Gallows watched the threads of his hopes and dreams unravel as the sun disappeared below the horizon. The Avatars were visible even from here, as were the swarm of wolves that made up the Great Pack. There were explosions and crashes from the town proper as buildings fell one after the other. Thorbardin and his zombie army had failed. Gallows had failed.
Fenrir had won.
All that was needed was for the Avatars to breach the dimension between this world and that of the prison-plane to let him through…a simple enough task with the point-source semi-divine Power the three possessed. Their very presence at the fragile nexus between this world and the next would rip it wide. They would free the wolf, who would scent Gallows in a moment. Fenrir would waste no time in devouring him, and Gallows' immortal life would at long last come to an end. None of his old power had been his to command for an age of ages.
Unless…, but no. He shook his head in denial.
"Kate, you have to undo the barrier."
Kate shook her head at him. "Sorry, sweetie. That thing stays up until the lunar eclipse in six days. Think you can avoid Clifford the pissed off Wolf-God for that long?"
The answer to that, of course, was no.
Gallows placed his head in his hands…he had not gotten to live this long without learning to keep an ace or two up his sleeve…but he had hoped that this particular trump card would never be necessary.
He fingered the golden ring that adorned his left ring finger. It was an ancient looking band engraved with almost invisible runes. It was less than worthless to him for millennia…until now. He took it off and held it up, looking at Kate through it like a telescope. Undetectable to her, it grew warm and vibrated in his hand.
"More magic?" Kate asked. "You're a regular bag of tricks. Hel's memory tells me that this must be Draupnir, a ring that creates eight copies of itself every night. Not quite sure how that's going to help you with Fenrir though."
Gallows shook his head, smiling wistfully. "No, I traded every treasure I owned to a Svartalheim dwarf, one Alberich, in exchange for the rope Gleipnir to bind the Wolf. Alberich was blind, but he could sense the power in the treasures I traded. Alberich came to me with a magic ring in his pocket… and left with a magic ring in his pocket…just not the same one. I switched Draupnir with the one thing in all the Nine Worlds Alberich would never part with."
Kate's eyes widened. "You don't mean…"
"Yes. The Rheingold. Lost treasure of the Rhine maidens…a Ring that would let its wearer attain the power of a god, if only he first renounces love forever. Useless to me at first, since one must have love before one can renounce it. But I held on to it…what can I say, I was always an optimist."
"Creighton! Don't!" Kate backed slowly away.
"Kate…I'm sorry. You are the only woman I have ever loved. But to see the Wolf dead…there is no price I would not pay." Gallows once more donned the ring.
Gallows lunged forward and grabbed Kate's wrist. "Kate…my Valkyrie…I renounce you forever and consign you to oblivion. Thank you for giving me back my Godhead. Believe me when I say that Eternity will be very lonely…without you."
Kate's mouth opened wide and she screamed, since now it was her flesh that was decaying at his touch. The essence of Kate that lived within the Goddess Hel was purged from her and expunged from existence altogether. Hel's body completely decayed to her natural form as the living embodiment of Death, and in her rage she would have destroyed Gallows in a moment…had she not sensed that he was now a waxing Power in the world once more…the All-Father stripped of his mortality burned before her, and she fled from the sight of it, traveling to Helheim…the realm of the dead where she was absolute Queen.
She wondered if her brothers would soon be joining her there.
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Clouds began to gather over the town square. They crawled in from all directions to converge in the exact center of the dome. Once the sky was a uniform slate grey, a slender tendril of fog extended downward to touch the ground. The column of smoke grew thicker and began to spin, whirling around faster and faster and turning from grey to black.
The surviving human residents of Beacon Hills cowered in the Town Hall, a building built like a fortress, making it the safest and most fortified structure in the area and the obvious destination for the fleeing refugees who could neither escape the city limits nor otherwise conceal themselves from the ravening undead. As the occupants soon learned, none of the undead were able to enter the building whether by door or window, having no idea that the wooden frames surrounding each opening were carved from Mountain Ash. As a historic landmark building, it was decorated with many odd motifs and symbols that the founders of Beacon Hills felt were important…as if they were trying to warn their descendants of the coming time when all things supernatural would cease hiding in the shadows and walk boldly in the light of day. When the zombies gathered outside moaning and scratching to get in, the people noticed the skull designs that decorated the upper corners of every doorframe. When the wolves of the Great Pack destroyed those very same zombies, their howls of fury splitting the air, the people spotted the Wolf statue in the long-dried up fountain in the central Plaza frozen in the act of howling. The statue of Justice in the front hall was carved so that half the face seemed rotted and decayed, and around its circular border painted into the floor was a serpent devouring its own tail. Most ominous of all were the two statues of enormous ravens that guarded the entranceway of the Town Hall.
