So this chapter took a lot of time and consideration. I wanted to do it right (though there are undoubtedly changes I will continue to make, in addition to glaring mistakes that I've somehow, amazingly missed). At any rate, I apologize for the delay.
Disclaimer: Dear Mr. Mull, please don't sue me for using your wonderful world as a playground for my wildest fantasies. Thanks.
The clouds had parted as if Someone on the Otherside had unzipped them right down the middle, causing the vaporous mists to form the shape a giant V. The end of the V pointed home.
Mauve skies offset the lilac hues in the low-set fluffy banks. The trees bent down under a mysterious dark weight. The discord of the jungle had subsided to a dissatisfying hum. Muses were prodding lonely hearts that evening. The world felt overwhelmingly maudlin. Time could not stop, so instead it lingered.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*
In the cabin, there were exactly one hundred and three cracks in the walls.
There were precisely forty-five scratches on the four posters of the bed – when including the frame and headboard, the number grew to fifty-seven.
The wall color was most decidedly the particular shade of a Fablehaven sky on a mid-May afternoon.
The temperature was approximately fifty degrees – a nice setting for sleep, but still a hair too cool for consciousness.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*
The caverns had always been home. Although he had to be on his guard more often when he was there than when he was away, the tautness of his body never failed to relax when he crossed into his small, dark universe.
It wasn't that he was lost in thought. He was preoccupied with nothing in particular. He was late – he'd stayed out longer than he'd intended- and that should have bothered him. Only, it didn't.
He found his mind was startlingly blank.
To an outside observer, he would be described to have the look of one who is absent.
Gone from where, to where? Couldn't, wouldn't, purely the conviction that he shouldn't, think.
If he had been paying attention, he would have felt an invisible gripping sensation that seized him the moment he entered through the falls.
*.*.*.*.*.*
In that one-roomed hotel of no return, there was a solitary occupant. And that solitary occupant was absolutely tired of being alone.
There might have as well been a sign on the door, which read, in bold print "DO NOT DISTURB ON PAIN OF DEATH", because Kendra had seen no sign of life for a time out of mind. At least, that's how she felt.
Honestly, if the digital clock of the radio was to be believed, it had been a little over forty hours.
Without the awkward presence of T.C., the cabin felt emptier and less hospitable than it had previously. Kendra had not understood how much she enjoyed the company until the company was no longer available to her. Now it seemed as though some grave omnipresence was gradually swallowing her up.
Imaginary Seth hadn't spoken a word since T.C. had left. Kendra even tried to conjure up the image of her brother to see if it would elicit a reaction from her conscious. It didn't. She was on her own.
Valiantly, she attempted to keep up her morale by stimulating her mind with games of memorization.
First she made herself name every single capital of each of the one-hundred-ninety-six countries in the world – and then all fifty states. She tried reciting her favorite poems by less than famous authors and authoresses to herself. Always, she spoke aloud as if to banish the dreary heaviness of the silence.
Presently, Kendra had drug herself over to stand in front of the kitchenette counter. Pale streaks of dye were drying onto the chipped, white ceramic of the sink from where Kendra had washed her clothes earlier.
Kendra was wearing the ugly floral dress. The hem was made to be worn at the knee, but on Kendra it fell just below her knee cap.
The sleeves had fallen half-way down her biceps. Without thinking, she would occasionally pull one or both of the sleeves back onto her shoulders. In a few minutes, after she'd shifted her position, they defiantly fell back into place.
She had no brush, and her hair had taken a mind of its own. The golden mess twisted down her back, frizzed out in random splotches, curled obtusely in one or two places. Barefoot and disheveled, in her mind's eye Kendra pictured herself looking like a refugee of some devastating natural disaster.
Kendra eyed the radio. With the care of a person in awe of a priceless jewel, Kendra grazed her fingers over the black, plastic surface of the radio. The tip of her thumb brushed the silver channel changing knob. She frowned.
She hadn't yet switched the function of the radio to pick up broadcasts. Kendra didn't imagine it would amount to anything. She hadn't seen a radio tower when she'd come (though she hadn't been looking for one). The nearest broadcast tower was probably dozens of miles away.
