Charles did what he knew he had to.
He held his hand up to his mouth, put the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger between his sharp front teeth, and ripped it open.
He needed his blood for what came next.
Abigail’s tattoo was etched through with blood of sunkissed vampires, along with gold flakes. That much she would have known from the ceremony, as would all Herants upon accepting the tattoo and saying their oaths. The gold in the tattoo was what he was going to use but he needed to activate it.
The blood was welling up between his fingers, and as the Kelpie King, his healing would be quick. He dipped his right forefinger in the deep red liquid that poured forth, almost a purple, and reaching up beneath his shirt, traced the blood over the tattoo, muttering the appropriate words.
He would have to time it correctly, yet this was where his supernatural and magical training would come into play. Charles had to partition his mind, creating a link to the gold flakes in Abigail’s tattoo while also operating a complicated magical incantation in the other half of his mind that would open the neverending portal through which he was about to pull Belinda and the Everdark.
The Everdark. He had hoped to never hear those words again and yet She and her kingdom of Pips, the creatures she sent forth from that dark hive of hers whenever it ruptured into our reality almost like malignant bees, would never leave this reality alone.
The Everdark hated the light. As old as Time and Space itself, perhaps even older, the entity that was the Everdark only had one purpose - consume. As it did, it somehow manifested physical creatures like the Pips that would come into this reality and well, consume it. It was all rather quite simple and straightforward.
The Everdark wanted to end everything and the Herants, along with others in this world, were sworn to never let that happen. Partitioning his mind in two, Charles maintained the connection to Abigail’s gold while also beginning to work the magic necessary to create the portal. Somehow the prophecy of the Everdark’s power, as much as they tried to stifle it, wouldn’t be completely stamped out of existence.
The last time the Everdark worked through this world, it had promised salvation and glory, immortality, pleasure, and riches beyond imagination, if they only helped the Everdark break through into this world. Once in this world, wherever there was darkness or shadow, wherever there was night and lack of daylight, so would the Everdark hold sway.
And it was hungry. The Pips were an example of the ravenous ferocity with which the Everdark consumed worlds. As Tess stood by watching him, jaw agape, he heard the distinctive pop of the portal opening and he would do his best to time it correctly. Charles held the pocketwatch out in his open palm, knowing that as soon as he spoke the last word on one side of that mental partition, the portal would open and the pocketwatch would be sucked through.
When that happened, he had to also finish the last word of the incantation that would pull Abigail out of the pocketwatch. In that briefest of moments, he could only hope the love he had for his daughter and the pull he had to her and the gold would allow for her to come through at the very right moment.
And with a sign of resignation he’d heaved countless times before, Charles wrapped his mind around losing his daughter - again - and contemplating the end of everything, the apocalypse that would consume all worlds.
Again.
He did it.
Just like that, with no fanfare, he finished the first incantation, the one to align the spirit trap in that Herant family heirloom with the oubliette of the neverending portal, as well as the one to pull Abigail to him.
First a snap, then a pop, and then a bang. That’s how it went, and while there was no crackle, the strength of the light and sound that resonated when the pocketwatch hit the portal caused Charles to lose his sight, pulling his hands instinctively up in front of his eyes.
A nano-second later, Charles was knocked over by a body-sized force (a daughter-sized force, actually) that hit him in the stomach. Still blinded, he fell to the ground as Tess yelled, and before he could catch his breath, a second force fell on top of him.
Charles knew his daughter immediately but could only see brief glimpses of waving limbs through his clearing vision, and he heard the distinctive yell of his daughter. Thank the gods, she was alive, pulled from the spirit trap.
But she wasn’t alone.
He knew the voice that intertwined with all the others.
Charles stumbled to his feet, his vision finally clearing to see Abigail rolling on the ground with…
Belinda.
Before he could say anything, Belinda was on top of Abigail was alarming speed. All guidelines around the Fae included zero contact, zero engagement, and that included the physical kind. They were not only magicians of almost inconceivable power, they were known throughout most worlds as perhaps the fiercest warriors.
They’d positioned themselves quite nicely at the top of the food chain for a reason.
He’d suspected currents were amiss beneath the surface of the Council but he had no idea how amiss. Charles suspected there were moles but he would never have thought Belinda would be one of them.
How had this happened? How could Belinda, of all members of the Council, be on the side of the Everdark? How could she be here now, positioned atop Abigail with her claws against her throat? Against his daughter’s throat?
Against her niece’s?
Charles did the only thing he could think of in the morning, consequences be damned. He curled the energy of the Earth’s core into his right hand, releasing what was affectionately referred to the family as the “Herant Hand Grenade” at Belinda.
The ball of red, fiery ectoplasm hit her square in the chest, knocking her backward. She yelled, but the ectoplasm did what it was supposed to. It began to spread like a giant red spider on her chest, pulling her to the ground. Charles knew the spell and the fireplasm would be strong enough to contain a member of the Fae, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long.
