Chapter 25: Chapter 25

S Ø R E N

IT WAS LEWIS who then had the clever idea to read the treaty aloud.

It was not the fact that he was reading it out loud —it was that the text seemed a too occult, like one was reading words for a spell. As soon as he said, “Signed, the Olympian gods”, a cold gust of air suddenly blew through the library and blew out all of the candles. Søren then shivered, praying that they had not just angered any of the gods.

The four of them paused, unsure if anyone should move or not. It could have been a coincidence, but something did not feel right. Even Nadine’s eyes widened, and she stiffened like a frightened child.

Then a few seconds passed without anything else happening.

Lewis hummed, unfreezing. “Guess it was nothing.”

Everyone else looked at each other and moved disjointedly, still uncertain. What had happened was something out of ancient mythical curses.

“…Lewis, please don’t read out loud from cryptic books,” Nadine then told him, cringing.

Savannah took the book from Søren’s hands and shut the it with a snap. Then she reached out to put it back, but after a pause she appeared to have thought better of it; tucking it inside her leather jacket underneath her arm.

“I think it’ll be better to take it with us,” she explained.

Nadine scoffed. “And take potential curses with it? I don’t think so. It clearly belongs to Mount Olympus, judging by the last line. The most important question is, why was it here?”

“Maybe they wanted to put it in a place someone wouldn’t think to look. Whoever it was they were hiding it from,” Søren suggested.

Nadine shrugged. “I guess that sounds logical.”

“Or maybe it just ended up here,” Savannah then raised her voice, glaring at them and hugging the book closer. “Don’t make assumptions.”

“Okay. I was just theorising,” Søren said defensively. The redhead mumbled something under her breath and glared at the floor, but then turned away, not wishing to engage in a full conversation. The Trainer narrowed his eyes at her, but he could not decipher what she was thinking.

“Hey, you think it would be okay to take any other books?” Lewis asked, reaching out for one. The floor suddenly shifted beneath their feet and a few books shimmied out from the shelves to smack onto the floor. Everyone froze again, and sure enough another tremor shook the room a few moments after. And again.

And again. And then it stopped.

“…Fine, I won’t take anything,” Lewis then murmured, holding his hands above his head and backing away from the shelves.

“Great,” Nadine scoffed, throwing her hands up. “You’ve now not only put a curse on us, but the whole building too!”

“I wasn’t trying to,” her younger brother protested. “I just wanted a good read for the road.”

“But you get travel sickness.”

“Only sometimes. Plus, only when I look at your face.”

“Lewis!”

Søren sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of the last minute. But he did not get to dwell long on it, because the floor shook again; this time causing everyone to lose their footing —and for him to drop his crossbow.

Savannah met his startled gaze.

She then scrambled to her feet and darted towards him as he got up. He frowned as she huddled against his side, anxiously looking this way and that.

“What…are you doing?” Søren chuckled, reaching up to pat her head. Strands of her soft hair slipped through his fingers and he instantly jerked away, as the action triggered unwanted memories. The action of his hand suddenly withdrawing caused her hair to be pulled slightly and she squeaked, and she shot him a very deserved glare. “Sorry,” he murmured.

But she did not move, and her arms wrapped themselves tighter around his left one. Søren sighed softly. It only became worse when Lewis then did it too, and the Trainer cringed; highly uncomfortable with the new position that he was in —the guy everyone thought was a total hero. The quaking then distracted him, and he held onto the shelves for support.

“…Anyone else getting the feeling that maybe this isn’t all Lewis’ doing?” Nadine spoke for all of them, clutching at the shelves behind her.

They all looked up at the ceiling, before the piercing sound of an alarm blared from all angles. The Reapers winced and moved to cover their ears, but the alarm persisted even through that. Then a thought occurred to Søren. All of the shaking; the alarm —it all sounded rather familiar.

“Hey!” he raised his voice over the sound of the alarm, “Hasn’t this happened before? A long time ago, with…”

They all paused and let the idea sink in, even if they did not want it to. But it was a little too sequenced to be a coincidence.

“…Kronos!” Nadine finished over the noise, gripping her baseball bat tighter. The rest of the Reapers frowned knowingly.

Savannah then tugged on Søren’s arm and pulled them away from the shelves. “We need to get out of here!” she urged, heading for the door.

Lewis finally let go of the Trainer and edged towards his sister instead. She was not exactly keen on that either.

Søren made sure to reach for his crossbow as they then made for the exit.

The hallway was as empty as if had been when he and Savannah had gotten there, so they ran without worrying about bumping into someone. A strong wind was now coming from the direction in which they were heading —and Søren realised it was because they were running past a series of open windows made by a row of pillars. A turquoise blue light shone through the gaps and cast their shadows on the far wall. The Trainer did not think much of it until he looked outside.

