“Hello, Ana.”
Anastasia didn’t immediately reply. Looking through the bars of Blaise’s cell, she thought he looked worn, for the first time she’d seen since…
Since his wife died.
“Hello, Blaise,” she said, taking a seat. “You seem… tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Blaise said. He smiled slightly. “Yes, I’ll admit to it. I’ll likely never leave this cell, so I should get accustomed to this bed, but it’s really quite uncomfortable.”
“I can ask to —” Anastasia started, but Blaise waved a hand.
“Don’t intercede for me, please. I have spoken to Jacob. He’s quite pleased with my discomfort. And for good reason. I understand why I am not given finer accommodations. With my lack of sleep, I’ve had even more time to contemplate all that has led me to this place. Regardless of my intentions… I dealt great harm to people I had sworn to protect. And in the end, I failed, and was captured. Justice demands that I live the rest of my days in this cell.”
“But you’ll live forever,” Anastasia said softly, barely a whisper.
“Perhaps,” Blaise said. Anastasia looked up, surprised to see him smile. “I did discover a different secret to immortality than Leon, this is true. But it is something that can be taken away, or freely given up. In essence… I can choose when I die.”
“Please don’t talk like that.”
“I apologize. But Ana… surely you came here with a purpose? Not that I dislike your company, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But you had a look of purpose when you entered, and then I rudely distracted you from it. Tell me — what became of your search for Sal?”
Anastasia clenched her hands into fists. “Sal is still alive,” she said, her voice taut. “But he is more than we expected. He… has fully embraced the Darkness. I do not know how he attained such power — Jormungand was undoubtedly an ally to him — but he has become the Lord of Night. And he is proving incredibly skillful at his new role. The Endless Night… that prophecy is coming true. If you could see the skies over Grimoire…”
“He’s chosen the Darkness?” Blaise asked, softly, thoughtfully. “In totality? He and I had always agreed with the leader of the Lunar Architects that we must walk in both Light and Darkness, never fully in one or the other.”
“He… has changed, greatly, Blaise. He looks the same, physically — the same eyes, same face, he even dresses the same. He has the same voice. Only… he doesn’t. His posture, his demeanor, his way of speaking… it’s all changed. He smiles, yet he’s so cold, so distant. He has an arrogance he never had before, a complete self-assuredness. And it isn’t unfounded — myself, Bronn, Stride, and Sieglinde were all there, along with some of the Greysons and others, including members of the Crystal Family. And without even moving, Sal was able to prevent us all from attacking us. It was like he… rooted us to the floor, pinned our shadows in place, and by pinning our shadows, paralyzed us all. None of us could even lift a finger against him.”
“Yet you return not only alive, but unscathed,” Blaise said.
Anastasia nodded. “That self-assuredness of his… he proved that he had no reason to fear us, so why kill us? He demonstrated his power, pulled Chelsea and Caleb into a void of Darkness, and then left.”
“Chelsea Reiner and Caleb Greyson?” Blaise asked.
“Yes,” Anastasia said. “But they managed to get out. I don’t know the details. Myself and the others… we’ve been working with the Council of Mages, but we haven’t had much interaction with Chelsea or the Greyson children. They haven’t been in Grimoire very much at all.”
“Then certainly they’re up to something grand,” Blaise said, smiling. The smile faded after a moment, and he spoke softly, as if to himself. “Intriguing. The Lord of Night, eh…? With such a display of power… what have you become, Sal? And what are you planning?”
“He’s bringing on the Endless Night.”
“Yes, but beyond that.” Blaise shook his head. “He wasn’t so confident in the old days, but he was always up to multiple things at once. He never put all his eggs in one basket. And he liked to interlace plans and schemes, have numerous backup plans and contingencies. I doubt that has changed — he’s just gained a confidence in his methodology. I doubt it’s unfounded.”
“All of Grimoire is focused on defense,” Anastasia said. “Though it seems unlikely he will attack Grimoire directly. The nights grow ever longer. It seems our fair city is on its way to a slow, quiet death — one that we are powerless to stop.”
“Oh, Sal will attack Grimoire,” Blaise said. He looked up, his expression grim.
“What?” Anastasia asked, leaning forward, eyes wide. “What are you saying?”
