The Raven, the Haven, and the Craven

Phoenix reared up and climbed over Leopold. The merchant sighed with relief, the fear for his life and his wife draining away. He turned only when the sight of feathers and fire overhead vanished. The creature charged Y’edda, a torrent of claws and caws and rage.

“Get out of there Duffy!” Power swelled his voice and a ring of purple energy rocked the Ice Henge.

Duffy, still duelling the Thayne cocked his head and hesitated. Y’edda turned mid strike and brought her blades up to block the advance of a new opponent. As she did so, she swatted the bard with an unarmed arm and knocked him across the clearing. He smashed into Eagle’s shrine and ploughed through its point. Shards of ice sprayed out across the tundra.

“Pitiful. You’d have the world burn just to save the family that abandoned you?” The Thayne spoke with sullen truths, her mind’s eye focussing on Ruby’s past and her vicious streak pulling at the strands of fate that carried the spell singer from birth to death.

“I’d burn a thousand worlds to ensure my family survives.”

Phoenix’s words burnt into Y’edda’s mind, scouring clean any rebuke or lies she could muster. Claws raked the lithe form of the goddess, and a beak snuck through her guard and dug deep into her chest. Strands of glowing bursts burst out from the wound and she stumbled back.

Leopold felt helpless as he watched. The gods fought tooth and nail and every time Phoenix struck a blow, Y’edda began to fall apart. He winced every time a sword tip sliced away feathers and tore into his wife’s divine form. Fire and fame and tale and flame spiralled upwards, forming a metaphorical fire of old and new.

“Wound up, can’t sleep, can’t do anything right.” Leopold began to sing. On his knees, trembling, and with hope fading he remembered the song he used to sing to Ruby when they found one another again. War and time and destiny had kept them apart, yet she remembered. She smiled. “Oh, since I set my eyes on you I tell you the truth, twisting like a flame in a slow dance.” He stood on unsteady feet. “Come on, fire woman, come on!”

The flames rising from Phoenix intensified, red to gold, yellow to amber. From within her godly cage Ruby could hear a faint whisper of hope. She cried out and the Ice Henge shook. As history began to repeat itself she closed in on Y’edda and leapt, wings beating like drums and dug in her claws. She closed her wings around the Thayne and let lose all the rage and fury and heat within.

“Fire, smoke she is a rising fire, yeah smoke on the horizon! Fire, smoke she is a rising fire, oh smoke stack lightning, smoke stack lightning!”

Both gods screamed, half rage, half desperate realisation that the end was near. The flare turned into a beacon and the beacon turned into a roaring pyre. Phoenix disappeared into the centre of her power, and Y’edda dissipated, leaving nothing but a forest of blades protruding from the Ice Henge’s heart. Embers danced overhead, new stars in the night sky and vespers of smoke and ash vanished into the headwinds. Silence. Sudden sense of loneliness. Leopold wandered to the ruination left in their wake numb and solemn.

“I am so sick of being thrown around like a rag doll.” Duffy opened his eyes.

Outside the Ice Henge without shelter, every bone in his body felt like ice. He shuddered, lips blue and hair frosted. Though he often lacked common sense, he knew he had to get back into the fray or turn into a statue. Neither option enticed him, but living was always preferable.

“Come on you jackass.” He reached out with a cold hand and dug it into the snow. He heaved, emerging from a growing drift and wincing as his bruised shoulders reminded him that he was no longer carefree and immortal. “Shit!” He bit his lip.

The wind rolled over him, flicking his cloak to life and rattling the icicles in his hair. As he slowly rose, he began to wonder how long he had been unconscious. Minutes, hours…days? His eyes struggled to focus in the shadows, but when he turned and latched on to the familiar sight of the Ice Henge’s spires smoke spiralled up and a flurry of embers rained down. He mouthed a silent prayer and began to wander back towards his family.

Every step made him wince. Every breath reminded him that charging a Thayne a second time was suicide. Somehow, he had survived. He had to give it to himself, he was a lucky bastard. He crossed the threshold and admired the inadvertent small victory his catapult had afforded them. The spire was shattered, its lustre gone, another part of the Ice Henge destroyed.

