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“No.”
And the wizard steps back.
Away from Spider.
Back into the swirling sands.
There has been enough destruction today.
They have had enough destruction for a lifetime.
They cannot do this anymore. They cannot end everything with a blade and a spell and the itching of power through their veins. They won’t. They refuse. Damn Spider. Damn Raven. They just want to put the worlds right, hold what little they have together.
Someone else can take it.
They cannot carry this anymore.
It’s too heavy.
“You’re going to back down now! When we have him weakened!” Mellori shouts, marching past them towards Spider. “Mother was right about you, I should have listened sooner.”
Mother.
Mother?
“Oh come on, like you actually believed Baba Yaga was my real mother—or that Spider was the only one who could have children?”
And suddenly.
Horribly.
It all.
Makes.
Sense.
The feathers. The Auroracle. Baba Yaga trying to keep her away from the fight. The constant push towards Spider. The wizard feels as though the world has dropped out from beneath their feet. The sand must be pooling away from them. Opening up to swallow them whole. How had they missed it? How could they have been so stupid?
“I’m here because mother knew you would fail. She told me all about you, she made sure I was with you, in case you couldn’t finish the job!” Mellori sounds ragged and, more hurt than angry. “But I will—whatever the cost!” And of course, Spider had been counting on that. Had been counting on the daughter of Raven to do what she must, to act as she would.
Fight snaps back into their system a moment too late.
It is Khrysalis again. It is watching Dyvim fall and being able to do nothing.
It is standing in the Zocalo and making eye contact with Pacal and knowing they cannot save him.
When it’s done.
When Mellori and Spider are gone and the sands of time are restored.
The wizard does not return to the Arcanum.
They go to Grizzleheim.
They ask Baldur to take them across to the Fjord, and he does so without question. They run—frigid cold biting them after the heat of Mirage—to the tree where they had first seen Raven in her true form. And the tree is vacant. Branches empty. They take the steps down to the trunk two at a time, to find the sisters who had first helped them free Raven of her cage in the first place.
“Where is she.” The sisters cackle at them in response. A croaking cacophonous echo that does nothing to quell the rising tide of rage.
“Where is who, savior cub?” Urd asks, eyes full of malicious glee.
“Where is Raven, don’t make the mistake of talking me in circles—I have lost too much today to worry about where my limits lie.” It is half falsehood. Mostly bluff. They are dead walking at best right now. They have not slept in days. They are ragged and empty but raw anger has carried them this far, who could say how much farther it would go.
“The Lady Nightstar seeks her counterpart and her enemy.” Verdandi says, head cocking just slightly to one side. “Keep yourself to yourself, you are woven in now, there will be no saving you.”
And Skuld finishes, “You would do well to take your failures and move on. Enjoy what moments remain. The spiral wanes to minutes in the eyes of the Raven and the Spider. The storm they brew is stronger than the song, the winds will shake everything to an end.”
The wizard is shaking.
They want to scream.
They want, for a moment, to take their hurt out on this trio, these old hags who do nothing but watch and wait and ponder what has been, what is, what will be.
What won’t be.
“You’re wrong.” They have no energy to call to the words, so they fall hollow and shapeless and bitter. It doesn’t matter, none of this matters, “Tell me where she’s gone—where they’ve both gone—I need—”
“—what you need is to accept the Spiral’s course towards destruction.” Skuld tells them, eyes casting skyward.
“It has been this way since it was spun. From song and fragment and starlight.” Urd confirms, “This has always been the path. This will always be the path.”
Verdandi is the one watching them closest, “Disregard them,” she says “walk where you were always going to walk, where you are heading even without decision, what is left of the elements in your wake? What are you going to do now?”
Neither of the other two respond to those words, and the wizard questions if they even heard their sister speak. Or if for the moment each is too bound in their own time. Past, present, future. They stare back at Verdandi, the brown feathered raven, the present, the eyes on now. “Please.” The word is small, ripped raw from them without their input.
“Your allies know where she will go. We will not say, we cannot say, you know better than to ask.” They want to tell Verdandi that very clearly they do not, but it won’t help anything. “You are not to be here, not now. Go where you are meant, Wizard.”
Almost without needing to, they obey.
What else can they do?
What else have they ever done?