Chapter 21

The Nexus

“Terrill!”

The shout of his companions brought some semblance of recognition to where he was. His legs were weak, turning to mush beneath him and threatening to throw his body down to rest atop Winifred. The woman’s energy was spent, wheezing breaths leaving her as she laid on the floor. Her eyes were unfocused, but Terrill was hardly any better. He became all too aware of the blood drenching him, and the wounds that were about to throw him into catatonic shock. His legs gave out.

“Geez, Terrill, stop overdoing it.” That was Floyd, no doubt about it. Terrill couldn’t see the boy, but the voice was recognizable, even with it cutting in and out. He could feel the hands on him, propping him up while his eyes were irritated from sweat and blood. He blinked, trying to get his bearings, but failing.

Or he did until he heard the voice of someone he knew would be here, but not with the same callousness he now spoke. “So many interruptions. Will this never end?”

“Is that…Alexander…?” Terrill managed to gasp out. He hissed as pain arced through his body, and his sword slipped from his hand. No one moved to grab it, but Terrill soon felt a hand on his back, rubbing it and giving it warmth.

“Yes. It’s him. The Fiend of Light.” Krysta’s information made Terrill’s eyes widen, taking in more of the library he had beaten Winifred into. How much had he missed thanks to his fight? It turned out to be even more, though his mind believed it to be hallucination, because lying on the floor of the library, almost catatonic, was Atrum. That alone wouldn’t have raised alarm, were it not for the groaning Golbrucht next to him, in the armor-clad form he had first met him in. Delusion began to be dispelled, too, because Terrill could feel his skin sewing itself up, muscle and sinew stitching together. Krysta slumped against him, and he cursed for causing her greater exertion, but was grateful at his energy returning to him, if not by much.

“Fiend of Light?” Terrill asked. Feeling healed enough, he gently removed Krysta’s hand, nodding to her. She understood, but Terrill saw a gray conflict behind her eyes, all of it centered on Alexander. The old man appeared to have done much, his staff broken as he frowned with a mix between disinterest, annoyance and disdain. He certainly had no concern for Lumen on the floor, panting and pushing Charles and Walter away. Terrill centered his eyes on the old man. “Does that mean you’re responsible for all of this?”

“Honestly, my dear, why squander your power on a human when you know the dire straits we’re in.”

“Answer my question, Alexander!”

“Of course…he is…” The grunted answer came from Winifred, her chest rising and falling with labored breath. She turned her hand upon the old man, who gazed at her with such indifference, Terrill began to wonder about the Alexander he had conversed with before. Unable to produce so much as a breeze, Winifred’s hand flopped down with a chuckle. “He’s the reason for…everything. The Fiends. The war. Eric’s death.”

“You never could move on. You’re pathetic, Winifred.” His broken staff bent down, a laser of light piercing through her upper right side, just missing where Terrill supposed her heart was. She screamed, and it told Terrill who the true enemies were.

“So, it was all a lie…” he growled out. His body was still weak, Krysta’s healing only taking him so far. She was clutching to him, her exertion evident, but Alexander effortlessly commanded attention. “All of your attempts to help us, intervening at Fort Tierial. The whole time you were just looking down at us, laughing.”

“I intervened when she was threatened, nothing more. And Fort Tierial? Had the Shadow manifested there, Adversa would truly have been destroyed. I merely kept the flow intact, sealing parts of the Lifebloods, and protecting this place.”

“The front end…of the flow…” Golbrucht’s booming grunts informed everyone to his rising. More than that, Terrill’s eyes fell on Atrum. He was not stirring, his body flickering in and out, maintaining a very loose tethering on existence. The library was undergoing similar changes, time running out. “It’s the entire reason I came here.”

“You’ll find nothing, boy. Do you really think a whelp like yourself can overcome my plans? You’re five hundred years too late!”

“Clay derailed them,” Terrill said, his sword pointing straight at the old man. “He kept pointing us in the right direction.”

“Clay was a fool. His idea of a plan was turning on everyone at the most opportune time, and you see what’s become of him. Lost to humans.”

“So, what is it?” Floyd shouted. Fire flickered on his daggers, sputtering to life with the sparks of his remaining magic power. “You consider humans to be of so little worth?”