He came to an abrupt stop, causing Savannah to nearly trip and fall.

Nadine and Lewis then paused too, wondering why Søren had. He pointed to the windows, and they all moved towards them. The light was coming from giant cracks in what looked like a mass of iron ore as large as a skyscraper.

Søren and Savannah decided to look a little higher and stick their heads out of the windows. “Oh. My. Gods…” the redhead breathed.

Towering at least fifteen feet above was a giant disjointed and crumbling raw iron being, stomping its way towards the castle. It had two twisted horns like that of a wild buck; gleaming canine teeth; and glowing blue eyes that roamed the area in slow, careful sweeps.

Savannah then suddenly pulled Søren back as its gaze began to move in their direction. “That…that’s not Kronos!” she gasped.

“Isn’t Kronos red?” Lewis added.

“We have to warn Thanatos. This way!” Savannah decided, and before anyone could object, she was already pulling Søren along again. Nadine and Lewis did not have much of a choice but to follow.

They then made their way back to the Boss’ office. After rounding a corner, they skidded to a halt by the door, lightly panting. Savannah was about to bang on the door when it suddenly flew open, followed by a frantic god of death. The Boss did a double take when he recognised them, before panicking again. “You need to leave,” he told them. “I’m doing an emergency evacuation of all Reapers and employees, so that no one remains in danger. Head to the portal that leads to your district now!”

The Reapers all looked at each other nervously and shrugged.

“…You have no idea where the portals are, do you?” Death realised. They shook their heads. He whipped around and called for his secretary.

“Yes sir?” she answered, coming into view. Her eyes were back to their dravite tourmaline colour and she looked noticeably flushed.

“Get them to the New York portal. I’ll deal with Horkos!”

He then pushed past and left them with Nina.

“All right, follow me,” the secretary commanded, taking off down the hallway. They straggled after her, jumping every time the floor rumbled. The alarm still blared, but they were growing used to it.

The newfound problem was trying to keep up with Nina.

She was surprisingly fast in high heels. Or rather not very surprising, Søren thought, since he was sure about her being a Vampyre.

She led them down a different set of turns from where they had come, before thankfully stopping in the window speckled hallway by what looked like a maintenance closet. Nina opened it by holding up a badge of the Reapers Organisation over a sensor, and it promptly swung open.

Søren had imagined the portal that was inside to be more Science Fiction than it turned out to be. It was a swirl of green storm clouds; free standing and not inviting in the slightest, which caused a hesitancy in the Reapers.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Nadine asked Nina.

Nina turned around and raised an eyebrow in what appeared to be amusement. “Nobody ever said that it was,” she answered ominously.

The floor then shifted again, and dust fell from cracks in the ceiling. Nina looked up at them worriedly before gesturing for them all to go.

Nadine was the first to put her brave foot forward, and she regarded everyone else wearily before disappearing into the swirl of clouds. Then Lewis went. Søren met his trainee’s gaze as she finally glanced at him. Her eyes asked a million questions and rendered him unsure of what to say or do. He then glanced back at the windows across from the open door.

The iron giant was getting closer.

Even with the Detached not with them, he knew this was not the time and place for a conversation. So, Søren swung his crossbow over his shoulder and walked up to the portal. “Here goes nothing…!”

Søren leaped into the storm clouds. A jolt of electricity went up his spine, before he marvelled at the portal’s interior of jade, emerald and peridot nebula space clouds. It lasted only for a moment as he pushed through the misty green and gasped as though he needed air when he emerged through the other side, stumbling to a halt in front of Nadine and Lewis.

“Took you long enough,” Nadine huffed. “Where’s Golden-Eyes?”

Søren whipped around to see the portal, which was now inside of a large tree. He glanced around and found that they were in a forest, though it could be any forest in Manhattan. He looked back at the tree and straightened his leather jacket. The clouds continued to swirl undisturbed for a moment —before Savannah tumbled through with a squeal and landed face-first on the leafy forest floor. The treaty book slid across the ground, but she quickly reached for it and tucked it back into her jacket. Søren heard Nadine snicker and fought with himself not to do the same. Lewis was the one to rush over and offer her a hand.

Savannah wiped mud and leaves off of her face while he picked out ones in her hair, before she gave him a grateful smile.

The portal then swirled in on itself and disappeared in a burst of dark turquoise smoke. “…We need to get out of these woods,” Søren then cleared his throat and announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “We don’t know where exactly we might have ended up.”

✠

The Reapers walked for about fifteen minutes before finding what resembled a clearing and a tarred road. They stumbled out of the trees and dusted ourselves down, before Søren started searching for signs which could give them an indication as to where they were.

“Queens?” Savannah deadpanned when he broke the news to everyone. Her expression was of vague disappointment. “I think that my Mom took me there one Spring Break when she was fresh out of ideas.”