Shawn Murphy cowered in the building with his parents. He kept peeking out through the front window watching the column of smoke. With a crash, a great stone fell from the sky landing just outside the column of smoke. A few minutes later, another stone fell right next to the first and so close together that no gap was visible. Within an hour, there was a solid ring of the heavy stones. It was when the second layer was built that Shawn realized what was happening…the fog was summoning the stones from somewhere and a Tower was being built.
Or re-built.
The center of the misty column glowed white with a pearlescent light as a wooden door completely encased within a stone frame slammed down onto the growing structure. The stones layered themselves around it, now coming more and more quickly as it rose ever higher. With a roar from deep underground, the street cracked around the Tower and six bone-white spires sprang upward enclosing it in a sort of cage. Lightning crackled between them and then shot outward to strike the raven statues. With an explosion of power, the stone shells cracked and released two living monstrous black birds. Hugin and Munin they were once called, and they were two of the most powerful servants of the All-Father. With raucous screeches loud enough to deafen the people inside and wrench screams of terror from their souls, the mighty birds took to the heavens to return to their lord of old.
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The Avatars raced through the town, headed straight for the preserve. They heard the voice of one who dwarfed even their combined power just as the Avatars dwarfed the power of the Great Pack. They sensed their great enemy growing strong behind them, and it burned them to know they were running from him when they longed to rend him limb from limb and devour him with a thousand hungry mouths. But the call of their sire was too powerful to ignore…He had waited an eternity and would wait no more.
As the wolves reached the center of the forest where the stump of Yggdrasil was stuck fast in the earth, the ancient wood began to glow with a bright white light. Splintering cracks spread throughout wood before it detonated…though the noise sounded like it was coming from someplace infinitely far away, yet now suddenly near.
Where the stump lay, there was now an opening in space, an opening that led to another world once accessible only by the Trifold path. No path was needed now. From the other side of the hole a great Eye glared balefully forth.
The Avatars took the ragged edges of reality itself in their great jaws and pulled, tearing the hole open even further. They pulled and tore and ripped wide open what was sealed and forbidden since time out of mind. Water from the great lake on the other side poured through the gap in reality. It flowed through the woods and snaked through the trees along a dried riverbed path so old that no one living recognized it for what it was. The last time this river had flowed through the woods was when the old tree had first been cut down by the founders of Beacon Hills…the tree whose wood went into the construction of the oldest buildings. It had dried up soon after, but during its first short life it had sent the spirit of Fenrir into all those who drank from it. Now it would flow for the last time, until the lake itself was empty and dry. None of the wolves gave it a passing glance. Not the Avatars, not the Great Pack, not even Fenrir himself…but this river was to prove extremely important; not because of its mystical source, but its destination. It led out of the forest and all the way to…
But that story will come out in its own time.
The opening of the way was finally complete. Fenrir, child of Loki and Angrboða set His great paw into the earth of Midgard. The earth shuddered under its dreadful weight. He was a magnificent creature, though he still bore the cruel marks of a rope that once circled around and around his flesh. The fur was sleek and black, the ivory fangs white and gleaming. Its growl was like that of a hundred chainsaws buried beneath the earth. It was the ultimate monster, the ultimate predator…but as it looked at the others, it bore an expression strangely human.
Three more steps and he was finally free. The Great Wolf was overcome by a sense of elation so profound that for a single moment all thoughts of vengeance were absent…but in the next moment the rage returned.