“Whose souls do you think girdle and choke this world’s intended end? But they’re useful in their own way. That’s why I ensured the cataclysm that created me would happen again. It wasn’t difficult.” Alexander nimbly tossed his staff into the air before catching it with a wicked grin. The kindly old man was completely erased, the architect and mastermind of pain fully revealed. Even Golbrucht snarled at the vindictive Fiend that had created him. “Introduce enough chaos and despair, and the barrier between worlds would split. Of course, I had to work with utmost precision. Too slow and the Unification would come to pass. Too fast and we reach the situation now: a merging without Lifebloods to offer Blessings. Everything went smoothly until Golbrucht upped the ante on war. The height of the war even introduced a new Fiend to our midst. I have to wonder if that was planned on your part, Golbrucht, but given how little your strings could control her, I doubt it.”

“Everything was you, then…” Terrill’s breaths deepened, and he wasn’t alone. Walter and Charles stood from Lumen, both glaring at the Fiend. Alexander was nonplussed, shrugging, almost like he was inviting them to try and challenge him. Terrill certainly had the notion to, his body shaking and causing the entire library to quake with it. “The war. The creation of Golbrucht. The torment of Sayn. The death of my parents. And a moment that caused Eric North to make the choice he did, cursing both Krysta and Winifred to eternal torment. All of it was you.”

“A dictator of death. An arbiter of fate.” Alexander was amused, now opening his arms wide, inviting attack upon his figure. “Steward of the Flow. I am someone who oversaw the process for many long years, driving to this singular moment. I may have had to accelerate some processes, but I do believe it was worth it.”

“For what purpose?!” Walter spat. His own body was radiating the wind that Winifred could not. Torry, too, held two fingers out, glistening with elements, snarling in the old man’s direction. Only Krysta and Lumen continued to look confused by it all, lost in the mire of decisions before them, which only became worse the longer the confrontation continued. “My family. My friends. My town. For what purpose would there be to take their choices from them?”

Walter attacked, sending a jet of wind for Alexander. He deflected it, whirling his staff around to jab forward. Wind was returned, bowling Walter over with strike to his gut. Charles raced for the older man, his blades slashing in a frenzy. Alexander disappeared, reappearing nearer to the edge of the building, close to the tower that was attached, its crumbling walls now showing a staircase beyond. “It is Golbrucht who did those things. Turn your rage upon him.”

“You claim to be the one who created him!” Charles screamed. He leapt through the air, only for the staff to strike him and toss him back down. Torry struck in tandem at the distraction, lances of ice and stone flying for Alexander. His other hand reached forward, and the ground pulsed.

The lines…? Terrill stepped forward, and he looked to Krysta, also reacting. One of the lines of the Lifeblood’s was being pulled from directly. Golbrucht, too, clanked his way forward, and Terrill saw the manic grin spouting on his face.

“So, that is how you did it, old man!” he proclaimed. Alexander paid him remarkably little attention. All his faculties were put to calling power from the sealed Lifebloods underneath them, gushing fire and water in twisters that beat Torry’s attack aside. Soon as it was gone, his eyes flashed, and he turned his attention to his opposing Fiend. With a flick of his hand, the water surrounded Golbrucht, encasing him in a watery sphere.

Floyd appeared behind Alexander, a move he didn’t see coming as the scaling blades slashed down his back. He cried out before his staff whipped behind him and beat Floyd to the side. “You people and your capacity to keep going against all logic and reasoning. It’s infuriating!”

Terrill was turned aghast in the next moment, taking a step forward but pulled back by Krysta. Alexander let go of his staff, the broken crutch clattering on the floor. The water around Golbrucht broke, causing him to collapse to the floor, but Terrill’s friends were the ones in immediate danger, suspended in midair. The lines pulsed angrily, and Terrill could only watch as the three closest to Alexander began to be encased in the same crystal that comprised Priscus.

“I have tried to be fair. Kind, even. But I am through with patience, girl! I could rip your soul out of you right now, but for the damage it might cause, so I’ll settle for this. Take the form of the Lifeblood and restore the lines. If you do not, we will lose all before ever there is a chance to make it right.”