The prospect of hearing something other than her own voice was to her like a starving prisoner who'd just been told there was a possibility that he might get to eat moldy bread.
Kendra reached down, and, using her forefinger, slid the piece over from "C.D" to "RADIO". She sucked her breath in.
Nothing. Not even the grainy noise of a weak signal, not even the whine of feedback.
Kendra felt an angry tear escape her eye. When was she going to get a break? Oh how she missed T.C!
Kendra felt a gentle tug on her shoulder.
Without thinking she whirled around, grinning broadly. T.C!
The grin quickly vanished.
No. Not T.C. Gavin.
He was still in the same clothes, though he seemed to be a little damp all over. Could have either been sweat or water. He didn't smell, so Kendra couldn't tell.
Luckily, he didn't notice her disappointment – lest he become suspicious. His gaze was intently locked on the radio.
His hand, which had lingered on her shoulder, fell down to the dial.
"Sairon Mirima had a fascination with novelties from the future." He spoke in a tone so low, which conveyed such an intense detachment, that Kendra wasn't sure he was even speaking to her. "He was the wizard who invented the chronometer. This place used to be full of all sorts of strange toys and funny knickknacks. My Master has most all of them now. Except for this one. This radio has spells placed on it, preventing it's removal from this abode. It appears and disappears, with no rhyme or reason that I can deduce."
"I've spent many hours in here playing with it. Since my master cannot have it, I spared him dissatisfaction by opting to not tell him of it."
A pause.
"It only picks up one station."
His forefinger and thumb twisted the knob, almost imperceptibly, to the right. Music flooded the room.
The singer was a female with a deep, grainy, tenuous voice that ensnared you like a siren's song. The music was a hushed whisper, cool and intimate. Kendra, teenage girl that she was, had never listened to this type of song, but knew somehow that it was jazz.
Gavin stood stock still, eyes half-closed, listening to the music. Kendra felt herself rocking back and forth to the tune.
His black eyes flashed up at her, catching the light in a peculiar way. His expression was listless when he spoke, "The radio won't play any other music besides that of this one genre, this one artist." A pause. "Your people used to call it devil music you know. I can hardly disagree. Lady Day was an enchantress like no other."
Kendra hadn't the slightest idea who Lady Day was, but she did agree that the voice had an ethereal quality. She wasn't hearing the words specifically, but felt the subtle inflection of passion intoned by the voice.
They were close, she noticed. There was no indignation - only neutral impartiality. A detail. They both leaned loosely against the wall, as if too tired to do anything otherwise. They were so indifferent, they could have been strangers wandering the street of some vast city, who had both unintentionally stopped to listen to the same beguiling refrain.
Kendra wondered if she was dreaming. She couldn't remember falling asleep.
Gavin watched her objectively. The tempo of the song was slowing, signaling the end. After Lady Day sang the final note, there was a brief silent respite, then new music began.
This melody was a different flavor than its predecessor. It was faster paced, and of a stronger essence, determined instead of resigned.
Indolently, Gavin shrugged away from the wall. Kendra didn't jerk away when he grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers. If he had displayed any emotion that made this illusion crack, the glass precipice her sanity teetered on would have shattered. But she was dreaming - not a nightmare, a hazy reverie.
Gavin led her to the center of the room. Unceremoniously, he released her hand. He brushed her finger tips lightly with his in the transition – Kendra couldn't decide if had been on purpose or if it had been a mistake, but the gesture most decidedly sent a lovely little shiver up her spine.
He placed both of his rough palms on her waist. In turn, Kendra raised her arms to rest on his shoulders, clasping her fingers behind his neck. They swayed to the music, looking past each other, lost. With each step, they inexplicably drew nearer. Kendra was sure she hadn't picked up her feet. In dreams the phantoms can float.
Half-way through the song, the distance between them had closed. Kendra's arms had moved from his neck to his waist. Gavin's hands had wrapped all the way around her. Her head rested on his chest, and she felt that she might fall asleep standing up. She could feel Gavin's cheek on her crown.
Gavin spoke in a clam, even whisper - she could feel his lips on her scalp - "Do you despise me?"
Kendra could do nothing, but answer honestly. "Yes."
