“So we can’t know for sure how great the divergence between my memories and the truth actually is,” Alexandra said. She fidgeted with her hands, staring at them rather than at Caleb and Mister Midnight. “I see. But my condition has helped. There’s hope because of what I’ve been able to see.” Her lips slowly turned in a smile. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Sorry we couldn’t get more than that,” Caleb said.
“No, no,” Alexandra said, shaking her head. “Understanding why my memories sometimes falter, why I can’t fully understand all that I’m experiencing and in what order it happens… these are important things. Knowing changes everything. I never knew why I was the way I was. What it all meant. Now I do. Thank you, Caleb, Lance.”
“Happy to help,” Midnight said. “Now you don’t need to worry. Just do your best to guide us, and we’ll all work together to figure out the best path forward.”
“It is a great comfort to know the ultimate success of this complex final battle does not depend upon me alone,” Alexandra said. “Now, then. Caleb, what of this Ophelia? You seemed stunned by merely her name.”
Caleb nodded. “She was mentioned a while back by Fae,” he said. “Someone who had talked about… I don’t know how many Greysons, but said that a certain number of Greysons would be key to stopping the Darkness, or…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t remember. I need to talk to Fae. And Toryu, too. I think he’s the one who told her about Ophelia.”
“Residing at the True Source would let her see all that was, is, and will be,” Midnight said. “So she knew all along that you Greysons would be important, huh?”
“But that’s what I don’t get,” Caleb said. “She could know that at the True Source. But how could she have told Toryu, and apparently Sal, too? They didn’t meet her there — she met them where they were.”
“Another mystery,” Midnight said. “As if we needed more of those right now.”
Footsteps, frantic and rushed, sounded from the end of the hall, coming closer. Caleb and Midnight leapt to their feet just as Maxwell and Tock came bursting into the room. Both of them, even the ever-positive, ever-energetic Tock, were out of breath, their eyes wide with fear and worry.
“It’s Sal,” Tock said, regaining her breath first. “He’s escaped Grimoire.”
“What?” Alexandra asked, leaping to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair. “What do we do now? That wasn’t part of the plan at all. I don’t…”
“We figure it out,” Midnight said.
“We’re going to Grimoire to get the full story,” Maxwell said. “We just thought you should have some warning in advance.”
“Go,” Alexandra said, and the pair departed, racing as fast as their feet could carry them. She sank back into her chair, raising a hand to her forehead. “We… we need to change everything, don’t we?”
“We shouldn’t,” Caleb said. “We still need to turn the Key of the World. That won’t change. We just need to figure out what we need to do to give Delilah, Fae, and Shana the best chance possible, now that things have changed.”
“The kid’s right,” Midnight said. “Let’s get everyone together and wait for the full story from Grimoire. It’ll take time just to get all hands on deck.”
“Right,” Alexandra said, slowly rising with the aid of Adelaida. “Let us go.”
The next several hours were a whirlwind of activity. Caleb and Midnight raced all over the mansion, coordinating with the various teams, getting everyone together. Shana, Shias, and the Dawn Riders were a big help, eager to do what they could since, for their part of the mission, all they had to do now was wait until everyone else was ready to go. They were eager for something to do, and scrambled to get the message out to everyone. It was time for an all-hands meeting in the central study, where they’d had their meeting when Caleb and his team had arrived.
Fae and her team were the last to arrive, all of them in loose, comfy exercise clothing they’d been wearing for rehearsals. Caleb had thought they’d started doing full dress rehearsals, but when he asked about it, the unpleasant look he got from Fae spoke volumes.
It took quite some time to get everyone together, so that they didn’t have long to wait. Even then, the wait wasn’t an unpleasant one, as Alexandra maintained her reputation as an excellent host. Trays floated here and there, with numerous delightful snacks, sweets, and fruity drinks, as much a delight to the eyes as they were to the taste buds.
When Maxwell and Tock arrived, however, the atmosphere changed. With them came Anastasia — battered, bloodied, bruised, and in a wheelchair, pushed along by Maxwell. She’d received some medical attention during the journey, evidenced by numerous bandages, one which took up nearly the entire right side of her face, including her right eye, and hefty casts on both legs. But there was far more that needed to be done, and Lorelei immediately followed the others into the room as Anastasia was pushed up to the stage.
“The others will need healing as well,” Anastasia said in a quiet, ragged voice. “Please.”