“Make it right…?” Krysta’s hand slipped away from Terrill, but he couldn’t move forward. Save the others, or help stop Krysta’s torment. The choice was too difficult. “What would make it right? Would taking my form…absolve me of my sin?”

Terrill tried to come up with an answer, but was failing. In spite of Winifred falling, discarded by her former allies, he felt he was on the verge of losing everything. From Krysta’s decision, to Lumen’s pain, to the flickering Atrum, ready to blink out of existence. Only Golbrucht, spluttering as he was freed from the water and working to catch up, provided any sort of answer.

“Take your form or not, you’ve never been a factor, girl! Just a tool for the old man!” The Fiend in armor pushed both hands together, a dark, shadowy energy manifesting there. It was familiar, and was made creepier by the tendrils and strings that trickled out from his body. “You just instate the flow, but are not the end of it. That end lies with the prophecy. With you, Lumen! Alexander is the one who wants you to die as well to fulfill his goal of fate playing out! But we can change that! Chaos Beam!”

The ray fired, an all-consuming darkness that barreled its way towards Alexander. The old man dropped his current usage of magic, Floyd, Torry and Charles falling to the floor, all in preparation of intercepting Golbrucht’s spell. He did so with ease. “Such a shame, boy. The font of your power is gone, shattered. You’ve become weak!”

“No weaker than you, old man. I still have a vessel!” Terrill knew what would happen before it did, and he attempted to prevent it, throwing a line of stones in Golbrucht’s direction, only for the Fiend to separate one hand from his spell to direct it at the stones. “Come now, Terrill Jacobs, don’t you want to save your best friend? We can still be allies against the old man, here. It will just cost Atrum his will, though he appears on death’s door anyway.”

“It is because of your folly in merging the two worlds now!” Alexander shouted. His anger was palpable, three figures splitting from his body like the illusion of angels. They flew at Golbrucht, and impaled him with shafts of light, making the Fiend bleed darkness. As he did, the library flickered, the ground shaking. Krysta stumbled, while Lumen remained in a daze, propped up only by Walter, who had recovered. Terrill kept his footing but couldn’t decide which direction to turn in. “Adversa is bleeding over. Magic will consume this place and make the physical realm one of souls, a world that will not last.”

“As if waiting for the end of the world does not produce the same result!” Golbrucht created a cleaver out of the darkness and slashed at the three angels with Alexander’s face. Their forms broke down, returning to the Fiend. “I will sever it now!”

“To sever or to save. I choose the latter.”

“There is no latter without the former. Lumen, boy!” Golbrucht’s shout brought Lumen out of his fugue and put his eyes on Atrum, the soul that once belonged in him flickering in and out. “This is the man that would hold your fate of death. Do you really wish to consign yourself to that? Though we have our differences, I know from Atrum how you long to be free. I do, as well. So, join me! Let us rend fate together!”

“And girl, stop dragging your feet! If you do not act in this instance, all will be lost! Come!” Alexander’s command beckoned Krysta, and Terrill saw her take a step forward, magnetically drawn to his voice and soul.

Golbrucht battled for dominance in that moment, his palpable aura overpowering those that tried to stand. “Lumen, decide!”

Lumen was quivering, and Krysta was trudging forward, unable to control the pull on her soul. It was horrifying to Terrill, watching their decisions stripped away from them, leaving them with no way out. No different from the Fiends, or Charles, they were puppets and tools who existed only to serve the bidding of two long past the point of return. Worse yet, it was clear to Terrill that this had always been Golbrucht and Alexander’s ways: controlling others for a result that benefited them most of all. Their warring cries rose, battling against each other as they called for their respective pieces to their plans.

Terrill’s hand tightened, and without warning, he stabbed the ground. It shook, and from its confines, pieces of crystal emerged, a barricade that separated Krysta and Lumen from the Fiends, and forced them on the defensive. “Shut the hell up!”

Krysta blinked, her mind realizing at last what her body was doing. Her face dropped, sickened as she clawed at her crystalline chest. Her voice rose in a desperate squeak. “Terrill…”

“They’re not yours to decide what you want to do!” Another crash of his foot and more spires emerged around the library, breaking walls and toppling shelves. Though he had little magic left in him, it was enough for that moment. “They have souls of their own to make their own decisions! Fate, Dimidia, Adversa, whatever Krysta and Lumen decide to do with it is up to them!”

