Styx didn’t need to tap into the soul bond to recognize Caleb’s bubbly enthusiasm as it filled her chest. The warmth of his joy was conquering every corner of her being. No doubt he happily sat at his desk, surrounded by pretty notebooks, new pens, and fresh popcorn. Probably wearing those ridiculous fluffy socks he loved so much.
In her mind’s eye, she could see him bouncing in his seat, singing nonsense lyrics in his joy. He’d make up rhyming songs until he got distracted by work. Then he’d sit muttering about the proper phrasing of sentences. A smile tugged at her lips, unbidden and unwelcome. This was a serious meeting, and the other horsewomen would give her shit if they caught the goofy grin plastered on her face.
“What’s that stupid expression for?” Rowan asked.
Styx cursed herself for missing the druid’s entry because of her distracted musings.
“It’s that stupid soul bond,” Styx said, rubbing the spot on her ribs. “We should start preparing to sever it soon. I can’t stand these distractions.”
Rowan shrugged, settling into her seat as the living wood table seemed to bend reverently toward the druid. Bark creaked and curled, leaves rustling in a phantom breeze to bask in her aura. Absently, she brushed a finger along the nearest leaf. It shivered at her caress, veins glowing emerald as braided twigs swelled with verdant hues.
“To be fair, I’m not sure I want to try. Creator magic is very powerful and persistent. We could end up doing actual damage to both of you if we try to sever the bond.”
Styx hissed her annoyance. It wouldn’t work to be tied to a mortal. Not when their lives were fleeting and dull. Caleb didn’t even have any magic! He couldn’t go to the underworld or travel to most realms. It was like being attached to a rare moon sprite. Inconvenient and annoying.
“I don’t accept that.” Styx shuffled the papers before her. “I’m a highly powerful immortal being…”
“The Creators themselves brought you into existence,” Rowan interrupted. “And those same divine beings forged the ancient enchantment of soul bonds—an enchantment mighty enough to traverse the boundaries of life and death. We’d be foolish indeed to meddle with such primordial forces without fully comprehending the consequences. Everything could be at stake.”
“Steak!” Sorcha burst into the conference room. “Who has steak? Is it perfectly marbled with just the right amount of fat?”
Styx let out a breath. “Sorry, Famine. Wrong kind. I’m discussing cutting the soul bond with Rowan.”
“You wanna ditch your scholar?” Sorcha asked, sitting down at the table.
As she settled in, the surrounding foliage wilted and withered. Leaves dried up and warped, while the wood adopted a hollow, gray hue.
“Not ditch,” Styx said. “Just cut the connection.”
The door shoved open so hard it smacked against the wall. “I’ll sever it!” Valerie brandished a heavy war ax. “Tsunami Cleaver can handle that. It would be easy to separate the mortal’s head from his shoulders. Then poof! No problem.”
Sorcha snickered. “No scholar either.”
Immediate revulsion and fear burst forth, strong enough that Styx had to grip the table. Something inside of her screamed that if she let go, then she’d end Valerie. Just for uttering those damn words.
Rowan held up her hand. “No, at this stage, ending Caleb would have a serious, detrimental effect on Styx.”
“What do you mean?” Sorcha asked.
“Soul bonds are an intricate and powerful piece of magic. If one party dies, the other is seriously affected.”
“That’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo,” Valerie said, sliding into an open seat. “No magic is capable of that.”
Rowan glared at her. “Since you’re the expert here. I’m telling you, the soul bond isn’t a superficial type of power. Evidenced because Styx can sense his emotions already. Just killing him would only bring her pain.”
Styx REALLY didn’t like this conversation. The more they spoke about killing the human, the more her insides were crawling. Just the idea of holding his dead body made her feel empty and sick inside. No, instead she focused on the bond. Caleb was hyper-focused. An intense wave of pleasure, contentment, and pride was flowing freely.
“It would be like Styx losing Death,” Rowan said, looking at everyone.
“Fuck,” Valerie growled, rubbing her arms.