“Leopold!” He turned back to the centre, scanned the fiery crater, and frowned. His stomach churned, fearing the worst.

“Over here!”

The voice came from the edge of the crater, and Duffy hurried as quick as he could to his brother’s side. The merchant was on both knees with his arms hanging loosely by his side. His blank expression was an ill omen.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He knelt beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Leopold flinched, but relaxed when he saw who it was. “Where’s Ruby?”

Leopold, dry tears staining his face shrugged.

“She and Y’edda just…burnt away.”

“Burnt away? That’s Ruby’s shtick. Where is she?” Duffy looked around, but saw no signs of life. He turned to examine the centre of the crater but there was nothing. No bodies. No singing. No scorned woman ready for a drink.

“Phoenix used all her magic to defeat Y’edda.” Leopold sobbed. “She’s gone.”

Duffy shook his head.

“Bullshit.”

“No. Duffy. She’s dead. She said she forgave me. I made her give up her power during the war and had to destroy the Old God part of me to set her free. She returned the favour.”

Duffy cleared his throat.

“So, Phoenix is gone. That doesn’t mean Ruby is too.” Panic crept into his stomach and began to undo his composure. “Come on old chap, let’s go and find her.” He stepped away and held out a hand.

Leopold stared at the crater for a while, trying to come to terms with what had happened. He felt powerless, for the first time in a long time. He had spent all his life protecting Ruby, and the one time when she needed him there was nothing he could do.

“Okay,” he said softly. He took Duffy’s hand and clambered upright.

“That’s the spirit. Let’s see if Clarissa made it, she can help.” The bard pointed to Hawk’s cracked shrine and slowly but surely, they made their way to the first battleground.

Rook’s body rested in the snow, aglow with purple light that ooze from her wounds. Duffy and Leopold rushed to her side, dwarfed by her immensity. Leopold pressed a shaking hand on her beak, and smiled weakly when he felt her move.

“She’s still alive. Barely.”

“What can we do?” Duffy looked up at Hawk’s shattered henge and spat. “That bastard.”

“She’ll be fine, we just need to find where her reliquary is.” Leopold began to search between the giant feathers, growing desperate and delirious. He slipped into and out of madness with one thought on his mind: his wife.

“Reliquary? What?” Duffy shrugged.

“Blood, Duffy!” Leopold shouted. “Find her damned blood!”

The bard’s eyes widened. His brother had only mentioned Rook in passing, but he remembered being told about her necromancy. She carried the blood of her enemies and herself, able to undo the gravest of wounds and perform seeming miracles. He raced up and down, stepping around pools of blood in search of the bandoleer.

It took them an age to find the vials. Leopold snatched it from Duffy’s hands and began to search for Clarissa’s sample. It was darker than the rest, laced with flecks of purple ooze and sealed with wax. He dropped the bandoleer to the snow and hurried to her head. Duffy followed, unsure what to do, and watched his brother break the seal and poured it gently onto Rook’s beak.

“It’s that simple?”

“Yes. Stand back.” Leopold tossed the empty vial over his shoulder and made a hasty retreat. “She’s going to be really, really pissed.”

They watched as the Rook’s body began to shrink. The wounds widened, shrunk, and folded in themselves. In a manner of minutes there was no sign of black feathers and divinity, and an upstart lady remained amidst the lake of glowing lifeforce. As Rook faded, so too did her blood and when she opened her eyes and gasped there was no trace of the Old God at all.

“How dare you!” she screamed. She practically leapt into the air and drew her sword. “I told you never to touch the reliquary!” She swirled, eyes set on Leopold, and advanced with bloodlust in her eyes.

“Clarissa, wait!” Duffy stepped in front of his brother. “It was the only way to save you!”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way bard.” She waved him aside with her blade but he stayed put. “I will run you through.”

“You’re alive, that’s all that matters. Whatever cost you have to pay for that, it is worth it.”

“What do you know about blood magic?” She snarled.

“Blood magic?” Duffy gawped. “Leopold told me you were a necromancer.”

“Oh, please. Anyone can be a necromancer. Blood magic is the only reason we can live as we are. Those vials, they contain blood from all the Old Gods. Only because of me were we able to make it this far!”

Duffy looked to Leopold for answers.