It howled its fury at the sky, joined by all the others in a song of vengeance. The Great Pack approached and knelt before the Wolf before walking forward and vanishing as they stepped between the great paws. When the last had gone, the largest Avatar came next. Its crimson gaze met the ever-changing eyes of Fenrir, and an understanding passed between them. The rage of an Alpha protecting his Pack was something they shared and understood even when members of the Pack did not. The Avatar once known as Derek Hale began to bow his head to Fenrir, but stopped after Wolf gave a short and menacing growl.
'No, not you. Though you knew it not, you housed a portion of My soul within your own, even as the young ones are My reborn sons Hati and Sköll. You sacrificed everything for the Pack and My own freedom. You have the right to look at Me, as do our sons.
Fenrir turned his great head and gazed into the distance with eyes that shifted from golden to sapphire to crimson in a never-ending cycle.
'I had thought this battle would be the work of a moment after so many thousands of years…but the treachery of My great enemy knows no bounds. He stole the Rheingold long ago and destroyed his Mate to unseal it's dread power. He is now a much more formidable enemy, like unto his old strength. Join with Me now and add your might to My own…lend me back the piece of My soul that lives within you and bid your sons to do so as well. This is a further sacrifice on your part…for if I am defeated we will be destroyed as one…but that fate will await you all in any case if I fail alone. I leave the choice up to you…I will not command you. What say you and your sons?'
The smaller Avatars listened to this exchange, and the three regarded each other for a moment before making a unanimous decision. Derek nodded at Erik and Robin with understanding before turning back to Fenrir.
'He must die for the safety of those we love and those we may grow to love in time. He has lived long enough, and he must be punished. No sacrifice is too great.'
The Avatars stepped forward and vanished into the Great Wolf. The marks of the binding faded away. With steps that cracked the earth, Fenrir began the final Hunt.
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The Pack were busy rounding up the remaining living citizens of Beacon Hills. Mr. Halvorsen who once ran the local delicatessen told them (after being reassured that the werewolves of Beacon Hills were here to protect the people, not eat them) that there was a sanctuary the monsters couldn't enter: the Town Hall. He'd heard over the emergency broadcast frequency that most of the populace had fled there. Chris Argent confirmed that he knew Mountain Ash had been used in the construction of the building, and only Stiles asked why he would happen to know that.
"I can't tell you. Trust me, the reason is better left unspoken." Chris said tightly. Vivian nodded her agreement.
Stiles listened to their steady heartbeats and shrugged. "Okay then."
Once they arrived at the building and the humans had raced inside, Shawn Murphy spotted Moose through the window and waved them over. He seemed unwilling to step outside.
"Moose! Where have you been? Do you know what's going on?"
"There's a lot of dead guys roaming around, but we think we killed most of them. They like the taste of second-rate baseball player, so stay inside." Moose told him.
"But how are you…" he looked around at the Pack, about half of whom were still shifted.
Moose was too highly strung to give him the long version. He jerked his thumb at his own chest and pointed to the others. "Werewolves…and we're the good guys. Got it?"
Shawn could only nod dumbly.
Stiles stepped forward. "What's going on in there? We can't go in to check things out, don't ask why. Is there food? Water? Anyone need medical attention?"
Shawn shook his head. "If anyone got bitten, they turned into zombies. Most everybody in there is okay, but there are a few badly hurt. There's no food, but the old water fountain just started working again…my Dad says it hadn't worked even when he was a kid, but we're really glad it does now."
Shawn looked over at the stone Tower that stretched up into the heavens.
"What the hell is going on there?"
Stiles looked at the Tower with curiosity…he had seen an illustration of it in Eowin's book, but had only glanced at that page for a moment in his search for answers about Erik's tattoo. There had been a word underneath the picture…what on earth was it?
Then it came to him. "Valgrind…anyone here know what that means?"
Mr. Halvorsen was watching them from the door, and on hearing the word bounded once more down the steps.
"That is Valgrind? But…"
Stiles stared at him. "What do you know about it? What is it?"
Mr. Halvorsen had turned paper white. "It is from the old Norse religion…my father told me the tales. Valgrind is the doorway to Valhalla. It was lost and destroyed many years ago."
Stiles wrinkled his forehead. "Why am I thinking of that weird 'Thor' movie? Isn't that supposed to be Norse Heaven or something?"
Mr. Halvorsen gave a hollow laugh. "No, not Heaven. Valhalla is the Hall of the Slain…all the dead that served the All-Father dwell within."
