The Black Dragon roared, a spine-chilling sound. Open the Gates. Keep your promise.
In that moment, Vivian felt all the parts of her coalesce—sorceress, Dreamshifter, a tiny remaining spark of dragon. And above and beyond all, her own consciousness, Vivian, binding them all into one. She could open the Gates if she chose, or leave them closed, but it would be a decision made freely.
She thought about Jared, twisted and ruined by forces beyond his ability to resist. About Zee, so deeply wounded in body and in spirit, and Weston dying from the dragon poison. She pondered the child the dragon carried—Zee’s child—and all of the things that might mean. She thought about the dying dreamspheres in the cave, and the undead Dreamshifters caught in some sort of special hell.
So many things that might happen if she opened this Gate, so many things that might happen if she didn’t, two paths, both shrouded in mist and uncertainty. But one thing shifted the balance—the destruction and darkness and nothingness that followed the path of the dragon—and she understood at last what she must do.
She turned toward the Gates and lifted the Key. It was drawn to the keyhole, as though that ray of blue light had magnetic properties, and clicked into the lock with a sensation of completion that ran through Vivian from head to toe.
Home.
An odd euphoria, unlike any emotion she had ever felt before. A crack grew and widened between the two halves, and they swung slowly inward. Tendrils of mist swirled out through the opening, wreathing around her with a living touch, preventing even a glimpse of what lay beyond.
The desire to enter was intense, testing her resolve, and she would never be sure what she might have done if the rest was not decided for her. A gust of wind knocked her flat on her back, in time to see the Black Dragon fly low over her head and through the Gates. Hundreds of dragons followed, their wings creating a gale-force wind that dropped everybody, even the giants, to their knees. Vivian covered her eyes, blinded in part by dust and even more by the intensity of rainbow light refracting off millions of mirror-bright scales.
When the last dragon passed through the Gates, for a moment the plain fell silent. Then the voices of the giants rang out in a shout that shook the earth. They got to their feet and began to march—not toward the Gates, but away, back across the valley.
All except for one.
A female giant separated from the others and approached the Gates. Zee moved to intercept, but she ignored him, bending over Weston’s body.
“Leave him in peace!” Vivian said, turning away from the Gates and her deep desire. “Enough harm has been done today.”
The giant woman looked up, surprised. “Do you want him to die?”
Vivian could sense the dragons flying away into the Forever, and the lure of following was a driving physical need. It was difficult to pay attention, to find words, but this was Weston’s life at stake.
“Of course I don’t want him to die. There’s nothing to be done.”
“I can help him, if you will allow,” the giant said.
Vivian’s eyes met Zee’s. She knew nothing useful about the giants, wasn’t at all certain if they were to be trusted.
“Why would you do this?”
“I am a healer, and there is no need for his death. Besides, his sister has lived among us now for years and I owe her a blood debt. Before we marched, she said to me that I should watch for her brother, lest his fate had brought him here at last.”
“Please,” Vivian said. “If you can. But he is very far gone.”
The giant reached into a pocket and brought out a small vial of black fluid. She opened Weston’s mouth with one hand and tapped a single drop onto his tongue.
“So Grace isn’t angry with him?”
“She is deeply remorseful about something of which she will not speak. She has said nothing of anger.”
Weston drew a deep breath and sighed. Already his color was better, his breath regular and even. His forehead cooled beneath Vivian’s hand.
She turned from him then and focused all of her will on the Black Gates. They responded to her thoughts, to her need, and began to swing together. There was no sound, no ceremonial clang as they closed, not so much as a whisper, but she felt the moment reverberate through her body with inalterable finality.
“The Gates have closed!” Zee said. “We need to follow that dragon. How do we open them again? Where is the Key?”
“Gone.” Vivian’s voice echoed inside her head, empty of all of the dragons, all of them gone where she could not follow.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“It was absorbed when I unlocked them. They are sealed tight now.”
“The Key was made to be used but once,” the giant said. “It would not work again, even should you find it.”
“There has to be another way,” Zee said, and then he caught sight of her face. “Vivian? You did this on purpose?”
She managed to get to her feet. “She had to be contained, Zee. She wants to destroy everything. This way, at least her damage is limited.”
The giant’s broad face had gone pale, if such a thing were possible, and she shook her head. “Truly, you do not know about the Forever.”
“No, truly I do not. So tell me.”
“All things begin and end there. If she destroys all things in the Forever, the Dreamworlds will follow, and then the waking worlds because all must dream or they will die.”
Darkness crowded in, buzzing in Vivian’s brain. The choice had seemed so right.
“Still, she is, as you say, contained,” the giant went on. “It will take time for her to overpower the King in Forever. And there may be another way in. My people would have records.”
“Can you take us to your people then?”
The giant shook her head. “My life was forfeit the moment I broke ranks and came to you. If I go back, I die.”
“But we have to get in. Without letting her out.” Vivian walked over to the Gates and put her hand against the stone. No more vibration or hum, but the stone recognized her touch and responded like a living thing. It wanted her but was bound by the old spells.
“Perhaps it is time to pay a visit to the sorcieri,” the giant said.
“Could they open the Gates?”
“They were involved in the making of the Key. Nobody remembers how. If you can persuade them to help—”
“Vivian, no,” Zee said. “Think about it. Remember Jehenna. Like she would have been of help?”
“All dragons aren’t the same. Or all giants either, it appears. So maybe . . .” She realized what she was saying as the words left her mouth. Right. A kinder, gentler sorceress. Not very likely.
She felt drained and vulnerable and tired, and the problem was so much bigger than she was. Way back in medical school when things got overwhelming she’d invented a slogan for herself: Just start somewhere, and take it from there. Do the first thing you can do, and then the next. Time to follow her own advice.
“First thing, we’re taking Weston back to Wakeworld. He’s been through enough.”
“I have not ever been to Wakeworld, but I will go with him,” the giant said. “I owe a life debt to his sister.”
“He’ll love that,” Zee said. “And what will you do, Dreamshifter?” His agate eyes were unshuttered for once, and she saw all that lay behind the single question.
Vivian got to her feet and stood facing him, almost but not quite touching. So much between them, and she didn’t know how to bridge the chasm. But her inner dragon was dead, and that was one problem solved, a tenuous bridge on which to build.