Malakim's Tower: Take Me to Iverbourne, #6

By Aelina Isaacs

Friends are Enemies. Enemies are Friends. And no one is safe.

War knocks on the door of every kingdom, discovered and unfamiliar. The Crew of Misfits and Expedition has merged to form the Company, a rag tag group of old and new friends, Giants and Fae. The Company stretches far and wide in search of allies, everyday growing more doubtful of their Hero returning home. Even worse, if he does, they know he will never be the same.

Novak has found friends in the den of his enemy, earning freedom one heinous act at a time. With the Second Prince's help, Novak has begun to unravel the mystery of Dragons and Angels, Gods and Ancients. Answers come with a price, however. Bloodshed and ghosts taint Novak's sanity, and it's time for him to make a choice.

Die as the Hero, or Live as the Villain?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aelina Isaacs
• Release date: Aug 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223480174

Book preview

Malakim's Tower

Dark Steampunk Fantasy

Aelina Isaacs

Aelina Isaacs Publishing

Copyright © 2023 by Aelina Isaacs

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Dedication

Preface

Maps

Map One

Map Two

New Races

The Gods

Old Language

Prologue

Part One

Abracadabra

Wolf, She Is

Count On Me, Peacock

Unwilling To Die

What About An Arm?

Plan In Motion

Part Two

Mishpoke

I Was Prettier

Fiction And Fact

Boy In A Tree

Was It Random?

You Bastards

Not Novak Anymore

Part Three

Pretty Lies

Yes, Master

What Do You Believe?

Delicate Flower

I've Died Before

To Be Loved

Part Four

Blackbird

Big Hearts

Anything For You

A Pirate's Life Isn't For Me

Dramatic Flair

Yes

I Want To Go Home

Part Five

Childhood Playground

I Don't Know

My Captive

What You Know

Aren't You Worried?

Survive Another Day

Part Six

Welcome Home

A Godsdamn Mirror

Logistics

Go Home

All A Trick

All A Lie

Part Seven

Watch The Skies

Mistakes As My Fathers

Because Of Me

Mistakes As The Gods

Your Shomer

Idea Of You

A Little While

Epilogue

Final Map

A Day Anything Can Happen

We Made It

Another Story

Fruits Of My Labor

Our Family

You Tried

Author's Note

Glossary

Also By Aelina

About the Author

To you, the reader. We've made it my friends, and it's all thanks to you.

Preface

Please read before starting your adventure with Malakim's Tower, the third novel in the Take Me To Iverbourne Series.

This is an adult fantasy fiction novel with mature themes such as sex and violence, which are described in extremely graphic detail. Major CW include: Dubious consent, forced intoxication, extreme gore, murder, death, and drowning. This is an incredibly dark story, and this is not a comprehensive list of all warnings, only the most major. Please continue at your own discretion.

There is a glossary in the back for all relevant characters that have appeared in the series, but it contains massive spoilers and is not to be read until after the epilogue.

Enjoy your adventure with the Company.

Maps

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New Races

Khatool - A feline and humanoid race that resides in the western region of the Realm, does not possess innate magic.

Jodun - A blue skinned, humanoid race that resides in the northern region of the Realm, all possess innate magic.

Annunaki - A celestial being created and ultimately controlled by the Gods, known to be used as catalysts in times of disharmony.

Anukana - A humanoid race similar to Humans, descending from Annunaki and rumored to be the First People, some possess innate magic.

Fraithall - A frog-like humanoid race that resides in Nanyugi Bush, some possess innate magic.

Mylari - A humanoid race of plant people that originates in Florabrook, some possess innate magic.

Reptilian - A lizard-like humanoid race that lives throughout the Eastern Continent, originates from Lizandro, some posess innate magic.

Harpy - A bird-like humanoid race that lives throughout the Eastern Continent, highly concentrated in Sawrett Kingdom, does not posess innate magic.

Siren - A humanoid race residing in Beymagi Gardens, similar in apperance to Fae, but all possess aquatic shape-shifting abilites and innate magic.

Shifter - A humanoid race residing throughout the Realm but concentrated in Toumucall, similar in appearance to Fae but all possess shape-shifting abilities, a permanent animal form settles after the Spark.

The Gods

Creators

Khohesh - Creator of Darkness and Power

Heka - Creator of Chaos and Magic

Gods

Yekum - God of Stars and Aether

Chayim - God of Life and Water

Adamah - God of the Golden Moon and Faith

Yareah - Goddess of the Silver Moon and Air

Gemmes - Goddess of the Sun and Fire

Child Gods; also known as Malakim or Tannin

Okjanos - Malakim of Sea

Eretz - Malakim of Earth

Shacar - Tannin of Dawn and Day

Laylah - Tannin of Dusk and Night

Kiyum - Half-Tannin, Half-Malakim. Kiyum of Creatures.

