees it — closer to how the world really looked, apparently — the room was less painful to him, now. It was more vibrant than ever, and what had been a blinding glare was now a beautiful golden glow that brought out rich, warm color in the entire room.
“This is one of my favorite rooms,” Alexandra said, smiling as she sipped her tea. But her hand trembled slightly as she lowered her cup back onto its saucer, and her smile slowly faded. “You say you have a plan?”
“The closest thing to a plan we could come up with,” Midnight said. “I still don’t know exactly what’ll happen until we dive in. Are you ready?”
“To learn if my memories — or even how I experience the world and Time itself — can be trusted?” Alexandra asked. She laughed somewhat haltingly, then shook her head. “As if I ever could be. But I need to know. For all our sakes.”
“I’m not making any promises that we’ll get to real answers, here,” Midnight said. “But we’re going to do our best.”
“Right,” Alexandra said with a nod. She sat up straight and closed her eyes. “Well, then. Let’s get on with it.”
Midnight and Caleb stepped to her side, Midnight closest to her, Caleb beside his teacher. With one hand, Midnight held Caleb’s hand, and with the other, he touched Alexandra’s forehead with his thumb and ring finger. “One my mark, Caleb, we enter Time-state,” Midnight said. “You ready?” At Caleb’s nod, Midnight counted down from three. And then… “Mark!”
Caleb entered Time-state, taking both Midnight and Alexandra with him. But at the same time, Midnight entered Time-state — and used his special power to access Alexandra’s memories.
And the world became a flood, a torrential, whitewater current of the rich, deep blue of the River of Time. Caleb was flung off his feet, and Midnight too, the pair of them barely holding onto each other as they were sent flailing helplessly through the raging flood.
“Find a core!” Midnight called, barely audible above the rushing current. “You need to anchor yourself to something, and you’re the only one who can do it! Once you’ve found and grabbed onto one, I can help guide the rest of the way. But the first step is all you, kid!”
Caleb tried, knowing it was just as they’d discussed in advance. But Midnight hadn’t prepared him for the complete helplessness in this deluge, flying every which way, barely able to see through the foaming waters of Time itself. Which meant Midnight hadn’t known this would happen.
They were in uncharted waters.
Everything was theory, was hope, was playing off of what little they understood of Caleb’s strange new connection with Time Magic and the River of Time. And they hadn’t had enough time since the Chronos Vault to test out the idea of “touching Time.”
They’d been rather busy.
Caleb peered through the flood, holding Midnight tightly, though his grip was slipping. But he wasn’t looking for a core. He wasn’t looking for a thing at all.
He was looking for a person.
Please. Show me the way!
Time Magic, and especially being here in the River of Time itself, Caleb now knew, was not about control. There were times — like this moment of helplessness, sent spiraling through whitewater rapids — that the best thing Caleb could do…
…was let go.
There!
There, through the foam, he caught a glimpse of her. The mysterious woman, all blue like the River of Time, who had watched over him his whole life, and who had appeared to him time and again with silent guidance. He saw her, and fought his way to her. He wasn’t completely helpless in this flood. Not now that he had a guide.
And even in a wild raging torrent like this, Caleb was still more comfortable in the water than on land.
In the raging waters he found her, and she smiled at him, though somewhat sadly, as she always did. A moment later, she rippled, swirled, and vanished.
And in her place was a core.
Caleb lunged for it, grabbed hold of that lifeline, and all of a sudden the waters became completely, peacefully still.
The “core” was something Midnight had taught Caleb about, in their brief discussion en route to Alexandra for this experiment. Caleb had seen at the Sea of Tranquility that the River of Time wasn’t just water. There were mechanical constructs within it, gears and flywheels and clock hands. The River of Time was more than just a constant, flowing, natural thing. Machinery was a part of time, too, and these physical elements were what Midnight called cores, elements around which the waters flowed, directing and orienting themselves around these guideposts.
Now that Caleb was holding onto one, he had found the eye of the storm. The eye of a storm that they hadn’t known was going to hit them, but even so.
“Are we still looking through Alexandra’s memories?” Caleb asked, catching his breath as he clung to the core, which had turned out to be the hour hand of a clock.
“Yeah,” Midnight said. “This is… like a separate, non-physical world. We’re both still back in the solar, and I’m still touching Alexandra’s forehead. But in here, there’s only you and me. She isn’t conscious to this part.”
“So… where are the memories?” Caleb asked, looking around. All he saw was the endless sea of blue, with little cores here and there — gears ticking, flywheels whirring, clock hands turning.
“I haven’t brought them to the fore, yet,” Midnight said. “It’s… a lot to take in. She experiences Time in a completely different way from anyone else. It’s not just nonlinear, it’s… well, think about it. Despite experiencing past, present, and future in a jumbled, mixed-up chronology by our standards, she doesn’t disappear and reappear here and there, right? She’s always here, with us, in the present, whenever we want to talk to her.”