Andrea immediately organized a group of Healers and went to help out the others, however many and whoever they were, with Tock leading the way.
But Anastasia insisted on remaining here and addressed the audience. Lorelei knelt beside her, eyes closed, her glove Talisman gleaming as she worked her Healing Magic.
“Grimoire is safe, for the moment,” Anastasia said. She used some kind of magic, perhaps Manipulation Magic, to send her quiet voice throughout the study, seeming to come from all directions, so that she could be heard without straining herself. “We delayed Sal as long as we could. And then Blaise arrived, and… he fought Sal.” Her voice broke for a moment, and she cast her gaze downward. In her one visible eye, Caleb saw tears glistening. Tears that weren’t due to her physical pain.
She was grieving.
“He dealt Sal a grievous blow,” she continued. “And in the process… gave up his own life. He hoped to kill Sal, but he still managed to sever some kind of connection to his power over the Darkness. Furthermore, the wound he dealt to Sal will never heal. He saw to that. The Lord of Night isn’t defeated, but he is gravely wounded, and he no longer has the power he had before, power to render the rest of us powerless against him.”
A soft murmuring rippled through the crowd. They all quickly went silent again, holding back their questions. No one wanted to strain Anastasia more than she already was, and no one wanted to interrupt her with questions that she might answer on her own.
“Sal escaped,” Anastasia continued. “He slipped through a portal, and it’s likely that he went back to his seat of power, the Throne of Night. He will try to heal his body… and his mind. Something else happened at the end, something strange. He… spoke in a child’s voice, his voice as a child. He seemed conflicted, at war with himself. I don’t know entirely what it means, but… either way, we need to adjust our plans going forward. With Sal…”
She trailed off for a moment, and then her eye closed, and her head drooped forward. “It’s all right,” Lorelei said as the crowd began to murmur. “She’s just passed out. It was a great effort just to talk. She’ll heal, given time and attention. Let’s let her rest.”
Maxwell wheeled Anastasia away, and Shana stepped up.
“I know what she meant about Sal’s conflict,” she said. And she told the story of her time in the Library of Solitude’s Dream, her meeting with the Nightmare-Child, and how that child had actually been Alexander, a part of Sal’s heart that had been removed and cast away long ago. “He said that he was going to return to his heart, where he belonged,” Shana continued. “He didn’t know how long it would take — and he didn’t know how much he’d be able to do — but it looks like he made it. And, at least for now, he’s having some effect on Sal’s convictions.”
“And he’s wounded, no longer invincible,” Midnight said. “This might be the best chance we have to actually fight him.”
“Only if we have to,” Alexandra said. “He is still the Lord of Night. Even wounded, he must be terribly powerful. We don’t know enough to decide on the best course yet.”
“But we’ll have to adjust,” Deirdre said. “Who else came with Anastasia?”
“I can answer that,” Tock said, returning to the central study. She listed off all those who had come from Grimoire with Anastasia. It was a surprisingly long list: along with Anastasia came Bronn, Sieglinde, Stride, as well as Hestia, Artemis, Athena, Galahad, Octavian, Desmé, and some members of the Grimoire Guard — Jacob Crowley, Jackson Redburne, Thalia Koichi, Hagan and Mercedes Rook, and Oscar Greyson.
“My parents are here?” Will asked.
“And they’re doing all right,” Tock said, her smile clearly giving Will some relief. “All of them will need healing and rest, but they all insisted on coming. They know what’s at stake, and if we can spare the time they need to recover, they’re all hoping they can help.”
“What about our dad?” Caleb asked.
“He’s staying in Grimoire,” Tock said. “Doctor’s orders. He wanted to come, but he really isn’t in any condition to keep fighting. He’ll be okay, though! He’s not as hurt as most of them, but that’s just the thing. His strength can’t just be patched up with magic. He needs rest, more than anyone else.”
“He pushed himself big-time,” Chelsea said softly, giving Caleb’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Do we really have the time to let them recover?” Alice asked. “If Sal’s at the Throne of Night, then our mission is pretty well compromised.”
“He’ll know as soon as you enter the Fallen Bastion,” Alexandra said, nodding. “The whole point of keeping him in Grimoire was to keep his attention — and his power — as far from you as possible.”
