“Leveled?!” I blink at him, astonished.
“Leveled.” His eyes open, and they’re a snarling crimson red rather than blue now, terrible. “Every dragon, leaf, and beast. Not a single thing in the area was left alive, after my attempt at that runic binding spell, other than me. Do you understand?”
“You created a mass murder event with your attempt to complete that magic, though you didn’t mean to. So your clan banished you.” I’mshocked, as something astounded roils all through me. Though I suddenly understand why Baldur’s been a hermit, living out in the wilds for so very long. “That’s why you went to live way out in the middle of nowhere. So that your experimentation with runic sigil-binding couldn’t hurt anyone after that, ever again.”
“It was self-imposed.” Baldur’s eyes gradually change back to blue, but a terrible midnight blue, dark. “My clan gave me the option of death for what I had done. To our people, banishment is the worse punishment, however. So I chose that. Knowing what I had done was unforgivable.”
“And you’ve been punishing yourself for that event ever since. Living alone like a wild hermit, not because you truly enjoy it, or need it to create your sigil-art… but because you felt you deserved it.”
“I do deserve it,” Baldur says flatly now as he stares at me, his eyes flashing red again. “I’m a monster, Rikyava. Only Hekla still believed in me after that, thank all the gods she wasn’t nearby when it happened. Only she came to me in my isolation and told me stories of her visions—that I would one day meet the drakaina of my dreams, and that together, we would do good work, saving the world from destruction. I despaired for a long time… until I began to believe. Only once I believed that I could rise above what I had done, did I finally have faith and heal. It was then that I focused on only runic sigil-spells that could do good in the world, healing others and creating works of beauty. Rather than destruction.”
“Now you’re faced with needing to create for us something that could be ultimately destructive, however. And it’s driving your addiction to the forefront… making you feel wild again, reckless. Tempted to play god with your power, again.”
“Yes.” Baldur sighs as his smile becomes terrible. “And with the Black Dragon’s curses devouring me, I’m having trouble fighting it, this vast darkness inside me. Because it’s all twisted up together—the desire to do terrible things with my power, the fury I have against myself and what I’ve done… and the need to do more.”
“And in these scrolls, Hedda’s given you the key to doing far more.” Iknow as I watch him, intense. “Things that could destroy the entire world, just like she tried to do. Being a god in truth, as you make or break worlds to your desires. Completely.”
“I don’t know if I dare look at these scrolls further, though I want to. Oh, how I want to…” Baldur is quiet now as he shudders, watching me with feverish eyes snapping from blue to red, then back again. “I put dark sigil-magic like this aside eight hundred years ago when I finally found my faith; that I would do good in the world and meet the drakaina of my dreams who would make it so. Now, having these curses eat at me, however, feeling the Black Dragon’s influence in my very soul… I’m tempted again to lose my inner faith and dive into my own deepest darkness and never come out. And do whatever I want with my runic sigil-work. Never coming back to the light.”
As I hear Baldur’s confession, holding his hand on the chaise, he at last allows me to feel the barest fraction of what he’s processing right now. He opens the tiniest doorway between us, letting his emotions touch me through our Bloodbond, and I feel how he twists in his darkest rage, his loss of faith, and his inner self-hate, relentless.
Just a fraction of all those emotions comes to me now, but they flood me in a tirade, twisting me up into the smallest, most terrible knot, just like what Baldur feels, deep inside.
Dark and wretched, it’s the most caustic woe that devours my Fourth Drake, just like the Black Dragon’s curses that scrawl throughout his flesh.
Because he hates himself for what he did, and how it hurt so many people—and what he’s still capable of. He hates himself for how he likes it, how he desires it, and how he wants it more than anything; more than sex, breath, or even life itself.
Because he wants to be a god, deep inside his powerful flesh. And he could do it, especially after a thousand years of runic sigil-binding study and focus in the Void.
To kill like a god—and never look back.
