chapter twenty-three

The sun will set soon. Long shadows stretch across the field where one third of Asgard fight against us for the right to have their way. I stand beside Thor, Michael on my other side. He grips his flaming sword in his hands, his fist so tight his knuckles glow white beneath his skin. Every part of his being is coiled in anticipation of the command. Yet Thor keeps his hand outstretched.

“Hold,” he says.

My own palms slip on my staff. I’m not nearly so anxious to join the battle—I only wish it were over. I can’t bear to see all that I love destroyed. The last thing I want is to raise my hand against any of my friends.

When Loki and Akaros step forward from the tumult, chins raised in defiance, in challenge, I feel an unexpected wave of peace settle through me. The time has come.

“Now!” calls Thor, and Michael and I rush forward.

Michael outruns me, clashing against Loki, the ring of their swords screaming above the battle’s fray.

And there is Akaros.

All falls away, leaving only us. He smiles as he approaches. Slow, easy. And like we’ve done many times before, we circle one another. Akaros favors a tall, thick staff, black as his heart. But his eyes flick to my staff—a mistake, a misjudgment on his part. I take the opportunity, and attack.

The first strike catches him by surprise. The blow falls on the side of his neck, and it is the only one I land.

Akaros never lets his eyes leave mine again.

Every strike I make, he parries—until he has me on the defensive and sweat pours from my hair and runs into my eyes, stinging.

And then I hear Michael yell.

And Loki’s cry of triumph.

I look away, just for a moment, my eyes drawn to where Michael stands, Loki’s blade pressed to his throat. Where is Thor? Someone help Michael!

Time slows once more as I turn from Akaros, my feet running before my mind considers anything else. My staff falls from my hands, forgotten.

Odin steps in then, calling a halt to the battle. He banishes the third in a torrent of power that rocks our world—he strips the exiled Gardians of their Halos, leaving them with only a Shadow of their glory. With Michael in my arms I close my eyes against the burning light as Heimdall opens the Door and calls the banished Gardians onto Bifrost, the bridge to the other worlds.

When I open my eyes again, Michael and I are still there, safe once more.

But Loki, Akaros, and the others—a full third of the citizens of Asgard—are gone.

And so is my staff.

But here it was. Not five feet in front of me. My staff.

The one Odin gave me. I Remembered.

The bitter taste of sulfur flooded my mouth.

And then the honey followed.

Akaros cocked his head, the smallest curve to his lips making him appear noble and enigmatic.

But my smile was full of confidence. Odin gave the staff to me, and I would have it back.

Perhaps, Akaros said in my mind.

“Leave,” he said aloud.

I remained standing, while Daniel and James left the room, their heads bent low in submission. They didn’t know who Akaros was—at least I was reasonably certain James didn’t. And really, even if Daniel did know, his human mind could never truly comprehend the nature of Akaros, the extent of his evil, or the eternal nature of his existence. He was a god over them, and they were nothing.

“Shall we meet one more time then, child?”

I squared my shoulders and dipped my chin, a gesture of respect and honor for one’s teacher.

“We shall.”

I watched as Akaros’ human form dissolved until only his Shadow remained. Without another glance, he vanished. He, and my staff with him.