“Cheap rhetoric. There is nothing to decide if there is nothing left.” Alexander earned Terrill’s venom at that, but the Guardian focused instead on his friends.

“I don’t care. You have no right to take that choice from them. I won’t let you take any more,” Terrill said under his breath. His eyes trailed over to Atrum, the boy flickering, but managing to open his eyes. He could not speak, but his gaze did all the talking. “Krysta, Lumen…you’re not alone. You’ve all taught me that. And that means you don’t have to bear whatever burden alone. It means, whatever choice you make, we’ll help you with it. Just make sure it’s your choice, and not one dictated by destiny or Fiends or any other crap like that.

“As long as you do that, then I…we will continue to fight, too. For you and everyone else’s choices.”

“There is no choice so long as the old man keeps control!”

“Choice…? Do I even have a choice?” Krysta whispered, though it reverberated around the library, overpowering even the minor shudders and quakes that rocked the city. “I feel there are so many thoughts in my head, pulling me in so many directions. Do I save the world? Do I stop the merge? Or do I end it all right here? I’m not sure…

“But we have to make a choice, don’t we?” Lumen asked. He held his sword close to his chest, and when he looked up, his dour expression carried with it a hint of steel. “I will go on my own terms. I will fulfill my destiny of slaying Golbrucht, but by my own will!”

“There is no will that can defy destin-” Golbrucht’s refusal was interrupted as a fist smashed across his face, sending him to the ground. Standing over him was Charles, wheezing with every breath, a testament to all Golbrucht was arguing against.

It opened Krysta’s eyes, her pupils dilating, traveling down to her hands, near fully encased in crystal. “I don’t know if I can sever the chains of fate, Terrill. I don’t know if that’s possible…

“…but if it is, I want to sever my own. And in this moment, I think that means defying you. I’ll not be your puppet, Alexander!”

“Then you consign this world to death-agh!” Alexander’s call was interrupted by Krysta shooting a thin beam of light straight through his arm. He looked to it, shocked to see the light bleeding from it, and then up to Krysta, who had done so. Terrill began to grin. “You would use your power so?”

“I’ll use my power as I see fit, Fiend. Now, release my brethren’s souls!”

With another slash of her fingers, she created a ribbon of light at such speed, even Alexander could not block against it. That was the heralding cry, and Terrill took off, jumping over Golbrucht and straight for Alexander. The old man was ready for him, his own hand flashing out with a small barrier as a shield that Terrill’s sword bounced off of. His scars from his newest wounds ached, but Terrill managed to plant his foot and swing around to clock Alexander on the head. The old man fell to the side, but floated up before he could land. The earth pulsed. A fireball formed that he chucked for Terrill.

He didn’t expect Floyd to intercept it, cutting straight through and bumping fists with Terrill. From on the ground, Torry acted, creating plinths of earth that ascended upwards, permitting Krysta access to the sky. Her demeanor was back to the cold persona of the Lifeblood, all of her intent focused on Alexander, who glared up at her when she came sailing down, a claymore of light in hand. He created a shield that she struck against.

“That won’t be enough, Alexander! You’re using my soul as a conduit! Did you really think I can’t break through it?” Though she didn’t need it, Terrill decided to help, as did Floyd, the both of them running to pincer Alexander in. They slashed at him, cutting through his robes and his already pierced sides. Krysta’s blade broke through, shattering the shield and cutting down his torso.

“Perhaps you can,” the old man grunted, and his injured arm snapped out to grab Krysta by the face, “but I can still make you mine, girl! I will release your soul now!”

“Release them first! I will not stop. My soul is stronger!”

“It is nothing against a Fiend’s. We transcend all the rules, even those of the Old World. Now, time to begin, unto the New World.”

“It will not be yours, old man!” Terrill sensed it before it could come and he grabbed Floyd, the two of them diving for the ground. From where Golbrucht stood, the tendrils of darkness emerged, containing his soul inside. Some snaked on the ground, others shot through the air, but their intended targets were obvious. One came for Lumen, but he sheared through it with a blade of light. Less avoidable was the one that struck Atrum, pulling the boy back towards Golbrucht. Terrill tried to move, but as one flew over his head and embedded itself in the walls, he could not view that as an option.