Da’at - Tannin of Knowledge

Emet - Tannin of Truth

Chzek - Tannin of Strength

Nagan - Tannin of the Arts

Haganah - Tannin of Protection

Sikun - Tannin of Adventure

Tzaar - Tannin of Grief

Chesed - Tannin of Mercy

Mivzikh - Tannin of Shamans

Yfiy - Malakim of Beauty

Poriyut - Malakim of Fertility

Ysher - Malakim of Justice

Ripuy - Malakim of Healing

Shefa - Malakim of Abundance

Sipuk - Malakim of Joy

Ahavah - Malakim of Love

Katzar - Malakim of Harvest

Gibora - Malakim of Heroes

Old Language

The Old Language is based on Hebrew. Some words and phrases have been changed to fit the story.

Ebrah k’dabri - One who Creates Life

Abracadabra - Come to Life

Qai - Poisonous Herb

Zeer Adom - Little Red

Tannin - Dragon

Zeched - Grandchild

Saba - Grandfather

Tzel - Shadow of Death

Akar - Troublemaker

Zemer - A Great Musician

Zev - Term used to describe Deta's form that appears like a wolf-sized fox.

Yaladeta khiluf - Changeling Spirit

Meggido - Barrier Between Worlds

Aziel - Of God

Achi - Brother or Uncle, close male relative

Achoti - Sister or Aunt, close female relative

Ahuvi - my love

Mishpokhe - Family or Clan

Shomer - Guardian

Shlameal - Asshole, jerk

Tishmor al azmeha - Take care of yourself

Nashama - Giant's form of written language for blind people

Neshama - Soul

Leva - Heart

Ab - Father

Laazazel - Dammnit

Lehikasher - Bonding

Shutaf - Companion

Meira - Light

Layil - Darkness

Hahayimfell - Tree of Life

Gan - Sacred Garden

Liosa - Aether-powered motorbikes created by the Fraithall

Paskudnyak - An evil and vile person, a rarely used insult

Ya'ar - Forest

Tikkun - Rebirth

Prologue

Alvis

Coffee is a wonderful companion in the morning, however a severed head is not.

I make my preparations, ignoring Milo’s glare from across the room. Silence and the scent of pressed, hot coffee fills the tense atmosphere. After watching Fenrir, and undoubtedly Novak, fly right over us and straight on to New Sylvan, I made my decision.

It’s time to face the problem head on. Alone.

My old room in what remains of Captain’s ship has been renovated. Feichin and I removed the furniture that was destroyed during the crash and brought in another bed. Milo and I’s shared bed sits across from the one Feichin and Saivr have shared since we moved Savir in from the makeshift infirmary. He fell comatose days ago, and I’ve tasked Milo with protecting him and Feichin while I’m gone, much to Milo’s dismay.

Milo and I were supposed to bring Novak home together, but everything’s gone so wrong since we made those plans. I’m the shifter’s protector now, and to keep him safe, he can’t come with me. Besides, Milo is the only one I trust to keep Savir and Feichin safe.

I glance at the bed where Feichin and Savir lay, the Avian’s back is to me as he keeps the world away from Savir. Milo sits at the head of their bed in his new and painfully elegant form, eyes closed as he pets Feichin’s hair. The three of them are barely illuminated by my light cantrip, but my throat constricts at the sight of them all the same. The thought of leaving my pack behind is enough to make me want to stay.

A knock on the door frame welcomes dread into my heart, freezing me in place. Milo’s kaleidoscope eyes flash to the blanket I had hung over the door frame to replace the old tapestry that was torn during the crash. Gut instinct tells me not to let him in because he’ll try to stop me, but the rapping increases in intensity.

Alvis, I have news, Orion whispers loudly from the other side, unbothered that he could wake others.

I’m frozen in place. News as of late has been exponentially worse and worse, and something that requires Orion to try and wake me before dawn can only be disastrous, at best.

Go, Milo whispers, making a shoo gesture.

I cross the room with a quiet, but swift step. I pass through the blanket, nearly walking into Orion on the other side. I check my watch, ensuring that he’s really doing this at four in the morning. A large box rests under one arm, its surface and his fingers are sticky with blood. Crimson drips onto the floor in a slow tap tap tap as we stare at each other.

Are you leaving? My brother gestures to my figure fully dressed in traveling gear, and the double swords strapped to my back. So close. Two minutes later, and I would’ve been gone.

Yes. I’m going to get him back. You and I both know I get in and out without being detected. I’m going to get him back.

As you said … O stares at me, then drops his head and sighs. I suppose there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if it was Em. But really? Leaving without a goodbye? Do I mean that little to you now that we’re not bonded?

Don’t say that. You know that’s not it.

What is it then? What if you die and we never see each other again? Is that what you wanted?

No! I thought you would try to stop me, and I didn’t want to fight you.

Orion rolls his eyes and scoffs. Right, like you could win. Well, you might want to look at this before you go.