“Anyone who uses the lifeforce of the dead for their own ends is a necromancer. You can’t dress it up in semantics but we don’t have time for this.”

Stood in a triangle, the trio let their anger and confusion run its course. Contrary to her legendary temper, Clarissa sheathed her sword and relented first. She tucked her hair behind her ears and folded her arms across her chest.

“What happened after I fell?”

Duffy explained that Hawk was dead and Y’edda, for now, was banished. When he explained what Phoenix had done even Clarissa’s cool, emotionless facade broke. She looked worried, but not desperate.

“Leopold, Ruby isn’t gone. She’s just…lost. When I transform it’s like I float away and watch the old me run rampant. It’s hard to describe, but somewhere nearby Ruby is watching. She’s waiting for a chance to find her way back to you.” She realised how silly it sounded, but waved over the Ice Henge to encourage him to look. He glanced upwards into the night sky. “She might have fallen into the Tap, we’re so close to being rid of that bitch’s magic forever.”

“When you put it like that,” Duffy chuckled.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Leopold said stoically. “We finish what we started, then we find her. I don’t care what it takes and you’d better be right.” The half-veiled threat did not phase Clarissa. “Are we agreed?”

She nodded.

“I think he might object to that idea.” She smirked and pointed south.

Leopold and Duffy turned, both reluctant but knowing danger when they saw it. They clapped eyes on a giant fist rising from the heart of the Ice Henge clutching a Warhammer the size of a tree. A second followed, and as the orcish head emerged between them they came face to face with the strongest of the Old Gods.

“That’s him, isn’t it.” Duffy pulled his katana across time and space into his shaking hand. “The big one.”

Leopold armed himself with his hunting rifle, a heavy clunky contraption that he could barely hold to aim. The gruff grunt told Duffy all he needed to know about who they were facing. Clarissa formed a line between them, carving it into the ice with her sword.

“Behind the line, both of you. Quickly!”

Duffy and Leopold retreated, the second they did the line burst into purple fire. Duffy watched Clarissa drain the last of another vial onto the blade and take to a defensive stance.

“He must have felt the death of Hawk.”

“Why doesn’t he have a Henge?” Duffy rattled off the list of names she had said when they arrived. A god for every rage and whim save the most important drive of all in Berevar. “Why doesn’t War have a shrine?”

“The Ice Henge was built on it, now he only forms when the Old Gods fight or the orc tribes unify and march south. This is our chance, both of you, we have to get that hammer on our side!” Clarissa crossed her blade in the air and her skin glowed in the light of the cross that lingered in its wake. “Lure him close to a Henge and don’t let him flatten you.”

Duffy had no intention of being made into a pancake. In his current state he doubted he could anything other than act as a very brief distraction. He looked at his sword meekly.

“Leopold, you and Clarissa keep him off me. I need to sing to stand any chance of making this work.” He sent the sword away, and replaced it with a violin laced with gold thread. The bow floated in front of him, a familiar sight to Leopold. He smirked.

“It’s what Ruby would do,” Leopold said with acknowledgement. “Clarissa, I think it’s time I broke my promise. Help me remember who I am.” With grit teeth Leopold marched forwards, hands balled into whitening fists and every intent of settling old scores with the Old God of War.

Clarissa appeared far too excited at the prospect, and followed Raven quickly. She plucked the last two vials from her bandoleer and broke their seals. She drank one in a single gulp and poured the other onto Leopold’s shoulder. Duffy saw them both begin to transform in the shadows, then fade into the growing storm that descended over the failing Ice Henge. Two pairs of wings rose high above the snow and as War stood tall over the Henge, the bard began to sing a song to inspire himself to fight on. He pictured his sister in the back of his mind, smiling and dancing, and let the lyrics flow freely.

Raven and Rook found a common tempo in their attacks, as though the thousands of years since they had last stood side by side were a dream. Despite their newfound strength, ensorcelled by the Ice Henge’s awakening power, War stood twice as tall and each swing of his hammer shattered the steel like ice underfoot. Swaddled by the white howling snow, Raven and Rook had to beat their wings to stay above the maelstrom and used their beaks and talons to rake at the orc’s unarmoured torso.

