“So I should ignore them? Do nothing?” She pointed at the Empty Wind. “His kind trampled mine and turned the world into a hell. Do you expect me to forget that just because he did? He’s as immortal as I am! The Empty Wind blew back then just as it does now, but unlike the Mortal Spirits, I did not wake ignorant. I learned from the past to act in the present before it ruined my future!”
Marci responded with something cutting, but Julius wasn’t listening anymore. He didn’t need to. The arguments might be different, but the dug-in anger he heard in their voices was the same as he’d heard all his life. Marci and the spirits were stuck in the same cycle of violence and revenge that Julius had been banging his head against ever since he’d found the courage to lift it. But as frustrating as that was, it gave him hope, because while he was an outsider when it came to spirit magic, this was a problem he knew as well as his own fire.
“It has to stop.”
The spirits and Marci jumped in surprise at his voice, and then Algonquin’s water hit him in the face like a slap.
“This is none of your affair,” she snarled. “You do not get to speak here, dragon.”
“It’s because I’m a dragon that I can say this,” Julius replied, shaking the water off his feathers. “I’ve seen the damage hate and vengeance do to everything they touch. Just look at what they’ve done to you.” He looked pointedly down at the pathetic stretch of muddy water. “You were the Lady of the Great Lakes, the most powerful spirit in North America. Now you’d fit in a bucket.”
The water shivered. “You dare mock me?”
“I’m not mocking you,” he said. “I’m drawing your attention to the results of your actions. I understand why you did it. You saw your world changing, and you blamed the humans and the Mortal Spirits because they were the face of that change, but not once did you stop and remember that you’re a product of change as well. Your five lakes used to be one. Before the last ice age, they weren’t there at all. The source was different, but as Marci already pointed out, you were born into this world the same as any other spirit. Or any dragon.”
“You are not of our world,” she spat.
“But I was born here,” Julius said. “So was my mother and every other living dragon. The Three Sisters you killed were the last dragons born in our old world. The rest of us were made right here, same as the humans or any other animal. Now that Amelia has tied our magic to this plane, we really are native, and we’re fighting now to protect our world just like you are.”
“This is not your world,” Algonquin rumbled, pointing at Ghost and Marci. “It’s not their world, either. It’s my world!”
“And in a few minutes, it’ll be no one’s world,” Julius growled. “Don’t you get it? You’ve been so busy fighting for what you think you lost, you can’t even see what you’re actually losing right now!”
“I lose nothing,” Algonquin said, slapping her water against the blackness. “This is my chosen victory! I would rather die here alone than live on in a world where I am ruled by Mortal Spirits, defiled by humans, and plagued by dragons!”
“But that’s just it!” Julius cried. “You’re so convinced that change is your enemy, you’ve forgotten that you can change, too. Everything can! If you don’t like how a tree is growing, you don’t burn it to the ground. You help it—prune it, tie it, coax it in a different direction. The future’s no different. As Ghost just said, Mortal Spirits didn’t come out hating you. You taught them that, because the only one who’s ever acted like it’s our way or the highway is you. But the good news is that you can change your mind.”
“Impossible,” Ghost growled. “She will never change. Her hate is too deep.”
“Everything can change,” Julius said. “Two months ago, I thought my clan would always be a nest of vipers, but this afternoon, I watched all of Heartstriker fight alongside clans we’ve been enemies with for centuries.” He turned back to Algonquin. “If stubborn old dragons can change to survive, you can. I mean, you’re water! All you do is change, so change now. Let the old grudges go. Look forward instead of backward. If you can’t live in this world, then work with us to build one you can live in. But if you destroy everything now, then it’s over for everyone, including the lakes you’ve fought so hard all this time to protect.”
That last part was the most important. Julius had been taught from birth to see Algonquin as his enemy, but even when he’d lived in her shadow in the DFZ, he’d never doubted her dedication to her lakes. Everything she’d done, including this, was to protect the land and those who came from it, and that gave him hope. She’d made a lot of terrible choices, but anyone who could die for others could surely be convinced to live for them instead. Even the fact that she’d held on to the Leviathan for sixty years before using it was a sign that Algonquin wasn’t an implacable enemy. She was just desperate and cornered, like Estella had been, or Chelsie.
Like himself.
When Marci had died, he could have done terrible things. Would have, if Chelsie hadn’t stopped him. When she’d grabbed him, the line between tragedy and survival had come down to a single moment. One decision to bend instead of break. To keep moving forward instead of dying with his fangs in his enemy’s throat. It was a choice that couldn’t be forced, couldn’t be demanded. It could only be asked, so that was what Julius did now, lowering his head respectfully before the Algonquin.
“Please,” he said, bowing before the spirit who’d wanted him and all his kind dead for ten thousand years. “Don’t give up yet. All of us are here right now because we’re too stubborn to die. That’s common ground, so let’s stand on it. Let’s be stubborn together. Let’s fight and argue and refuse to give up until we’ve hammered out a world we can all live with. It might take a long time, and things might get worse before they get better, but if we just keep going, there’s nothing that can stop us from getting where we want to be. All I’m asking is that you keep trying with us. Please, Algonquin.”
A long silence fell when he finished, and then the lake spirit sighed. “You beg surprisingly well for a dragon.”
“I’m not begging,” Julius said, lifting his head. “I’m asking you to do what you know is right. It’s not over. You can still fix this.”
“No,” she said, cowering in her puddle. “It was the only way. The Mortal Spirits—”
“What could Mortal Spirits do to you that’s worse than what you’ve done to yourself?” Julius demanded. “I’ve seen your lakes, Algonquin! Your shores are dry. Your fish are dead. The Leviathan took every drop of water from them, and you let him. You were their spirit, their god, and you let them die.”
“Stop,” Algonquin whispered, sinking lower.