Page 145 of The World Undone

In comparison to what came before me, and what lay ahead of me, I felt weak—clumsy and incompetent.

I nodded, swallowing back the rush of emotion that washed over me, thick and hurried, now that I finally dared to look at it.

“Me too,” he whispered. Some strange kinship floated between us, a tether of acknowledgment, of sameness. The power that flowed through me flowed through him too, but when I looked into his eyes, I saw the same fear, the same sense of incompetence against what we were up against. We were just two people, each holding only a fraction of the power of our ancestors, the original anchors. And we were all that stood between the realm and a power that had grown only stronger with a hunger to devour it.

Though we’d had radically different experiences, the loneliness of our roles in this world was mirrored in each other.

Saif wouldn’t try to stop me. He wouldn’t fight me on my decision like my team had, wouldn’t tell me it was the wrong choice.

Because it wasn’t.

The blood of our ancestors flowed through us—that power, that connection was a sacred promise that had to be fulfilled. Put right.

He stood up, closed the few feet between us, and dropped next to me, awkwardly patting Ralph on the head as the hound adjusted to the added presence.

Saif’s shoulder pressed against mine, his side leaning into me—a strange, unexpected comfort, steady and true even though I’d only just met him.

Silence fell over us for a long stretch, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was just surreal.

My mother’s twin was alive. My uncle. And he was sitting next to me.

Something about his presence gave me a new kind of strength—an acceptance of what was to come. Maybe even a sense of pride in feeling connected to this long line of ancestors I’d been deprived of knowing. I wasn’t alone in this task. I didn’t know him, but Saif was here now, he was part of this with me.

An idea started to form, ephemeral and transparent at first, but growing solid with hope.

“Do you know where we’re from?” I asked, trying to keep the excitement from my voice. I’d been denied my own history for so long that I was starved for even the barest taste of it, the smallest morsel. But it was bigger than that, bigger than my own desires. “The ritual requires a nexus. Lucifer thinks it might be where the original ritual took place, though he has no memory of it.”

“Our ancestors are from a region in Southwest Asia, near modern day Lebanon.” He paused, considering for a moment, while I lingered on that word—our. “Though that doesn’t necessarily mean that was where this all began. The ancients could shift through space, they moved through the world with a different kind of ease than most understand. The spot where they landed—it could be anywhere.”

I slumped back against Ralph, wrestling with the impossible scope of anywhere.

Lucifer was supposedly there in some capacity—maybe we had a better chance of jostling his memory, with magic, or a trick of some sort.

“Is he certain that it must be the literal place of origin?”

I shrugged, unsure.

We settled back into silence, the temporary lightness growing heavier with each passing moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the fragile silence, “I wish that I’d done more, that I hadn’t spent so much time trying to avoid what couldn’t be avoided. I’m sorry that I’ve left you to face this alone.”

“I know.” I wasn’t alone. My fear slowly started to ebb, making way for not quite the calm of acceptance, but something much closer to it than I’d felt before. “I understand. I wouldn’t have been able to let go of that hope either, if I thought she might still be alive, out there somewhere.”

His jaw clenched, expression unreadable. He took a deep, steadying breath, then turned to me. His rough hands grabbed mine, peeling my fingers back until he revealed the stone.

His gaze dropped to it, focused and unsure. After a heavy sigh, he nodded, then he picked the stone up, sliced the sharp edge into the tender flesh of my palm, and carved a rune into my skin that I couldn’t make sense of.

“Hey,” I pulled my arm back, staring at the small pool of blood cradled in my hand. “What the hell?”

Without explanation, he sliced a similar wound into his own flesh, then grasped my hand with his, our blood mingling as one.

His eyes held mine, unblinking, and I found myself unable to move, unable to look away. He spoke in a language I didn’t recognize, but it resonated deep in my chest like a rumbling drum, and moved up my throat until his low and melodic voice harmonized with mine. I didn’t breathe as an unfamiliar tightness wrapped around me, a vise I couldn’t break from.

Panic bled through every atom in my body, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand up or push him away. It was like he’d cast a trance over me, one my body was determined to wait out, no matter the consequences.

The black of his eyes bled, until no white remained, the swirling smoke there calling to me in its strangeness.

Then, as quick and firm as the trance had held, it loosened.

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