“The way he is now… yes, I see.” Blaise nodded thoughtfully. He’d looked haggard when the discussion had begun, but turning his mind towards these contemplations had brought life to his expression again. “Grimoire is his home, after all. If nothing else, he’ll want to watch its final moments. But I think he’d much rather take direct action. However well the Endless Night progresses, he was never one to sit back and watch his plans proceed. He’ll want to have his hands in the thick of it.”
“So he will come,” Anastasia murmured. “You’re certain?”
“Nothing is certain, considering how much he’s changed. But I am as certain as I can be.”
“Then… our defensive efforts may not go to waste,” Anastasia said. “All of the families with active Manors are testing them, making sure everything works properly. The city’s perimeter circle is being prepared for activation — it cannot be sustained indefinitely, of course, but applied at the right time, it will be a powerful shield. The people from the two neighboring towns have evacuated and been given temporary lodging in Grimoire, so all in the region will be as safe as possible. There are still Hunters and Investigators delving into the underground ruins, trying to riddle out that ancient city and the flood of Darkness that nearly swallowed up Lorelei, Will, and the rest. But the majority of our mages are focused on preparing for a battle we cannot be sure is coming, and quelling the increasing amount of Hollows and their Nightmare-spawned cousins. Hollow Hour continues to extend beyond its original hour, so we need all hands on deck.”
“Bronn and Stride came back to the city, then?” Blaise asked curiously.
“Yes. Stride insists it’s temporary, that he’ll leave once he knows that Grimoire is safe again. He doesn’t feel he belongs here anymore.”
“Well, he’d rather get as much distance from me as possible, I’m sure,” Blaise said with a wry smile. “But not too far — he’ll always want to watch over his city, after all. Just from a distance, now.”
“Blaise… you’re still so calm. Even knowing what Sal has become, what he’s doing…”
“Do not obsess over him, Ana,” Blaise said with a confident tone. “Sal… you shouldn’t even concern yourself with him.”
Anastasia’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Exactly as I said.” Blaise smiled, but there was a coldness in it, and his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “Sal… is my responsibility. Leave him to me, if you please.”
Anastasia couldn’t find it in her to argue with him. The fact that he was in a cell specifically designed so that it was impossible for him to escape, the fact that no one would ever willingly let him out… she couldn’t bring herself to bring up any of that. Blaise had seemed so tired and worn when she’d entered, but now…
Now he seemed alive again. There was fire in those eyes — a cold fire, but a lively one. If he said that he would deal with Sal…
I can’t help it. I trust him.
——
“That oughta do it,” Callum said, wiping sweat from his brow and examining his handiwork. Next to him was Hagan Rook, Will’s father and co-head of the Guardian Guild. Both of them were inspecting the results of their efforts.
“Yes, I think so,” Hagan said, nodding once. His smile was partially hidden by his bushy black beard, which had been getting wilder and more unkempt as the creeping darkness had worn on.
Before the two men was a tall metal rod, placed at a specific point in the old perimeter circle around Grimoire — what had once been a city-wide use of Guardian Magic, but had been quickly abandoned due to the outrageously unreasonable human cost it took to maintain.
A few centuries later, and the mages of Grimoire were returning to the old “failure.” Time, research, and great need had driven them to find new solutions to this city-wide Guardian ring, and these metallic pillars were a part of it. Hagan and Mercedes were behind the mechanical side of things — Callum was just glad to help out with assembly. And it had given him a good opportunity to test out more of his reawakened abilities with Elemental Magic.
“You never told me you could use Electricity Magic,” Hagan said, eyeing Callum with a raised eyebrow. “And you never used it as a Hunter.”
“Yeah, well,” Callum said, laughing sheepishly. “I, uh… well, to make a long story short, I used it once, a long time ago, and I… couldn’t control it. I never caused any permanent harm to anyone, but… it was enough to make me reject it. It took the Lunar Festival battle against Blaise’s Shadows and the Radiance, and a firm nudge from my dad, to get me to confront it again and actually learn to control it.”
“Well, the magnetism element of it sure came in handy,” Hagan said. “Though it must have been more work for you than the rest of us. You’ve been keeping some long hours lately.”