Krysta was a target, too, to which she kicked away from Alexander and whirled her blade around to stop their encroachment upon her body. The final target was Alexander, who created another form of himself to absorb the blow. He said nothing, as Terrill could see the light shining behind, preparing an attack. He fired it, ripping through his own creation and burning up the tendrils. Golbrucht vanished to the side, crawling along the ground before becoming one with shadow. Unseen, the Fiend crept upon his enemy, only for Alexander to scoff.

“You never learn.” The gnarled hands of the old man flapped out with his robe, his fingers curling inward, and the shadow on the ground froze, before being pulled up, Golbrucht emerging within, while light surrounded Alexander’s body. “My will exceeds your own, boy. Now, I think perhaps I should attempt to create a Lifeblood myself, using your soul.”

“Then we will be locked in a battle of souls for all eternity, old man!” Golbrucht’s body was being pulled towards Alexander, while his strings, more visible than ever, pushed against the old man. The ground beneath them started to crack, the sheer energy pouring off of them coating the air in crystal dust. Everyone in the vicinity was tossed about, unable to stand at the sheer pressure, save for Krysta, who weathered the storm. Terrill, too, found his balance in the clash, locking eyes with Krysta across the way. They nodded, their enemies oblivious in the battle of their souls.

With the stab of his sword, a crystal pillar jutted from underneath Krysta, launching her into the air, just above the dueling Fiends. They looked up, but she had already created her spell.

Her last spell, Terrill began to estimate, as the crystallization finished consuming her hands and legs. Still, she remained committed. “Holy Drive!”

The light bloomed, splitting into shooting stars. Each one impacted with the force of a meteor, destroying pieces of the library, rendering it into dust, the blue-turned-gray sky above now casting a shadow upon them while the roof fell away. The Fiends, too, were unable to escape the wrath of the Lifeblood, each ray piercing a different part of their body. Their souls stopped their clash, falling away, and one final shot of the energy struck, creating an explosion that lifted Terrill off his feet and eclipsed the pair.

Krysta fell backwards, and Terrill scrambled to catch her, barely getting hold before the two tumbled to the ground. She was completely cold to the touch now, and breathing heavily, all of her exertion taking its toll on her. Where she had struck, the light was blinding, growing in intensity before it fizzled out. Krysta’s eyes were unfocused, unable to see the results of her efforts, but Terrill could see Alexander there, his beard singed and his robes frayed, much like Clay’s, but with hatred adorning him, brought to bear upon Krysta. Golbrucht was gone.

“You dare to defy… Adversa is on the cusp of eclipsing Dimidia, and you decide to rebel!”

“I will…do it…my own way…” Krysta mumbled out, but she was fading fast in Terrill’s arms, all while Alexander shuffled towards them. His hand was extended, and Terrill could feel his own soul being pulled upon. It was enough for Krysta to grip him and levy one last glare at her captor. “I will break Adversa my own way.”

This gave Alexander pause, curiosity overwriting his deep-seated hatred of what was occurring. Like some puzzle he had to figure out, his brow furrowed, until his eyes widened, and a small imperceptible and unreadable twitch of his lips began.

His moment to think was the last moment he suffered.

“And I shall break it now.”

No sooner had Alexander taken his step than a great shadowy appendage burst from within. Krysta shot up, and everyone in the room froze. Golbrucht had emerged from the shadows, charred but having escaped the attack. His strings had knotted, piercing Alexander’s soul. More of them were attached to Atrum, and the spot where Alexander had been standing just prior to this moment. The old man turned his head.

“You…Fiend…”

“I always wondered, old man, why you only left Priscus when things were at their most dire. Only when the Lifeblood was threatened. Not even during the war did you get involved, yourself.” Golbrucht pulled closer and Terrill felt a heartbeat echo inside his head. Krysta screamed, unable to control it, and Terrill felt a pull deep inside, his magic stirring.

No…every magic was stirring. Every magic was being drawn to that place, and before Golbrucht spoke again, it burst in a sickening rainbow of colors from the spot where Golbrucht’s strings penetrated the ground. He began to laugh.