Hopefully long enough to save Abigail.
Maybe even the world.
Abigail was coughing, hands on her throat, Tess at her side.
Belinda, pinned to the ground, was shrieking.
Charles quickly darted to first Abigail, seeing that Tess had her sitting up and color returning to her face, he closed in on the real problem: Belinda.
He went to her, kneeling down, putting his hands on top of that red, gelatinous cage of fiery power that pinned a member of the High Council to the ground. He only had seconds.
Pouring energy into the cage, he glanced back quickly as he felt Tess and Abigail stand behind his shoulders. He could feel Abigail’s fury - her mother’s fury - pour off her. He knew she would want retribution, but she had no idea what she was risking. What all of this meant.
Charles came to the conclusion easily that the portal now contained the Everdark. A small miracle that, yet being the nature of the portal it was, if anyone ever came into possession of Charles and his mind, they would have a connection to that portal and the Everdark. He’d eventually have to do something about that.
Eventually.
“Why?” was all he could ask Belinda, as her eyes blazed up at him with an incredible fury. “How could you help the Everdark?” Charles felt Abigail’s hand on his shoulder, her fingers gripping down gently, giving him strength. She would follow his lead, but he had no idea where to go in this situation. Everything that could be going wrong was going wrong.
Belinda, spitting words out from behind clenched teeth, kept darting her eyes back and foth between Charles and Abigail. Charles knew the truth, the truth hid so long ago from Abigail, and Belinda knew the truth.
Only Abigail didn’t.
“You fool!” Belinda seethed. “You have no idea what you’ve done. You have no idea what you’ve lost.” She bucked and writhed beneath the red cage of supernatural plasma. Charles could feel it weaken, buckling beneath the sheer force of her magic and rage.
“The Everdark,” Belinda said and paused. She looked up at Abigail.
“The Everdark was going to bring her back, Charles.” Belinda’s eyes met his own and filled with a sudden, intense ocean of sadness.
“The Everdark was going to bring back Samantha.”
Charles buckled under the words, he falling from his knee to the ground fully. He felt his hand fall from the cage, it beginning to flicker in and out of existence. Belinda was almost free, but it didn’t matter.
Samantha.
“Dad?” Abigail said, hand again on his shoulder as she dropped to her knee beside him. “Dad? What’s she talking about?” Abigail asked with a strained voice and an urgency he could understand.
Abigail recognized her mother’s name.
The legend of Samantha Herant and her disappearance still rang through the halls and annals of every grand supernatural and magical social circle. Perhaps the greatest scandal of the last thousand years, when Charles Herant’s wife went missing, the worlds were upended.
Most especially Belinda’s world.
Samantha’s sister. Charle’s sister-in-law. Abigail’s aunt.
Abigail was three years old when her mother went missing. For a grand princess of the Fae to just disappear almost brought the worlds to war, yet no direct evidence of any particular wrongdoing by any particular group was ever uncovered or brought forth. Samantha Herant, daughter of King Therannys, was one of the most beloved members of any court, perhaps ever.
Her disappearance was all the more shocking because of the fierce love peoples of all races and worlds held for her. Those who knew her loved her and those who didn’t wished for the chance.
Abigail couldn’t know who she was and anyone who knew of her existence: Belinda, Charles, and King Therannys. Once the King was assassinated, only Belinda and Charles knew of Abigail’s true lineage and bloodline.
“Dad? What’s she talking about? Is she talking about…Mom?”
Belinda looked up at her, not waiting for Charles’ permission.
“Yes, Abigail. Your Mom, Samantha Herant.” Belinda coughed and settled into her restraints, what was left of them anyway.
“Your Mother Samantha was the Princess Heir to the mighty Unseeling Court, daughter of our Father, King Therranys. After the assassination of our father, the High Court was created, as a way to appease the lesser courts and diminish the calls of revolt and mutiny that was beginning to foment.”
Belinda closed her eyes and sighed.
“No one knows who you are, Abigail, other than your father and I.” Belinda opened her eyes, staring almost into Abigail’s soul.
“If people knew you were alive, the daughter of Princess Samantha, every single court, house, and grand hall in all of the worlds that matter would rise up against the High Council and appoint you leader. I was going to avoid all that, as the Everdark was going to bring back your mother.”
Belinda looked at Charles, almost as if the debate about the Everdark was one that stood long between them. Perhaps it had. “Charles, the Everdark was going to bring back Samantha.”
Belinda looked at Abigail and sighed, the years of secrecy crashing down around all their heads.
“You’re a fairy princess, Abigail. Perhaps the most important person, the most important creature, in all the worlds.”
Belinda paused, considering her next words carefully.
“And now you’ve got to run for your life.”