I eye the blood-soaked box warily, too many pressing questions fight to be asked, so I settle on one. "What in the fuck is this?"

He shakes his head, then passes the box to me. Inside the gory thing, something rolls with a jarring heaviness and I nearly drop it. Orion crosses his arms, expression pinched. I glare up at him, but he only gestures for me to open it.

So I do.

Atlas, the son of Fenrir and our only ally in the East, stares up at me from the box with a post-mortem grin. White gold eyes fixate lifelessly on my horror ridden face. Blood softly gurgles from his clean cut throat as if the injury happened minutes ago. The blood is warm on the undersides of the box. Our tie to Novak.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Orion reaches into the box, extricating a newspaper. Plastered on the large and blood-tainted front page is Novak and Fenrir. Their hands joined before a pair of thrones, one black and one white. Novak wears a blank face and a white suit that matches the throne behind him. Fenrir’s black suit matches Novak’s, and his feral grin slices me apart. It’s dated from the same time Atlas demanded a token for Novak.

I clear my throat, tracing over Novak’s blank expression in the image. How … what?

"One of the scouts found it less than an hour ago, less than a mile to the east along the route Fenrir took. It appeared to be deliberately placed, it was just there in the grass, untouched by animals or anything else."

Al … I don’t want it to be true anymore than you do, but we have to look at the facts. I received a message this morning from Panrauth, there was an … incident. Involving Novak. In the Emerald Wilds.

What?

Orion looks around, and I close the box with a shaky hand. He leans closer and whispers, "He single-handedly killed thousands of people within the span of thirty minutes, Alvis. With nothing more than his bare hands. I want you to think about that, and I want you to let it really sink in. Fenrir now has another entire kingdom thanks to him, and it happened overnight."

How do you know? I ask, voice cracking. "How do you know he did that? It could be a lie, it could be another lie—"

There was a survivor, and another who had knowledge that allowed them to escape right before it happened. The survivor had made contact with Novak beforehand, as did their apprentice who is alive and in the South with the others. The apprentice didn’t go to the event, but they did talk with him. It’s … Orion shakes his head. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go.

For a moment, there’s nothing I can say. For ten hard seconds, I allow myself to consider not going.

But that’s all.

What’s that? I nod to the scrap piece of paper inside the box. Orion grimaces, taking out the note to reveal a short message from Novak. Feichin and Milo poke their heads through the blanket door, startling me. I wonder how long they’ve been listening.

What’ve we got? Feichin asks quietly, then huffs when we don’t move. Well, come in.

Orion and I exchange a look, then do just that.

How is he doing, Feichin? Orion asks, taking the lead. Milo opens the blanket door for me, eyeing the closed box in my hands suspiciously.

"Same as he has been, but he will wake up. I know it, he just needs time." Feichin sighs and runs a hand through his lengthy black hair. His wings curl around his body, and I’m painfully reminded of Novak every time I see Feichin’s dark feathers. That’s where the similarities end, though.

I’m failing Novak, failing his son. I’m failing what remains of Iverbourne and my family. We’re losing, and I can’t believe that it’s come to this. Come to thinking of Novak as the enemy.

A note, a newspaper, and … I gesture to the box, lowering my voice even though Savir hasn’t stirred. What appears to be Atlas’ head.

Feichin frowns, stepping towards me immediately. He peers inside the box, then shuts the flaps. That’s not good.

No shit, I say, causing Blackbird to roll his big, brown eyes in a way that reminds me of Savir.

I chuckle, but it dies swiftly when Feichin asks, What does the note say?

Orion stares down at Savir, or rather the pile of blankets he’s entangled himself in since Feichin got out of bed, I bet. Without looking up, Orion says, I don’t need him anymore, I’ve decided to stay.

Part One

Abracadabra

Little Wolf

Approximately One Year Ago

Sapph; Emerald Wilds Kingdom

Line up for inspection in an orderly fashion, those who fail to fall into line will be killed on sight.

The main square of Sapph fills with heavy rain and burdensome hearts. Alynthi soldiers march through the streets, checking homes and businesses for rebels and otherwise. My bandaged hands grip the wheels of my chair tighter when the Inspector grabs my chin, turning my sweaty head this way and that. With a dismissive gesture, she deems me to be worthless and moves on to the next in line.

My sister.

Young, vibrant, healthy and full of vitality. Exactly what King Rasutin is looking for. Those from my race are exempt from the inspection until they turn a century, and my sister’s last birthday has put her in danger. The moment I’ve been dreading unfolds in slow motion before my eyes.

NO, please! Luna cries when the Inspector calls over two soldiers. They each take an arm and drag her to the growing pool of citizens that will be taken to the castle and never be heard from again.

Please! Let her live just a little while longer! Father shouts, stepping out of line. Mother gasps, showing emotion for the first time in years. She throws herself in front of him, hand outstretched to the unimpressed Inspector.