“So let’s stick to that plan,” Midnight said. Everyone looked at him. “We need to keep his attention off of the Keybearer, right? He’s wounded now, his power severed. We can actually fight him, so let’s do just that. Put together a team, and go fight him on his turf. I know it’s where he’s most powerful, and I know Kodoka and her army of Paladins already tried that and failed spectacularly. But the circumstances are different, now. And we won’t be going there to try and kill him. We just need to keep him focused on us. Fight cautiously, carefully. We don’t have to win, just buy time.”
As a murmur rippled through the crowd, Caleb spoke up. “It’s worth thinking about, right? Let’s strategize, figure out what we can do. If Anastasia and the others get the time they need to rest and heal, that bolsters our strength exponentially. We need more information, but we weren’t ready to act immediately anyway, right? Fae and her team still need rehearsals, and Anastasia and the others need time to heal. Let’s make the most of that time and rethink our strategy now that things have changed.”
“Sorry for holding everyone up,” Fae muttered, bowing her head.
“You aren’t the only ones unprepared,” Alexandra said. It was nice to see her back to her usual self, all smiles and warm encouragement. “Our coordination team is still testing and finalizing its methods for keeping our various teams in communication. And these new developments change everything.”
“We’ll have to rethink things from the ground up,” Delilah said with a nod. “You still have time. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Fae said. “Then is it okay if we head back out?”
“Yeah,” Delilah said, smiling. “Good luck!”
Fae’s departure seemed to signal the end of the meeting, as others began to break off into groups, talking amongst themselves. But while Caleb wanted to be involved in further conversations about his role, he had something else to talk about, first.
“Fae, wait!” he called, running out into the hall after her. “I don’t want to forget to tell you — I met Ophelia.”
“Ophelia…” Fae murmured for a moment, before her eyes widened in understanding. “Ophelia? The one who…” She turned to Toryu, who nodded.
“Yes, I met her,” the Dragon said, “and told Fae about her visit. She spoke of eleven Greysons who would stand against the Darkness, and against the one Greyson who betrayed the universe.”
“And I didn’t understand the numbering,” Fae said. “How do we get to eleven Greysons? Even if she somehow counts Chelsea before you two are married, that still doesn’t add up.”
Caleb started counting in his head, and slowly nodded. “Addie and Alice,” he said. “Chelsea and I are going to adopt Addie, and Alice and Delilah claimed each other as sisters. Alice has been calling herself a Greyson for a while, now. Add it up, you get the five of us, Chelsea makes six, the girls make eight, then mom, dad, and grandpa…”
“Is eleven,” Fae said. “That’s… a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
Caleb shrugged, chuckling. “It’s the only way I can see to get eleven.”
“Unless she was thinking of some of us!” Mercury said with a grin. “Olivia and Sonya might count as sisters to you, Fae. That would help you get to eleven.”
“Our connection is different,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “Caleb’s reasoning seems the most sound.”
“But… you met her?” Fae asked. “How? I thought she was already passing beyond the physical world, already giving up her role beyond the Time Wilds.”
“She said that time is… different there,” Caleb said. He smiled sheepishly. “It’s complicated. She did say that she’d been the River’s Keeper before the woman I’d met previously. And she said that I was only able to meet her this time because of me and Mister Midnight working together to get there, without realizing that’s where we’d end up. She said… she said she wanted to meet me. Not just me, either — all of us. She mentioned Chelsea by name, too, so it seems like she definitely counts.”
“She wanted to meet us…” Fae murmured, eyes downcast. “But she didn’t have anything to add to what she’d told Toryu?”
“No,” Caleb said. “She was focused on giving us answers about Alexandra. But she seemed happy to have been able to meet me. I don’t know. There was something sad about her, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know. Thought it would be worth telling you about.”
“Thanks,” Fae said, surprising Caleb. “Time is… strange, isn’t it? It seems strange, too, that she’d be so focused on us, but… well, I guess we can’t get all the answers all the time.”
“Truer words,” Toryu said with a chuckle.
“Anyway,” Fae said, looking at Caleb. “We should be going.”
“Yeah,” Caleb said, nodding. “Good luck.”
“You, too,” Fae said. And then she was off, heading back to rehearsal with her team. Mercury was encroaching on her personal space, laughing and talking to her, trying to put her arms over Fae’s shoulders, and Fae kept dodging away, but… there seemed to be something playful about both of them, not just Mercury.
