Page 104 of A Game of Monsters

It went on like this for a while. The room simmering in silence, only broken when Seraphine found something else to share.

“This tome explains that when Altar stole the power source of the realms, which was soon after named Duwar, it left behind an endless black chasm in the far north of what is now Wychwood.” Seraphine turned the book around so we could see the pages, and on it was a sketch of a familiar map of land. “Look here.”

I did, narrowing my eyes on the location. “Is that…”

“The Sleeping Depths,” Gyah answered for me. It was the lake we had visited all those months ago, when Althea’s brother Orion had died at the hands of a Hunter. “That would explain why nothing that enters the waters of that lake survives.”

Because Altar stole the power of the world and used it for his own gain. There had to be a price to pay, and that was what we knew as the Sleeping Depths. I remembered how no light reflected off the waters, and how eerily quiet it was as if the lake repelled anything natural.

“…with desperate hands, Altar took something which never belonged to him. And with it he used the power of chaos and life, weaving it amongst his creations, giving them access to powers that no mortal deserved to hold.” Seraphine paused, her fingers lingering on the sentence she was reading. “There is further comment on how the Creator willed his powerless humans to hunt down any powered fey and cast them into the abyss of nothingness, thus removing them from ever being a threat. But it was years later when the fey moved into the realm now known as Wychwood, but at this time there was no border. Do you see.”

As she turned the book around again, nail pointing toward the map, a sound of footsteps rose beyond the closed door.

Heart in my throat, I stood before it opened. All thoughts of fey, gods and death-filled lakes left my mind in an instant.

Rafaela stood beneath the arched entrance to the room, puffing slightly from her rushed visit. Her eyes found mine and held them. “Duncan lives.”

Something was missing in Rafaela’s admission. Like a ‘but’ or ‘for now’. I sensed it, read it in the silence of her abrupt stop.

I couldn’t move. I didn’t make a sound. I worried it would break this illusion and the real truth would catch up to me.

Erix closed into my side, offering his strong body as a frame for me to lean into. His presence alone gave me the strength to force a few words out.

“Can we… see him?” I asked, knowing I spoke for two people, no longer just one.

“Yes, but only if you are careful. The Transfiguration will still take time to complete. For now, Duncan has spiritually survived the Creator’s will; we must now wait for his body to catch up, so to say.” Rafaela looked exhausted, but even through it she didn’t stop smiling. Hope glimmered in her bright eyes, making them almost shine like they were filled with tears. “I only ask that you allow him to… wake when he is ready.”

“What do you mean?” I said, the question changing Rafaela’s demeanour in a flash. Suddenly her smile faltered. Rafaela’s hands wrung together, eyes downcast to the floor, shoulders hunched. “If he lives, he has been successful, no?”

“It is not as clear cut as that.”

It was Seraphine who added more context. “According to this text, the final step of the Transfiguration is some sort of metamorphosis of the physical body. The Creator accepts the soul as worthy, but the body must always complete the change.”

I knew what she meant. I’d seen and fought against enough Nephilim to know their bodies, and how different they were. I hadn’t contemplated how Duncan would survive this, forever changed.

Would he be the same man I knew, or different in ways that go far beyond his flesh? Either way, it was his soul I loved. Put it in the shell of a beast, and my views of him wouldn’t change.

“We would like to see him,” I said, already taking the necessary steps toward Rafaela, Erix following like a shadow. “If he is going to wake up –whenhe wakes – I want us to be the people there to greet him.”

“Of course,” Rafaela bowed, clutching the doorframe for support. “Just be cautious, that is all I ask.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to thank her, but until I saw Duncan breathing and the world freed from Cassial and Duwar’s threat, I would keep my lips sealed. Superstition weighed heavy on me, but that didn’t stop Rafaela from recognising my emotions when she caught my eye.

“You have worked valiantly,” Erix said to Rafaela as we passed, his brow softening over tired eyes. “For that there will not be enough thanks that would suffice.”

Rafaela bowed, a sombre smile flickering at the corners of her lips. As I got past her, she grasped my arm, fingers pinching into my skin. “Erix, what you find in that room will be a shock to you both.”

“As long as he survives, I don’t care–”

“No, Robin. I didn’t mean a shock for you,” Rafaela released me, parting from the door to allow room for me to pass. “I’m referring to Duncan. When he wakes, the world will be different for him. I ask that you are careful with him. Give him time to adjust.”

“Time,” I choked on the word. “It’s not exactly a luxury we have.”

When we returned to the ceremony room, Duncan was no longer in the pool of sacred water. The first thing I noticed was that he was missing, and my heart skipped a beat, panic seizing my lungs immediately. If it wasn’t for Erix gesturing away from the pool, I might’ve screamed so loud it would have woken every stone-bound Nephilim on the island.

“It’s okay, little bird. Look. Duncan is still with us.”

I followed Erix’s finger and took in the almost impossible view before me.

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