“We all have, don’t try to point me out. Deirdre’s swamped in Council work, but I, ah…” Callum hesitated, looking away. He’d left the Council, a decision that had been highly contested — Hagan had been one of the voices arguing that he should stay.
“You’re not running from responsibility,” Hagan said. “I see that, now. I thought the battle for Grimoire had broken you, but it just steeled your resolve. You’ve decided you can do better work in the field than at a desk, and you’re doing everything you can to prove that. You won’t hear me arguing about the results.”
“Thanks.” Callum managed a smile. His friendship with Hagan had always felt a bit strange — they were equals as far as their status as mages, but Hagan was ten years older than Callum, with a wealth of experience and technical know-how regarding his chosen specialization in Guardian Magic. They’d spent so much time together over the years, and yet Callum always felt nervous and unsteady around Hagan.
It’s that old voice in the back of my head. Quieter than it used to be, but even so… “Are you really worthy?”
“Maybe I did run away a bit,” Callum said. “I… Blaise wanted me to be his successor. He wanted me to be the next head of the Council. I just… couldn’t…”
“I understand,” Hagan said.
Callum bowed his head. “I’m glad I found a place where I can do real good.” He checked his watch. “And honestly… it’s kind of nice going back to my roots. Being a Hunter… was always my favorite thing.”
“Just don’t push it too far,” Hagan said.
“Deirdre wouldn’t stand for it if I did,” Callum said with a grin. “Been injured once and sick once, and that’s it. All thanks to her. I can push myself, but pushing too far — that’s never gonna happen again.”
“She always was a good influence on you,” Hagan said with a laugh.
Callum laughed just as heartily. “I hope I’ve been at least some good to her.”
“You have, don’t you worry about that.” Hagan rested a large hand on Callum’s shoulder. “You and your son are awfully alike. Smile easily, laugh easily, but underneath the outward appearance, you both struggle for confidence. None of us are perfect, Callum. The very best thing we can do is be aware of and honest about our own faults and flaws, and work to fix and improve them. But the very worst thing we can do is think we’re lesser than we are. Seeing flaws and faults where there are none, being afraid of failing because of our own lack of confidence in ourselves, or worse, to pretend everything is fine when really we’re suffering inside…” He fixed Callum with an intense stare. “You’ve been working hard to change yourself for the better. But don’t fall into the trap of expecting failure. You’re better than you give yourself credit for. And you’re only going to keep improving at this rate.”
“Just like Caleb, huh…?” Callum gazed into the distance, at a Grimoire that was lit up for the darkest of night despite it only being mid-afternoon. “He’s improving a lot faster than me.”
“You’re not wrong there,” Hagan said, and both men laughed.
“Will’s nothing like you, though,” Callum said. “Not much like Mercedes, either. Where did he get his quietude?”
“We’ve never quite understood that,” Hagan said, scratching his beard, furrowing his brow. “But for his lack of verbosity, he’s incredible at expressing himself in the written word. And he’s a good man. Nothing like me, but that’s no sin. I’m proud of him.”
“It’s good that they have each other,” Callum said, smiling. “They’re so different, but in ways that complement each other. I’m glad they’re out there together.”
“As am I,” Hagan said. A bell chimed in the distance. “Well, now,” he said, checking his watch. “It keeps getting earlier and lasting longer.”
“Yep,” Callum said, stretching his shoulders. Then he dropped into a low crouch, stretching his legs back and forth. The glove on his left hand glistened with magical light, and azure bolts of electricity crackled around him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but it was an exciting, rather than foreboding, sensation. The bell chimed again, and Callum stood up straight. “That’s my cue.” He nodded to Hagan. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good hunting,” Hagan said.
Callum gave a two-finger salute, then dashed into the darkness. Hollows were coming into being, beginning their nightly prowl of his city’s streets.
But there were Hunters. And though they were tired and overworked, every one of them, they were also getting more experience than ever before. Even as Hollow Hour kept expanding…
Grimoire’s Hunters grew more cunning, more bold, and more skilled.
Callum zipped through the streets, trailing azure electricity. Bolts of lightning shot from his body with a thought, expertly targeting a trio of Howlers which immediately burst into ash. He leapt onto a roof and gazed out across the city. Flashes of light, glimpses of Summons, all sorts of evidence of the work of Grimoire’s Hunters.
