Wyrd: Book One of the Witch War Trilogy - WATTYS 2018 WINNER!

Chapter 32: Where Will Grapples with his Past(s)

Will had lived before. Not once, not twice, but at least four times. In each life, he had found Sky. He had loved Sky. She was his soulmate. Romantic though Will was, he had never expected to be drawn through lifetimes and across worlds, beyond time, always back to his twin flame. She called and he answered.

Sky was his port in the storm.

Will had died before. Not once, not twice, but at least four times. According to his math, to have lived each of those times and to have known Sky, he must have died young in each one. He knew, the way you know these things about past lives, that he had been spared the memory of all but one of his violent deaths. In each he had gone unwillingly. Brutally. He'd been wrenched from his bloody body again and again and again and again.

Sky was the eye of the storm.

With the summation of the knowledge Will had gained, he knew: the Gods had written the end of the story for Earth and Htrae. They had said their goodbyes and wiped their dirty hands clean on a cataclysmic conclusion for human and wizardkind, and all life on both worlds; not once, not twice, but at least four times. The first time Sky had fought the will of the Gods, the Gods had laughed and scoffed at her. What is a demi-God stripped of her title, only a Valkyrie, nipping at the heels of the verses' most powerful deities throwing their power behind a cunning Empress?

Will saw Sky for what she was: a warrior. But she had something more important, even, then her will to fight. She had something so paltry, so mortal, that the Gods underestimated its power.

She had love. Love for the twin world she was saving, for the wizards and humans she had come to know, for all the form of wildlife she'd witnessed,but also for something else.

Love for a man.

Someone else.

Love for Aman Solam.

The memories had streamed into Will, and now all he could do was remember.

Sky had loved Aman Solam with all of her supernatural being.

Sky's rebellion against the Empress and the Gods had cost her many friends, but it wasn't until Aman picked up a pitchfork to help defend the country town he lived in that everything went sideways. One minute Aman was holding that pitchfork, ready to defend, the next, he was holding hands with Sky, holding court with the Gods at the base of the Yggdrasil tree.

Twisted roots, each the size of a giant Sequoia tree lay at their feet, a trunk so large it seemed to go on for eternity, extending into the fathomless abyss of the heavens above them. Gods, some taking the form of formidable or terrifying creatures, some beings of sheer light, some almost humanoid, peered at them expectantly. At their front was Sky's mother, old and gnarled and angry.

"You will," she said, "stop fighting us."

Sky just smirked at her mother defiantly. Aman could only admire her ferocity. Not a chance his warrior wife would lay down arms and stop defending those she loved. Nor would she abandon the worlds she believed in.

"Fair enough. Keep fighting, you fool. Keep fighting and," she pointed at Aman, "we will kill him. Not a year from now, but today."

Aman smiled at the Goddess, a smirk befitting a man who believes he has nothing to lose.

"It's not much of a bargain, Dear Mother, when I die at the end of the Worlds, regardless of your threat."

Aman could not look at Sky. There would be fear written in her eyes at the prospect of his imminent death. Pain. Heartbreak.