My husband is not himself! Please, spare him!

My knuckles blanch and metal bites into my palms, the pain in my heart overwhelms me as I watch from the sidelines, helpless in my chair like I always am. Tears splash into my lap and Luna cries as a red light surrounds the Inspector’s leather clad figure.

Useless.

Worthless.

Hopeless.

Dangerous.

The string of words Mother has drummed into me for years screeches endlessly in my head. When the Inspector’s hand raises to my father, my mother screams, Stop! Take my eldest as payment for my husband’s transgression, and to spare my youngest. Mother’s jutted finger thrusts at my quivering body. "She’s Ebrah k’dabri, why, I bet her vitality is enough to spare everyone here today."

Mother! Luna shouts, pink lips agape in horror. Father pushes Mother away and stumbles to my side, shielding me from the smiling Inspector. Her hand lowers, crimson magic dimming. Gasps filled with wonder fall across the square, hundreds of frightened eyes fall upon me and brighten the slightest bit with malicious hope.

Of course I should go. One life spared instead of hundreds.

No. You cannot have her. Father bellows. A wall of fire erupts between us and the rest of the town. Shouts echo throughout the square, overpowering my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The Inspector stares at us through the flames, her pleased grin apparent.

We’re doomed.

I tug on the back of his shirt, not unlike how I’ve done hundreds of times before. "Father, one life rather than hundreds. They’ll kill you and still take me. Live for Luna, live for me. Please.

He looks over his shoulder just the smallest bit, but his fire does not diminish. No, this ends now. When his attention turns back on the Inspector, rebels spill from the shadows behind the soldiers whose entire attention is on my father. Hundreds of simultaneous war cries cut through the air, sharper than the farm equipment turned weapons my neighbors and friends wield.

The reign of King Rasutin ends now!

The sight of my entire community clashing with those who have stolen loved ones from Sapph long before I was born should bring me joy. I joined the resistance long ago, under my father’s wing, and this moment has been long awaited.

But something isn’t right.

The Inspector doesn’t move during the firefight, even while her forces are felled on either side of her. Luna breaks through the flames, untouched by Father’s magic. I meet her halfway, my wheels crunch over rubble and stone. Fire has taken to the buildings. Banners signaling the upcoming change from summer to autumn fall to the ground in lazy feathers of flames.

Mother is nowhere to be seen and Father barrels for the Inspector who only has eyes for me. Bloody rubies lock with mine as she reaches into her overcoat’s pocket, smirking.

Father, it’s a trap! I scream.

We have to get out of here! Luna yells into my ear at the same time, attempting to lift me out of my chair. I push her away in time to see a handful of crystals matching the Inspector’s eyes fly through the air, directed at Father.

NO!

Perhaps if there was a grand explosion, smoke or ash left behind in the wake of such terrible damage, I would be able to comprehend the loss. But when two thirds of the people in the battle field that was once a town, foe and friend, just disappear, it’s all I can do to breathe.

Absolute, terrible silence overtakes the world.

Clothes fall into heaps throughout the silenced area in a domino effect, wool and armored alike. Father’s tunic that I’ve often kidnapped to sleep in falls to the cobblestone ground.

My resolve snaps.

Luna shakes in her boots, and somehow, I muster the strength to tangle my hand with hers as the Inspector approaches. An owl calls when Luna’s fingers slip into mine.

What a waste, such a troublesome family you are. Take a good look at what you’ve done. The Inspector gestures to the piles of clothes, a variety of civilian and military, then the burning buildings and destroyed town square that once held market stalls and families. The remaining dozen soldiers who were not caught in the crossfire of blood crystals fall in behind their Inspector, unbothered by the fact their comrades were slaughtered indiscriminately.

"You shall help our cause greatly," The Inspector says.

I will do no such thing. I raise my chin, and Luna does too. If we shall die, we will not die as cowards.

The Inspector laughs. "I must say, I was nearly fooled by your little act. Your sister’s power is plain to see, but yours, you’ve hidden it deep down, haven’t you? That must be burdensome. I’m a Giant, I can heal you." The Inspector gestures to my legs.

I scowl. I put on no act, you are the one blinded by your own prejudices. You take one look at the surface and believe that’s all there is to someone like me.

Her lips quirk. Is that so? Well, show me what you can do.

"No."

So stubborn. Fine, let me put it this way, A glowing red hand extends to Luna and my sister grasps at her throat, eyes bulging instantaneously. "Prove that you’re ebrah k’dabri, or I kill the last family you have left."

Don’t— Luna manages, and I contemplate it.

But I can’t.

FINE! Please, let her go.

The Inspector scoffs and her Aether hold lessens, but only enough to allow strands of air to flow into Luna’s lungs. A soldier brings forth a plush doll and I take it with shaky hands, trying to come up with a plan in the scraps of time I have.