“That’s because of her house, right?” Caleb asked.
“That’s part of it,” Midnight said. “But even with the house, she still experiences Time the same way. Without the house, she’d get lost to it all physically, but mentally, nothing changes either way.”
Caleb stared at Midnight, and Midnight stared back at him. Slowly, Caleb let out a breath. “Okay. Yeah. That’s confusing.”
“So brace yourself,” Midnight said. “Even with your powers helping to anchor us and give us a better metaphysical perspective on things… this is still looking into a mind that is unlike any there is. Probably unlike any there ever will be. That’s why I didn’t want to make any promises. Even with your help, I’m still not sure we’ll be able to make sense of it. You ready?”
Caleb nodded. “We’re not going to get anywhere just talking about it, right? Let’s just dive in and try to figure it out.”
Midnight took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. Here goes.”
He raised his free hand, and snapped his fingers.
And the entire world vanished. The core vanished. The River of Time vanished.
And Caleb, clinging to the reality he knew for a second longer, couldn’t remain there.
Caleb vanished, too.
——
Delilah and Alice sat in a warmly-lit study in a distant, rarely-traveled corner of Alexandra’s mansion. Across from them sat Emmeryn, studying the pair with a tight, constrained expression.
“You should have told me as soon as you awoke,” Emmeryn said, her voice as taut as her expression. “What the Dark Eater truly is… your true purpose…” She focused her gaze on Alice. “Yet you are a Paladin.”
“Because I already chose who I want to be,” Alice said. “I’ve been through enough with this one,” she nudged Delilah, smiling, “to understand where I really belong. What the scar-faced jerk made me is one thing. What I’ve chosen to be is another. Which do you think holds the most weight?”
“But he was able to use your powers and show you what you were made to be,” Emmeryn said. “If he is able to do so again, then your own choices won’t matter. You can transform the Darkness into a power strong enough even to destroy the Key of the World.”
“As much as I like destroying things, I’m into destroying the Darkness now, not the Light,” Alice said. “And I’ve learned that there’s a lot more pride to be found in saving others than killing for fun. Besides, you’ve been around me for a while now. You oughta be able to tell by now that I’m not a fan of people telling me what to do, or who I am, or what I am. I’m me, and I make my own choices. And I think being a Paladin says a lot about what weight my own choices hold.”
“Marcus said the same thing,” Emmeryn said, bowing her head, her expression softening. “You even asked him if you could truly be allowed to be a Paladin… the guilt of your own Darkness isn’t something you ignore or pretend isn’t there. And yet…” She looked up, now focusing on Delilah. “I know that you won’t waver on taking her with us on this final journey. And I know that you need me for the final stretch. So I… will accept this. Delilah, Alice… I will do my utmost to help you. And I will do my utmost to see you, Alice, as a Paladin — what you’ve chosen to be, rather than what that villain made you to be.”
“Thank you,” Delilah said, and she noticed Alice relax slightly. She’d been more tense than she’d let on. “I know this is difficult for you. And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. As soon as I woke up, Fae was right there, and I had to talk to her, I couldn’t keep missing my chance to say what needed to be said. And ever since, we’ve been working so hard with everyone, running here and there, organizing and preparing… but those are just excuses. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”
“You told me what really happened, without lying about it beforehand,” Emmeryn said. “That says a great deal. I’m happy to say that I trust the Key of the World’s choice in Keybearer.”
“Yeah, you were an immediate fan of Delilah,” Alice said with a smirk. “It was me who was the problem. Usually am for most people…” She hopped to her feet, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, anyway. Glad we cleared the air. Thanks for listening.”
“Let’s get to the rest of our preparations,” Delilah said, standing. “There’s not a lot of time left. And I’m worried, not knowing what’s going on in Grimoire. Anastasia said she had a plan, but… I don’t know what they can really do to contain Sal. We should hurry.”
——
Time resumed in Grimoire. Maxwell and Tock were gone, Caleb, Chelsea, Gwen, Lorelei, and Will were gone.
Sal was still coming. It was up to Anastasia, now.
Just to buy time. That’s all I need. Time… for Blaise.
“Fascinating,” Sal said, his voice larger than life, filling the air even though he still couldn’t be seen, was still making his way down through the evergreen slopes of the eastern mountains. “In an instant, some of you have vanished. Caleb and Chelsea, hmm? And it seems that Deirdre and the child, too… intriguing. I’m not sure how you managed it, but it won’t matter. All has been accounted for, after all. And you simply don’t have the time to undo what I’ve begun.”
