Chapter 12

The Midnight Cave

Ky draws his ears back at Phoenix’s question and starts to walk faster. He doesn’t reply and flicks the tip of his tail, irritation prickling off him.

“Ky,” Phoenix repeats, “what the fuck was that blood about?”

Trailing several paces behind Ky, I cannot see his expression, but I can see how his body tenses and stiffens, losing the natural movement of every step and instead falling into something far more jerky and angular.

“Has the bleeding continued?” Wyatt asks. “When did it start?”

Ky growls in the back of his throat, pinning his ears.

Phoenix bounds forward, cutting Ky off and moving to stand in front of his brother when he tries to step to the side.

“This isn’t like you,” Phoenix says.

Ky holds Phoenix’s gaze for a moment before looking away with a sigh. He sucks on his teeth, then wrinkles his muzzle. The brothers stare at each other for several minutes, waiting to see who will break eye contact first. Phoenix scowls, expression dark and demanding, but Ky frowns back.

When neither looks away, with a snarl, Ky lashes out at Phoenix, teeth bared and fur standing on end. Brown eyes flaring a sharp copper, the soft edges of him bleed into something predatory that reminds me of his brother. Phoenix takes a step back, jerking his head back as Ky swings a forepaw at his face, then lunges for Phoenix. They tussle, and Phoenix takes Ky to the ground.

“I told you I’m fine,” Ky says as he rolls over and pins his brother with a paw on his chest.

“Fine,” Phoenix spits, glowering at Ky. “If you ain’t gonna fuckin’ tell me, I’m gonna find out for myself. You ain’t gonna keep a secret like that. I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself like that. You’re not gonna do that. I’m not gonna let you.”

I can hear the undertone of fear in Phoenix’s voice, and I can hear the desperation running through Ky’s words.

What’s going on?

But when that same feeling pulses within me again, my attention shifts. It pulls me from somewhere distinctly other to… an entirely different way and I turn. The dove within me knows which way to go— it follows the malachite medallion, wings fluttering within me as it coos and calls, beak chittering and clacking.

When I start walking without really knowing which way I’m going, I find myself following my feet without thinking consciously. Wyatt grabs my arm, but I shrug them off with more force than I think I’ve ever used on another being before. They apologize before I can do so, and regret pangs within me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it feels right, and yet it doesn’t at the same time. Either way, I know that it’s the way I need to go; the malachite medallion tells me it’s where I need to be going, and the dove within me echoes that feeling, tilting its head this way and that and cooing and clicking as it urges me onward.

Ky lets Phoenix go, then trots up ahead, angling his ears. He scans the horizon, tail flicking behind him.

The sand of the Badlands fully gives way to dirt and short grasses that crunch beneath our feet. A handful of scraggly bushes sprout from the ground, but I remain able to see so far, far enough that I wonder how much further we’ll even have to go. Where could we be going? Where could Ky be taking us? Where could the malachite medallion be leading me?

Myles walks a few paces to my side. His staff makes soft taps every step.

“What were you doing,” I ask, “when you made all those illusions, Ky?”

He twists his lips. When he doesn’t reply for several beats, I wonder if Ky even will, but he does.

“I was trying to make a connection. My magic is tied to Ivy’s. Phoenix’s is tied to Onyx’s. Phoenix is fire and fire is him, like Onyx was stone and stone was him. Ivy had that intimate connection that went beyond just being plant life, and I can reach in to touch others’ minds to manipulate their perceptions of reality. Your malachite medallion is connected to Alex’s pewter pendant, and both of those have a very close connection to Erebus and Lucius, to my understanding. Erebus and Lucius also created the Midnight Wolves, so I thought that if I could somehow try to find their magic, then perhaps I could find where the Midnight Wolves spawn.”

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“You were trying to find Erebus and Lucius’s magic?”

Ky nods, slowing down a bit. He tilts his head to the side. “Everyone’s got their own… aura, of sorts. Their own thread. I can tie them together, if I want. I can manipulate each one, to an extent. Nowhere near what Erebus or Lucius could do, but I have my own power with my illusions. With enough focus I can seek out certain ones.”

“Was that those colorful illusions I saw?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose so.”

“How did you know which thread was the right one?” Myles asks.

Ky keeps moving, and Phoenix keeps pace a couple steps behind him. Ky hums, tail swishing behind him.