If I’m taken to the castle, I will surely die.

If I refuse, we will both die.

Perhaps …

If you take me, she goes free.

The Inspector nods with a sly grin. Of course.

I have no choice but to trust her. I exhale a shaky breath. I stare into the doll’s black button eyes, then caress the short strands of red wool for hair. This is …

I bite back tears and push away memories of Jo laughing with Luna and I months ago about stealing kisses from the boy next door. Jo was stolen during the last Harvest. She gave this doll to her younger sister, Olonia, before she was taken away. The last Inspector was much kinder than this one, allowing families to say their goodbyes and treating us with sympathy. That is probably why they’re no longer here.

I bring the cotton cheek to my lips, then breathe, "abracadabra."

Seconds pass. Then, the stuffed little arms twitch. The embroidered pink lips wrinkle back and forth. A new shine settles into the black buttons like ripples across the water. They fixate on me. Hello. I whisper, greeting the consciousness settling into the doll.

oh, OH, Oh, hello. Wh, where is Nia?

I blink in surprise, nothing I’ve ever animated has spoken before.

A solid crack splits my world in two. The doll rips from my hands at the same time Luna falls forward, smacking her skull off the cobbled stone in front of me.

NO! I scream, throwing myself out of my chair. I scramble on weak knees and shaking hands until Luna is in my arms. I rock her lifeless body back and forth, run my hands through her raven hair. Her neck is in shattered pieces, her head rolls unnaturally.

The Inspector stands over me with the doll perched on her shoulder, chirping away questions about Nia and Jo. Good work, yes, you will do nicely.

You promised to let her go free!

She giggles and my blood boils. "Promise? No, sweet child, I did not promise. In fact, I never said a word. You are the one who assumed."

I kiss Luna’s clammy cheek, whispering apologies onto her bronzed skin that is so like my own.

I will be useless no longer.

Soldiers yank me up, one on each arm, then release me once I’m vertical. I stand for a painful moment on weak tendons and muscles, then collapse onto my hands and knees. The Inspector huffs in annoyance. Get her into the chair, let’s move out. Rasutin will want to make the final decision. The Inspector drawls, then turns away.

I shake off the hands grabbing at me and pull myself into my chair, bloodied limbs and all. I roll my shoulders, then take hold of my wheels and follow behind the Inspector with soldiers flanking either side of me. I look around for something, anything that I can make use of.

When we reach the prison wagon laden with iron and wood, a bubble of hope warms my cheeks. Until handcuffs adorned with runes are brought my way and I find myself surrounded. I take hold of my wheels and whisper the magic word that continually ruins my life.

Metal spins as my chair takes on a life of its own, wheels turning of their own accord with dangerous acceleration. I plow through the group and crash into the wagon. I throw myself out of the chair, it speeds off and knocks soldiers off their feet, causing swelling orbs of aggressive magic to ricochet.

"Abracadabra!" I shout, taking hold of the wooden steps of the prison wagon which have visited my hometown far too many times.

Kill her! We can collect her blood after! The Inspector yells, throwing daggers towards my head. I narrowly miss them, thanks to the rapidly reassembling wagon which shoves me out of the way. Iron bars have been reconstructed to form a humanoid face of metal. Wooden planks compose massive arms and legs. Nails and hardware settle into place on Wagon’s face, metal hinges become joints.

I tremble on the ground, blood pouring from a crack in my skull. I watch with awe as Wagon faces off with the Inspector. A fatal mistake, staying still. An arrow flies from an archer hiding in the shadows and burrows into my stomach. I scream in pain and Wagon stumbles, but does not collapse.

My out of control wheelchair smashes into the archer, unbothered by the soldier’s attacks. Metal wheels crush skull and the manic contraption continues on, trampling over long dead soldiers, crushing bones and flesh into a disgusting pulp. Red crystals fly at my creations in a flurry, but the crystals do nothing against iron and wood.

Wagon slings an array of nails across the short distance and every single one burrows in the Inspector. One penetrates an eye, two more strike the jugular. For a moment, I believe I’ve won.

Through the dizziness eating at my concentration, the vibrant flags of Alynthi airships landing outside the town are clear as day. My Aether is fading and I won’t be able to power Wagon for much longer. I can’t fight off an army in this state, and my chair is a rolling wreck. I can only hold myself up on good days, and today is definitely not that day.

Horns sound from behind me, on the opposite side of town, a call that promises home.

Wagon falls into pieces as I do. My vision is swallowed by warm darkness and my ears, pouring with hot stickiness, ring. A figure of light cuts through the darkness, then another. Father holds his hand out to me. I’m so proud of you, He says warmly, and I intertwine my fingers with his.

Luna takes my other hand and she kisses my cheek. You died with bravery in your heart, dear sister.

