Binding

Dakshana spun, clutching the crystal shard as if her life depended on it, and felt it slice into her palm. That creature stretched a spidery limb through the portal, grasping for her. Fury and terror and hatred rose in Dakshana, and she responded the only way she knew how. She slashed the air with bloody fingertips, painting a narrow, lopsided cross, and screamed the name of the rune.

Binding.

The creature let out a howl. The gate slammed shut with a thunderclap. Liquid shadows spattered Dakshana’s face, and then she turned to face the rest of her village.

And wept.

Gate Ripping

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, added, “thank you.” She dragged the shard down Chadstone’s forearm, and blood flowed. It wasn’t human blood, and it wasn’t black like shadows, like she’d feared it would be - it was bright. Iridescent. All colors and none at all. Dakshana dipped her fingers into the blood and began to draw, lines, runes, a spell.

The force of a gate ripping into the fabric of the shadow world’s existence knocked the creature back. Through the shimmering gap, Dakshana could see the world, her world, the real world, with genuine sunlight.

She stepped through.

Something tried to follow.

Sound of Breaking

A knife glittered into the creature’s hands. It slashed downward onto the slab of crystal. The sound of breaking rang in the air. A shard of crystal chipped off the slab. Chadstone’s body jerked upward, spine arching, and Dakshana felt something rip out of him.

She screamed. “No!”

The creature advanced. Across the cave, a shard of crystal glittered. Dakshana lunged across the floor on all fours, scooped it up. It was intact, engraved with runes. A word. A name. His name.

Dakshana crawled back over to Chadstone’s body. The creature raised its knife once more. Dakshana brandished her shard.

Erase and Rewind

“Chadstone, no!” What had she done? She’d flung the crystal - she’d known it would hurt him, but she hadn’t thought it would --

“You did what you had to do,” he said. His smile was faint, tired.

The creature uncoiled and reared up. In one of its spidery hands it clutched a sheet of crystal that glittered with runes, runes bright as rainbows and shifting, alive. “We can erase you!”

Chadstone’s eyes slipped closed. He said, “I hope all memories of me are erased.” His head tipped back, and Dakshana watched the last breath slip past his lips.

The creature roared.

Unmade

Time froze. For an eternity, Chadstone was suspended mid-air, blue eyes wide, lips parted, gaze skyward, as if he were looking into the heavens. Then he crumpled to the ground.

One of the others let out a shriek.

Dakshana dropped to her knees, crawled over to him. “Chadstone?” She brushed a lock of pale hair out of his eyes with shaking hands. His breath was light, shallow.

He was smiling. “You did it.”

“What have you done?” the creature shrieked.

“She unmade me,” Chadstone said. “You have your life.” He turned to Dakshana. “Thank you.”

She shook her head.

Answer All Along

Dakshana felt another heartbeat alongside her own, one just as erratic and afraid. And suddenly she realized she’d known the answer all along.


“A life for a life,” she said. She slipped the cord over her head, pressed her lips to the shard of crystal, and then threw it as hard as she could.


The sound of crystal shattering was stark in the air. Dakshana hadn’t thought she’d see horror in those ancient eyes, but it was there. Chadstone made a soft sound, like a sharply in-drawn breath, body arched as if he’d been struck hard across his back.

One Utterly Soulless

Chadstone faced his elders, cold realization settling into the pit of his stomach. It came with a sense of serenity he’d never known, a calmness and unity of purpose that he hadn’t thought possible for one utterly soulless. There was only one solution to this problem. They’d created him for the sole purpose of playing a game, made him the most ingenious and capricious shadow possible - and they’d made him well.

He lowered his gaze, as if regretful he was losing his game piece, and watched Dakshana from beneath his lashes one last time.

“She knows what she must do.”

Life In Return

“She will give you two lives,” Chadstone said. “She knows what she must do.” He wasn’t looking at her, but his voice pulled at her.

A thousand years of ancient eyes turned their gazes on her, and she felt her heartbeat begin to stutter. What would they do to her if she didn’t give them a life?

Chadstone’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, and Dakshana felt her eyes slip closed.

“You have given her magic, and she must give you a life in return. And she will give it. Won’t she?”

Dakshana felt a single tear slip down her face.

Two Lives

Dakshana cast a wild glance at Chadstone, but he looked utterly unmoved by what he saw. So that’s what the soul of a shadow-being looked like, if it had a soul at all? Dakshana wondered what it had done, that it had gone from looking like Chadstone to looking like...that.

“You know the rules, young one,” the creature said, and oh, but its voice was still as lovely as a single star in an empty sky. “Life for life.”

“I do know the rules,” Chadstone agreed quietly.

“We gave her two lives, and she must give us one.”

But For The Eyes

The creature eased forward into the flickering glow of the blue flames from the torches that appeared in the walls with a blossoming of rune-magic. Dakshana watched those eyes - golden, ancient, knowing - come closer and closer. And then she saw the creature’s face.

She’d assumed it would look beautiful as Chadstone, for they were the same race, but he had said they wouldn’t look the same as him. She’d thought they’d at least look vaguely human.

What stood before her might have been humanoid once, but it had been bent and melted, twisted beyond recognition. But for the eyes.

