Chapter 9

9

Bridger forced himself to stay awake on the trip to Aeris, afraid of the dreams that might torment him if he did sleep. Meyer dozed off early on, mumbling in his sleep.

Stella, the capital city of Tolevarre, sat above the clouds, and had once been the most peaceful place in the realm where every star outside the galaxy could be seen on a clear night. Now things were darker, the sun never seemed to peak as high as it once did during the warm season, and the stars had lost their sparkle a long time ago.

The nirvanic nights were no more, replaced with a chill that sat at the base of Bridger's spine at the mere mention of Aeris.

A welcome feeling for the Commander of Tolevarre whose life was no longer light and love but corruption and malice.

He was everything his parents hoped he would be and more.

Bridger had chosen this life. There was no going back. The darkness had consumed him.

Bridger kicked Meyer's boot to nudge him awake when Marlena's estate came into view, the sun setting behind the mountains with an ominous glow over the manor. "We're here."

This home always made Bridger antsy. Even with the original building long gone, the ghosts of what happened here still lived somewhere deep inside him. Bridger would never forget Vega's scream when Marlena ripped her father's heart from his chest. Jonan's spirit would haunt this land until the end of time.

Some memories couldn't be suppressed, even with powers like his.

Marlena wanted to live here to remind everyone of what she'd done to her own family, of what she would do to them if they weren't careful.

The door to their vehicle opened as soon as it came to a rolling stop. Bridger expected to see one of his soldiers. Instead, they were greeted by the praefectus of Fortis—Bridger's homeland.

After burning almost all of Stella to the ground, Marlena implemented new rules and elected new rulers, whom she gave the title praefectus, to help her control those who were still alive. Their roles and titles were a tiny reminder they were only governors under Marlena and would always answer to her, always be below her.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting the two of you to ride together." Katrin dipped her head as a hello. "Meyer."

Meyer nodded, not saying a word as he shooed her away from the door with a flick of his wrist so they could exit.

Bridger met Katrin's gaze when he exited the vehicle, landing on a set of eyes the same dark color as his, her raven hair cut along her chin in a bob. "Hello, Mother." He stood to his full height, adjusting his cape.

"I think I'll go for a walk. I'll see you at dinner," Meyer said. As quickly as he'd exited the cab of their vehicle, Meyer disappeared into the garden of Marlena's home, leaving Bridger alone with his mother.

Fucking prick.

Bridger shut the door behind him. The matte black military machine roared to life with black smoke puffing through the exhaust on top. Its four knobby tires meant for the rickety roads of the outlying territories grating against the clean cobblestone drive circling around the entrance of Marlena's home.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, striding up to the grand entrance of the estate.

Katrin kept up to his pace, her long legs meeting him step for step. "Can't a mother come see her only child? It's been months."

The look Bridger gave her was cold, his eyebrow shooting up as he waited for the real reason.

"Marlena invited me. She asked me to be here before the meeting. She sends her apologies for not being here upon your arrival." Katrin clasped her hands together at the front of her body. Poised. Raised to follow from a young age.

Bridger rolled his eyes. "You don't need to apologize for her. She doesn't mean it anyway." He was the only one who would outwardly say anything contentious about Marlena. She let him get away with it only because it helped build his image.

The angry, tortured, and fearful commander.

"Bridger," his mother hissed in warning.

"Please don't mock me by scolding me like a child. I'm not the boy I once was who could be easily swayed by your warnings." The doors opened into the luxurious foyer. The home was made of the finest materials from all over the realm. It was the perfect gothic dream house with deep emerald greens popping through midnight black, met with dark woods from the forests of Demuto. The home was too big for Marlena alone, but thankfully, she had a staff big enough to run an entire city and keep it clean, filling the corridors with noise.

Marlena had it rebuilt after her attack decades ago, but underneath the new floorboards, there was a small dungeon with ten cells and the old bones of the original home; every leader's home in Tolevarre included a small place to hold criminals for questioning and minor crimes.