I failed you, can you forgive me? I cry, which leads to her and Father’s arms around me. Warmth and love surrounds me entirely and I sob, taking solace in their light occupying otherwise total darkness.

You have not failed, you’ve only just begun. An unfamiliar voice echoes, causing my family to disappear. I stumble forwards through the darkness which is no longer warm, nor cold. It just is.

A heartbeat thrums steadily in the atmosphere around me.

Wait! Please, I want to go with them.

The heartbeat pauses, then the ethereal voice continues in a soft lull. There is someone looking for you, would you leave them behind?

What do you mean? I have no one, they’re all dead now. I’m alone. The truth burns my throat. I spin in the darkness on legs that are much stronger than the ones I had in Life. Who are you? I demand.

Who do you pray to, Little Wolf?

All at once understanding knocks into me. I gasp and drop to my knees, press my forehead to the cool, soft surface I cannot see. Mud, maybe?

Goddess, you—you’re, I stumble on words, unable to fathom her presence. You’re not dead.

Hm, not quite alive either. Not yet. The Goddess muses. The atmospheric heartbeat speeds for a moment, then slows.

I strengthen my trembling voice. Forgive me, but we have prayed to you for centuries, and your brothers and sisters. No one has answered us in so long, we began to doubt you.

Not you. You never doubted me. Raise your head, my child.

I do, and am met with beauty itself.

Ebony skin. Silver eyes round as the moons. Cropped black hair adorned with a golden crown of laurels. A sheer dress of silver gossamer with fabric composed of stars hangs off one thick shoulder and drapes far behind the larger than life Goddess. A leather belt is slung between her large breasts and goes over her shoulder. Curvaceous lips painted deep burgundy pull on two deep dimples in Yareah’s round cheeks as she beams at me. She offers a hand to me and waits patiently while I study the lines of her light palm.

Silver rings rest on each of her slender fingers, each ring embedded with a different crystal. Together, the stones form a rainbow. Tentatively, I reach forward and take her hand. I expect something magical and overwhelming to happen, but she only helps me to my feet. A bow and quiver rests on her back, arrows fletched with black and white feathers rattle gently. She gestures to a smooth dirt path appearing in the darkness, the end unseen but what lays before us is clear.

Walk with me. She asks, and I follow her, dumbfounded. "When your mother beat you within inches of your life, you prayed to me. You prayed to my mother, my father, to every God you knew of. You did not ask for your mother to be struck down, nor for your condition to be healed. Tell me, out of all things, why did you pray for your mother’s mind to be healed?"

I focus on the dirt beneath my boots, watching my toes scuff dust with ease, without pain. Nothing else is real, just the Goddess, me, and dirt. I admit a truth that I’ve never told anyone.

I believe she is sick, or I like to think that. She used to love me, before Luna was born. I was her miracle child. She was considered barren long before she met Father, and years after they married I was conceived. I went through many surgeries right from birth to fix the muscles in my legs, but it was never enough. Healers are a pipe dream where I come from, the King hoards them all,

I sigh, suddenly tired, When I was old enough to walk, I could only do so with help. No one could explain why I couldn’t be healed, not fully, but Mother and Father didn’t care. I trail off, lost in memories of the good days. I haven’t allowed myself to think of them for so long, it makes Mother’s cruelty hurt more if I remember she was ever any different.

Then, Luna was born. And even still, you never resented your sister, The Goddess says softly.

Then Luna was born. I reiterate, glancing up at her. And she was killed.

Rasutin. She spits out the King’s name with disgust. A blight upon this land, worse than that in the West.

"If you know, then why haven’t you done anything?" I blurt out, then await my punishment. She only stops walking and cocks her head, considering me for a long moment.

You truly do not remember any of your past lives, do you?

I stare at her. That’s just a legend.

The Goddess laughs and a wave of light ripples outwards from where we are standing. You believe in the Gods, but not the idea of souls returning?

Why would anyone return? Isn’t there something … more?

She stops laughing, a furrow appears between her thick brows. Of course there is. Your father chose what comes After, but your sister chose to return.

I blink, absorbing that. Choices. They were given choices. What will happen to her? Will she be … a baby? A Giant? Something different?

The Goddess hums. "Usually a complete soul returns to a new, freshly born body, yes. Other times, when a soul is made, it splits into hundreds, perhaps thousands of pieces. One soul can return to numerous different bodies, some brand new, or inside others that are hollowed out and need to be filled. In rare situations like yours, pieces can be reunited if they pass through the veil at the same time. Melded together to make something, someone new. As far as what race new souls return as, that does not matter. Some things are out of even our control."

I digest that with wonder. I feel as if a great secret has been passed to me, a mere mortal. What lies after death has long been speculated by scholars, hoped for by dreamers and believed in by the devout.

What did my Mother choose? I ask, and immediately regret it.

She didn’t get a choice. Not everyone does, only those who deserve it.