Callum was proud to be one of them.
——
The chaos on the Astral Wall had finally gotten under control. No one was hurt — Delilah Greyson had successfully led the Lingering Will away.
She’d also destroyed the door from the Astral Wall to Revue Palace. Repairs would take ages.
But in the aftermath, after the rites were completed for the fallen fourteen, and satisfied that the Astral Wall was safe and under control — Hayden, Camellia, and Botan were more than equal to the task — Maestro Siegfried left the Astral Wall for the Library of Solitude.
He had a report to deliver. The rites of fallen Paladins had come first, for honoring the fallen and given hope to those in mourning was, in Siegfried’s mind, the highest of honors and the most important of priorities. So that had delayed him, but only for a short time.
His own mission had been fruitful indeed. With only five other Paladins, he had ventured into the darkest parts of the Dominion, seeking out the secret behind the Lord of Night. Who was he? Just how much power did he command?
What was his weakness?
In the high council chamber of the Library of Solitude, Siegfried and Lady Kodoka stood alone.
Siegfried did not smile. But if he was the smiling sort, he very likely would have been smiling.
“We succeeded,” he said. “The Lord of Night… his power is not as absolute as it seemed. Of course it isn’t, but we needed to be certain. Now we are. We know where he is… and precisely how to strike him.”
“Who do you propose we take?” Lady Kodoka asked. “I have been overseeing the training of the bulk of our forces, but I must say… many of them are still not ready. If you are correct, then this could very well be the final battle. Holding forces back might be a foolish error. But sending all of our forces into a trap would be even more grievous. We must not act hastily.”
“I leave the choice to you, of course,” Siegfried said. “But I must implore you to act as swiftly as possible. Do not be hasty, of course, only decisive. The Lord of Night could move at any moment. And the Sons of Night could return.”
“They are not at his side?” Lady Kodoka asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No, my lady. It presents a most compelling — but likely temporary — opportunity.”
Lady Kodoka mused thoughtfully for a moment, then turned, striding from the council chamber. “I will have my answer shortly,” she said.
Siegfried bowed, saying nothing. There was nothing more to be said.
Above all things, he trusted Lady Kodoka’s judgment.
——
The Lord of Night sat on his throne.
The throne was darkness, and all around was the living Darkness. Most who saw this place would see it as nothing but a black, formless void. But for Sal, things were different. He saw clearly the form of the Darkness, the way it moved, writhed, coiled, and stirred. Many of its movements were brought about by his own design, directing the Darkness where he wished.
Despite his title, Sal did not dress like some fantastical “dark lord.” He dressed as he had to visit the Greysons and Chelsea at various moments in their journey — a dull red frock coat over a pale green waistcoat, both of which decked out with numerous silver, gold, white, and black buttons of his own design, medals with a significance only known to him. He was rather fond of color — aside from small accents, the only black piece of clothing he wore were his boots, which were accented with silver.
He had chosen the Darkness, had made it his to command. He had willingly become the Lord of Night. But that didn’t mean he had to be boring about it.
Though I suppose I am the only one who can properly see color within the Darkness.
Sal sat leisurely, an elbow on his throne’s armrest, his chin propped on his hand. Before him stood Jormungand, the long scar across his face standing out in this dark nebula.
The Lord of Night smiled. “They’re finally coming for me, are they?” he asked.
“Indeed,” Jormungand said with a curt nod. “Shall I call back your Sons?”
All business, all the time. Though that is what’s made him so valuable, it has left him a rather disappointing conversationalist.
I can’t be too upset with him. It was he who introduced me to the Darkness, who set me on the path to who I am today.
“No, no,” Sal said, waving his free hand. “They function better in the field than here at home. And I’d rather have them continue to pursue the little Greyson and her merry band. I do believe, with the right push, they’ll finally wear her down. And you may find an opportunity to make up for your failures. You’ve been rather disappointing of late, Jormungand.” As Jormungand opened his mouth to reply, Sal silenced him with a gesture. “Besides… things have been going so smoothly otherwise. I’ve been enjoying watching things unfold, but now they’re actually coming to me? I can’t possibly pass up this opportunity.”