“Oh,” Sorcha muttered, looking at her hands.
“Can we start the meeting?” Styx asked. “Has everyone gotten this chatting out of their system?”
Valerie smacked the table. “Hey, we can talk if we want.”
“Yeah, we can talk if we want!” Sorcha put her hands on her hips.
“I, for one, am especially interested in this dude.” Valerie picked at her nails. “It seems like strange timing. You’ve walked the realms for billions of years and suddenly get a soul bond? And it’s a human?”
“Seriously,” Sorcha said. “Wouldn’t it be better to be paired with another immortal? Fairy or Night Children? Why a moral man?”
Rowan nodded. “Agreed. I find it strange that the Creators singled out a human without magic to be your companion. Soul bonds are typically about finding an equilibrium between two powerful beings. In all my research, I have found no examples of such a lopsided bond.”
“I don’t know,” Styx said. “Perhaps it’s not about the human part and more about that summoning spell he used.”
“Which we still haven’t punished him for,” Valerie growled.
“We might be missing the bigger picture here,” Rowan said. “It could be time for the rest of us.”
Both Valerie and Sorcha burst out laughing and leaned into each other. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they struggled to calm down. Sorcha snorted and coughed. Valerie hit the table hard enough to crack it.
“Just imagine,” Sorcha started. “Valerie bonding to a pacifist who’s never touched a sword?”
Valerie laughed harder. “A foolish man with notions of glory and heroic quests that fail within moments? I’d go insane! Or you Sorcha, a farmer!”
“A farmer!” Sorcha snorted. “Can you imagine? All that rotting food?”
They laughed more.
Rowan and Styx stayed silent. Rowan examined the feathers on her belt and fixed any imperfections. Styx clenched the table hard enough her fingers popped.
“Stop!” Styx shouted and sent a wave of magic across the room.
Instantly, Sorcha and Valerie stopped.
“We have other things to discuss,” Styx said. “Besides the human. Have you forgotten the demons and the havoc that they’ve brought?”
Both Valerie and Sorcha looked sufficiently cowed before Styx went on.
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“Good, now, we’ve been able to gather some reports about demon movement,” Styx said.
“It appears they’re focusing on the portals,” Rowan said. “We have increased sightings around them as well as traces of magical energy and remnants of rituals.”
“That’s a bad sign, right?” Sorcha asked, chewing on a nail.
“Rituals?” Valerie interrupted. “Aren’t those for like doing stuff?”
Rowan let out a breath. “Yes, they’re for, like, doing stuff. The prevailing theory is they’re trying to shut them down.”
Sorcha and Valerie gasped. Closing portals was forbidden due to one simple reason.
“If the portal is closed, the realm will die,” Styx said.
The known realms relied upon an intricate equilibrium of forces crafted by the Creators, interdependent strands of magic binding reality itself. Sever but one thread by sealing a portal, and catastrophe unraveled.
Should the demons rupture the meticulous balance between realms, the backlash would prove calamitous. Like a ravaged spider’s web, each torn filament would further weaken the rest until total collapse. And untold devastation would follow for all connected worlds—the obliteration of life and nature itself should these underpinnings fail.
A shiver of fear passed over Styx. The horsewomen were protectors of all the magical realms, including Earth. It was their job to protect all the known worlds.
“We have to ensure that doesn’t happen,” Styx said. “We all know and love the other realms, and we can’t allow the demons to destroy any of them.”
“This is making me really nervous,” Sorcha said. “I don’t like the idea of these creatures being able to influence entire realms.”
“Not just entire realms, Famine,” Valerie said. “The known cosmos. This might mark the end of the Creators and worlds they’ve built.”
The silence was deafening as the devastating implications sank in. Reality itself was being unraveled by the demons. The Creators harnessed their magic to build the realms and all the wonderful things in them.
[https://i.imgur.com/qb0TILX.png]
That divine energy flowed within the Horsemen above all, binding the cosmic forces they personified. Its balance now teetered on the brink, threatening to plunge all creation into chaos should the portals fall.