Søren shrugged. “At least it’s close enough for us to walk.”

“Where do you guys stay?” Lewis asked.

“Lower Manhattan,” Savannah sighed, jiggling the handle of her sword back and forth in its sheath on her hip.

“That’s about…five hours?” Lewis guessed.

“Four,” his sister corrected. “That’s still quite the distance. Why can’t we just shift the whole way?”

“She doesn’t know how to do that on her own yet,” Søren pointed out, pointing at Savannah. “It won’t work if not all of us have the same destination in mind. Have you guys ever been to Manhattan?”

“…Good point,” Nadine pouted. “We wouldn’t know where to go.”

“Then we’re walking,” Søren concluded.

After a few grumbles they set off alongside the highway. It was completely silent initially, before Savannah and Lewis and Nadine decided that they could not handle the boredom and began a lively conversation.

Søren preferred the silence.

It was not that he did not like socialising —he simply felt more at ease with his own thoughts, no matter how destructive they were. Or perhaps he was masochistic that way; for choosing the haunting of his past over engaging in the present. He had never attempted to run from the shadows which chased him. If anything, he wallowed in them. Called them home.

The Trainer found himself striding behind the others, his mind beginning to drift. He did not think about 1836 —not about his death.

Søren thought about fire. He thought about how it burned and destroyed —yet it could be contained. He thought about how it robbed and took from people, yet it could make way for new life. He thought about how it killed.

And he thought about the sea.

The sea killed too —statistically more than fire. The sea was more beautiful than fire as well, mesmerising onlookers with the sequence of crashing waves for hours on end. Boats braved those waves and some capsized; some were ripped apart by sheer force; and some just disappeared in its vast expanse. Those boats would never return, just like the lost souls which fell for the ocean. Søren had fallen in love with the ocean. It had not taken anything away from him except the memory of his mother —fire had been the one to take lives.

Lives which he could have saved.

The Reaper shook his head, refusing to let himself get sucked into thinking about people and souls again. Thinking about the sea posed no problems to his memory lapse, so he began whistling a mimic of the howl of the wind in a high tide swell.

Søren saw his mother by the waves, her dress billowing behind her. She had always been there, at the water’s edge, in his memories. She probably thought deeply elsewhere too, but from what his father had told him getting her away from the sea had been quite a task. Søren would not have known, because he had not quite gotten to see her alive. And now her existence lingered in the mist of the sea —in his reach and yet somehow still out of it. She was the only one he could think about and not end up freaking out. While everyone else screamed and cried in an inferno consumed chaos, she floated in tranquil silence in a calm ocean; her wild raven hair growing longer and sinking with the weight of water, and her crimson lips chapped and faded from the iciness of the Norwegian sea.

He remembered that he had been dressed up in a little corduroy blue suit with a big pink-purple satin bow at the neck for her funeral. Her ashes had been scattered in the harbour as per her request. For years afterwards, people never stopped telling him how he had only kept pulling at the bow and fussing. It had not been his fault —he had just been an infant.

Søren’s father had dumped him on a nursemaid’s lap to mourn tearlessly in peace —or experience the effects of cannabis, but Søren would never know. All he knew was that no one cried at his mother’s funeral. He would have, if he had not been a week old. No one cried because no one cared.

The duke remarried a duchess from France two weeks later. The wedding was not a memory for Søren, but it was where he met Angelina. At least that was what their nursemaids told them.

She had been a year old already and was the youngest daughter of a duke with a vast network of estates across Europe. And for a newborn heir who had just lost his mother and gained a new one who only spoke French; befriending her had been by far not the worst thing that Søren could have done. Unfortunately, his father had not seen it that way.

Søren sighed, then finding himself back on the desolate highway with three people he barely tolerated.

Nadine, Lewis and Savannah all looked back at him curiously.

“…When you’re lost in thought, your nose does this cute little thing where you look like a rabbit,” the redhead said out of the blue.

“What?” frowned the Trainer.

“Like this.” She then demonstrated, scrunching her nose up and sniffing. Nadine snorted in amusement; while Lewis appeared to be lost in thought —blankly staring into the tall forests either side of them.

“Seriously?” Søren hissed, feeling the heat of a blush surface on his skin.

His trainee simply laughed.

“What had you been thinking so deeply about?”

He paused. “…My mother and the sea.”

“Oh.”

All laughter died and Nadine coughed, but Søren did not feel awkward. He did not know why he had told the truth, but it felt relieving to do so. It felt easier to tell them about someone to which he had no emotional attachment. It was like reading a fairytale with an unhappily ever after where one did not actually know the characters.

Characters. Yes, that was what they were. Flat, underdeveloped characters in Søren’s own personal fairytale.