“Opportunity, my lord?” Jormungand asked. Despite the hint of curiosity in his voice, his expression, as usual betrayed little emotion.
Sal nodded. “A marvelous opportunity, Jormungand. I’ll finally get to test my power directly against Paladins.” He sighed languidly, relaxing in his throne. He reached out to the darkness, and pulled from it a book, which he opened and began to read. “Now… I wonder how many they’ll send against me? I do hope they give me everything they’ve got. To see all of the forces of Light arrayed against the bringer of Endless Night… yes. That is just what this story needs, don’t you think? If they hold anything back, I’ll be disappointed. I’m upending the natural order of things, Jormungand. If I can’t handle an army of Paladins led by the Prime Paladin herself, can I really say I’m equal to the task?”
“I have every faith in you, my lord,” Jormungand said, bowing low.
“Do check in on Wasuryu, won’t you?” Sal asked offhandedly. “He’s wallowed long enough. Failures aren’t meant to be cried over for so long — he needs to get back to work if he’s ever to live up to his lofty ambitions. Though I must say, I’m quite impressed with Fae — well, not so much her. Her friends, rather. I was confident in the work you and Wasuryu did at the Silver Star Sanctuary, Jormungand. A shame it was so susceptible to the talents of mere college students.”
“The Greysons and those around them have been a regular surprise,” Jormungand said.
“Hardly a surprise,” Sal said. He never looked up from his book, reading as he talked. “If they hadn’t come this far, I’d be sorely disappointed.”
“You are… enjoying yourself?” Jormungand asked. “Enjoying… seeing them succeed? Even though it brings them ever closer to —”
“The closer they get to preventing the Endless Night,” Sal said, “the more satisfying it is to defeat them. Jormungand, your caution is boring — see that it is discarded. Boldness and confidence are required for this story to reach the proper conclusion. It was your idea to hold the Revue of the Night, and yet here you are, spitting on the value of a climactic, thrilling story. We need those children to succeed, for it makes the story all the more compelling. Caleb and Chelsea escaping the Shadowheart, Delilah tolling the three Bells, Fae escaping a fate as Wasuryu’s vessel, and Shana and Shias… wherever they are… doing whatever is they’re doing…” Sal grinned. “They’ve truly disappeared. I can’t see them anywhere. And you’ve had no luck in locating them, have you?”
“No, my lord.”
“All the better. Whatever they’re planning, whatever they’re part of, it should be truly exciting. This is just the unexpected obstacle that we need more of.”
“And yet… you still want us to strive for —”
“Of course, Jormungand,” Sal said with a sigh. He finally looked up from his book. “It’s useless if we let them succeed. None of this is worth anything unless we both put our very best into every action.” Another sigh, and Sal leaned forward, gesturing with his book. “You’re not much of a reader, are you, Jormungand?”
“I was, long ago,” Jormungand said.
“Of what?” Sal asked, his curiosity piqued. “Excellent stories? Thrillers? Adventures? Dare I for a moment suspect you were a fan of romances?”
“I… read history, my lord,” Jormungand said. “As well as magical theory, mathematics, natural sciences, astronomy —”
“Ah, so you live up to your own characterization,” Sal said, leaning back in his throne with a sigh. “And yet you suggested the Revue of Night? How did this come to be?”
“I knew the mechanics of the Drowned Theater,” Jormungand said. “I thought we could take advantage of them.”
“Well, you and your cadre did put up a compelling fight there, I will applaud you for that,” Sal said. “I rather enjoyed watching it. Though the songs and moments that have stuck with me the most have been the ones of Delilah’s team, not yours. They earned their victory, there’s no denying that.”
They spoke only a little longer, and then Jormungand departed. Sal was left, for all appearances, alone.
He turned, gazing into the dark void that surrounded him. The deepest darkness, and in it all, he could see and hear all. Yes, there were gaps — where were the Greyson twins? — but he saw and heard so much, it might as well be all.
The Darkness was a powerful ally. He’d spent so much time learning from it, bending it to his will, and then strategizing, planning, and watching.
But now… Paladins were moving. The soldiers of the Light were taking action. An entire army was coming for him — and he would face them alone.
I do so enjoy playing the underdog.
“Soon,” Sal said, smiling, “it will be my turn to take the stage.”