The real criminals were locked away in Bridger's homeland of Fortis—the land his mother now governed, despite it not being her birthplace.

Katrin was born a Viator, the original bloodline stemming from the dead god Mercury. She married Bridger's father as a young girl to link the Viator and Dimico line together—for power.

Katrin disappeared, gone in the blink of an eye as they ascended the stairs and reappeared outside of the room Bridger and Meyer shared while in Aeris. The black smoke of her traveler's power disappeared above her head.

Sometimes Bridger wished she would get stuck somewhere between time and space, never to return.

"I just don't understand how she hasn't taken a limb from you with the way you speak about her," Katrin commented as they entered the shared living quarters. A fire flickered to life in the hearth upon their arrival, illuminating the common room in a soft glow.

Bridger crossed the room quickly, and prepared himself a drink at the bar cart fully stocked with all of his and Meyer's favorites. He swirled the dark liquid before taking a sip. "In case you've forgotten, she spent two years of my life torturing me. I think she knows better than to cross that line again if she likes me where I am."

Katrin sighed, gliding over to her son. "Let's not talk about that." Her almost-black irises bored into Bridger's—he was a spitting image of the Viator line, but his powers were all Dimico. "You look tired. Are you not sleeping?" She reached out with her perfectly manicured hand and straightened the cape on his shoulders—the same design her husband wore during the entirety of their marriage.

Bridger's uniform was made of a tight material meant to withstand high blows, fire, or any other power that could harm him and was stronger than leather by tenfold. All the soldier's uniforms were made in the same style.

Bridger's accessories set him apart from the rest. His cape wrapped around his shoulders, clasped into place with the gold Dimico insignia: a shield with an arrow stuck through both ends. Every original family had one as a tribute to the god their bloodline and abilities derived from. The material of the cape met the tops of his boots. It fluttered around his ankles as he stiffened like a board at his mother's touch.

"Sleeping as much as the commander of an army can," he said, taking an extra long swig of the drink in his short glass.

Katrin continued to fuss over Bridger, picking off a piece of lint from his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Bridger's muscles wound tighter the longer his mother stood near him.

"Can't have the commander of our army walking around in an untidy uniform. I always used to get on your father about it. He would come in covered in dirt, soot, whatever he'd gotten into that day and think he could just parade around the rest of the night in filth. You have to remember people are always watching you."

He took a step back when he finally had enough of her preening. "Good advice. Thanks." Bridger didn't care for pleasantries when it came to Katrin. "It was a long trip, Mother. I'd like to rest up a bit before dinner." He unclipped his cape and draped it over the back of a chair by the crackling fire.

"Very well." Katrin sighed, but Bridger knew her well enough. She wasn't done. "Marlena mentioned Vega is stirring."

"And why would she tell you that?" He turned slowly. "Better yet, why do you think I need confirmation of that?" He cocked his head. "As if I couldn't tell," Bridger oozed with sarcasm, holding up his wrist with the brand.

She wouldn't answer him directly, choosing to dance around his question. "Eye on the prize, son. I have a feeling this time around you won't be able to avoid her like you have in the last few lives." Katrin reached the door, her hand resting on the knob.

A warning—what did Katrin know that he didn't?

Bridger chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Vega Caelum is at the bottom of my list of things to worry about." But the dreams I'm having of her aren't.

Meyer sat in his usual seat with a glass of wine, ignoring the chatter around him when Bridger stalked into the dining room.

"What have I missed?" Bridger asked as he slid into his seat next to Meyer, avoiding eye contact from the others around the table. Every praefecti of Tolevarre was here tonight—all but the three territories that were lost to the rebellion years before. As soon as Bridger sat, a servant sat a deep red glass of wine on the table beside him. Bridger didn't so much as acknowledge his existence.

In a room full of people who expected him to be the evil he believed himself to be, he must play the part. And Bridger was pretty good at it.