And there he was. Sal. Alexander Salazar Greyson, the Lord of Night, striding out from the trees, making tracks in the snow. It was strange to think of him as the Lord of Night even now, even having experienced his powers once before, even knowing all that he’d done. He didn’t dress all in black, he didn’t have a vast, monstrous shadow trailing behind him, he didn’t come leading an army of Darkness-born beasts.
He came alone, dressed in his usual style of long coat over waistcoat, of a variety of colors blending together. He’d always been very fashionable, and remarkably unique. He’d always been quite the showman, too.
And here he was, stealing the spotlight, the center of attention.
“Why hit us with so many monsters and the strongest Son of Night if, in the end, you were going to come alone?” Anastasia asked. She couldn’t move, her shadow held in place by the unknown, seemingly limitless power of Sal. But she could speak.
And that was all she needed to do. Just like Blaise had told her.
“It was all part of the plan,” Sal said. He came to the edge of the city, right at the line that marked where the Guardian Barrier would be if it were active, and stopped. He smiled, and it was a smile like the night, Anastasia thought — dark, yet cool, soft. It was threatening in the most mysterious way of them all, by being unknowable. “Partially to test you, to test the strength of the great heroes of the Light. But also, it was to buy you all some time. Things have gone… a bit too well to plan, if I’m being honest. I wanted to give you a chance to surprise me. As satisfying as it is watching long-gestating plans go off with perfection, while that can fill me with a sense of pride, it also generates a certain… boredom. Though that could also come from the fact that I’ve spent too long playing the scriptwriter, the director, the stage manager. I’ve been behind the scenes, running the show, but for all the power there is in that, there’s nothing like the thrill of being in the spotlight.”
“So why not take the spotlight sooner?” Anastasia asked.
Sal cocked his head to the side, eyes glittering with amusement. “That would deprive all of the other important players in my cast,” he said. “Why would I keep Jormungand alive, why would I give the Sons of Night physical form, if they were to merely sit in the wings and twiddle their thumbs? As bored as I started to become from watching things happen, I do what every great showman does — I saved the best for last. My time in the spotlight comes at the end of the story. It’s poetic, don’t you think?”
Anastasia gazed upon Sal with pity, her eyebrows and the corners of her eyes drooping. “This is what you wanted to be?” she asked. “I know you said that this isn’t about vengeance, that you’ve long since moved past the death of your mother, but… I just can’t see it. I can’t see you becoming this… this villain.”
“Can’t you?” Sal asked, spreading his hands wide, smiling at Anastasia. “Who was the villain who chased after and tried to abduct a princess? Who was the villain who threatened to kill Chelsea for nobly fighting to protect that princess? There’s a certain poetry in all of us former Shadows, don’t you think? Ana, Bronn, Stride, Sieglinde… all of us who fought for and followed Blaise all these years turned from Grimoire’s noble defenders into something more… twisted.”
“Some of us saw the error of our ways,” Bronn said, glaring daggers at Sal.
“An intriguing turn of phrase,” Sal said. “But I’m not quite sure I follow. If correcting your ‘errors’ led you to this final stand, a final stand where you can’t even move against the villain of the story, then I would be tempted to call that a monumental failure. Wouldn’t you?”
“You seem like you’re enjoying your new role,” Stride said, trembling with the effort to move against Sal’s inexplicable shadow-hold on all of them. “The Lord of Night. Guess you never lost your love of grandiose nonsense.”
“You never did develop an appreciation for the fine arts,” Sal said, tsking as he shook his head. “To think, centuries since I last saw you, and you’ve barely changed at all.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Stride said.
“You keep deflecting and dodging the real question at the heart of all of this, Sal,” Sieglinde said. “Why? Why become the villain? Why bring on the Endless Night? What purpose does swallowing all of creation in utter Darkness serve you?”
Sal’s smile shifted somewhat. A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes, a narrower edge at the corner of his lips. “I was chosen by the Darkness,” he said. “I won’t be devoured by the Darkness. My Sons of Night won’t cease to exist. And I’ve seen the lands that have totally ‘Fallen’ to Darkness — they are far more interesting and varied than anyone would ever give them credit. Endless Darkness isn’t a bland, boring, black canvas, a void of nothingness. I assure you I won’t be bored once I’ve won.”
Anastasia sighed, pulled Sal’s gaze to her. “That’s all this is about?” she asked.
“What do you mean, Ana?” Sal asked.
“Winning,” Anastasia said. “That’s all you want? To win?”
“To upset the natural order of things,” Sal said, quickly, his voice gaining a keen edge beneath his airy, mellifluous theatricality. “To challenge what everyone expects. Everyone expects good to win in the end, everyone expects Light to reign at the end of all things. The Prophecy of the Endless Night fascinated me from the moment I first heard of it. It was the narrative twist that I’d been searching for. It was the upset, the shocker, the surprise of the… well, of all time, really. And then, of course, I was chosen by Darkness. It all clicked into place. This is where I belong. Standing at the crossroads of history, on the stage that defines reality itself. To be the writer, the director, and the star of the story that shifts the narrative of the world? What greater achievement can there be than that?”