Shawn watched every werewolf present turn paper white.
"Gallows. He's gotten his power back somehow and is rebuilding the gateway to bring his army back here. Between their numbers and the strength he would gain from their devotion, he would be unstoppable…possibly a match even for Fenrir." Stiles began to get very very worried.
"Fenrir?" shrieked Halvorsen. "The Wolf is coming? Then this is Ragnarok?"
"Yeah…and it turns out that may be a world-ending kind of thing after all. How the hell are we supposed to help fight a god?"
Vivian cleared her throat. "Well, there might be a way…if it comes down to it."
"No! Vivian, we swore an oath! Only the clan leaders know what's kept here…and it's far too dangerous!" Chris actually wolfed out on his own wife, snapping his jaws at her as he struggled to control his anger.
Vivian turned to regard him. "I'm the leader of our clan, Chris. It's my decision! If there were ever a time to use it, then this is it!"
"What are you two on about? Is there some kind of weapon we can use against a god? Is it here in Beacon Hills?" Allison demanded. "Dad, I am not going to lose my daughter over some Hunter oath that doesn't mean anything anymore! There are no Hunters left! If you know something that could help win this fight, then you tell us!"
Chris snarled and stormed off, walking in the direction of forming Tower. Electricity played along the spires until a stray lance of lightning casually struck him, sending him flying backward. Vivian and Allison ran over to help him to his feet. The burns on his flesh slowly healed, smoke rising from his body while they did. Stiles gripped his face, not even wincing at the heat that baked off the ex-Hunter's skin.
"This isn't some rogue Alpha or even Douche-calion's Alpha Pack from all those years ago," Stiles growled at him. "Chris, Laurie and I will lose everything! If that happens, and you could have stopped it…" If Chris' skin had been reddened by the electricity, it would probably have paled. Stiles' reputation as the strongest Beta in the Pack was well-established. He would likely make Alpha if Derek and the boys were destroyed…for however long it took Gallows to find and kill them.
"Please, Chris! Allison's right, we need an edge here!" Scott implored.
The Martins and the Whittemores agreed…and even Dylan and Christine were jumping up and down screaming "C'mon, help us Grampa!"
Chris sighed. "You don't even know what you're asking…we may wind up trading Ragnarok for Armageddon…" He nodded at Vivian. "You tell them. It's your place anyway."
Vivian took a deep breath. "Laurie, Moose…do you remember when I told you in the library about how Tristan Argent created the Hunter Code?"
"Yeah, you said no one knew the details. Was that a lie? I didn't catch it." Laurie told her.
"It was true, the details are unknown…but what is known is the result. A rogue Hunter, who I now believe may have been Gallows in one of his many disguises throughout his long immortal life, sought out a malignant treasure he claimed would help destroy the werewolves of the world forever…and Fenrir itself. This treasure was lost for close to 1,500 years, and the last time someone used it…the repercussions rocked the known world even to this day. Tristan recovered this treasure from Gallows with the help of the werewolf Theiss, and changed his name to Argent…not because silver is deadly to werewolves, but because silver was what the treasure was made of. Coins, specifically. Thirty of them. And it was now the Argent family's responsibility to keep them locked away."
Ted was the only Theology major in college, but nearly all of the Pack caught on to what she was saying.
"No way," he said softly. "The thirty silver coins? The ones paid to Judas Iscariot?"
Chris nodded grimly. "Yes. And they did this work before. The coins rob beings of their power, even gods. They were used even before they did what they are most famous for, which is why there are no gods left from any pantheon or religion that walk the earth still. The coins themselves don't belong to any belief system…they're just a physical manifestation of evil. No one knows where they came from or why they were created, but we know what they do. They allow man to betray the gods and cast them down...and with proper ceremonies take their place. The only mercy is that to activate them, you have to have all thirty…and Gallows did it. He gathered them and planned to use them on Fenrir, possibly regaining his old strength. He was stopped here in Beacon Hills where he returned years later as a Hunter; now infiltrating the very society that ended his plans before. He would be in a position to exterminate werewolves and weaken his great enemy, and to be on hand to find the coins. They were hidden here…in the Town Hall."