Leaning back in his chair, Meyer let his eyes drift around the table. "Nero and I argued about the age of enlistment and the idea of conscription now that the rebels are causing more trouble. He thinks we're wasting time and resources."

Bridger rolled his eyes, meeting the gaze of the praefectus of Littera. For a man with all the knowledge in the world, he sure knew how to put his nose in places it didn't belong. Nero glanced away.

Meyer continued, "Ivelle asked where you were."

Ivelle Fugere. If Marlena had a friend, she would be the only one.

Her long white dress flowed down to the floor, spilling around her gold heels with straps ascending as far as the eye could see up the slit of her dress.

She wiggled her fingers in a hello as Bridger's eyes scraped over her. With her ethereal beauty, she made it impossible to argue that the gods had once been real. It was her rotten heart that made Bridger recoil .

He returned his attention to his general, aware of Ivelle's continued stare. "Anything else?"

Meyer shook his head as the door to the room slammed open, rattling the hand-painted pictures hanging on the walls.

Marlena's bright blonde hair was pin-straight down her back, catching the wind as she strutted in like she was on a runway. Her leather pants were lined with knife holsters—adorned with blades she didn't need to strike any soul in this room dead. Her boots' heels were made for the dance floor and not a battlefield, clicking against the dark marble as she strode to her seat.

"Let's get started, shall we?" she asked, like she wasn't the one who always kept everyone waiting. "I have a lot to go over tonight." Marlena ran her glassy blue eyes over the people at the table as the servants came by to fill empty wine glasses, and she took her spot at the head of the table. A few members stood, welcoming her.

They didn't stand out of respect. They stood out of fear.

No one ever questioned why Bridger kept seated.

Marlena glanced around the long rectangular table. "As you know, we've almost passed the fifty-five-year mark of my sister's banishment, and every year, the rebels find new ways to corrupt the people of this realm. The uprisings are getting more frequent, and the amount of rebel camps in the outlying lands of your territories is growing." She waved her hands, motioning for everyone to sit back down. Chairs shuffled as they got comfortable again. "Commander Dimico and I talked last week. Each territory will be increasing their presence of soldiers. A new base will be set up outside of each city."

Bridger's eyes crept over the group of people at the table, watching their expressions at the news. Only one stuck out to him, his eyebrow raising when the youngest praefectus's gaze met his and then shot back to the table where he was staring a hole through the thick wood. The unmistakable redhead bounced his leg, shaking the rest of his body .

The meeting continued on, menial tasks being given to everyone to keep them sated with what little power Marlena allowed.

"Very well then." Marlena hummed. "Before we eat, there is one more thing that I'd like to bring to the table. Bridger was kind enough to take time out of his busy schedule to join us tonight, and for good reason." She moved the focus to him, heads at the table turning to follow her gaze.

Bridger stared her down, ready for the real reason they were all here tonight. He knew Marlena hadn't brought him all the way here for nothing—which is what this meeting had been thus far.

Marlena smiled at him, painting on a sweet face. "Khort Fera thinks he's found an ally in the form of a young traveler with a power we've never seen before. I'd love for you to meet him. He'd be a wonderful addition to your army."

Bridger's brow rose, face scrunched in confusion. "You brought me all this way to have me meet a recruit who's been assisting Khort in the rebellion?" Bridger huffed an annoyed laugh. "Seems like a waste of my time, don't you think? And trusting a traveler to do anything but look out for their own agenda is a mistake, Marlena. I shouldn't have to remind you of that." Out of the corner of his eye, Bridger saw Katrin tense.

Marlena stood from her seat at the head of the table and walked down the length of the table, making eye contact with each member as she went.

"What is going on, Marlena?" Bridger asked through gritted teeth.

She quieted him with a finger over her lips before speaking. "I'm getting there. Let me have my moment." Marlena laughed. She ran her finger along an empty corner of the table and stopped when she reached the seat next to Ivelle. The redheaded woman smiled so hard her cheeks might pop.