"Why?"
Kendra moved her face so she spoke into his chest. "You may as well ask me why I breathe."
She expected him to tense, to retort, to break through. His posture remained unconcerned, though the reply was delayed.
"Is it necessary?"
"Is it necessary to hold my breath underwater?"
Again, she waited.
Softly, he moved his lips down to the crest of her forehead. Never had he been so meek. The harsh edges where there, Kendra could feel them, but she couldn't see them. The gauzy veil between her and the moment prevented her from viewing properly.
She felt his chest heave with a terrible sigh. She couldn't say why it was terrible, just that it was. She longed to look up to see his face, but she didn't want to lose the pleasantly warm sensation of his lips on her cold skin.
"Very well," he spoke deferentially. "Misery mine, in this oxygen-less outer-rim."
Kendra winced. A chip cracked smoothly off of the glass, plummeting apathetically into the abyss.
Gavin abruptly pulled back. Were she capable of shock at this point, she would have been so struck by the expression on his face that she would have missed it. But because of her lack of interest, she noticed every element with hypersensitivity.
Gavin had worn many masks – pride, egotism, antipathy - Kendra had in the past thought she'd even seen some of the fear, the struggles, the secrets breach the surface. This was no flicker of light. This was such a candid countenance that Kendra knew she was seeing the honest truth of him. It was a blinding gray light that poured forth, cold, unchecked self-loathing, illuminating all the other features she only now understood.
Uncertainty creased his brow, slashing through the thick matter of epidermis to the bone. Exhaustion painted his pallor, taking care to fully discolor every inch. Dread pulled the skin around his eyes, forming little folds next to his eyes.
He looked frightful. Kendra, however, was not afraid. On the contrary, she was profoundly saddened. The kind of melancholy that extends beyond tears, into numbness.
Physiologists diagnose it as disheartened.
The mask returned, but it was too late. She had seen him, and he knew it.
His hand struck out, and encased her wrist. Not so mildly, he yanked her behind him toward the cabin's door. She didn't bother fighting him. She scrambled ungracefully out of the cabin, hesitating only to listen for a moment.
There was a faint clatter of shattering glass, but there was no time to wonder what had broken.
They continued on.
She raced in time with him, plunging into the shadowy halls. When had she given up? Was it before or after they had danced? She couldn't recall. A part of her wished she could tell herself it was a dream. Gavin's expression was freshly seared into her mind, burning away all hope of unreality.
Down, down, down they went. The lower, the hotter it became. Minutes later she was drenched in sweat.
All the while they did not dare look at each other. From the corner of her eye, Kendra perceived Gavin sporadically hesitating, tensed, as if he'd heard a something that disturbed him.
When they stopped, her heart was racing from the exertion. She quietly gasped for breath, unable to find any air to replenish with, refraining only barely from collapsing on the rocky slate under her feet. The oxygen was thin inside the entrails of the earth.
"Ah! So you've brought her then?" A voice boomed ominously from all directions.
Kendra looked around. Barely enough light for even her magically enhanced vision, came up from the bottom of what appeared to be an underground river. That was what was causing her discomfort. The humidity from the river was unbearable.
It was then that Kendra noticed the noise. The hissing, gargling sounds of the river. The dripping of water off of the stalactites. The hum of the pressure of the hot springs against the rocks. It sounded like a factory.
Gavin didn't answer. He dropped his hand and stepped away from Kendra, his upper lip curling disdainfully.
"Kendra! Over here!" The voice lowered, sounding nearer and more centralized. "Behind you."
Kendra whirled around.
A few yards away, perched on the stairs, half covered in shadow, he stood. He had a long, black beard that curled just above the floor. Atop his head, he had a messy tangle of iron colored hair, streaked with thin tendrils of copper. His face, what face could made out under the oily beard, was whiter than death. It held an ageless quality, which was not youthful. He was drawn up to a full, tall height, hands clasped behind a dingy black robe. His robes were an oriental fashion, hanging off of him in some ways and being stretched by his body in others, adorned with wisps of satiny, steel gray.
He took one calculated step in advancement.
Kendra understood his point. She grimaced. His posture somehow simultaneously conveyed a heathen savagery and fierce regality in that one single shift.