Anastasia stared back at Sal, casting in her mind for words. But she was sickened by this proclamation. Was this truly what Sal had become? Or, no… was this who he’d always been underneath it all? The showman, the entertainer, the lover of stories that had been her friend…
Had he always been so twisted? Had she just never seen it?
Or was this new? So much about his mannerisms, his style, his presentation was the same as it had always been. She didn’t know, she couldn’t tell, and she was lost for words because she couldn’t make sense of the man she’d known since they were both children, the man who’d disappeared from all their lives and then come back as the villain challenging the entire universe — and winning.
“Now, then,” Sal said, taking his first step across the barrier line, his first step into Grimoire, “shall we start the story’s climax? All this preamble is fascinating, but if we let it drag on too long, we’re all bound to get bored.”
“If you want an exciting climax, then let us move,” Stride said, his voice as sharp as his swords. “Let’s see how you hold up against all of us when we’re actually free to fight.”
Sal cocked his head to the side and chuckled softly. “You think that will make things more interesting? You think it’ll actually give you a chance?” He held up a hand, and gesticulated dramatically with his fingers, then bowed with a flourish. “Your wish is my command, old friend. Show me what you can do. All of you, Grimoire Guard — show me what caliber of heroes you are!”
Anastasia gasped as a sudden weight was lifted from her, a sudden pressure released her. She could move! And where she’d been lost for words, she wasn’t lost for actions. She, Stride, and Bronn were the first to leap into action, charging towards Sal with all their might.
I ran out of words. I’m sorry, Blaise. But I hope this can buy you what time you still need.
Before the trio reached Sal, many others leapt into action as well. At the fore was Jacob Crowley, his key-shaped sword angled for a precise thrust. Bursting from the ground behind Sal came the great silver dragon Summon, Nidhogg, under Sieglinde’s command. From all sides came other Hunters, as well as Galahad, Artemis, and the rest of the former Radiance.
Sal had let them all go, given them all their freedom. They had to make the most of it — or this might truly be their final battle.
Anastasia ended up at the front of them all, the first one within striking distance of Sal. But as she came around in a spinning heel kick, she glimpsed Sal coming up out of his bow, all casual confidence, a smile on his face, a glitter in his eyes as he looked straight at Anastasia.
“Nice try,” he said, his voice somehow airy and light, and dark and menacing all at once.
A wave of Darkness blasted outward from Sal in all directions. Anastasia, her heel just inches from Sal’s face, was caught up, flung backwards, sent flying head-over-heels like a ragdoll, utterly helpless. The breath was crushed from her lungs, and an instant later she crashed into something hard — and then through it, brick and stone shattering around her and behind her and beneath her, and she skidded through sharp edges and hard stone, crashed through another wall, and came to a breathless, aching, bleeding stop against the base of one of Grimoire’s old watch towers, over a hundred feet from where she’d nearly kicked Sal.
Her vision was hazy, and when she shook her head to clear her eyes, her head pounded, and she winced at the sharp, twinging pain in her neck. But she saw, all around, the devastation Sal had wrought with two words, with a simple thought, with a single flourish of his impossible power.
The entire Grimoire Guard lay battered, broken, defeated. Dust clung to the air from so many buildings toppled, so many pillars broken, so many roofs collapsed.
Sal stood right where she’d left him, clean and composed. But his smile wasn’t quite as broad as before. His sigh as he looked around spoke volumes.
“So that’s the best you can do,” he said. “I had, against all odds, hoped for one final, monumental twist, a surprise secret weapon from the heroes in the eleventh hour. But it seems it isn’t in the cards.”
Blaise… I’m sorry. I couldn’t stall him long enough.
Anastasia tried to rise, but it was useless. Her legs weren’t working, and when she glanced at them, her heart stuck in her throat. She was broken, defeated at the last. And she hadn’t even been able to put up a fight.
Time was up. For all their efforts, they’d —
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
That sound… what was it? A sharp, yet light, rap against stone. And accompanying it… footsteps?
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
Anastasia’s eyes widened. Hope, impossible hope, burst anew in her heart.
A man strode past her, his cane rapping lightly against the stones. He walked confidently ahead of her, until he was halfway between her and Sal, interposing himself between them.
Blaise Mathers had arrived.
He came to a stop, and Sal stared back at him, a flicker of surprise — and excitement — in his eyes.
When Blaise spoke, Anastasia could hear the smile in his voice, and yet with that confident air was also a keen, sharp edge of warning. Surrounded by the defeated Grimoire Guard, standing alone before Sal, he spoke two words.
“Hello, Alexander.”