Page 35 of Secrets of Avalon
I grin to myself under the cover of my oversized hood. Knights of the Round Table. They’re real. Next thing you know, someone will let it slip that Merlin runs a magick school somewhere. “Hawke is a Knight?”
Kellan blows out a slow breath. “Yes, and all the men he left you with are Knights, except his brother Destrien.”
“So is the story of King Arthur real?”
Episode 6
CHAPTER 16
The Curse We Chose
Hawke Stormblood
I stand and watch Kellan lead Melinda out of the Hall of Realms. The crushing weight of letting her walk away, of having to deal with yet another problem and not stay with her is maddening. I’m drowning in a sea of frustration and anger, the urge to tear my hair out rising with every passing second. She’s mine. I need her at my side.
Everything around me seems determined to keep me from her.
Fenrir puts a hand on my shoulder and I meet his knowing gaze for a brief moment. In his eyes, I see the same haunted look that I know all too well–the weight of our shared sacrifice, the constant fear of losing ourselves to the darkness within.
Each of us bears the scars of our missing soul shards, the toll manifesting in unique and terrifying ways. For Fenrir, it’s the constant battle to control and contain the primal wolf inside him. For Ares, it’s the simmering anger that threatens to consume him. For Wraith, the need to feed grows unbearably strong. And for me, it's the ever-present dread of going feral, of losing control and becoming the very monster I sacrificed my soul to protect others from.
"Ready to fetch our wayward knight?" Ares quips from my right, his tone light despite the undercurrent of tension. His eyes flicker with barely contained anger.
I nod, my jaw clenched. "We need to be quick. The High Council will only grow more agitated the longer we take."
Ares gives a huff of annoyance, the gravity of the situation not lost on him despite the feigned nonchalance.
Wraith approaches our group, embracing and greeting each of the other Knights in turn. “Boaz still isn’t here?” The bond between us, forged in blood and sacrifice is unbreakable. We are brothers united in our cause, in our pain, in our very essence. The simple act of Wraith’s embrace, the concern in his eyes when he asks about Boaz, speaks volumes. It’s a silent communication, a reassurance that we are not alone.
“Something’s wrong. He’s never been late before,” I say, keeping my voice low. “How are your sister and brother-in-law? The kids weren’t too shaken up?”
“They’re good, headed to their apartments to rest and eat a meal. The kids are fine. They barely seemed fazed.” Wraith’s eyes flicker from golden to red and back again, signaling his emotional state is not quite an even keel yet.
“Good. That’s good,” I say, sneaking a look back at the doorway where I’d last glimpsed Melinda, my heart squeezing hard with the need to go to her.
Fenrir, ever the silent observer, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “She’s safe with her Drakonii, Hawke. The council didn’t notice her except to try and humiliate Ares for being a womanizer.”
His comment doesn’t help me. I don’t want her with the dragon. I want her with me. She should be with me.
“Fucking Darkwood.” Ares snarls in a low deadly voice. “I was about to take his head off if he’d pushed any further.” The Olympian rolls his head back and forth, cracking a few vertebrae, the struggle to control his anger evident in every movement.
“Fen is right. It was better they assumed what they did about her, instead of being more curious.” I gesture for Ares to walk with me. “Do you have extra ambrosia with you, in case he needs more than normal?”
“Yes. But people are bound to notice if all of you keep upping your doses like you have the last few decades.”
“If that becomes an issue, we’ll deal with it, Ares,” Wraith whispers, “but until then, just keep going about it like you have been. The last thing we need is the High Council thinking we’re sick.”
The mention of ambrosia, the very thing that keeps us all functioning, that keeps the darkness at bay, makes me take a deep breath. It’s hard. This fight we must fight to keep our humanity.
“Agreed,” Ares says. “Let’s just find Boaz and knock some sense into him for not telling me something was wrong sooner.”
I lead the way to the already open Vanir Realm door. Its shimmering surface beckons, the air around it thick with Fae magick. I step through the horizon and the familiar sensation of being pulled through space and time washes over me like a thousand icy needles.
We emerge into the grand hall of the Elven castle, the ethereal beauty of the room always makes me pause a moment. The air is filled with the delicate scent of blooming flowers, and the soft light filtering through the stained-glass windows casts a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished marble floor. The Elven know how to make an impressive first impression.
The grand hall stretches before us, its walls adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the four elements. At the far end, four thrones rise majestically, each one crafted from a single solid gemstone representing each element - earth, air, water, and fire. Even the architecture of the throne room seamlessly integrates facets of each element into the throne room.
“My Lord Knights, how can I help you?” A young water Elven halts our progress across the room. He bows low, his bright blue hair flopping forward.