“We did it!” the spirit cried, spinning her up and out of the water on his newly restrengthened wind. “Can’t you feel it, Marci? He’s gone! The roots, the tendrils, even his stench, they’re all gone!”
Her spirit’s joy flooded her mind as he spoke, but Marci barely felt it. Now that it was over, her eyes were locked on the sky where the Leviathan had been. The empty sky, where the most important person in her life had just been lost forever.
Marci couldn’t look at anything after that. She turned away with a sob, burying her face in the darkness of Ghost’s chest, which was why she didn’t see the tiny ribbon of blue tumbling down from behind the evening clouds, or the large dragon with feathers brighter than a bird of paradise’s that flew up to catch it.
***
Brohomir was flying faster than he’d ever gone in his life. He shot through the air where the Leviathan had been, wings pumping harder and harder as he raced to catch Julius’s plummeting body before it hit the ground. If it hit, every chance of his future was gone, but if Bob could catch him…
He put on a burst of speed, folding his wings like a dart as he reached out with his claws to snatch his baby brother’s body out of the air. Julius’s bloody feathers began to crack and turn to ash the moment he touched them. Bob wasn’t sure what that meant now that Amelia had tied their magic to this plane, but ash was never good. He’d set this whole thing up on the slimmest of long shots with none of his usual groundwork, but Julius had always been a lucky little dragon. He’d just have to hope the streak held.
“Now, my love,” he whispered, pulling his brother’s body against his much larger chest before Julius could crumble any further. “Do it now!”
I cannot.
The pigeon was hovering in front of him, but just like that first time, it was the Nameless End he saw in his mind, boundless and dark. Final. Now as then, the words in his mind held the indelible weight of unavoidable end. This time, though, the sadness in her voice was personal.
I’m afraid you were a few seconds too late. The future you seek is now so unlikely, I’m afraid the price we agreed on will no longer be enough.
“Then I will pay more,” Bob replied without hesitation, looking down at his brother. “Of all the dragons I’ve used, he deserved it least. I crushed his hopes, betrayed his trust at every turn, but through all of it, he never abandoned me. I will not abandon him now.” He tightened his claws, closing his eyes as more of Julius’s feathers cracked and fell to ash. “Whether we’re buying futures or setting them up ourselves, someone always pays. I’ve avoided my bill for a long, long time, but this time, the most important time, it will be me.”
With that, he offered it all, opening the entire breadth of the futures he’d seen to her, but the Nameless End shook her head.
It is not enough.
For the first time in his life, Brohomir began to despair. “No,” he said, voice shaking. “It’s all I have. It has to be enough.”
I’m sorry, she said, but you cannot buy the future you wish with what you have to offer. Her beady eyes flashed. At least, not alone.
Bob jerked in surprise, but the Nameless End just cooed sweetly, swooping in to rub her head against the feathers of his neck. You kept your promise, Brohomir of the Heartstrikers, she whispered. It was a good story. I have been handsomely rewarded for my gamble all those years ago. Now, I too will pay my portion to help you end it well.
She swooped away, her little body floating on the wind until she was hovering right in front of his eyes, and as she flew, Bob’s futures began to disappear. They vanished one by one, plucked like flowers by an invisible hand. Not all of them, just the ones he’d marked for sale back when he’d thought he was being fiendishly clever. It was still a lot, though not nearly enough, but just as he began to worry something was wrong, Bob realized her futures were fading too.
All the futures they’d shared, the thousands of years they could have lived together were disappearing one by one. Each loss felt like a cut, but when he instinctively reached out to stop her, Julius’s body slipped from his grasp. He caught his brother again at once, cradling the little dragon protectively to his chest as the last of the futures—his and hers—vanished, leaving him facing the unknown for the first time since he was thirteen. He was still staring hopelessly at the abyss when he felt feathers brush against his face.
The price is paid, his End said, her voice huge in the way he’d experienced only once before. The future is bought. The brushing feathers moved closer as the pigeon gave him a final peck on the cheek. Thank you for sharing your present with me.
Then she was gone, her touch vanishing like the shadow it always had been, and in the place where she’d been was a short, golden chain.
Bob grabbed it out of the air with a snap of his teeth and shoved it into Julius. The golden links vanished the moment they touched his bloody feathers, and then Bob was knocked out of the sky as the new future forced its way into place. The sudden jolt caused even more of Julius’s body to crumble to ash, but as he felt apart, Bob finally spotted what he’d been waiting for. In the center of Julius’s chest, an ember was still glowing.
The last ember.
That was all Bob had time to make out before he opened his mouth and engulfed them both in fire. Not normal fire, but life’s fire, the core of the flame that made him a dragon. He breathed as much as he could force out, breathed until his heart stuttered and his wings faltered. Then, just as the world started to go dark around him, he felt something flare.
That flash of hope was the last thing Bob saw before his fire ran out. Without even enough magic left to fly, he began to plummet, wrapping his wings around what was left of his brother as they crashed into the churning water of Lake St. Clair, which, much to Bob’s surprise, rose up to catch them.
***
“Bob!”
The scream made Marci jump. She hadn’t had the presence of mind for anything but weeping, but Ghost must have carried her to shore at some point, because when she looked up, they were standing on the wreckage-strewn beach where Algonquin’s lake met her Reclamation Land. Marci was still trying to figure out what was going on when a shadow whooshed over her head, followed by Chelsie’s black-feathered body as the enormous dragon landed in the sand right beside her.
“Marci, help me!” the dragon yelled, her green eyes frantic. “Algonquin just ate Bob!”
“What?” Marci said, blinking slowly as the absurdity of that statement pushed its way through her grief. “What do you mean she ate Bob?”