Smiling, Caleb returned to the central study. The full meeting was officially over, with various teams now talking amongst themselves, breaking off into their own groups. Will left to go check on his parents, and Lorelei left to help the Healers with the new arrivals.
Caleb joined Midnight and Alexandra to explain to the others what they’d discovered about her condition, her memories, and the path forward. “It’s going to be a team effort every step of the way,” Caleb said, “so let’s do our best to make the most of Alexandra’s memories without putting all the burden on her to find the right way forward.”
And on that note, Midnight’s proposal was given serious consideration. “I have no recollection of an actual battle at the Throne of Night being part of our plan,” Alexandra said. “But if he’s escaped Grimoire, with the wound and internal conflict he now suffers, there may not be a way to get him to leave his seat of power again.”
“He’ll stay where he’s strongest,” Midnight said. “It’s just a question of how strong he’ll actually be now.”
“I doubt you’ll be wanting for volunteers to take the fight to him,” Maxwell said. “Anastasia and the rest of them all came largely because they thought they’d be picking up where they’d left off.”
“If his wound is as grievous as Anastasia said, and truly won’t heal as Blaise claimed,” Marcus said thoughtfully, “then we may stand a chance. Fighting with prudence and with the objective of buying time rather than attempting to outright defeat him is also a sound strategy. But it does leave us wondering where the rest of us stand.”
“Originally, you were going to come with me,” Delilah said to Caleb. “But now… well, you might need all hands on deck to fight Sal.”
“Are you sure?” Caleb asked. “You’re heading into the Fallen Bastion. You’ll need all the help you can get too, right?”
Back and forth they talked for a long while, weighing their options, considering the choices available to them. But they couldn’t come to a firm decision, not yet. They needed to know how Anastasia, Hestia, and the members of the Grimoire Guard fared, and how long it would take for them to be fighting fit again.
They also needed information. Apparently, Deirdre had a plan on that front, but she didn’t share it with all of them just yet. She wanted to work with Isla and a few select others, and she didn’t want to offer false hope if this experiment failed.
Slowly, they dispersed. Delilah’s team had training to engage in, so Caleb’s team joined them.
Caleb’s team, minus Lorelei, and Will… and Caleb. While Chelsea and Gwen went to train with Delilah and her team, Caleb was taken aside by Midnight.
“There’s something we might be able to do,” Midnight said. “It’s a tricky concept, but after what we managed to do together for Alexandra, I think you and me together might be able to pull it off.”
“What is it?” Caleb asked.
Midnight grinned. “A plan to trap the Lord of Night right where he sits, and buy us all the time in the world.”
——
The Lord of Night sprawled upon his throne. His breathing came in labored, raspy gasps. His hands clutched the arms of his throne tightly, his feet pressed against the floor, a force of will and physical exertion keeping him in place.
He needed his throne, more than ever. But even here, even at the heart of his power…
“I’m not… healing…”
What had Blaise done to him? Those dragons of fire… they hadn’t been mere conjurations. He thought he’d known the true extent of Blaise’s magic, his mastery of Celestial Magic, but perhaps…
Light and Dark. Life and Death.
Had he truly mastered them? Had those dragons been true manifestations of those dual powers?
“So he set them free… and then —”
“And then they tried to kill you.” A second voice, from his own mouth, his own vocal chords, his own heart. The voice of a child.
“And failed!” Sal cried in his true voice, the voice of an adult, the voice of the Lord of Night. “I live, and even Blaise couldn’t kill me. I am not defeated.”
“Why still resist?” the boy asked, with his own mouth, his own body. What invasion was this? What infestation had crept into Sal’s heart? “The Lord of Night isn’t you. This is never what you really wanted.”
“You…” Sal responded, reclaiming his own voice, gasping for breath. His eyes widened. “I know you. You were cast off. You… you were a fearful, Nightmare-infested child! How can you be here? And how can you feel so… so different?”
“The Dreamer rescued me,” the boy’s voice said, turning Sal’s face into a smile, a joyful, hopeful smile, all starry-eyed and innocent. “And I promised I would come back to you. To your heart, where I belong. Don’t you see? You’ve been incomplete all this time, but now —”
“Stop it!” Sal cried, shaking his head, convulsing with his whole body, as if to physically throw the child out of him. “Who are you to know me? I have grown, while you’ve remained a child, locked in your distant prison. I’m not who you think I am. I never was, and never will be.”