“Yes, and now I see! You sealed all of the Lifebloods to keep them from my entire influence. You took root at the start of the flow to ensure that it could never trickle down to me! Protecting the order of Adversa and Dimidia! What a fool, old man!”

“Golbrucht…do not…”

“No, Alexander. The Fiends… I am done taking orders from you. I will set this world free!” The black strings tightened into a further knot, and with a maddening grin, Golbrucht pulled it out. Alexander gasped, but Terrill knew he wasn’t entire finished, for the only things that came from him were four pieces, each shining a different color.

“The Lifebloods…?” Torry gasped out. The rush of power over the area was sweeping her back towards Charles, but her mind was as intact as ever. Krysta looked on with horror, all of their eyes drawn to that fixed point where Golbrucht was pulling all of the pooled energy in Priscus towards him.

“You split your soul so many ways, pulling a few wayward pieces is easy. Now, I will pull all the Lifebloods to me, absorb their power, and with it, set the world free! Implere will be forged!”

“Terrill…stop…him…” The voice was not from the woman he was holding, but from the boy near Golbrucht. His best friend looked up, and though his body flickered and faded, realities blending in on themselves, he could still manage to keep his defiance. Golbrucht’s strings of his soul pulled inward, attempting to latch on to every soul there and force them to merge with his own. Atrum straightened up, his own body nearly upon Golbrucht. “Terrill-”

Whatever he would say was lost in the howling of the growing elements. Krysta pushed back on him, and seconds later, a fiery storm erupted from beneath the ground. More of the library fell away, and Terrill realized that the crystal was dyed black with Golbrucht’s soul, choking out the life of the Lifebloods. The darker it became, the more a cocoon was forming around Golbrucht’s body. Alexander slumped forward, on his knees, but with enough strength to face his would-be-killer.

“Is this…what you came here for, boy? To take the Lifebloods’ power as your own?”

“What better way to shatter the barrier than by taking them straight from the very source that created them?” More of the rainbow light, haunting and ethereal, surrounded Golbrucht’s body, crystallizing pieces of his armor. “And when I’m finished, the souls will be barren, and the world undone.”

“Ha…you think so? You will never be a god, Golbrucht.”

“I don’t intend to be.” Golbrucht reached out, grabbing Alexander by his hair and holding him up with even greater inhuman strength. Terrill watched as it looked like Golbrucht intended to subsume Alexander’s soul. He had done so to Atrum, whose body disappeared inside the growing light. Behind Terrill, the rest of his companions had attempted to gather together, but he and Krysta only could watch the two most ancient Fiends. “Then again, neither will you. You’ve grown weak, old man, in your sloth. But I’ll put you to work inside me!”

Alexander attempted to struggle, but though his power as a Fiend was great, Terrill could see how feeble his wizened body really was, and how little he could prevent Golbrucht from succeeding.

Neither were aware that someone else could.

It was like the shot of a cannon from a ship. No one knew where it had fired from, only that it had. One second, the grunting and groaning from Alexander was in a battle with the world crying out, and the next, there was a sharp gasp. Alexander dropped, a hole in his chest, an effusion of light spilling out as he hit the ground. He wasn’t alone, a singular shot of wind having pierced his cocoon to impale Golbrucht through the chest. The Fiend turned, losing control of his facial muscles as they descended into twitches, but his eyes found Winifred.

“You…?!”

Winifred’s chest was heaving, her body on its last breath, but she offered a grin of triumph. “For…all of…them…”

“You traitorous bitch!” It was as though the infusion of power flowing through his body had caused him to lose control. With the pulse of his hand, power traveled through the lines of the Lifeblood that led from that place, impaling Winifred from beneath. She gagged, tossed upwards, only to limply fall back down.

Terrill was already on the run, having placed Krysta down. Golbrucht turned, only to find the sword ramming through his chest.

Or it would have, if not for the crystal plating that cracked at the pressure exerted upon it.

“You’re too late.”