“The threads… they’re like string. I can tug on them. I can tie them together in my illusions. I leave together my illusions. When I was a kitten, what I wove together wasn’t very intricate and I couldn’t do much with the auras, the threads, but I can do much more now. With the threads now, when I tug on them I can see much more. I can sense much more about who the auras belong to. Sometimes they’re humans, sometimes they’re other beings, sometimes they’re plants, sometimes objects without life. I can sense the power within each. Every being leaves their own mark on their thread. To find Erebus and Lucius I had to look for the thickest, darkest threads, the tautest ones thrumming with the most power. They each hold the most power in this world. No one sees Erebus after they bring every individual into life, and no one sees Lucius until they bring every individual to death, which makes finding them difficult. I just had to find their thread and look for the similar energy.”

“What do you see when you look at the threads?” Wyatt asks.

“The world is made up of string. It’s an infinite array of threads, all tied together in a knot that can never be undone. To remove one thread is to unravel the universe.”

We keep walking.

xxxx

We come across rocks.

Ky almost walks straight past them, and Phoenix does, muttering something about how much longer? but with a few more curses.

Myles pauses, and I do as well. The dove in my chest settles down, wings folding shut after rustling feathers until they sit right. I don’t want to, but I do anyway; something keeps me in place. The rocks lay in a ring with one off center in the middle. The ring isn’t all that big. With all of us crowding around the ring, we take up a good portion of the space. Each of the rocks look like any I’ve seen across Ragdon. Unassuming, mottled with greys and browns with lichen spreading across the surfaces in small smatterings, and plain, the rocks wouldn’t have drawn my attention if the malachite medallion doesn’t tell me that this is the right place. When I start considering moving elsewhere, it pangs against my chest, a sharp, searing flare of heat that hurts but deals no lasting damage and tells me in no uncertain terms no.

Wyatt sits down on a rock on the edge of the ring and stretches out their legs. Myles uses his staff to scratch his back.

Is this the right place? I think. Are we here? Where are you, Alex?

There’s no hidden places. There’s no spots Alex could be behind. If she were here, I would’ve seen her already.

Ky spins in a slow circle, paws leaving prints half as long as my foot but twice as wide. He squints as he takes in the scene, as do I. Phoenix grumbles as he lays down. He licks his paw, then spreads his toes wide to remove dirt trapped between his paw pads. His flames singe and sear the small foliage sprouting beneath and around him.

I pace as I tap my fingers against my thigh. I feel like I’m in the right spot, but I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, where I’m supposed to look. I don’t see another being. I don’t see the new Midnight Wolf. I don’t see anything that stands out as a door, an entrance, a new location to move to.

I just see land, space that’s no longer the Badlands but isn’t far from it and is in some in between kind of space between the Badlands and the shores of Ananda Spring. I cannot see either, yet I know both are there.

My focus keeps returning to the rocks. I haven’t seen any others quite like them in a while, despite how they look like any other rocks on Ragdon. All others were much smaller or not in this number. There’s thirteen rocks here; twelve in the ring and the last off center in the middle.

“Thirteen,” Myles murmurs, a frown crossing his forehead, as he brushes a lock of tightly curled hair from his forehead.

“Huh?” I turn to him.

He leans on his staff, shifting his weight on his feet. He chews on a nail. “Well, if you ignore one —say, the rock in the middle— you’ve got twelve.”

“Tell me more,” Wyatt says.

Ky narrows his eyes as he pricks his ears. He’s catching onto something faster than I am, and I want to know what. I scour my mind for anything, but I can’t remember. Panic rises within me.

If I can’t remember, I might lose Alex. I might never see her again. I might not find the new Midnight Wolf. I could lose them forever, and then I might lose Alex forever. Lucius might bring Alex into their claim, and I’ll never get to say goodbye.

My eyes prickle with the beginnings of tears, and I pinch my skin hard enough that my nails leave indents. The sting of pain snaps me from my spiral, but my heart still pounds in my chest and my blood still sings with energy and the zing of anxiety. My skin feels three sizes too small and I can’t stand still. I pace.

“Like the zodiac constellations,” Myles continues. “Taurus, Pisces, Gemini, Cancer, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Libra, Aquarius, Aries, Virgo, Leo, and Scorpio.”

The ground rumbles.

I freeze, eyes finding everyone else to confirm they haven’t disappeared.

“Fuck,” Phoenix curses, stalking around Ky’s back and trailing his tail over his brother’s spine.

“What about the last one?”

Myles shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s in the middle.”

“There’s twelve zodiac signs.” Wyatt frowns, moving to stand near Myles. They press a knuckle to their lips as they cross an arm over their chest.

A single crack jerks through the soil, sprouting from the rock in the middle of the ring like a bolt of lightning.

When the ground lurches, I gulp.

Before I can think through options, the singular crack splinters into far too many to count, and the soil swallows us whole as it gives out.