I swallow that heavy truth and look away from the Goddess, deciding I don’t want to know anything else. When I do, I find the Goddess’ ripple of light filled laughter has become a galaxy of stars all around us. Thin glittering threads of silver and gold weave between hundreds of thousands of pin pricks of light that cut through the dark. I spin in a circle, tears welling in my eyes.

A few stars in particular catch my eye and I gravitate towards them. One is an orb of black shrouded by a veil of white, and another is pure white shadowed by black. They are connected by a thick cord of twisted gold, and from that cord are weak threads of silver that are spread out like a web. At the end of the fraying threads are three stars, blue, purple and gold.

Each point connects in one way or another, some connections are stronger than others. The purple star glows weakly, the thread between it and the other four are near invisible, but there all the same. I reach for the star and it brightens, but the Goddess firmly takes my wrist and stops me.

You’re not ready, She says, not unkindly.

Ready? I breathe, transfixed by the grouping of stars.

Silver eyes flash between me and the constellation. That is your soul, and those are the people who are looking for you, who are connected to you. You have not met them in this life, but you have in others. You’ve died recently.

Others? Other lives? My brain can’t—won’t, process much more than that, so I mutter, I’m aware of that.

She shakes her head, jewelry tinkles in the vacuum of space and time. "No, a different you. See here." She snaps her fingers and the rest of the stars fade away except for ‘mine.’ The star expands until it’s larger than a house, a floating orb reminiscent of an incomplete puzzle. Cracks overtake the star, fracturing it into two main pieces that are shattering at a low rate, like flowers turning towards the sun.

The halves of the star are close, but not close enough.

I clutch my heart which beats rapidly, much to my confusion. I don’t feel dead, only suspended. My soul—it’s broken?

"You are the Annunaki chosen to protect this world, and to protect you, I decided to … hide parts of you away, until the time was right. I split your soul into two, and divided it between two different and distant bodies. Your other half has died, and you have died, offering the first opportunity to reunite both of your halves into a whole Annunaki, through rebirth. But this does not come without a great cost."

I wait for old memories, something, anything, to ring a bell, but all I hear is nonsense. "I don’t understand, you need me?"

"No, we all need you. They need you. I need you, my child."

A symphony of music pours from the violet star, blanketing me in warmth. Deep, masculine laughter bubbles from the fractured star, no—my soul. And the laughter isn't just from one person, but many.

Who is that? I ask, reaching for my soul again. The thin crack between the halves brightens, overwhelming me. Before my vision returns, a glimpse of blond followed by bright blue flashes across my mind’s eye. Then, a surge of violet and ink. Electric blue and black. A gust of dust, thick with glistening silver. Finally, a wave of flowers. An electrifying feeling bounces into my gut, chaotic and with nowhere to go.

Love.

Everything. Nothing. Yours. Theirs. Dead, if you don’t go back. The Goddess relays, fondness softening her features. They have suffered endlessly. Lifetime after lifetime they made all the hard choices. The right choices for others, but never what was right for them. All of you, really.

Panic flares and I pull out of my daze. How many times have we met?

The Goddess gazes upon me with pity. "You’re not ready for that, either. All you need to know for now is that you all have known each other for … an incredibly long time. You only met three of them, in your Other soul’s life."

"Tell me about him, us. All of them. I’ll do it, I’ll go back. I need to know, please. I can feel it now, a dream that I’ve forgotten."

You want to go back?

"Yes." A need to move and search and find overcomes me.

The Goddess of the Silver Moon smiles with all the brightness of the universe, stilling my panicking heart. Good. You will not remember this, not at first, but I can give you this. It’s yours, after all.

I open my mouth to protest but she places a pendant in my hand, then kisses my cheek. If you fail, the Gods and life as we know it will perish. I believe in you, Little Wolf. All of you. Now, live.

Then, all fades to black.

Wolf, She Is

Black, white and bright pink.

Lavender and oil.

Humming and quiet muttering.

I groan and attempt to sit up, only to be rewarded with a splitting headache and black leeching my blurred vision. "Fuck."

Ah, that’s what I like to hear. Careful now dearie, you’ve healed up nicely, but it’s been a few days. A cheerful, deep and kind voice meets my ear. I squint my eyes open again and find fluorescent, curling pink surrounding a pretty face. Black complexion with white streaking their rough, bark-like skin. A Mylari.

I take stock of my surroundings, slowly. A modest bedroom, not overly large but well kept. The mattress I’m laying on rests on the floor. The Mylari sits cross-legged on the wooden planking beside me. Deep red and off-white accents the room. From the curtains and tapestries, to an upholstered lounge chair parked near a bookshelf and fireplace.

I’m alive?

Full lips matching the color of their hair curve into a smile and the Mylari nods, pink curls bouncing along their square jaw. Their hands are folded neatly in their lap, but big brown eyes buzz with excitement. You’re safe now, dearie.

Where am I?

