Chapter 160

We gathered the bags of books and limped the five blocks back to the museum. The tree was still there, waiting - thankfully. I pressed my hand to the bark and opened the way.

Going to Earth had felt guided - like something had carved a path and pushed us along it.

Coming back? Nothing.

The roots hovered around us, tense and coiled, like predators unsure if they wanted to strike. Wherever we stepped, they recoiled - but they didn’t lead. No direction. No path. Just… space.

I glanced at the others. Mirri gave a small shrug. Elise studied the shifting roots with quiet curiosity. Lilae just looked exhausted.

“At least there’s mana here,” I said. “Let’s take advantage of that while we can.”

Mirri moved to me, hands already glowing as she worked at my wounds. The others visibly improved just by standing there - color returning to their faces, tension easing from their bodies. Lilae conjured water and we cleaned ourselves as best we could, rinsing away the worst of the blood.

“What now?” Mirri asked.

I let out a breath. “We pick a direction and hope it’s the right one. I can’t reach the demesne from here.”

So we walked, the vines parting for us as we got close.

No landmarks. No horizon. Just roots and that dull, oppressive red light stretching in every direction. After fifteen minutes, they pulled back again - this time revealing something new.

An iron door.

It was set into a rough wooden wall. Was this the edge of wherever the hell we were? Or was it just a random wall we could circle around? And why was there a door?

I slowed. “That’s… new.”

When we’d entered the Gallows before, it had all been natural - a natural crack in the wall where we’d entered and exited. Nothing built. Nothing shaped by hands.

This was deliberate.

We all looked at each other. No one had an answer.

So I knocked.

The sound echoed - loud and hollow.

“It’s open,” a woman’s voice called from the other side, muffled but clear.

I hesitated for half a second, then turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Inside was a living room. Or something trying very hard to be one.

The space felt both too large and too crowded at the same time. Three couches lined the walls, each upholstered in completely different, clashing fabrics. Pillows covered them - dozens of them - leopard print pressed against paisley, zebra stripes tangled with florals and embroidered faces.

Nothing matched. Nothing even tried to.

Two shuttered windows sat along one wall, their curtains stitched together from loud, mismatched panels. Plants hung from braided ropes, sprawled across tables, or perched on crooked bookshelves that couldn’t decide what they were supposed to be.

Light came from everywhere and nowhere - multicolored candles flickering across the room while stray sunlight leaked around the shutters. Sun catchers hung in clusters, breaking the light into shifting prisms that painted everything in a dim, restless kaleidoscope.

The walls were covered in… everything. Tapestries, paintings, dream catchers, hats nailed in place. The floor was buried under overlapping carpets, each laid at a slightly wrong angle. The ceiling, at least, looked fairly normal - stained wooden planks supported by darker beams.

Clothes lay scattered, draped, and abandoned on the floor, chairs, and couches. Panties, bras, robes, blouses, capris. Like someone had gotten halfway through doing laundry and then lost interest entirely.

A fountain stood against one wall, water flowing upward instead of down, babbling cheerfully as it defied gravity.

I stared. This was not what I expected to find behind an iron door in a transdimensional tree.

Then again… I wasn’t sure what I had expected.

A doorway opened on the far side of the room and a woman stepped through, carrying a silver tray with a tea set.

She wore a loose black-and-white robe, patterned like a Rorschach test, barely tied at the waist. It hung open showing off a generous amount of skin.

Skin that glowed. Not softly. Not evenly. Her skin shimmered from within, shifting colors like a living thing - soft orange melting into deep black, then flashing molten gold, like her insides were a lava lamp.

Her hair drifted weightlessly around her head, unable to settle on a single color. Pale blue bled into sea green, then rose pink, then bright yellow - stripes of varying hues all competing at once.

Her eyes shifted like a hologram, flickering through impossible colors - electric blue, amethyst, malachite, burgundy, silver - every angle changing their appearance.

Her eyes met mine. She dropped the tray, which shot up to the ceiling and shattered in a spray of porcelain and tea.

Then she squealed.

“OMG, it’s you! It’s really you! I didn’t know you were coming! If I knew you were coming I would have cleaned! I’m so embarrassed!”

She darted around the room, grabbing pieces of clothing, sniffing them, then disintegrating them in bursts of light.

I just… stood there. Unsure of what to do.

“I’m normally not this messy!” she continued without breathing. “I mean, I guess I am, since I didn’t know you were coming and the place looks like this. I’m really sorry. If I had more notice I would have made this place presentable, I swear-”

She grabbed my hand. And Mirri’s. And dragged us inside.

“Come in, sit down, I’ll make tea - well I made tea and now it’s on the ceiling but I can make more tea-”

We barely had time to react before she dropped us onto a couch.

“Do I look okay? I didn’t even brush my hair this morning - wait, is it still morning? I don’t think it’s morning. I don’t have the time…” She looked around the room for a clock for half a heartbeat before she said, “it doesn’t matter. Did I ask if I looked ok?”

A mirror snapped into existence in front of her.

She fussed with her hair for half a second, then waved it away. “Of course I look okay. I’m a goddess. Why wouldn’t I look okay? Is it hot in here?”

She started fanning herself. “It feels hot. Should I take my clothes off? That always helps me cool down. We can all take our clothes off if you want. Clothes are stupid anyway. You weren’t born with them so why put them on later. Oh, is that inappropriate? I’m not trying to get you naked for sex or anything. I mean I’m not against it. We can have sex. Right now even-”

She flung a dozen candles across the room, clearing off a table in one sweeping motion.

“Is this good? Or we can go to the bedroom. Is it hot in here? I already asked that, didn’t I? I’m so scatterbrained-”

I reached out and caught her hand. “Hey,” I said gently. “Slow down. Take a breath.” I took one as well, exaggerated it with a slow inhale and slow exhale.