His eyes met hers.
Every nerve on her body stood on end. His eyes were wide open, unblinking, metallic. They were equally mesmerizing and nauseating. They made her feel as though a war raged within herself, a rebellion of her insides, a chaotic upheaval of her spirit. Everything about this man was a contradiction. This was personified in the look he gave her. The eyes didn't see through her. They tore through her.
"I've quite forgotten which introductions are proper. I have so many names – Father of all Hatchlings they've called me, I've been told some call me First King now, others, Master…"
Here his gaze flickered to where Gavin stood.
"But you," his gaze returning to her, he smiled broadly, from ear to ear, in a way that was painful to look at, "may call me by my name. How do you like that?" He chuckled "I haven't heard my own name in years – but I said to myself when I saw you, I should like to hear you call me by it. An indulgence." Again his eyes flicked to Gavin.
Kendra got the impression that his Master was baiting Gavin. He appeared to be trying to make him jealous. Of what? Why be so senselessly cruel? Kendra had the sudden urge to run up and slap his sallow face.
"You wouldn't deny an old man an indulgence, would you, Kendra Sorenson?" His voice was light and harsh simultaneously. His eyes widened, almost hopefully, daring her to refuse him.
Kendra refused to speak. Besides, she wasn't sure she could remember what words to say if she did. He may have been a wizard, but he definitely retained the potent air of dragon fear.
"No? I should hope not. My name child, is Anata Boga, Lord of Chaos." The First King stretched out his arms.
There was a drawn out silence. Anata Boga huffed, looking at Kendra frustratedly. "There was a time when that name would have struck fear into the most courageous heart."
"Times change." Kendra squeaked out, surprising them both.
"T-I-M-E. Time is a constant inconsistency." He had the tone of a child reciting a playground rhyme. He chuckled. "Mhmuh." He answered her look. "Let's begin shall we? Neak," An ugly yellow man plopped into existence.
He has sly look about him, Kendra thought. She instantly knew she'd have to be on her guard against him. However, he seemed unconcerned with her. His eyes were trained on Gavin. "Bind them. Navarog?" Anata Boga inclined his head.
Gavin turned toward Kendra, eyes fixed above her head. He gruffly grabbed Kendra by her waist and smashed their bodies together. A small yelp escaped the prisoner. She looked up at her captor forlornly, but he refused to meet her eyes.
The yellow man, Neak, procured a cast iron chain link. Face contorted with glee, Neak strode over to them and began to wrap them together. He circled them like a vulture, pulling the chain tighter with each layer. Kendra pulled away from Gavin as much as possible, emphasizing that this was as uncomfortable for her as it was for him.
"Is the chain necessary?" she asked quietly.
"Is breathing necessary?" came the cold retort.
If she could have hit him should would have.
"It's quite necessary." Anata Boga startled Kendra. He was too close for comfort, leering over them as Neak tied the chain in a knot. "The pain you are about to experience will be excruciatingly exquisite. We can't have you running away."
"Not that Navarog would let you. He needs you, though he'd be loathe to admit it. I'm sure he told you, or at least hinted as to why you are here?"
Kendra glanced over at the First King. He nodded as if she'd confirmed it. "I brought him back you see. I created the spell that drew him back into life. There are certain rules about this sort of thing, and I found every loophole in their system and ab-used it," he chortled hollowly. "They are still unhappy about that."
Kendra looked back to Gavin. Who is,they? she wanted to ask him. Not for the first time, Kendra wondered what dark ritual had brought Gavin back and what consequences there were because of the nature of going against nature.
"There is a clause that I could not get around." His voice took on a different tone. Perhaps, more cautious? "Navarog needs a tether linking him from floating off into the abyss again. For a limited window of time, I could keep him here without this tether. Now you must combine wills with him."
Where was this going?
"Via this spell." A gnarled hand pressed between the two bodies. Kendra wanted to cry out as he sharply positioned a piece of paper between them. Being bound prevented Kendra from being able to read, but she could tell that the paper was filled, corner to corner with hurried handwriting. "A portion of each of your spirits will be combined, creating an unbreakable bond between you two."