Whatever secret she was about to expose was no secret to her.

"Almost a year ago, Arlet Videri was seen crossing through the portal to Earth." Marlena paused for dramatic effect, her eyes locked on Bridger. "She's been gone longer than ever, but she's there picking up an essential package, one that I have new plans for this time around." Marlena finished her stroll around the table, stopping behind Bridger's seat. Her hand slid onto Bridger's strong shoulder, slipping to his chest and then back up to the base of his neck

A chill ran down Bridger's spine as her fingers dug into his skin, and emerald-green fire danced from the tips of her crimson-painted fingernails. Bridger shot back, his chair crashing against the floor as he frantically got out of Marlena's grasp.

"So jumpy," she purred, her lips twitching upward into a smirk. Marlena was a tiger toying with a mouse.

Bridger's chest rose with deep breaths. The rest of the table watched, stunned. Marlena had done a lot to Bridger, but it had been many years since she'd publicly treated her commander this way.

Everyone's eyes were on him, undoubtedly waiting to see if the warrior retaliated.

"Halo, our new friend, will be here tomorrow morning to escort you and Meyer to the portal," Marlena told Bridger, her attention fixed on him.

Meyer finally broke the silence the room had fallen into. "What do you mean, to escort us?" He scoffed with irritation.

Marlena answered, "Halo can transport others. I've never seen it done before, but it was quite the discovery."

"Discovery?" Meyer asked, cocking his head. "How old is he?"

Marlena finally turned her focus from Bridger. "Nineteen. He can't even remember a life before my rule. A lost soul who found Khort and his band of rebels when he had no one else to guide him. A boy desperate for love, validation, looking to fit in somewhere. I used to know someone just like him, Bridger." A direct jab. "It didn't take much convincing to get him to agree to help me out." Bridger could relate on levels he never wished to speak about—how it felt when Marlena set her sights on something or someone she wanted. "He will continue to have an alliance with Khort and the rebellion. A perfectly placed spy with the ability to infiltrate whenever and wherever we might need."

Bridger closed the distance, his boots creating a thunderous rattle as the power he possessed bubbled with his anger. "Spit it out, Marlena." He had connected the dots, but Bridger wanted to hear her say the words, letting everyone in on the little mastermind plan that Ivelle and his mother already knew.

You won't be able to avoid her. His mother's words from earlier rang in his ears. Katrin could have warned Bridger, but she would never risk her own life—not for anyone, her son included.

"You and Meyer are going to Earth."

Bridger's jaw clenched.

"It's time to bring Vega straight to us this time. She's been gone too long. We don't have time to let her roam around Tolevarre, evoking the rebels further once she gets her memories back."

"Wouldn't it be easier to wait on this side of the portal?" Meyer asked.

"Wouldn't it be easier to sit down and shut up when the adults are talking?" Marlena barked back to the fire-wielder. "You will do as I say, and you will not question it, General."

He bowed his head, not another word coming from him about the matter as he sank into his seat.

Meyer could back down. Bridger wouldn't.

"You're risking us being trapped in another realm if something were to go wrong. Then what? If you had respected the leader of your fucking army enough to bring this to me first and not use it as hot gossip for your little friend over there"—Bridger gestured to Ivelle—"then you would know that I'm not willing to risk it."

Marlena's gaze turned to fire. "I don't answer to you, Bridger. You answer to me . Have you forgotten that?" The question didn't need a response. "You will be going to Earth, and you will be returning with my sister as your prisoner. That is an order." Without missing a beat, she strutted back to her seat and clapped her hands one time, cupping them together with a smile.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bridger's thumb moved over his fingers, cracking each joint as he loosened his fist for a fight.

"Who's hungry?" Marlena cooed.

The room instantly buzzed with commotion, servants moving around with trays of mouth-watering dishes, but Bridger didn't stay, and the force of his anger ripped the door off its hinges as he stormed out of the room.