“Betrayers!” He roared. The crude common tongue vibrated the air. “After all I have done!”

The hammer rose, held in two hands and meant for Leopold. As it fell, the animal’s eyes watched it, powerless to avoid it’s swing. The flat of the hammer’s head struck Raven square in the chest and the sound of giant ribs breaking and blood vessels bursting echoed out across the tundra. Winded by the ordeal, the Old God stumbled back, cawed, then disappeared into the snow. Rook seized the opportunity to even the playing field and leapt up onto War’s shoulder.

“These are our lands, War. You chose to fight and Berevar fell!”

Rook’s beak lunged and struck War’s temple. Again, and again, raining down like a hail of arrows. The fourth cracked the skull, but only served to enrage the god of war further. He flailed, and when Rook began to rock back and forth he grabbed her by the wing and tossed her aside.

“Death for a home is valiant!”

War raised his hammer and took a deep breath. He exhaled with the force of a hurricane and dropped the hammer’s shaft to the ground. A shockwave pierced through the storm and cast it out of the Ice Henge. Vespers of snow dust trailed through the air as the damage to the shrine of the Old God’s was revealed. The crater where Y’edda had fallen still smouldered and the two henges shattered by the conflict stood broken and dull. When War saw what had stirred him, he roared with such fury and zeal the ground beneath his feet cracked.

“Thousands of years of sleep have brought only ruin to my home.” Leopold’s voice carried over the tension, and he stood upright as himself, chest in agony, nostrils oozing blood and spear in hand. “I warned you all, but your ignorance led to our downfall.”

In the final days of the war with the Thayne Raven had appealed to the pantheon to change. To let the Thayne preach their ways in Berevar. He knew that although it would cost them, the Old Gods would live on in the hearts and minds of the people of Berevar. War, pig-headed and blinded by his power gave Leopold an ultimatum. Either fight with them, or be cast out from the Ice Henge forever.

“You are weak, Raven. You’d have us enthralled to usurpers!” War advanced, considering the man no threat to his life and lifted a foot. It lingered over the merchant, casting him in shadow as the Old God laughed wickedly. “Berevar has slept long enough.”

Leopold closed his eyes, facing death willingly for his passions as he had done centuries ago. One thought went through his mind as the moon disappeared behind War’s heel: Ruby. He would die a thousand times if each sacrifice meant she could live on, if she could continue to inspire and lead the downtrodden.

With visibility restored, Duffy changed his lyrics mid-song. He shed the flames of healing that he needed to fight on and turned his focus to protection, to sacrifice, and to surviving to live another day. He watched War’s foot rise and fall, heart like a stone as the final notes of his verse danced out across the ice and lashed together around his brother.

“And from your lips she drew hallelujah!”

Complete, the song turned the air around the merchant into a solid white sphere, hard as diamond and full of hope. War’s strength pushed the orb into the ice, shards breaking up and raising like claws to ensnare his enemies. When he moved his foot away and saw the orb he abandoned reason. The hammer came down full-force and struck, casting light out across the Ice Henge in a halcyon burst. Frustrated, War struck again and again until finally a thin white crack appeared at the apex of Leopold’s sanctuary.

“Shit…,” the merchant grumbled.

A wicked smile broke on War’s face. He raised his hammer for a killing blow, and its head stood fifty feet in the air, protruding from the Ice Henge’s ward and draining the cold from the night sky. Ice formed around it, as though Berevar itself were War’s to command. Leopold watched, rooted to the spot and racing for a solution to a rather painful problem. The urge to flee rose from his stomach and made him shake. Duffy watched, equally helpless, and began to run as quickly as his broken body could towards the fight.

“Get out of there!” he roared.

Leopold glanced to his left and saw the bard bounding, stumbling, and flailing towards him. He smirked. What would Duffy do? Duffy would do something really stupid. He found himself reaching for his pistol and cocking it, slotting a bullet into the barrel instinctively. He aimed it at War’s hands without turning away from his brother.

“Aim at his hands!” he roared back.