"Do you understand me Kendra Sorenson? From henceforth, you will not have the luxury of being able to forget the monster you have ample reason to hate."
The hand tore at her chest. Kendra suppressed a scream. She could feel the blood trickling down in fat drops. The fabric of her dress exposed a portion of her chest. Gavin grunted as the same was done to him.
When Anata Boga spoke again it was in quieter tone.
"You will always be drawn to each other - it's possible that extended time apart may even cause you physical pain. You will be stronger together. A more powerful duo will never have existed. The Queen's handmaiden and the King's consort, Fairy-kind, Demon Prince, all rolled into one. Your life will be his life, and consequently his death, will be your death."
Kendra let it sink in. God, was it even possible?
"Kendra, Kendra! You were my missing piece, Kendra. Because of you, not only I have been able to prevent the re-creation of the Eternals - not that I want those nasty demon royalty competing with me for control - but I will be now able to destroy the Knights. I have absolute control over the Society. Directly because of me, indirectly because of you, this will be the Evening Star's final revolution. A rebellion to end all others, for I hold all the cards." He glowed with pride.
"What are the cards? I'll tell you. One is obvious - I have my most capable and trustworthy servant back at my disposal. The other may be a little more conceptual, so I will enlighten you. I will have a two-way ticket into the Fairy Queen's Realm."
Kendra blanched. Her status as a member of the Fairy Kingdom - if Gavin could come and go as he pleased...
"The Fairy Queen would destroy us both at the expense of keeping her realm untainted," Gavin stated simply.
The First King inclined his head back and forth. "It's a gamble, but I think from what you've told me The Queen and her son will do all they can to prevent having to eradicate their favorite heroine. Because of this we will find an opportunity, a weakness, we will exploit it and will we be their ruin. I am confident in your ability to manipulate the situation to our advantage, Navarog."
This was not happening. She squinted her eyes shut, willing the situation to be unreal. Kendra's heart beat pounded noisily in her ears.
"Oh," Kendra flinched as scorching hot breath lapsed onto the sensitive skin of her neck beneath her ear. "And if you're not despairing enough yet, consider that all magic comes from the spirit. I cannot say what his mangled spirit will do to yours - who can know?"
"I will tell you a secret." He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "I plan on relocating. The coming of another age deserves to be marked by a change of scene. I was thinking of the place they call America. He tells me that Connecticut is lovely this time of year."
With a sinister chuckle, she felt him move away.
A gargled chant began to reverberate all around. Kendra had just made up her mind to plead with Gavin when a sudden violent pain seared through her chest. A bright, white light flared up.
She heard a cry, though she was uncertain if it was from herself or Gavin. The pain! Oh God, the pain! She was burning! They had lit fire to her. Kendra would have fallen to the ground consumed by agony, if Gavin had not stood so still, bearing the torture with a seasoned soldier's resolve.
Stop! The word was on her tongue, but had not escaped her lips. It rang out like wail of an alarm in her mind.
The chanting finished. Slowly the pain began to subside. Kendra felt herself returning to consciousness. She swooned, feeling quite dazed.
How, she did not know, but she fell to the ground with a gasp, catching herself before smashing her head against a sharp edge. All she could hear was the rapid blood rush. She turned her head to one side. The paper had fluttered to the ground near her. There were no words left on it.
With a silent desperate prayer, Kendra inclined her head to see her chest, ignoring the excruciating pain that jolted through her body with the slightest movement. Despair took her as she saw the words tattooed in black ink on her skin.
The deed was done. It had happened so quickly. Kendra and the rest of the world had lost. The Father of All Hatchlings, Anata Boga, had won. She cursed herself for not having done more to stop it.
Kendra wanted to cry, but she was afraid it would hurt too much.
Wait…
Was that Imaginary Seth's voice? It sounded so near and so real.
Something was not right.
Well, there were a lot of things not right at that moment, but something was... off.
She listened.
Nothing.
Where was the gloating Anata Boga? Where was the fizzing of the river. Why was it all of a sudden so silent?
Kendra's ears popped with a faint hiss. It rushed upon her. She heard it loud and clear.
The cacophony of calamity filled her ears.