The next day, Logan limped through the halls of the castle feeling every wound and all of his twenty-nine years. Everywhere he went people stopped what they were doing to move out his way and smile, nod, or just stare at him. The attention was more uncomfortable than his injuries were.

For all that, there were fewer people to stare than he would have hoped. The battle had taken a serious toll. Fully half of those who had chosen to fight with him were gone, returned to mist to float on the Hellwind. His only consolation was that they would, in theory, one day regain corporeal form once their spirits had regained enough strength. Small consolation indeed knowing they were, once again, at the mercy of Hell and all of its countless dangers.

“Logan?”

He turned to see Amber smiling at him. “Need a shoulder to lean on?”

“I’m not drunk this time.”

“You weren’t drunk last time either,” she replied with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “However, you are exhausted and severely wounded.”

He shrugged and fought not to wince in pain from the hole in his shoulder. “I need to make the rounds and check on Beauty, Boudica, and… my hound.”

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe you made friends with one of those awful monsters and a demon but I guess I should not be too shocked. You are certainly full of surprises.”

He started to laugh but pain put a stop to that. “I have my moments.”

She fell into step beside him, going slow so he could keep up. “Regardless, Boudica is resting comfortably. As is your hound. I checked on both only a short time ago.”

He paused mid-step to stare at her. “You got close to a Hellhound?”

Amber blushed and began to fidget under his gaze. “Well, not too close! I didn’t go into the pen where he chooses to sleep, but I did make sure he had food and water. I think he knew I was trying to help. He… licked my hand.”

Logan chuckled and shook his head in wonder. “Yep, I think he likes you. And Beauty?”

“I had her moved to your chambers.”

“Mine?” Logan scowled. “Why?”

“So there would be a bed big enough for the both you, of course.”

“You changed the beds?”

“I changed the rooms.”

“On whose orders?”

She glanced up at him with a nervous expression. “Mine?”

“Alright then.” He smiled at her. “Explain your reasoning for making that decision.”

“Well…” She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. “You are the Lord of the castle now, and she is your lover so…”

“I’m the what now?”

“Lord of the castle.” She blinked at him. “You conquered it and defeated Graveek’s forces. You rule here now. So, it wasn’t proper for you to be staying in one of the guest chambers and I thought you would want the comfort of your lover in your bed. Did I do wrong?”

“I… no, no you didn’t.” Logan shook his head and eyed the brunette with renewed appreciation. “You assessed the situation and, with no one else around to make an executive decision, took it upon yourself to fix. That is a mark of good leadership.”

She laughed. “Oh, I am not a leader! It just seemed like the thing to do.”

“And you got it done. That is leadership. Is there a title for the person who keeps everything running on behalf of the Lord of the castle?”

“Yes. Castellan.”

“Then as my first act as high muckity-muck, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Castellan. Congratulations. Your salary is hereby doubled.”

“I wasn’t paid a wage.”

“Well, then that's easy,” he grinned. Twice nothing is still nothing.”

“M’lord…” she stammered, wide-eyed. “I don’t deserve to-”

“The hell you don’t.” Logan stopped limping through the hall, laid a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes with a serious expression. “None of this would have been possible without you. You are smart, capable, brave, and efficient, and you deserve to be recognized for that.”

He smiled at her and started walking again. “So, you are stuck with the job. I’ll even sweeten the deal and offer you a hundred times your old pay.”

“That’s still zero,” she laughed.

“Details,” he grinned. “Now where is this new room you have exiled me to?”

“We will have to climb some stairs, I’m afraid. Sure you don’t want that shoulder to lean on?”

“Maybe just this once.”

She nodded and swallowed a grin. “Just this once.”

Slowly they made their way up. When he moved to open the door to the third floor, Amber just kept going.

“Wait, you didn’t.”

“I certainly did,” she replied.

Onward they climbed, past the fourth floor and all the way to the top floor of the keep. A guard, one of those Amber had said should be spared, stood in front of the door, and snapped to attention as they exited the stairwell. He stepped back and opened the door for them. Logan, attempting to salvage some male pride, chose to walk the rest of the way without her to lean on.

