Discord's Apple

“But to sacrifice the world?”

He smiled with unfathomable wisdom and knowledge. “It’s happened before. But the world always comes back, Evie.”

He turned to walk out into the storm.

She grabbed his arm. “You can’t go out there!”

“Why not?” he said. “Because it’ll kill me?”

He’d been dying all along, and this was better. Wasn’t it? Wouldn’t Homer have thought so?

“There are stronger forces than Discord. They must survive. Go into the Storeroom. Find the box.” Then he looked at Alex. “Go with her. Help her.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said, his voice tight.

Merlin said to Frank, “I can send them to a safe place. It’s why we’re here—to protect the seeds, to help grow a new world after the chaos.”

Her father nodded. “Good. But wait—wait until Evie tells you to.”

“But I won’t leave!”

They all focused on Frank, who stood like a pillar, untroubled by the wind buffeting him.

Hushed, Alex said, “Sometimes a person can change the world by sacrificing his life.”

Arthur saluted Frank with his sword. “I will give them the time they need.”

“But you—” She looked between Arthur and Merlin. “This isn’t your story, you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to, to—” Die here, sacrifice themselves—

“Don’t worry about us,” Arthur said, laughing. “We’ve been through much worse than this.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Merlin said. “Our story is just beginning!”

“Dad—”

“When she gets the apple, she’ll be distracted. She won’t be thinking of the rest of the Storeroom. You’ll have an extra few minutes.”

“But, Dad—”

He touched her face, a fleeting brush of fingers along her cheek. Her skin tingled with it. “I didn’t get to say good-bye to your mother. This is better. Good-bye, Evie.”

He started down the steps. Alex held her back, gripping her arms, and she leaned against him, toward her father.

Mab pushed out the doorway, moving stiffly, her wounds bleeding. On the first step she nudged Frank, gazed up at him, and wagged her tail.

Evie paused. She whispered, “Go with him. Take care of him.”

Her father looked down at the dog and laced his fingers in the fur on her neck. She was exactly the right height for him to lean on her. He met Evie’s gaze once more, then turned away. They walked down the steps, onto the driveway.

From the wind, mist, and darkness, a trio of figures approached to meet him and the dog at his side. One of them was tall and poised, like a goddess. The others, a man and woman, her lieutenants, emulated her carriage. A space of calm formed around them. The wind didn’t gust there.

“Come on, Evie,” Alex said into her ear. “Come on!” He gripped her around the middle and hauled back, stumbling with her into the kitchen. Merlin followed, and Arthur protected their retreat.

Into the house, through the kitchen, down the stairs. A window shattered as a piece of debris struck it. Dad was still out there. Hera wouldn’t care if he lived or died.

She’d felt very little when she found the Marquis’s body. His death hadn’t entirely surprised her. She’d been prepared to make sacrifices. He’d succeeded, and that was something. The house was free now. Maybe she would name a bird after him.

In the space of quiet she’d created, Hera watched the old man and the dog approach. No, he wasn’t an old man. He was solidly middle aged, but old before his time. Dying. Even the dog seemed to be on its last leg, limping, bleeding from a dozen hastily stitched cuts.