Velli

I rush forward. She doesn’t. From my peripheral vision, something charges. It’s tall, ten feet maybe, with massive bull horns. Low grunts and heavy stomps announce its charge. It is fast beyond reason, considering the clothes it wears—heavy gold-red-and-purple robes. Maybe it’s a skinwalker. Maybe it’s an old fae. I have to face it. The beast’s horns slam into Excalibur and lock against it. The beast never stops moving. I’m sliding backward and do not have a grasp on the ground below me.

The Old Soul’s gone, meaning… One. Two. Three.

I drop to the floor and use the giant royal beast’s momentum to flip him over. The bodies of the bull and the Old Soul clash to perfection. Recovering quickly, the Old Soul smashes the bull-man’s body with her cane. The bull-man twists into a sick V-shape, as did the bodies of Mr. Dice and Ms. Grimm at the tanning salon.

As will yours.

Unlikely. Before she regains her footing, I strike high at her head and force her to raise her cane to block it. I strike again, still high, anything to keep her from hitting her cane on the ground. Sword battles cane, and neither weapon yields. Each blow shakes us both. But I keep going forward.

I knew I could defeat her. Her arms are tired. I assumed even with her powers, her stamina would be weaker than mine, but I had to make sure. That’s why this was the perfect location, even if she enjoyed it. Defeating a mass of orcs and goblins is hard work, and thanks to my summoning of Bloody Mary, I didn’t put up half the effort the Old Soul did. I only had to keep running.

The banshees can sense it. Their songs and chants grow, becoming wilder. They clap their hands and smack their faces to generate beautiful noise with every strike I land against the Old Soul.

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They dance and throw their hips like they’re part of an ancient cult trying to summon their ruler. This song is one made for stadiums. Today, nature is their amphitheater, and it worships their sound. Flakes of dirt fly and twist in the air with every strike of sword and cane. A second wild adrenaline rush floods me. The banshees are right. I can kill her if I want. After over a hundred years, death is coming for the Old Soul.

“Boy, your mother—”

Five quick stab attempts, all in random locations, all pushing my speed to my limits to shut her up. No more psych games. No more excuses. It’s too much for her. She steps backward and trips. Her cane flies out of her hand. Not far, probably three steps away. She can’t make those steps with my blade resting against her neck. Checkmate.

“Swear by your name, Old Soul!” I yell because the banshees scream louder now.

Why? We’ve defeated the beast of the forest, and the Old Soul is about to surrender to me. She won’t die. What are they warning us of?

In front of me stands the harmless leshy, the great predictor of death. A massive mix of a great tree and a man. He does nothing, only observes. Why is he in front of me? He should be behind me because I’m bringing death. Like when the Old Soul arrived, he stood behind her.

Hahahaha.

No, I planned this well. I won. Why are they singing louder? The banshees find an impossible pitch. Excalibur shakes. The ground quakes. My ears ring. Oh, Division, they might even be bleeding.

Something’s coming, Velli. Their song has to reach an end. A big ol’ grand conclusion. They can’t go any higher. Something’s going to pop!

“Old Soul! Old Soul! I need you to swear now!” I know I’m saying the words, but I can’t hear them.

The Old Soul’s smile is gone. Her eyes are blank, her ears bleeding.

She mouths something to me with her small, chapped lips.

“No! You have to listen!” I command.

Pop.

The banshees stop singing and collapse to the ground. They struggle to get up. They’re hunched over. Are they too weak to move again? No, they face the woods behind the Old Soul as they bow. Three horsemen come out of the forest.