The entire top floor of the keep was one lavish suite of rooms. Thick carpets lay across the hardwood floors. Cabinets and tables of polished dark wood, plush couches, and overstuffed high back chairs created cozy nooks for relaxing. A stone hearth glowed with the warm light of a fire. Tall windows spilled the ruddy light of day into the room. Exposed beams supported a high, peaked roof and candle chandeliers for light.

In the center of the room was an enormous, canopied bed held up by stout wooden columns. Each column was carved into the image of a man or woman. Two writhed in silent pleasure. Two appeared to be in acute agony.

“We can work on that,” Amber offered with a shrug.

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Laying on the bed looking unhappy in a swath of bandages was his Beauty. Her smile was enough to make his wounds hurt less.

“Welcome home, Lord…” Amber paused and looked at him. “What do you wish to be called? Lord Logan?”

He thought about it, then shook his head. “No. “Logan” is too familiar for a structured hierarchy.”

Logan remembered Coyote’s advice.

“Your true name is more than words. It is also a sound; a declaration, as if you were carving your name into the bedrock of the universe. If you found another’s true name written on a page, you would still not have the whole of it.

Logan scratched his jaw in thought, then looked over at Beauty. “I think I saw some horror movie once that talked about demon’s having a secret “true name”. Something about it giving you power over them or some such. Any truth to that?”

Beauty hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Interesting,” he grunted.

That certainly answered his question. True names did matter in Hell, as it did in the Faery realm. Perhaps such truths mattered in every reality.

And then, just like that, he knew the sound of his full, true name. Logan could feel it resonating inside him like the ringing of a bell on a quiet, summer day. It just felt... right. And it was so much more than anyone, including himself, had ever heard spoken.

Any fear of using his family name vanished like mist in the wind. Logan understood that he was far more than the sum of his parts. More than just the son of his Apache father and Irish mother. More than just a soldier in the US military. He was unique in all the universe, just as every other human soul was, living or dead.

He looked at Amber. “Proud Bear. You can refer to me as Logan Proud Bear.”

“Then Lord Proud Bear it shall be,” Amber smiled. “Now go get some rest, Lord Proud Bear, and give your Lady some much overdue attention.”

“Yes ma’am,” Logan smiled.

He heard the door close behind him as he limped over to the bed and gently moved his battered body onto the mattress. After all that time in the cavern, sleeping on moss and dirt, it still felt strange to lay on something so soft. It all felt alien to him.

Beauty rolled over and curled up against his shoulder. Whether on a dirt floor in a crevasse of rock, or a carpet of moss in a drafty cavern, or a king-sized bed, this was what he needed most. In her arms was home.

*****

He awoke to the darkness and deep silence of the night, and a recent memory tumbling through his head. Beauty lay curled at his side. The scent of her hair made him smile.

When you are ready to complete our business, you have only to say my name.

The last words spoken to him by the Fairy Queen Maeve all those months ago echoed in his mind, clear and bright as a candle in the dark. So clear that Logan began to wonder. Was it just a memory or had she reached out to him again through his dreams?

With everything that had happened recently, he had all but forgotten that strange, seemingly random encounter, as well as her poisonous offer.

Ah yes, hell, she had said just before exiling him to this nightmare realm. The human realm of damnation and punishment. I remember now.

Remember what exactly? Logan asked himself as he lay in the quiet. Just the concept of Hell or something more? And how had she even known about Christian Hell in the first place?

A seemingly random encounter. That was what he had always assumed but what if it wasn’t random? Logan recalled what she had said of him then, what he assumed to be some kind of poetic nonsense. Yes, it has been a very long time but I sense it now. Twice blooded. Twice blessed.

His breath caught in his throat as he recalled the last words spoken by Baroness Graveek when she had seen the spill of his blood. It’s you! She did it. The crazy bitch finally did it! Twice blooded, twice blessed! Destroyer of worlds…

The same odd phrase from two different creatures of power, despite being worlds apart! No way is that a coincidence.

She who and did what? he wondered. Was Graveek referring to Queen Maeve? No, that doesn’t feel right. Maeve’s behavior seemed more reactive than proactive.

Pieces began to align in his head and it chilled him to the bone.

Maeve sent me here on purpose! This was all planned, from the very beginning, and someone is playing puppet master and pulling the strings. My strings.

“Destroyer of worlds”, Graveek had called him. Sleep was a long time coming and when it did, it brought dreams of fire and blood.