A new voice spoke into the darkness. Not Sal’s, nor the child’s.
Jormungand’s. Cold, steely, somewhat concerned. “My Lord?” he asked. Sal looked up, and saw his scar-faced advisor approaching, tentative, worried.
“What is it?” Sal asked, sitting up a little straighter, willing the child to be silent.
“Your wound, my Lord,” Jormungand said, stopping at the threshold of the dais that bore the Throne of Night. “It… it is not healing.”
“It is immaterial,” Sal said, gritting his teeth against another wave of pain and nausea. “Here, I remain strong. The Endless Night approaches. And…” He chuckled, forcing a smile. “Blaise did me a great honor. He gave me the surprise, the twist, the unexpected that I so craved. Truly, old friend, you did set us up for the most exciting finale.”
“And the conflict within your heart, my Lord?” Jormungand asked. He took a step closer. “You seem conflicted, torn, and I fear your power —”
“My power is still greater than you know,” Sal said, quick, steely, as Darkness itself wrapped around Jormungand’s throat, choking off what he would have said next. “Do not doubt it, Jormungand. The Darkness chose me, and I control it. You would do well to remember that — and to remain on task.”
He let the Darkness leave Jormungand, who dropped to his knees, coughing and sputtering.
Up beside him, emerging from the Darkness like he was made of it, came the tall, alert, ever-loyal and faithful Sen. His wound still showed, his armor scored, his face bearing light, thin burn-scars here and there. But the locks Jacob Crowley had placed on his arms were gone, his hands free, and he was as healed as he could ever be.
Like Sal, he bore wounds that would never fully heal. And not just him. Out of the Darkness came Valgwyn next, standing on Jormungand’s other side. His face was disfigured, half of it forever burn-scarred by Chelsea’s fire, his scalp seared so that hair would only grow on half his head. One eye shone inky black, dark and strong, while the other was milky white, blinded and useless.
Yet he stood tall, erect, waiting like his brother.
Waiting for orders.
“We are in the final stretch, now,” Sal said, composing himself as best he could. The pain did not lessen, his struggles did not cease.
But he was nothing if not an excellent actor.
“Sen, go to the Dreamer’s Cage,” Sal continued. “Be ready. When she makes her move, you will have her. Valgwyn, investigate this strange stronghold of the heroes. For some reason, my senses cannot see within its walls. We thought ourselves prepared for any eventuality, but Blaise has shown that the heroes can still surprise us in the final hour. See that you can discover their plans, without being discovered yourself. Nyx awaits you, and will support your endeavors.”
Sen and Valgwyn nodded, bowed, and stepped back, vanishing into the Dark from whence they came.
“Dullan,” Sal murmured, and coming up behind Jormungand, then stepping over him, using the kneeling man as a step-stool, came the most imposing of his Sons of Night. Unscarred, undamaged, cloaked in the Darkness itself, Dullan approached the throne, his wicked scythe in hand. “Are you and your Furies prepared?” Sal asked.
“We are, Father,” Dullan murmured in his whispering voice, like the Darkness itself in the hidden places, soft but strong, ever-present, undaunted. “What would you have us do?”
“Find where the Keybearer will go,” Sal said. “Cut her off. End her mission. And…” Sal’s gaze drifted to the kneeling Jormungand, “take him with you. Jormungand, show your worth one last time. You served me so well, for so long, conjured so many great plans. See to it that your last great experiment isn’t a failure. See that the Dark Eater finally fulfills her promised purpose.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Jormungand said, slowly rising to his feet. “But if I may, my Lord… what of the Vessel? Fae Greyson remains unaccounted for in these plans.”
Sal smiled. “Don’t worry about her. I have opened the door for the one who will deal with her and her friends. All is accounted for. Or did you doubt me?”
“N-no, my Lord,” Jormungand said hastily, taking a step back and bowing. “I will see your will fulfilled.”
Dullan and Jormungand left, leaving Sal once again alone on his throne.
No. Not alone. Never alone.
Not anymore.
Swallow my voice, if that’s what makes you feel secure, the child, the boy called Alexander, said in his mind.
You will not use my voice again, Sal replied. Your presence will not be known to any others. And soon, you will fade from even my heart.
Maybe you can keep me bottled up, the boy replied. But even if you keep others from hearing me…
The only one I need to hear my voice is you.