She took a deep breath, then let it out quickly. Then another. Then she closed her eyes and took a third, longer one.

“Whew,” she said, wobbling slightly. “I’m getting dizzy from all that air. We should sit down.”

She dropped onto a couch gracelessly, wiggled into place, then yanked a pillow out from behind her and hurled it across the room.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “I’m just really excited. I’ve been watching you for so long - like, your entire life - and I knew you’d show up eventually but I didn’t know it would be today-”

“I’m… happy to be here,” I said carefully. “You clearly know who I am, but I don’t think we’ve met. Who are you?”

Her eyes lit up. “OMG, I should have started with that!” She sat up straighter. “I’m Myrrakai.”

I blinked. I didn’t recognize that name at all, and apparently my face showed it.

She tilted her head. “The Living Spark?” she suggested.

Nothing.

“The Untamed Thread? Mistress of Possibility? Flame of the Unbound Mind?”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Goddess of magic?”

* * *

“You’re the goddess of magic?” Mirri asked.

The glowing woman nodded - far too enthusiastically. Her multicolored hair whipped around her face, tangling across her eyes and mouth. She sputtered, tugged it free, then stuck her tongue out to catch a stray strand.

“Sorry. My hair gets everywhere. Do you think I should cut it? Would I look cute with a pixie cut? Oh! Or a bob, like Mirri. That’d be adorable. Or maybe a mohawk? That might be a lot. Is that too much? I feel like that might be too much-”

“You said you’ve been watching me,” I cut in. “My entire life?”

She nodded again, which immediately triggered another minor battle with her hair. She wrangled it back, then straightened suddenly - trying to look dignified. It lasted about half a second before it collapsed under its own awkwardness.

“Not just you,” she said. “All of you. But you’re the oldest, so you came first.” Her grin widened. “And now you’re here!” She mimed running in place, arms and legs pumping, barely containing her excitement.

“Why?” I asked. “And how?”

“Why?” she echoed, blinking rapidly. “Why not? I mean, you’re HIM. Of course I watched! It’s been fascinating. Your birth, your first day of school, that time you popped a boner at the pool, your graduation, your first job, your wedding-”

“My birth?”

“Yeah! I mean, technically I was there for your conception too, but that was… wet. And messy. And kind of gross. But also magical! Not, like, magic magical, but - you know. Magical.”

“How?”

She tilted her head and furrowed her brows. “You should know this. When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not that. How were you watching me? There’s no mana on Earth.”

She blinked again. “Why would I need mana? I’m a goddess. I have Faith.” She waved that off like it was self-evident. “Besides, I’ve been to Earth loads of times. That’s where I found Arthyr!”

Elise leaned forward slightly. “What do you mean, you found Arthyr?”

“I mean exactly that,” she said. “He was on Earth. Dying. I found him and brought him here.” She rocked on her heels, hands flitting as she talked. “I was pretty young then - Vaerethis had died at the start of the Silent War, and I came along a few years later. Everything was already a mess - the Myrddin, the fighting, and everything - so I went looking for something that could win.”

Her eyes lit up. “And I found him.” She clapped her hands once, delighted. “And he was perfect! He rallied everyone, got them working together, and suddenly we weren’t losing anymore!”

“Arthyr… was from Earth?” I said slowly.

She nodded, but caught herself just before her hair could revolt again.

“You Earthlings are so funny,” she added. “You get so many things wrong about your own history. Like - he’s dead. He’s not coming back. But everyone’s like, ‘he’ll return when England needs him!’” She snorted. “He didn’t even know what England was.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying Arthyr was King Arthur?” I asked.

“King?” she echoed, wrinkling her nose. “See, that’s what I mean. He wasn’t a king. He was a war leader in Powys. Not even the main one. He just got famous, and then people started making things up.”

“So Arthur was real,” I said.

She nodded, more carefully this time.

“What about Merlin?”

“Duh,” she said. “You’ve already fought them.”

“I- what?”

“Myrddin. Merlin,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “You don’t even pronounce things right anymore.”

“There were Myrddin on Earth?” I blurted out.

“There was one,” she said. “And I killed it before it did too much damage.” She paused. “I think. I mean, ‘too much’ is kind of subjective. There weren’t a ton of people around. Mostly soldiers. Some villages nearby.” She tilted her head, thinking. “A couple hundred died before I blasted it.”

My brain struggled to keep up. “Okay… so, what, this place is Avalon?”

She made a face. “Again with the names. It’s Annwn. Though - technically - Avalon might be Arvellia? I’m not totally sure. People got really confused when I tried to explain it.”

She waved that off. “Point is - Arthyr got hurt by the Myrddin but didn’t get corrupted. Just like you. So I brought him here, he got everyone organized, and we pushed them back. After that, everything was great!”

She paused. “Well. Not great. A lot of things got destroyed. A lot of people died.” Her expression dimmed slightly. “Puppies too. A lot of puppies died.” She wiped a single tear from her eye - then brightened almost instantly.

“But things got better! Eventually. And now you’re here!” she said, bouncing in place. “And I finally get to meet you!”

“My head hurts,” I muttered.

“Do you want ibuprofen?” she asked immediately. “I mean, it won’t do anything - you’re a god - but maybe the placebo effect will help? Or I could make tea! I was going to make tea. Did I already make tea?”

Lilae pointed up. Myrrakai followed her finger with her eyes.

The shattered remains of the tea set still clung to the ceiling.

“I did make tea!” she gasped. “We can’t drink that!”

She sprang to her feet, pointed at the ceiling, and disintegrated the porcelain, the tea - and half the beam it had landed on. Then she spun and darted back through the doorway.

“Do you want cream, butter, or egg?” she called back.