Leopold had to wonder why he hadn’t thought of this idea before. Towering over him was the perfect tool to shatter the Ice Henge for good. War had driven himself to rage, and the merchant had spent too many years trying to reason with him. He would not get in his way and prevent Berevar’s rise again. Lavender and cinnamon filled his nostrils, the tell-tale sign of Old Magic. He poured his heart and soul into the bullet, and the clockwork pistol began to glow purple as the spirits of three ravens melded with his shot.

“Are you kidding me?” Duffy balked. He skidded to halt fifty feet away from the crater in which his brother launched a desperate gambit and looked up at War in awe. “Fuck it.”

He drew on the Aria and conjured ravens of his own. One appeared on each shoulder and the third appeared in his cupped hands. With a mental push he sent them flying upwards, leaving umbra shades of vermilion and burgundy in their wake. A second later Leopold fired, head turned away to avoid the flare and all four projectiles impacted against the Old God’s knuckles.

No more than a flesh wound, War bellowed with rage and made to bring the hammer down. As he did so, he lost his grip, and the hammer over extended. Duffy held his breath and prayed, and his worried look turned into a beaming smile when the hammer head shattered Eagle’s shrine on the eastern edge of the Ice Henge. The collision sent fist sized shards of ice flying in every direction and a wellspring of power rose skyward like a beacon.

“No!” War’s eyes dimmed and the power released spiralled up his hammer shaft and snared his fists. The ground trembled and began to crack, fractures swift turning into ravines and a web like bottomless crevasse.

Leopold clambered out of the crater without a second thought. The deep, rumbling sound laced with haunting whispers was all the encouragement he needed. When he crested the ridge, and slapped his hands on his knees to catch his breath the shattered henge caused the web way of power that kept the Tap sealed beneath Berevar to snap.

“That was pikin’ close,” he wheezed.

Duffy shuffled up to him, questioning look on his face.

“How are you still alive? You took a titan’s hammer to the chest.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Look,” he pulled his shirt open and immediately regretted it. “Oh.”

A deep black bruise covered most of the merchant’s chest. When it dawned on him that his Raven form had not protected him quite as much as he’d hoped, his brain caught up and floored him. He dropped onto his hands and knees in agony. He swore several times; words Duffy had never heard his brother shout with such determined gusto.

“That’s it. We’re done here. We have to leave!” Duffy bent forwards and helped Leopold up. He hooked him over his shoulder and raised his wrists. His sleeves dropped, revealing two obsidian bands inscribed with lyrics from the First Song the troupe sang.

“We, we can’t leave without Ruby.” Blood trickled out from the corner of Leopold’s mouth. “You have to find her!” He looked up, tearful eyes pleading to Duffy’s better nature.

“Ugh, I swear you’re going to get me killed. Go. Go back to Scara Brae and get help. I’ll find your damned wife.” He pushed Leopold off him and stared expectantly until the merchant clashed his own bands together and vanished in a whorl of blue ribbons and defeat.

Suddenly alone, Duffy pieced together the damage that had been done to his body. His shoulders were aching beyond belief, red bruises forming on every inch of his upper arms. His head throbbed, blood purging the toxins in his body from his wicked corruption of Ruby’s spell singing. He looked around the devastation, hoping for signs of his sister. There was nothing save for splintered ruins and geysers of grey light rushing out of the widening cracks in the ice plateau. He could feel the Tap drawing near, suffocating and invigorating all at once. He looked back to the south and saw the purple cross cut into the fabric of reality by Clarissa. He frowned.

“She didn’t…did she?” He limped towards it, heart racing as a glimmer of hope returned.

The temperature near the cross was tropical. Beneath its crackling form the ice melted, forming puddles that hid unfathomable depths and ancient sea creatures. The bard approached slowly, and when it was in reach he stretched out a shaking hand and pressed two fingers against it. His eyes widened as pain and pleasure and tomorrow and yesterday struck him all at once. Reacting to his presence, the cross widened with a sucking sound as whatever lay beyond let in the growing wellspring of power from the crumbling Ice Henge.

“That crafty witch!”

Beyond, Duffy could see a mercury sea. At the base of the portal a jetty stretched out over the calm reflecting surface of the true, untainted Tap. It was the Aria.