Malakim’s Tower. I am Mikah, the Grandmaster, and you are under my protection. No one can harm you whilst you are here, The Grandmaster says confidently, full of pride.

I nod slightly, not feeling very consoled. Malakim’s Tower is supposed to be a sanctuary, a neutral zone off limits to all the kingdoms. It’s still too close to Rasutin for comfort, but the first Temple to the Gods is sacred ground, and the Grandmaster is rumored to have used deadly force against those who don’t respect that rule.

The person before me doesn’t look like they could hurt a fly, but I don’t dare test my luck.

If I may ask, where did you get that? Mikah points to my clenched hand. I furrow my brow, confused. I uncurl my fingers and find a necklace I’ve never seen before. As I study the pendant, a simple wood oval with a black sigil inlaid on the surface, an unfamiliar tune and a warm sensation swims through my mind.

I— I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before. The words are heavy, wrong. I feel like I should know it, but I don’t. It’s not Father’s, or Luna’s.

Father.

Luna.

… Mother.

They’re … all dead.

Mikah nods, cheerfulness fading. We were too late. I came as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t enough. I am so very sorry.

You—you’re part of the System? I ask, dumbfounded. I knew Father sent a call down the emergency line when the Alynthi caravan arrived, but I didn’t know someone like the Grandmaster, a supposed neutral figure, would be part of something like this.

Oh, I would hope so. But I’m not as important as those out there actually fighting, not micromanaging. You common folk make all the sacrifices, Mikah says wistfully.

I study Mikah, unable to wholly believe this person is part of the System. While I’m not exactly a fighter myself, Mikah doesn’t look like they could hurt a fly. Their position is supposed to keep them neutral. Mikah tilts their head, amused at my direct evaluation. A blood red feather pokes through a layer of curls, hanging from a twisted part of their hair flowing from the nape of their neck.

You’re the Phoenix. I breathe.

I said no such thing. Mikah waves me off, then ties back their curls with a barely veiled smile. White rimmed glasses rest on their aquiline nose. They’re dressed in a simple and loose fitting long sleeve with no embroidery, along with a leather apron and brown trousers that are just as plain as the rest of their outfit.

The feather that every System sanctioned rebel organization is given hangs with a tangle of pink now restrained by a fraying cord. Once, I touched the one back at our headquarters, when I made my oath with Father standing proudly at my back. The sensation that coursed through me was light, heat, acceptance and understanding. A moment I’ve never forgotten.

You’re amazing! I blurt out, then flush with an ungodly amount of embarrassment. "It’s just—they say you’re everywhere at once. And your designs, they’re flawless. Well, mostly, during the last raid, well those riders you sent out needed to be tweaked just a tad."

Mikah chuckles, regarding me with such warmth my heart may burst. Is that so? I prefer to know my critic’s name if I can help it. A thin pink brow raises and black arms cross in front of the leather apron dirtied with blood and oil. My heart aches to have an apron like that.

I open my mouth, then furrow my brows. My name.

I don’t remember it.

Thirty seconds pass and I look away from Mikah for the first time.

They kneel beside me and offer their hand. We can work with that.

With a heated, wet smile, I take their rough fingers.

Malakim’s Tower is not wheelchair accessible.

Technically, the twenty level tall circular tower of brick and stone does have a ramp that encircles the inner space, leading up, up, up. A crowd of kids and those past their prime make their way up and down just fine, but luckily I don’t have to brave the incline.

My room, if I so wish it, is on ground level. Mikah and I now stand in the center space of the tower, an expanse filled with a variety of work stations. Wide halls lit with floating lanterns diverge from the main area in eight cardinal points. Doors, people, and good nature flow through the halls and work space. The work stations vary from glass blowing to forging, wood working to mechanics. Most of the work is dedicated to providing for the rebel effort in one way or another.

The more I look, the more I find.

Mylari, peaceful and powerful plant people from Florabrook.

The elusive and isolated Reptilians from Lizandro, a race I’ve never seen in person before.

Harpies from the Sawrett Kingdom, a race kindred to Avians but with more features similar to their bird-like Malakim ancestors.

Sirens from Beymagi Gardens in their beautiful humanoid forms, rumored to be pure evil. Here, they work shoulder to stomach with the Halflings of Amtry and Vaslip. There are more races I don’t recognize, but what I don’t see are my kind.

The remaining descendents of the mythical Annunaki, the instruments of the Gods. Of course, now we’re nothing like our fabled ancestors, only a diluted version of what we once were. But there are threads and truths of what we once were, hidden in people like me.

And now, people like me are hunted for something once so revered.

You are far from the only one who seeks shelter in the Tower. Mikah remarks softly, then leans closer. "But you are the only Anukana here. Lizandro has granted any fleeing Anukana safe passage through the lands so they may seek refuge in Sawrett."

I nod, unable to speak past the thick emotion clogging my throat.