Page 143 of The World Undone

“And twins are powerful.” I hated myself as soon as the statement slipped through. Obviously he knew that already. I found myself desperately wanting to please this uncle, to impress him with the half-formed scraps of knowledge I’d been handed through Lucifer, Cyrus, and the others.

He grinned, pushing past the embarrassment I was sure was legible on my cheeks. “Very. But do you know why they are so powerful?”

I shook my head, wanting the explanation to come from him.

“Because they are in perfect unity, perfect balance. When supernatural twins are born, they represent a magical sync that isn’t often found, one that cannot simply be created. A way to siphon and control power through a constant ebb and flow—mirrors that refract and reflect in perfect harmony. Like a breath—an inhaling and exhaling in equal measure. It’s a fragile power, but an impossibly important one.”

“Which is why twins are so often portal guardians.” I thought of Nash, and what had become of his sister Nika, what had happened to Darius and his younger sister—both harsh, painful examples of what could come from disruptions to that delicate balance.

He ran his fingers through his long beard, nodding. “Portal guardians are twins because the realms were created by twins. They are a fragmented mirror of that power, an attempt to harness and use it. But it is always an imperfect system—they are not of the original lines. According to our stories, when the realms were created, power was siphoned through two pairs, one on this side and one on the other.”

“And so our family,” the phrase tasted strange on my tongue, “was one of those sets?”

“Yes. But that power cannot die. With it, the realms collapse. So every other generation or two, twins would be born from that ancestral line, the power and connection to the magic inherited by the new generation.”

“You and my mom, you mean—you are the most recent twins? The anchors?”

“Yes, we were. Or are,” he grunted, “I hardly know anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“The connection to the realms, to the magic, only works as a set. When that set is fractured or broken, it has nowhere to go, the balance is twisted. Things began to change, morph, when Sayty disappeared into hell many years ago.”

“You weren’t with her?” It was only one of a thousand questions I wanted the answer to.

I knew of course that she’d been to hell. Where else would she have met Lucifer? Though it was still shocking to consider. The Guild had never been able to access the hell realm—it was one of the reasons they told us they kept their prisoners. To pull the location from them, to find a way to close the realms for good—to protect humanity.

A weird spark of pride licked up my spine at my mother defying them—at her doing the one thing they could not.

He shook his head. “Sayty and I were almost never in the same place at the same time. From the moment we were born, we’ve been in the same room as each other only a handful of times. The anchors’ power is more volatile when we are together. It becomes too unpredictable, an infinite echo that grows too strong—too easy to manipulate, too tempting for others to try and harness. And the power only holds if we continue our lines and stay alive until we do. The odds are better if we are not together.”

Like the council. They were certainly more difficult to find and kill when we had to track them down across the world.

“When your mother returned, she was pregnant with you. She visited me here, very briefly, though I remember only one thing from that meeting—” seeing the question form on my lips, he grinned then pressed on before I could interrupt, “You have her patience, I see. She was with a man, one who had the ability to mind warp. I remembered only what he wanted me to remember. Probably for your safety as well as mine.”

“Do you know who he was?”

He shook his head. “I remember almost nothing about him, just that he was there, that he apologized for his mental intrusion.” He snorted. “Which was thoughtful, I suppose.”

“The one thing?” I dug my hands into Ralph’s fur to keep from grabbing Saif’s head and shaking the answers from it. I’d been fed so few truths about my family, about my mother’s history—I was greedy for every morsel he’d give me.

“He told me to find Michael. That if I could locate him, I could potentially save my life—and yours.”

“You know about the realm’s collapsing, then? That I will need to prevent it?”

His nostrils flared slightly, like he was sniffing the magic in the air. “Even the humans are beginning to sense that something is off, Max. And I am more closely tied to the magic between realms than almost anyone.” He tilted his head, studying me again. “Or at least I was, before you.”

“Who is Michael?” I asked, not entirely sure if I should apologize for that.

“The missing half to the other set.” At my look of confusion, he grunted. “You are the daughter of Lucifer, are you not?”

I exhaled. “As in Michael, Michael? Like the angel?”

“He’s no more angel than Lucifer or our ancestors, or any of the other ancients from before. Whatever word we attach to them, he and Lucifer are the only pair. Through them on one side, and our ancestors on the other, the realms were created—worlds mirrored to each other, at first. But protectors grew greedy. And it became clear very quickly to our ancestors that crafting the new realm had nothing to do with creating more space, with protecting humanity from the power we wield. It had only to do with some people’s incessant thirst for power. Because it was born of greed, the magic through the years grew only more demanding, ever-hungry. It fed and thrived on a thirst for violence, power, and chaos, distorting the energy into something it was never meant to be.”

“Lucifer has a twin,” I repeated, my brain stuck on that thought. “He never mentioned it.”

“So you’ve met him?” Saif asked, his eyes hard and the subtle curve of his mouth flattening out into a line. He clearly had no love for the man.

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