I look back toward the entrance and there’s nothing there. Just mirror upon mirror upon mirror, like one of those funhouses on Coney Island.
A shadow crosses the mirrors, dark and swift.
“Hello?” I call, spinning around. I see nothing but reflection after reflection. I still, trying to get my bearings. Another movement. Not from outside the mirrors, but from the inside. I take a step forward and peer inside. There’s no refection. I lift my hand and press it against the glass. It’s warm, like the ring. “Anyone here?”
“Hello, friend.”
I spin and see Morgan smiling from another mirror, this one just behind me. She’s in a black nightgown, one that clings to her large belly and reveals the swell of her breasts. Her hair is curly and wild. I spot tiny diamond hoops glinting from her ears.
“Are you real? Or is this another dream.”
“Another?” When I don’t reply, she studies me carefully. “It’s real. We’ve spent weeks trying to find a way to communicate. The Gods wouldn’t answer. Christensen has no information.”
“Well, we had a Christensen, too. But now he’s gone. Replaced.”
Her face pales, and she absorbs that information before continuing. “The guys used every contact in every realm that they had, but no one knows anything. We’ve been waiting for you to find the ring. What took so long?”
I hold up my hand. “It was buried in my trunk
.”
“Damien made that and spelled it to be hidden in your belongings. It was to reveal itself when you needed us. I guess it wasn’t time.”
I study the handcrafted ring. Damien made this? I shouldn’t be surprised. The magic feels so similar to the blade Morgan had given me—also forged by the Guardian.
I look at my friend. My goal had been to come here and take care of this for the Guardians. I don’t want them to worry. “How’s the baby?”
“Perfect.” Her hand rubs her stretched belly. “Tell me, what do you need?”
“Morgan, we made a deal.”
“To fight for the guardians. Yes.” For the first time she looks at me—really notices me—at my cleanliness and casual outfit. She turns her attention behind me, to the enchanted hallway. “You don’t look like you’re on a battlefield.”
“I’m in an Academy. The Academy for the Immortals. The Stone, the key, the temple, it’s all here.”
Her expression turns hopeful. “And you’ve found these things?”
“Found and sealed off. For now.”
“I don’t understand.”
I give her a brief update—I explain how we have the key and that we’re fighting to keep the temple closed. That the plan is to just keep the apocalypse at bay—as long as we can. Anger flickers in her eyes when I tell her the gods sent Roland to move things along and that Marshal has defected.
“You’re avoiding the Apocalypse?” she asks, forehead creased. “Is that possible?”
“We’d hoped so, but now 'stalling' is probably a better term. Roland won’t allow it to stay closed forever.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Shore up our allies, I guess.” But there’s something that nags at me. It hasn’t left my mind since I met with Christensen weeks ago. The Immortals and our role in this together.
I look closely at my friend. “The connection you have with the Guardians…it makes you stronger, right?”
“Yes, because we were fated, every physical interaction we had made us stronger. It sealed our mating, which, in turn, increased our power.”
“Enough that you were able to finally overthrow the Morrigan.”
She nods, and I consider this. Christensen said I could bring balance. The Immortals are still lost, without mooring. Roland’s arrival only made this worse, something I’m sure the gods anticipated.