“Not…too late…” Alexander coughed out. His body was trickling into light, vanishing into pieces like all of the other Fiends before him. “Take your place… Stop…him…”

“I will take it first!” The cocoon around Golbrucht’s body shattered, a black wind cutting at the air. Terrill barely had time to block, though it did little good and he was tossed back. The strings impaled the ground, and the crystals began to rupture, the lines cracking as they reached their capacity. One string impaled Alexander, his hand raised upwards, towards the tower that glimmered even in the dark sky that heralded the merging of worlds. The old man wheezed out a final breath, and then withered away into light and dust. Golbrucht, too, looked up at the tower. “The beginning of the world. I will take it all. Let us destroy fate once and for all. Come, Lumen! Terrill Jacobs! Defy destiny, or ensure it? I will make that choice for you, here at the beginning of the world!”

“GOLBRUCHT!” Terrill had never heard such a scream from Lumen, but had to imagine it was the kind of fury they were all feeling deep inside. Only he managed to maintain footing enough to act on it, charging like a bull with a blade of light. He nearly managed it, too, only for Golbrucht to vanish, sinking into the shadow, and giving flight. “Where did he go?!”

“Upwards. To the tower.” It was Charles who knew the answer, familiar with the way the shadow fled. There were other signs, as well, the disaster of elements beginning to spurt out of the tower. And in the Fiend’s wake sprang monsters, whirling around like the tornado he had attempted to use in slaughtering Valorda.

Lumen looked to Terrill, as did many. It was a permission he didn’t need to give. “Let’s go.”

“Final battle time,” Floyd remarked, cracking his knuckles, and was the first to dash after Lumen. Charles, Walter and Torry weren’t far behind, running for the stairs that ascended the once-white, now-crystal tower. Terrill started to join them, but paused at the wheeze that held his name. He looked back to see Winifred, her hand extended, calling him over.

Terrill hesitated, briefly noticing Krysta, unable to move easily from her state, and watching the spot where Alexander had vanished. She saw him, and then Winifred, nodding as she understood what needed to be done. Her body bent low, and with more of her flesh turning to crystal, the tremors in the library quieted, enough for Terrill to approach the dying Fiend, her body already flaking into the wind.

Her breaths were labored, and her eyes unfocused, but Winifred still knew Terrill was there, letting loose a pained chuckle when he came near and bent at her side. They spent a moment in silence, just the two of them. “Why?”

“For…Eric…” she gasped out. Her fingers twitched, and her hand flopped, unable to grab to anything substantial. “And for…you…”

“Me?” he asked. Unable to keep watching, Terrill grasped her hand and squeezed it.

“I…didn’t want…him to…win…” Winifred coughed, the wounds on her chest bleeding. Terrill blinked, realizing it wasn’t just wind, but blood mixed into it. “That was…for me… My…final act.”

She had let out a breath on her last two words, but hadn’t gone yet. It was strange to Terrill, watching the woman on her deathbed, the one he had clashed with, the one who had served the Fiend now bringing the world to an apocalypse. For the first time, he felt more than pity, but a genuine kinship. He held on tighter. “It doesn’t need to be. You can still live, Winifred.”

“Hah…always so altruistic…” Her words were barely whispers, but when she turned to him, she managed a smile. It made her face beautiful, and for the first time, Terrill wondered if this had been the face Eric North had seen: the true face of Winifred Lyten. “But I’m okay with this… You…saved me…”

“No. This isn’t saving! This is-” Winifred found one last strength to touch his face, smiling as her body was close to fading away entirely.

“I’m saved… Time to move on…” Her hand slipped off, leaving a trail of blood behind. Her hand fell out of his, staring to the gray sky. “It’s collapsing now. Adversa. Any more and…” She didn’t turn her head, but spoke in words only he could understand. “You have people to save… So, go and save them. I’m…rooting for you.

“Goodbye, Terrill Jacobs. See you…again…”

Her body vanished into wisps on the air, the long pain of Winifred Lyten vanishing. Terrill wasn’t sure if he should grieve, or cry, or scream at the gnawing in his chest. Despite her words, he hadn’t saved her at all, and now, he no longer could.

Go and save them.

Her final words struck that chord in him, and in that moment of failure, Terrill had to turn his eyes to the future, pushing aside his regret to focus on those he could yet save. And he stood to look up at the apex of the tower.

To Golbrucht.

The final battle with the King of the Dark, centuries in the making, had arrived.