“You feel conflict now about your life’s purpose, which is drivingyour Berserker’s nature,” I say as I finally understand what’s devouring him right now. “After Hekla convinced you of her visions, you had faith; you felt you had a destiny, which could redeem you of what you did. Now, you feel like all that is being stripped away as your innermost temptation and darkness rises again. Like that destiny is gone, along with your belief in it… and it’s never coming back.”
“You think I’m the brightest light in your Bloodbond, but really, I’m nothing but an imposter, Rikyava.” A terrible smile takes Baldur now, twisted with darkness and regret. “I’m nothing but a killer who wants to be a god and do it all over again. How’s that for fucked up, when you thought I was carrying your light?”
“Hey, we’re all fucked up in this bond.” I grip his hand, hard. “Bjorn has his rage and heinous jealousy, Ström has his agony that he’ll never measure up to the prince he’s supposed to be. Mikkel… well, Mikkel fears he can never be good, that he’ll always be his dragon. And you’ve seen what happened to me. Ibecamethe Black Dragon, or something very like it, when I mistakenly tried to command that big fucker. I’m still fighting that, every day. Some dark voice inside me still tells me I could wield it… if I just gave in to my blackest nature and let my better self die.”
“But you won’t do that, will you?” Baldur breathes, as something like hope sparks in his eyes, at last. He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek in his palm as a flicker of opal-white finally flares in his dark blue eyes. “You’re going to fight it unto your very last breath, because that’s what you do.”
“Because that’s what Iam, Baldur,” I say firmly now as I trap his hand to my cheek, holding his gaze like firebrands. My truest magic flares all around me now as I feel it rush into my united Bloodwalker energy, Aesa’s Truthstone blazing upon my chest. “I am a warrior, and you are, too. All my drakes are, even Mikkel. None of us ever give up—ever. None of us ever surrender.”
“Galaxy Quest.” Baldur chuckles as that small flicker of star-white brightens in his eyes. “I have seen some modern human media, you know.”
“Good, because you should take that line to heart.” I stare him down hard now. “You’re a fighter and you know it, Baldur. You held oneight hundred yearsbecause you knew there was something better out there for you than drowning in your guilt at being a murderer and letting it kill you. You practiced your inner light; youbecamea better man. You did all that work; I had nothing to do with it. I was nothing but a fancy—a vision in your sister’s mind. Hell, she could have just been making me the fuck up to help you heal. You ever think about that?”
“I didn’t, actually.” Baldur blinks, and I know I got through to him on that one. He draws a deep breath. As he glances over my shoulder at the scroll, still displayed high above on the silver mirror-stone, I see him war with his inner demons as his eyes flicker red, then blue.
Then hold.
“I need to deal with my inner guilt, don’t I? Not just push it aside by trying to be better…” he says, as he looks at me again.
“Yup.” I nod, as I take his hand down from my face and clasp it to my heart. “Fortunately, there are four of us in this bond who know all about dealing with shit like that, even though we’re all only getting to it recently. Let us help you, Baldur. Let usin.Because if you can’t do that, if you can’t trust us to hold you in your deepest inner darkness, your Berserk rage at yourself, along with all your most beautiful light… then wewon’tbe able to help. And you truly will succumb to your darkness. Plus, everything that goes along with it.”
“I’m afraid my inner self-hate will kill you if I let you feel it, Rikyava. It’s that… endless a void, even amongst the stars,” Baldur tells me now, as a terrible look devours his eyes, awful.
“Is it any worse than my self-hate at having nearly turned into a creature like the Black Dragon, almost killing all my drakes, or that I might still do so?” I challenge him now, not backing down. “Or what about Mikkel’s self-hate at having lost his shit so completely into his Wraith that he got us all into that insane fuck-storm, which nearly killed us in Copenhagen?Trustus, Baldur; we’re not saints. We’re sinners and lovers, just likeyou. And we will fight to our very last breath to save you, along with all the rest of us, from each of our fates worse than death.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Baldur breathes as the softest smile takes him now. His blue eyes light at last as he hears my words.