“What the hell is she up to now…”

The argument between Ruby and Clarissa on the plains suddenly made a lot of sense. She was clearly working to her own agenda. He looked over his shoulder and saw War still transfixed, hammer lodged in the ice, tendrils of the Tap smothering his muscles and stifling his voice. Gurgles and whimpering cries echoed out across the calming tundra, as though the weather was pathetic fallacy for the Old God’s turbulent emotions. The moonlight reflected from every cold surface, dancing over the jagged graveyard of those who dared to question War’s motives long ago.

Every time War tried to free his hammer another iceberg broke free, rising and falling until the landscape was a mountain range of ice. Duffy couldn’t quite believe that they had succeeded. The grey geysers turning into gushing torrents of mercury and slowly but surely the icebergs sank into the depths, and a circular lake appeared between the remaining henges.

“She knew Ruby would become Phoenix.” Duffy turned back to the portal. “She never forgot her promise.” Hoping to god he was right Duffy marched brazen into the breach and it sealed shut behind him.

The Ice Henge continued to crumble, and a familiar face appeared from the shadows with a wicked grin. She made sure Duffy had left before she walked over to War and folded her arms across her chest.

“It’s over, old friend. Your kin are free.”

War ground his teeth and fell to his knees. He leant against his hammer for support. Its base began to freeze and ice grew around it, rising about the shaft.

“It is not over, Rook.”

“Oh, my dear, dear War. Did you really think that old hag could do this?” She waved over the ruination. The moonlight danced over the Tap and brought the lake to scintillating life. “I’ve waited so, so long to break free of this accursed place. A long game, you could say.”

“Who are you?” He scowled.

Clarissa cackled and waved a hand over her face to lift the glamour that veiled her true form. War recognised the avian features immediately, which only added to his sense of defeat and loss.

“Sparrow…”

“Indeed. Your little confidant in the war, passing messages back and forth whilst turning the Old Gods against you one by one.” She smirked.

“You brought this ruin to our home…”

“No. You did. When there was no other choice I let my kin sleep knowing that one day, after centuries of watching and waiting, Raven and Phoenix would fulfil their promise to undo Y’edda’s curse.”

“You go against your own kind for what?”

“I am everything I was made to be.” She spat. “Only you became something anathema to your purpose. War is not supposed to make empires. It only ends them.” She laughed again, revelling in the realisation of her dream. “You ended Berevar. You will fade into nothingness and be forgotten.”

The ice reached War’s hands, and the fading of his strength accelerated. In a manner of minutes, the titan became a statue of ice, a contorted look of rage and betrayal on his frozen features. Clarissa waited for a few moments, long enough to see the ground give way beneath him and for his shattering form to plunge into the Tap. She turned to where Leopold had last stood.

“Thank you, old friend.”

She turned into a sparrow in a flash and fluttered skyward into the night, free at last from her oath.

Duffy walked along the jetty in silence. His mind raced as the impact of their actions caught up with him. Seeing the Aria in the world proper sent a shiver down his spine. They had shattered the Ice Henge and opened the wellspring beneath Berevar. Still, despite their revelatory actions, the thoughts of Ruby’s fate gnawed at him. When he reached the end of the rickety walkway he folded his hands across his chest and cast his mind bac. Clarissa was a rogue factor. What was her game plan? Who was crossing who?

“Hello.”

The bard’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He wheeled about and balled his fists, but when he saw who spoke he relaxed. Fifty feet away stood his sister, Ruby Winchester, and whatever she had gone through during her transformation had made her a new woman. Gone was her red hair, replaced with sullen grey strands unkempt and wily.

“I had an inkling you’d be skulking in here.”

Ruby smirked.

“Clarissa put all the pieces into place to save me from myself.”

Duffy examined his sister. Though her hair was lacking in lustre, she wore the same dragon scale dress and held a violin in one hand and a brazen bow in the other. Her skin was sullen, reflecting the ordeal she had been through. The grey clouds overhead did little to put her in positive light. Tiredness was marked on her face, and all Duffy wanted to do was run to her.

“Ruby. What happened?”

The spell singer shrugged.

“I think she opened the rift between our world and the Tap so that I’d fall away when Phoenix emerged. I’ve been watching the battle. She’s not who she appears to be.”

“Wait. You could see everything?” Duffy grew frustrated.

