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The carved, dark wood of the Triskeles table stretched out below me. I saw my body, pale and lifeless, drained of blood, still in my Isador chair. Alone. Two empty chairs.
When I’d touched one of the chairs, I saw a little girl with red hair hiding beneath a bed. It might have been Karmen Sunna. But even if it was her, she wasn’t ready. She’d barely settled into her own nest. She still had to adapt to life outside of Heliopolis and learn more about her Blood and her power. She needed time to heal.
The other chair. I couldn’t see a symbol carved in its wooden back.
But I suspected. Given the wood, the tree, the deep wellspring of water bubbling up from the roots. If she was ready…
I need you. Please. I need you to take your seat at Triskeles.
The circular room darkened but it wasn’t a sign of failure or gloom. This wasn’t the dying of the light or a candle blowing out. Only the rich, velvety texture of pure darkness flavored with the bite of snow and ice. Close kin to Typhon’s darkness, but different. A different realm. A different mythology.
A goddess’ domain. The Mother’s Daughter.
Rise up, Daughter of Darkness. Claim your seat at Triskeles. Come to my aid.
Wings rustled in the growing darkness. Not the sound of feathers but leathery. The scrape of brutal talons on stone. Weight. Like a giant hulking stone statue.
Yes. Exactly the weight I needed to tip the balance.
Hope surged. I sank into the velvety embrace of darkness with the heavy weight of stone. So cold. Blowing snow. Soft white fur. Then a bright, glowing stream of opalescent rainbow energy sparkled through me. Around me. Tugging me back. A magical, sparkling road lighting the way. Cutting through the Nothingness.
I slammed into my body below. Above. The world tipping right side up.
My eyes flew open. Gasping in a great gulp of air, I screamed. “RIK!” Though my voice was oddly muffled.
We inhale with relief. Bodies sagging in our chairs. Siblings leaning against each other and Blood, arms clutching loved ones in our final moments.
Only to realize we’re still here. We live to see another day. The Mother’s creation survives.
Yet mixed with the joy is a grim reality. Too many empty seats remain at the Triune. Too many queens are dead. Too many powers lost. Too much blood drained away into nothing. For nothing.
Senseless slaughter for power. Torture by maddened gods.
The Mother’s houses destroyed. For millennia.
One branch at a time. Dead. Dark. Lost.
A stark reminder of the Nothingness Beyond the Veil.
That’s what it wants. That’s what it needs. Our blood. Drained away. Spilled. Wasted. Weakening the fabric of reality that bars the Screaming Madness from consuming us all.
Shara looks across the table at the face opposite her. “Welcome to Triskeles, Helayna Ironheart, Daughter of Hel, Who Walks the Frozen Shore of Corpses at the base of Yggdrasil. Without your help, we all would have been lost to the Nothingness Beyond the Veil.”
Helayna’s shock flows through us all. Though also her depth. The weight of her Darkness. The effervescent glow of rainbows winding through the roots of Yggdrasil.
“When I was alone and trapped in Darkness, I heard your voice, Shara Isador. You spoke to me when no one else could and helped me call my Blood so I could break free of Hvergelmir. I thought lying trapped in the belly of Jörmungandr in the infinite darkness was the most terrifying thing that could ever happen to me—until you showed us the Screaming Madness.”
Rainbows flare around her, winding in endless infinity loops. “They lie in wait at the edge of the Bifröst, but they’re closer—and louder—every day.”
“We need more queens,” Shara says. “We need more of the Mother’s blood.”
“We need more magic,” Helayna agrees. “With magic, there is always hope.”
“We live to fight another day,” Nuri says. “Give our love to our brother.”
“Give our love to our son,” Undina says, and she means it.
“Thank you, Daughters of the Great Mother of All. With your help, we return two lost souls to Her eternal embrace.”