Ever So Lovely

There came a rattling sound, like bone on bone - or, Dakshana realized, applause. Those creatures were mocking her.

“This is our finest challenge yet.” The voice was gentle, lulling - like the eyes of a snake lulling its victim into stillness. “Such a lovely soul, drawn in by the truest shadow we have made to date. She will taste ever so lovely.”

Dakshana wondered which rune would ruin the creature best.

Chadstone’s words confused her. “I don’t think she will.”

“Oh? And why not?” That mocking tone was dangerous.

“Because you will not taste her at all.”

Those words were dangerous.

What It Takes

"You have what it takes."

Dakshana couldn't stop shaking. Chadstone's voice made it worse.

That damnable stone chamber coalesced around her. She wanted to see some gods-forsaken sunlight.

Chadstone said, "You know what you must do."

He sounded calm, but the crystal at her throat pulse erratically, like someone's frightened heartbeat.

Dakshana climbed to her feet, still shaking. "I do."

A chorus of hisses, whispers, rose along the edges of the chamber.

After a moment Dakshana could see hundreds of pairs of eyes, jewel-bright and death-shadowed, ancient, hungry, cruel.

She said, louder, "I have what it takes."

Hazy

What came next was - hazy. Hazy with heat waves slithering up from the ground where dozens and dozens of bodies lay dead, bleeding, burnt or both. Dakshana reeled from the stench of charred human flesh, and she fell to her knees, staring at her own hands. Hands she’d used to kill these men.

The world around her shimmered out of being, and she didn’t know when he’d died, when he’d been struck in her sudden lunge into mass slaughter. Dakshana bowed her head and wept softly. She’d killed them the way Ashoken had killed her parents.

She was a monster.

True Warmth

Dakshana was frozen. This was it, this was the end. Those other creatures - they had won. They’d trapped her in their game and now she was going to die here. Die in a world without true sunlight, without true warmth.

True warmth.

And suddenly she remembered fingertips ghosting up her spine. All it took was a little twitch of her finger, and suddenly Chadstone reeled back with a cry. His arm was on fire. He reacted quickly, hit the ground rolling to put it out, but by then Dakshana had a weapon, and the other soldiers were afraid of her.

Bare Hands

He bore no weapon, merely wore a pair of black silk trousers and delicate little slippers. His hair was long, white, tied back in a long braid.

Blood still dripped from a the gash on Dakshana’s face.

Chadstone bowed to her, expression serene, blue eyes hooded, almost sleepy. And then he drew one fist back for a strike.


What happened next was beyond comprehension. One moment Dakshana was on her feet, the next she was face-down on the ground, arm twisted up behind her back, disarmed. He’d done it all with lightning speed, with bare hands.

It was over.

Agincourt and the Forbidden City

More armor this time, standing in mud and listening to the twang of arrows through the air. Men drew bows as long as themselves and arrows punched through the shining metal armor. Astride a giant white horse, Chadstone looked like a sky-god. He wielded his sword like a demon. Dakshana screamed in fury when his blade opened a gash on her face, and she loosed an arrow.

Another battle, standing on the red pointed roof of a forbidden palace while men in furs and leather poured over the walls, arrows flying. Red pennants waved, and white-haired figure emerged.

Spin of the Universe

Her lips had barely brushed his before she thrust the sword through his chest, and she stepped back before the world around her dissolved and reformed once more.

What followed next was a dizzying array of battles. She was clad in golden armor that glittered like fish scales, standing outside a white city, and Chadstone, clad in silver armor, stood atop its walls, pennant raised high.

A cry rang behind her.

“Allah wills it!”

All it took to kill Chadstone was a single arrow through the throat. Then came another spin of the universe, and another battle shimmered into being.

For This

Dakshana knew it was all over when Chadstone turned toward her. He approached with measured steps, blood dripping from his brow, his cheekbone, down the front of his tunic. The rest of his men still chanted, eager, waiting.


Dakshana brought up her sword. What was she supposed to do?

“Are you ready, mighty Valkyrie?” he asked.

“Ready for what?” Dakshana asked.

“To face your death.”

Dakshana had been ready for that since the beginning. But she smiled and twirled her sword. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“For this.” Dakshana stepped forward, lowered her sword, and pulled him into a kiss.

Berserker

He was a vision in white leather, a white fur cloak pinned at his shoulders. His smile was bright like the edge of a bone knife, and he carried the most massive sword Dakshana had ever seen. And it was engraved with runes, runes she could not read but that must have offered the strongest magic.

Then he whirled into the battle, swung his sword, took a man’s head, another’s arm, and was utterly unfazed by the splatter of blood and flesh marring his pristine whiteness.

His men cheered and gave a rousing cry, a word Dakshana didn’t know:

“Berserker!”

Sea of White

Dakshana was clad in furs and carried a metal sword, a small round shield. She followed the other men as they leapt off their long boat, charged up the pebble beach - and into a sea of white-haired men and boys who wielded their sword with deadly accuracy. Dakshana could smell the foul scent of strong wine on the men around her, and it made her dizzy.

Everything was white, the stones beneath her feet, the sky, the furs the enemies wore - how would she find him?

And there he was, on the edge of the battlefield, clad in white.