“After you left she talked to War. She isn’t Rook. She’s Sparrow, the Old God of trickery. She’s been playing a long game to get what she always wanted.”

The bard frowned. “Which is?” He took a few tentative steps forwards.

“Freedom. The Ice Henge is shattered, the Old Gods that survived are free to do as they please with Berevar. But, Sparrow is no longer part of the pantheon. She might have kept her promise to Leopold to always put me first, but now she’s a rogue element.”

Duffy remembered back to the list of Old Gods and scowled. Sparrow. The Old God of Trickery. In the War she had played both sides for her own agenda. It reminded him all too keenly of Oblivion.

“What promise?” He narrowed his gaze at his sister. “Ruby. I know you don’t like talking about her, but I think now’s the time.”

She slouched and hung her head.

“Leopold knew the war couldn’t be won. The Thayne were pervasive, and their foothold on our world was too strong. They couldn’t sway Berevar’s people so they had one choice. Destroy their hope. Leopold gave up his power to give it to Clarissa, in exchange, he made her promise to always protect me no matter the cost.”

“But you hate her?”

“Misunderstood her,” she corrected.

“Jeez. I thought we were messed up.”

“We can talk about this later, Duffy.” Ruby strolled across the jetty, the mercury sea a poignant backdrop to their tempered reunion.

“Yes. Yes, we can. Are you dead or alive?”

She shook her head. “Neither. Phoenix is. I am glad to be shot of her.” They embraced one another with a longing hug. “I’ll need some time before the Aria lets me go.”

Duffy shed a tear.

“Take all the time you need.”

“You, Duffy, need to find Leopold. His transformation awoke something in him neither of us want to see again. Without the luxury of Oblivion’s curse, and with the Ice Henge shattered he may not heal.”

There was always risk messing with the forces which bore you. Duffy sniffed, wiped his cheeks with his sleeve and pushed Ruby away. He looked at her with brotherly love and regret.

“We’ll get through this.” He nodded.

“We always do,” Ruby replied. She ushered him away, and watched as he walked to the end of the jetty and fell into the mercury sea to find his way home. When she was alone, she burst into tears unfettered by piety or class.

For an age, the spell singer stood at the end of the jetty and stared at the myriad visions of possibilities that danced over the clouds of their inner sanctum. The Aria, for centuries, had been the only Haven the troupe had against the horrors of the world. With their endeavour to release the Tap and usurp the Thayne, their only sanctuary slowly turned against them. It no longer felt like home in a time when the troupe were lost, listless, and in need of guidance.

“I know you’re listening,” she said softly.

A crack of thunder tore through the clouds.

“You tried to hurt my family. Whatever misplaced notions think your actions are justified, mark my words Y’edda. I will be your ruin.” Her emotion spent, Ruby took on the mantle of her true self, devoid of the fury and uncertainty of her past lives. For the first time in decades she thought clearly. “Show yourself.”

A shudder, a twist in the air, and a form appeared at the jetty’s end. Smaller than her previous self, Y’edda gently swung four blades in concentric circles over the scar on her chest. Without the Ice Henge the goddess fought hard to manifest and the spell singer curled her lips into a wicked smile.

“This small victory will not lead you to redemption.”

“I’m not looking for redemption. I’m looking for a home. You took that from us, and we will take it back one way or another.” She cocked the bow to her violin and rested the guard under her chin.

“Save it.” The Thanyne bowed.

“Oh, going so soon?” Ruby dropped the violin to her side.

“The Ice Henge has fallen. Berevar is lost to us. You may not see our point of view, and hate us for what we made in the war of the Tap but this world is stronger with us. This is not over.”

In a flurry of owl feathers and piety Y’edda’s avatar disappeared. Ruby smirked long after she had gone, ignoring the flashbacks of Sei Orlouge’s warnings to the troupe that meddling with the Thayne would turn the Hero of Radasanth against them. In his absence, the people they had lived and died to free from the shackles of false gods in the Tap would finally now the meaning of free will.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Ominous echoes drifted out over the mercury sea, ricocheting away from eddies of uncertain futures and torrents of doom. She sat on the jetty and crossed her legs. Turning to the one thing she could do flawlessly, she began to play whatever her heart desired on her violin.