*****

At close to a hundred feet, the highest tower in the castle provided a sweeping, panoramic view of the blasted landscape for miles. The climb up the spiraling stairs to the top was exhausting, especially in his wounded state, but it was worth it. No one would disturb him here except for the most serious of reasons and not just because of the climb. Two hundred pounds of demon hound sprawled in the shade of the parapets, seemingly uninterested in the remarkable view.

It was a good place to think when the Hellwind was not tearing at the walls. Especially after the dark dreams of puppet shows and chess boards that had haunted his sleep all through the night.

“I have a question.”

Coyote snorted amusement in Logan’s mind. “When do you not have questions?”

“Be serious for once. During the battle with Graveek, she used some kind of power. You called it magic. Was does that mean exactly?”

The beast yawned and stretched. “Almost nothing. “Magic” is just a word that humans use to describe what they do not understand. It was a convenient label in the middle of a situation when there was no time for better explanations.”

“Then explain it to me, oh wise one.”

The Hellhound made a sound very close to a snort of laughter. “I suspect humans have begun to almost understand with your “science”. Everything that exists is a form of energy. Even your physical body. Do you understand at least that much?”

“Don’t be snarky.” Logan thought back on long ago days in school. “Yeah, ok. I remember something about physical objects being made up of atoms, and atoms being made up of mostly energy and empty space.”

Coyote grunted. “I cannot speak to your science babble, but yes. Think of your body as an enormous swarm of tiny, dancing bees. Like any dance, it is a specific series of movements toward a deliberate end result, such as breathing, eating, thinking, or mating.”

“That’s a weird analogy, but ok.” Logan replied. “So, what does any of that have to do with “magic”?”

“Everything, all of reality, is energy in motion. Thought and will are also a form of energy. A strong enough will can manipulate the energy around them to cause an effect. To “change the dance”, so to speak. That is what you saw Baroness Graveek do. The same as I did to assume this Hellhound form.”

“Wow. So magic is a real thing!”

The hound groaned. “If you insist on using that idiotic term for it, then yes. Magic is real.”

“Only here, or can people back on Earth use this… ability?”

“Ah, but they do!” Coyote smirked in his mind. “Every moment of their lives without ever realizing what or why. Forging metal from raw ore, cooking a meal, and writing a poem are all forms of energy manipulation.”

“However, I understand that you are referring to the more dramatic results such as Graveek hand waving a crowd to feel intense pleasure or pain. Let it be enough to know that, in the physical world, the “dance” of energy is far more rigid than it is here in the spirit realm. Much more “real” meaning far more difficult to manipulate, and thus requiring a far greater application of willpower and focus.

“Can I learn to do this?”

“Possibly. There are reasons such talents are no longer common in the human world. It requires a strength of will you are likely not capable of.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Logan thought with a grimace.

“You are welcome.”

“But it is theoretically possible.” Logan grinned. “I could be like a Jedi! How cool would that be?”

“I don’t know what a “Jedi” is, but I am fairly certain I said no such thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wonder if they have laser swords in Hell?”

Coyote made a sound of disgust and rose to climb down the long stairs. “I am done with this silly conversation.”

*****

Logan, Beauty, and Boudica leaned against the parapets on the highest tower and watched the activity in the castle courtyard below. Coyote lounged nearby, utterly uninterested in the expansive view. After nearly a week, life in the castle was beginning to settle into something close to a normal routine.

“What now?” the auburn-haired warrior asked.

“Now, I think you should teach me how to use a sword properly,” Logan answered.

Boudica nodded. “You are rather terrible at it, but that’s not what I meant.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Logan grew serious as his eyes swept over the jagged landscape of the Wastes stretching toward the horizon. Looking out over the vast emptiness, it was almost tempting enough to think they were all alone out here, but he knew better. Only a few days away was an entire city of demon Masters and human slaves toiling for their amusement. Too close to be ignored.

“What now? Now, we have a base of operations which means a place and people to protect. It also means a place to begin mobilizing.”

“For what?” Beauty asked.

Logan put an arm around her shoulders and stared out at the city he could not see somewhere past the horizon. “The only thing you can do when faced with a superior enemy force. What I was trained to do.”

He looked down at her, then at Boudica. “I think its past time for new management. I intend to start a rebellion in Hell.”