Never again to return home, to the place of our eternal rest.
But though Hedda has done the most unimaginably horrible thing I could ever think of to a Blood Dragon, we’ve bested her little test. For good or ill, we’ve broken her black veil surrounding me in the Void. Memories come raging in, as all the Ancestors from each of my drakes’ and my bloodlines pour their recollections of Hedda and the Black Dragon Five into us in a tirade.
I scream, drowning in that inundating wave of ancestral memories, overwhelmed by it. Bjorn instantly wraps around me from behind; he bites my neck both in the physical world and up in the Void with his massive auric drake. He holds me steady in that tsunami, as those memories come, and come, and come.
As Ström devours my lips now, I feel his deep passion become my anchor as well. He holds me grounded in my love rather than my agony, as he fights with me against that riptide now. Our bodies heave together, struggling to not be washed away in it.
Mikkel snarls, gripping my wrists and digging talons into them, givingme pain to stay sane. Because insanity is beyond that flood, we all know, if my drakes and I should succumb to it.
It’s just too great. This massive ocean of memories will break my mind, and all my drakes’, if we can’t get enough control in the Void to make some sense of it. Much less funnel it down into Baldur’s sigil-work upon the Soulstone; as Baldur roars with all the overtones of his dragon in his voice now, thrusting into me once more upon the bed, I feel him fight like a madman to contain it all.
As he hammers into me, I feel him work his most incredible art, to channel that massive flood into five separate soul-sigils that will capture the essence of each dragon we seek, including Hedda.
Hedda laughs through the Void now, as she watches us struggle to master these ridiculously high-level magics.
Or be swept away in their outrageous flow.
Blasting our very souls apart in the Void without her even touching us, as we all succumb to madness.
29
HELL
It’s Mikkel who finally gets control of this magic, as he seizes Baldur from behind now. He bites Baldur’s neck, roaring into his spine as Baldur fucks me upon the bed. As Mikkel’s gargantuan black drake floods into Baldur now, giving him and us a mega fuck-ton of energy to stay afloat in this tide, I feel it finally steady us.
At last, I have the breathing room to hurl my roar at the Ancestors assailing us, commanding them to give us memories of the Five one bloodline at a time.
As Ström kisses me, memories from his Ancestors flood into me first, from the Void. With a roar, Baldur penetrates me harder, fucking me mercilessly now as he hauls all those memories from Ström’s Ancestors out of my Bloodwalking.
He channels them down into the physical world, into sigildry. Baldur’s incredible art sears and blisters around us now in a diamond-white and blue maelstrom. It’s aided by Mikkel’s gargantuan power and stabilized now by Bjorn’s Blood Magic resonance, as it roars and makes unspeakable rune-phrases all throughout the cavern.
My belief in him holds him strong as I grip his arms and he fucks meharder upon the bed; all of his magnificent power funnels down into the Soulstone now, right beside me on the bed.
It glows brighter than a fallen star now, as all the veins of silver, gold, and white ore blister upon it. The sigil for Ström’s Ancestor in the Five blazes brimstone and green upon it.
The soul-imprint for Ström’s Ancestor locked in now, complete.
As Mikkel bites Baldur, pouring his vicious, electric power all through Baldur to make this happen, Mikkel’s Ancestor’s memories are drawn in next. Incredible tirades of sigils go roaring through the space as they heave down into the Soulstone. They create a master sigil upon it for Mikkel’s Ancestor in the Five now, searing with black, bright copper, and chartreuse green fire as it locks in.
Then it’s Bjorn’s turn, as a rageful fury of memories come from his Magnussen Ancestors, way back in the day. I barely have time to register that we’re mostly experiencing memories from King Örn Magnussen when Baldur has those memories secured by his art.
The ridiculously complex soul-sigil for Bjorn’s Ancestor in the Five blazes crimson-gold upon the Soulstone now, far more complex than the other two. But as Baldur receives memories from his own Ancestors next, about the person from his bloodline who was part of the Five, I feel him become temped to go dark.
I feel it as his massive work of sigildric art falters; I seize him by the face, forcing him to stay with me as I ride him hard now, rather than him fucking me.
It works, though I know his addiction to this kind of magic is not gone, not by a long shot. It keeps him with me, however; keeps him working his massive, most incredible art, as that sigil blazes blue-white upon the Soulstone, fully imbued upon it.
As it comes to my Ancestors, however, who could provide us with memories of Hedda, I feel how the power in our ritual suddenly becomes chaotic. Because although we pull from a myriad of dragons who knewHedda in life, the person who knew her best in my bloodline was Aesa, her very own sister.
Aesa’s soul is gone now, though, and all her memories with it, as the power Baldur’s working suddenly careens, unstable. Because we have no one in my bloodline who can provide us with the most intimate memories of Hedda; the only other people who knew her that well were her drakes, and they all became part of the Black Dragon Five.
It makes our ceremony wild now, unsteady, as Baldur’s fucking of me becomes unhinged. Despite Bjorn holding me and Mikkel holding Baldur, Ström pushing all of us with his passion to stay the course and finish this, we suddenly have no anchor to ground us.
I feel Baldur’s temptation to be a god then, as it rolls him. Because he’s stronger than the rest of us, with his cosmic magic and mastery over all things sigil and Void. He knows it, as I feel how he hauls out his darkest nature now, letting it rage wild and free.
And letting his better self collapse.
Because some deep, terrible part of him feels he can best Hedda. If he just let himself go there, if he just allowed himself to become everything he is, far out in the cosmos, he knows he could beat her—just like I tried to beat the Black Dragon in my darkest hubris, and failed.
