“Maybe you can offer an alternative. I would assume Morrigan wants to be with Lucius, maybe they can recreate the Underworld together. Then Anubis could be restored as guardian. Don’t all three of them prefer it there anyway?”
“You do have a point.”
“You can tell the Watchers that you won’t kill anyone, but that you will convince them to leave Earth,” Gaia said, “with the stipulation that they are allowed to recreate the Underworld.”
David nodded. “They must also promise to get rid of Discordia. How do I talk to them?”
“That, I am not sure. They find me when they want to talk, but we can ask Aengus. He should be back at the house.”
The two headed away from the stream towards the ancient oak, but neither the child nor the young man was anywhere to be found.
“He left behind his boat,” Gaia murmured as she stared at the lake. “He does take his leave of this place often, so it is not cause for alarm. I suppose we can just take his boat to the Tower ourselves.”
An uneasy feeling settled over David. “You should stay here,” he told her. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
Gaia put her hands on her hips. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is my realm. I am going with you. I just got you back after thousands of years, do you really think I’m going to let you go so easily?”
David smiled, grateful to see the old familiar spark in her eyes. “Alright, let us hurry though. It seems to be growing dark.”
They slipped into the boat and David took up the oars, rowing them towards the place his son had shown him. The tall marble building soon appeared in the distance, reaching out of clouds that seemed pale orange next to the setting sun. Yet as they moved towards it, the boat abruptly stopped with a loud thunk. David quickly discovered they’d run into something that prevented their journey, as if a piece of glass separated the realms in two.
“We are trapped here,” David realized quietly.
“How can that be?” Gaia sputtered. “This realm belongs to me.”
“Technically, it belongs to them,” he said disdainfully. “They wanted to trap me here with you.”
Gaia’s face fell. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” David admitted, leaning out of the boat to knock on the blockade, affirming its impenetrability. “There is only one way I know how to leave a realm. However, if I died, there is no telling when or how I would come back.”
“You’re not dying,” Gaia scowled. “We will figure this out.” She dove out of the boat and into the water, disappearing for several moments before she resurfaced, sputtering water as she gasped for air. “It goes down as far as I can,” she told him as he helped her back into the boat.
“Perhaps we should head back.” The sun had fully set now, its glow lingering on the unreachable building.
Gaia frowned, slicking back her wet hair. “When you and Nephthys died in Egypt, you ascended to a heavenly realm, correct?”
“Yes, but it was nothing like this one.”
“But you created the first realm—you should be able to recreate one of your own here.”
David shook his head sadly. “She created it for us. Isis created life, but Nephthys created realms. She was the one who designed the Underworld, Set only helped her build it. I never had those gifts.”
“You could just stay?” she half-joked.
He pulled her into his chest. “It is a very enticing prison they’ve put me in,” he admitted.
She drew away. “I think you are wrong,” she said. “You were the original god of Light who walked the Earth until Nephthys created a realm for you both. If she created one that Lucius could bend, then you should be able to bend this one. You must at least try.”
David frowned before he was struck with an idea. He paddled the boat back to the treehouse. “You must stay in your home no matter what happens,” he told her once they were firmly back on shore. “I will come back for you when it is finished.”
Worry overwhelmed her eyes. “I don’t like this.”
“Please trust me. If I think something might happen to you, then I won't be able to focus—you’re not the only one who isn’t quick to leave the other.”
She nodded, giving him a firm kiss on his lips. “If anything happens, then call out to me,” she told him. “I may not be the formidable Morrigan, but I will still murder for those I love.”
David grabbed her face and kissed her again, harder this time, before putting his lips to her forehead, her closed eyes, her cheeks. “I will. Our story will not end like this.”
“Look for Aengus, too,” she told him as he pulled away. “He can handle himself, but I do worry.”
“I will,” he promised.
He withdrew before he lost his nerve, as she summoned vines and branches to weave into a solid wall, securing her inside. He hurried to the shore and fell to his knees. He extended his arms as he squeezed shut his eyes, envisioning the air around him swirling, stirring the slumbering storm in his chest until it was strong enough to radiate from his hands. He revisited the times in his life where his pain had been raw, settling on the day the Earth took Gaia from him, the day he realized Lucius’s hatred…and the moment he knew Morrigan had made her choice. Gales of wind began to whip through both realms, regardless of their paltry barrier, creating full waves that crashed against the marble tower. He could sense their panic, but he focused on the tornado he’d created, strengthening it with each purposeful breath.
Finally, he felt a sharp tug, and he opened his eyes to see three angry angels looming above him. The one who called himself Michael had his sword pressed to David’s throat, his foot on his chest. The angels’ hair whipped around them as they struggled to stay planted, their feathery wings in complete disarray. “Call off the wind,” Michael shouted, ugly veins popping out of his typically cherubic skin.
David realized his plan had worked. “You are the ones who trapped me,” he replied, calmly meeting Michael’s furious eyes.
Their glass ceiling collapsed, forcing the other angels under the marble table as glass pelted the floor. David raised his hand to deflect the shards away from where he lay. Fresh, angry squalls tunneled in, swirling around the chamber, knocking Michael off his feet.
“Please,” the one named Uriel begged as he cowered to the ground, his arms over his head. “We will explain everything—just stop the wind!”
David took a deep, calming breath and let his world stop spinning. Gradually the wind responded, letting the upset angel feathers drift down to the marble floors and settle across the glittering glass. David stood as Michael scrambled to his feet, meeting him squarely with fists to his hips. “So, when I denied your request, you thought you would entrap me?”
“That was not our idea,” Raphael snapped before Michael hushed him angrily, picking pieces of glass out of his wings.
“Then whose was it?” David pressed.