Bile rose in Styx’s throat as visions of total collapse assailed her, of nature warped beyond recognition, her underworld fragmented with souls trapped in eternal limbo. No anchors remaining to preserve order or purpose amid the madness.
Here, anarchy could reign unchecked, the laws that governed life and death unraveled completely. Even War, Famine and Pestilence combined lacked the might to restore balance once broken.
Never had icy fingers of mortal dread gripped Styx’s ancient heart so completely. Bearing witness as the world burned could drive her to madness. And should darkness prevail, humanity would face an apocalypse beyond the scope of even its most enduring nightmares—the absolute obliteration of life itself.
It took precious seconds to realize a second truth. All this fear and dread wasn’t just because of Rowan’s warning.
Caleb.
[https://i.imgur.com/oaotIid.png]
She rubbed her chest, hoping to decipher the surprising flair of panic. It was so strong and unusual. Something born of genuine fear.
Sharp, gutting blade. Foul, poison wine. Screech of rent metal.
The acid tang flooded her mouth even as the coppery scent of blood permeated the air. Phantom pain lanced through her body. Her vision wavered with remembered shadows crawling forth.
Caleb’s racing heartbeat thundered in her ears, his ragged breath sawing in the stillness. Every nerve blazed with adrenaline, muscles wound tight as bowstrings about to snap.
The onslaught of sensations threatened to drown Styx in Caleb’s all-consuming terror. But she clung to that lifeline bond even as icy dread poured down her spine. Whatever horror had come for him, she had to get there in time. Caleb needed her. She would not fail him.
“Death,” Rowan interrupted her panic. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s…” Could she speak? Could she put words to this feeling? “It’s terror.”
“Demons,” Valerie breathed.
No, no. Styx shook her head. It couldn’t be those foul beasts. They wouldn’t bother with a pathetic human. Someone who lacked magic and only dabbled in arcane sorcery. No.
“What do you need?” Sorcha asked.
Styx blinked rapidly. What would she require? Everything. Flexing, a host of specters flooded into the room. Death sprites followed, their small glowing forms flickering. Even a pair of enchanted armors crashed in behind the group. Their metal bodies glistening under the florescent lights.
Styx would bring an army with her, to save Caleb. Valerie grinned, that wide wild smile that always precipitated violence. Sorcha sat up straighter, her sickly magic bubbling forth.
Rowan held out her hand, stopping them all. “We need a plan. Every other time we’ve faced the demons, it’s gone poorly. We can’t just swoop in and assume it will be different now.”
Abrupt, wrenching pain caught Styx by surprise, fierce enough to double her over as she struggled to breathe. Agony cascaded around her ribs and clutched her muscles in a merciless vise, stealing the very air from her lungs. This couldn’t be happening! She slumped over, arms wrapped around herself as if she could somehow contain the onslaught. Rowan was at her side in an instant, a steadying hand upon her back, though the gesture did little to ease the anguish threatening to consume Styx entirely.
“He’s in pain all right.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Styx wheezed.
Valerie smashed her fists together. “Let’s go catch some demons!”
“I’m going to make them regret showing their ugly faces,” Sorcha said.
Rowan only gave a curt nod, pulling a pouch from inside her robe. Sparing only a half-glance, she pulled items from various pockets and pouches.
Valerie swirled her fingers, transforming into War. Then, with another shift of magic, a dozen small portals opened, and Valerie grabbed various weapons.
Sorcha bounced on her toes, the sickly green swirling around. The odor of rotting wood and decaying leaves filled the air. “We’ll show them our might. Show them why they’ve picked the wrong world to mess with!”
Styx sucked in a ragged breath, shoving the spikes of fear and tendrils of pain deep down. She would have to concentrate if she was going to save him, and she would.
All the demons who dared to threaten her soul bonded mate would suffer just as Caleb did. She’d tear them limb from limb. Suspend them above boiling hot lava. Feed them bit by bit to Russ. Everything. Anything.
