Page 53 of Crimson Skies
“Did—did you just say Myrdin?!” Tenebra croaked.
Darkness throbbed around the Black Fate. Her face had gone pale with unconcealed dread. Atropos winced. Kes and Orena traded an anxious look.
“Myrdin, Myrdin,” Loki mumbled.
“Do you know who that is?” Cassius asked the imp guardedly.
Loki hesitated. “My memory is vague. But the name does sound familiar.”
Galliad lowered his brows. “I agree.”
Kalliste dipped her chin. “Me too.”
Hecate observed Atropos and Tenebra with a puzzled look. “Yes,Myrdin.” She paused. Understanding dawned on her face. Her expression turned awkward. “Ah. Weren’t you and Myrdin—?”
Her gaze shifted from Tenebra to the Reaper God. She bit her lip.
A hint of wariness crept into the God of Death’s eyes. “What is the matter, Mother?Who is this Myrdin and why does his name fill you with such unease?”
Tenebra swallowed. “I—”
She froze in the next instant.
Cassius stiffened as his breath misted in front of his face. A sudden chill raised goosebumps on his skin. Jasper cursed.
Frost was spreading across the marquee.
Cassius’s pulse spiked when he recognized the divine power behind it.Boreas!
Theo’s pupils flashed gold. “It’s the Winter God.” His face tightened. “Someone with him is attempting to open a portal to Earth.” He glanced uneasily at Atropos. “Should I grant them access? They’re almost through.”
The Moira nodded, her expression pinched. “It would be better if we did this outside.”
“I wonder what that’s about,” Morgan muttered as they headed out the marquee and into the gathering dusk.
“I guess we’ll soon find out,” Bostrof grunted.
Tenebra trailed behind them with a funereal expression and a confused Reaper God. The Black Fate looked like she wanted to dig a hole in the ground and crawl inside it.
Theo walked out into the open park before releasing the barrier he’d erected to safeguard Earth from dimensional gates he did not control.
A portal opened. It brought the sharp scent of winter and a billow of snow and ice that briefly froze the grass. Boreas stepped out with a tall, regal figure who smelled of an ancient forest.
The stranger wore a crown of flowers upon his long, elegant, silver hair and a resplendent robe of greenery that sparkled and shimmered in the gloom.
Kalliste and the Dryads gasped and bowed.
Eden gawked.
“Is that—is that anelf?!” she mumbled in her fiancé’s ear.
“No,” Cedric replied in a tone full of deference. “He is a forest deity.”
Loki’s eyes rounded. “Now I remember!”
“Wait,” Yuan said numbly to Ortega and Wallace. “A God is going to use the last summoning staff?!”
“Hey, there.” Boreas scratched his cheek and carefully avoided Atropos and her sisters’ stern stares. “I, er, brought the seventh mage.”