"So, let's go get them!" Jackson demanded with a look at his son. The sight of Dylan lying there practically lifeless just hours before had still not left his mind.
Lydia shook her head. "We can't, darling. I found that out when I had to come down here for traffic court. The building is sealed with Mountain Ash. Werewolves can't enter."
"What about vents and crawlspaces?" asked Ted.
"The crawlspaces are too small; I found out when I had to rescue someone's cat. I doubt even Dylan or Christine would fit…not that we would send them!" The Sheriff added hastily when the parents in question all growled at him.
Melissa glanced over at Shawn. "What about you, young man?" Shawn backed up a few steps. "Me? But I'm just a kid!"
"What about Mr. Halvorsen?" asked Danny.
The Argents shook their heads. "Shawn would be a better choice…the coins are a corrupting influence. They are made of treachery and evil. A kid has a better shot at resisting their influence…they tend to be more innocent." Vivian said softly.
Shawn gave a bitter laugh. "Then you may as well count me out. I helped Jimmy Porlock and Anson Cooper torture Erik for years even though he never did anything to me. I'm not innocent."
"Do you regret what you did? Do you feel badly about it?" asked Ted. "Believe me, I know what it's like to wish you could take back a mistake."
"I knew I should have stopped…and gotten Jimmy to stop too. I was too afraid…too damned weak." Shawn's face burned bright red as he said this.
"It's not important that you win the battle against evil, Shawn…just that you tried to fight it. I think you're a good choice too." Ted wanted to pat him on the shoulder, but couldn't since he still stood on the other side of the doorway.
Shawn thought for a minute. Then: "I'll do it. Tell me what I need to do."
The Pack gave a sigh of relief.
"You have to go alone. We can't risk anyone else going with you…the coins might corrupt them." Chris told him. Shawn gulped.
"Go into the judge's chambers; there's a trap door under the rug. Take the ladder down all the way to the bottom. The coins are at the end of a long winding passageway where it will be impossible to light your way…a little trick of Tristan Argent who was a minor practitioner of magic. You'll have to feel your way along…and it will be very easy to trip or hit your head or even seriously injure yourself. Then there's the other problem…" Vivian fixed her blue eyes on Shawn, who began to tremble. "The darkness can sense your thoughts. You have to keep your mind clear all the way there and back. If you begin to fear, it will throw those fears at you in an attempt to keep you away from the coins. It cannot physically hurt you…but it can make you hurt yourself. If you keep your mind clear then it cannot do anything to you, otherwise you will have to face the things you fear most. Do you think you can do this?"
"No. I think you guys are screwed if you send me, but I'll try."
The last block fell into place in the Tower of Valgrind. The swirling mist disappeared. Vivian glanced at it, then snapped her blue eyes back at Shawn. "Go! NOW!"
Shawn vanished into the building.
The door at the base of the Tower opened.
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Shawn raced back into the Town Hall trying to find the court room behind which would lay the judge's chambers. The craziness of the last few hours swirled around in his head: zombies, werewolves, gods, cursed coins…it all seemed too much to handle, so his mind just refused to handle it. Maybe at some point in the future it would all hit him and he would go insane…but he would deal with that when it happened.
"Shawn!" called his mother.
He turned around, trying not to look guilty. "Yeah, Mom?" Part of him hoped she would demand that he not go anywhere, and that she would keep an eagle eye on him so that he could honestly say he had no choice but to give up his new mission.
She tossed him a plastic bottle filled from the flowing Wolf fountain. Everyone seemed to be drinking some. He caught it and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Thanks, Mom!" he called. She waved him off and went back to attending to some of the wounded.
He found the main court room and raced through the small door in the back. He entered the opulent chambers that belonged to the Honorable Judge Wheaton Thorn (who was currently nursing a broken leg that Mrs. Murphy was attempting to reset with some splints). Yanking up the rug, he pried at the boards until he found the false one that concealed the handle. Dust billowed out as the black mouth of the hole was revealed. Iron rungs were set into smooth stone of the cylindrical tunnel, and an ancient light socket was attached by decaying wires to the rim.
The old-fashioned light-bulb was smashed.
Shawn gulped once more and began to climb slowly into the living dark that poured out of the hole.