These villains would witness firsthand why the world feared Death.
“Fuck!” Rowan’s shout grabbed her attention.
Panic flared as something inside of her shifted. That same invisible thread was weaving around her again. The unknown was approaching. That contradiction of unsettling and comforting was too strong to ignore.
Fate whispered, caressing the nape of her neck. A grand tapestry was being woven. Words were forming a destiny. But this destiny spoke of pain and torment.
“Death,” Rowan said.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Sorcha said, her thin wrists slipping through the air.
“It’s the same,” Rowan muttered. “The same magic, the same spell.”
Styx clutched her chest, her fingers splayed as if she could prevent the untamed magic swelling.
“Is this Caleb’s doing?” Valerie asked. “I’m going to pulverize that sack of bones!”
“No,” Styx said, barely able to shake her head. “No, it’s not him.” She looked up at Rowan, knowing the fear that was etched across her face. “It’s not him.”
She struggled to breathe, each inhalation a losing battle against an invisible force. The surrounding air burst into color. Dark purple. Diseased green. Vibrant gold.
Her companions, her friends, were fighting to save her. But it was a battle that they couldn’t win, no matter how hard they tried.
Styx’s throat constricted, and not just from the mystical forces compressing the air. The ragged shards of Caleb’s dread throbbed inside her skull, shredding coherent thought. She fought to shut out the chaos, to isolate the warrior’s fury that would steel her to confront the demon threat.
Yet the anguished spike of panic and desperation assaulted her without remorse. Helpless to prevent the assault on her mortal scholar, she teetered at the precipice of divine rage. The need to rend and eviscerate any who dared harm Caleb roiled up from fathomless depths she scarcely acknowledged.
Styx clung to the table as if it were her last tether before falling into the void.
“You can’t stop it,” she wheezed, struggling to hold herself upright. “We can’t stop it.”
“But, Death,” Rowan pleaded.
Then the air froze, suspended in an icy grip of destruction. Power rebelled, tossing and turning, lashing out with a vengeance unknown before.
Creator magic spread across her skin, and behind her, the swirling portal snapped open. The grays and blues shifting in a menacing pattern. When that magical door opened, the soul bond strengthened. Like a direct conduit, and now the world was crystal clear.
This soul-bond corrupted everything, altering her discipline by binding her to the fleeting existence of a frail human. Once this crisis passed, severing that liability would be her first act.
So Styx told herself. But as Caleb’s psychic screams reverberated down their connection, her finely honed restraint shattered. She gasped, staggered by the stark revelation of how profoundly this man had slipped past Death’s defenses to clutch her ancient heart.
The thought of failure, of losing his laughter and that crooked grin before she fully grasped their unfinished story rocked her to the core. This bedraggled scholar had kindled a light to banish the remoteness of Styx’s endless reign. She could not lose him, not yet.
“Caleb,” her voice was a tortured gasp.
Rowan grabbed at her, War held tight, Sorcha stood by, crying.
“Don’t you dare go, Death,” War shouted. “I’ll never forgive you!”
“Please, Death,” Sorcha cried. “This is going to be bad. We can’t lose you!”
Now Styx and fear were getting to know each other more. It was no longer the stranger it had once been. It anchored itself inside of her, weighing her down, denying the immense power she contained.
That invisible force transformed into a relentless power, distinguishing itself from a mere command. It was a demand, a suffocating demand that tasted of blood and electricity.
Her body receded, inching backward toward the destiny that waited. As Styx retreated faster, the resistance from her friends was nothing compared to it. Rowan’s anguished gaze locked onto hers, a silent confession of failure swimming in the druid’s fathomless eyes.
Unable to reach out or speak, Styx remained captive as she continued backward.
Rowan’s face twisted into a tortured expression of hopelessness and depression. Then, like a volcanic explosion, light burst before Styx faded into darkness.
[https://i.imgur.com/Df0l6kn.png]