The journey back to Forward Base Avalon was marked by tense silence and sidelong glances. Task Force Valkyrie had survived their confrontation at the ley-line convergence point, but victory had never tasted so bitter. Captain Alastair Reid marched at the head of the column, his jaw set in a hard line that discouraged conversation. The twin moons of Aeltheria cast conflicting shadows across his face, highlighting the new lines etched there by betrayal and exhaustion.
Behind him, Lord Caedmon walked with the casual grace of someone who hadn't just revealed himself as a duplicitous bastard. The sorcerer maintained a respectful distance from Reid, his violet eyes occasionally flickering toward the pack that contained the fragments of Excalibur.
As Avalon's blue-white ley-lines came into view, pulsing beneath the earth like luminescent veins, Reid finally broke the silence.
"You know, where I come from, we have a special term for what you did back there," he said without turning.
"And what might that be, Captain?" Caedmon asked, his voice carrying that infuriating hint of amusement.
"A dick move," Reid replied flatly. "Though the military has more colorful terminology involving anatomical impossibilities and your mother."
Williams, walking a few paces behind, snorted loudly. "I'd be happy to provide examples if the terminology escapes you, sir."
Caedmon's lips curved in what might have been a smile on a less punchable face. "Your Earth vernacular is charmingly direct. In The Eternal Court, we'd simply call it politics."
"That explains a lot about your court," Reid muttered as they passed through Avalon's gates.
The base was a hive of activity despite the late hour. Word of their return had spread quickly, and Dr. Eleanor Whitaker was waiting for them, her eyes immediately drawn to the pack containing Excalibur's fragments. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, her hair wild and her glasses slightly askew, but her gaze was sharp as she assessed their condition.
"The fragments," she said without preamble. "I need to examine them immediately. They're becoming increasingly unstable."
Reid raised an eyebrow. "How can you possibly know that?"
"Because the ley-lines throughout Avalon have been fluctuating for the past six hours," she replied, gesturing to the pulsing blue patterns visible beneath their feet. "The patterns match exactly what I'd expect from Excalibur's energy signature when it's destabilizing. Plus, I haven't slept in thirty-six hours and I'm running on elven tea and academic obsession, so I'm either right or hallucinating spectacularly."
"Your confidence is inspiring as always, Doctor," Reid said dryly, but handed over the pack. "Just try not to blow up the base while I deal with our... guest."
He turned to Caedmon, all pretense of civility gone. "You and I need to have a conversation about loyalty and what happens to people who betray mine. Preferably somewhere I can shout without terrifying the locals."
Caedmon inclined his head slightly. "As you wish, Captain. Though I should warn you, my definition of betrayal may differ somewhat from yours."
"I'm counting on it," Reid replied coldly.
As they headed toward the command center, Lance Corporal Parvati Singh intercepted them, her expression grave.
"Captain, a word in private," she said, her eyes flicking meaningfully toward Caedmon.
Reid nodded. "Williams, escort our guest to the command center. Make sure he doesn't touch anything, talk to anyone, or breathe too enthusiastically."
Once Caedmon was out of earshot, Singh led Reid to a quiet corner of the base. "We have a problem, sir. While you were gone, I discovered communications equipment hidden in the quarters of three of our newest arrivals—the reinforcements Crowe sent last month."
Reid's expression darkened. "Spies?"
"Worse," Singh replied. "They've been transmitting detailed information about our operations, the fragments of Excalibur, and especially about Maeve. The transmissions are encrypted, but I managed to break enough of the code to confirm they're reporting directly to Crowe, not through standard military channels."
"Bloody marvelous," Reid muttered. "So we've got The Eternal Court plotting to seize Excalibur, Seraphine trying to awaken an interdimensional horror, and now our own government spying on us. Any other catastrophes I should be aware of?"
"Just the usual, sir. Ley-line destabilization, potential collapse of two worlds, and we're running dangerously low on coffee."
Reid pinched the bridge of his nose. "The coffee situation is clearly the most pressing. Handle that first, then put our three guests under discreet surveillance. I want to know everything they report back to Crowe."
"Already done, sir," Singh replied with a slight smile. "And I've secured an extra ration of coffee for your personal use. I had a feeling you'd need it."
"Singh, if we survive this mess, I'm recommending you for sainthood."
"I'd settle for a promotion and hazard pay, sir."
Reid found Maeve in the medical tent, sitting on the edge of a cot with her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The ley-line markings on her skin pulsed erratically, matching the unstable patterns visible throughout Avalon. Her eyes, when they met his, held a new clarity that was somehow more unsettling than her previous confusion.
"You remember something," Reid said. It wasn't a question.
Maeve nodded slowly. "Fragments, becoming clearer. The rebellion against The Eternal Court... I led it, but I wasn't alone. There were others—druids, elves, even humans from Earth who had crossed through temporary Gates."
"And Excalibur?" Reid prompted gently.
"We sought its fragments, believing they could be used to sever Seraphine's connection to the corrupted ley-lines permanently." Her voice grew distant, as if reciting from memory. "We found three pieces, hidden in sacred groves across Aeltheria. But when we attempted to unite them..."
She trailed off, her expression clouding.
"What happened, Maeve?"
"Betrayal," she whispered. "One of my closest allies—someone I trusted with my heart as well as my life—revealed themselves as Seraphine's agent. They wanted Excalibur not to heal the ley-lines, but to control them. To harness their power for The Eternal Court."
Reid felt a chill that had nothing to do with Avalon's night air. "Who was it?"
Maeve's eyes met his, pain etched in every line of her face. "That's what I still can't remember. A face in shadow, a voice distorted by time and trauma. But the pattern... it's happening again, isn't it? Caedmon. Crowe. Everyone wants Excalibur for their own purposes."
"History does have an annoying habit of repeating itself," Reid agreed grimly. "Especially the worst parts."
Their conversation was interrupted as Whitaker burst into the tent, her eyes wild with excitement despite her obvious exhaustion.
"I've examined the fragments," she announced without preamble. "They're definitely destabilizing, but not in the way I expected. They're not breaking down—they're trying to reunite. The energy signature is like nothing I've ever seen. It's as if they recognize each other, like pieces of a whole seeking to be rejoined."
"Is that dangerous?" Reid asked.
"Extremely," Whitaker replied, her enthusiasm undimmed by this concerning assessment. "The energy buildup could potentially trigger a ley-line cascade that would destabilize both Earth and Aeltheria. But it also presents an opportunity."
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this opportunity?" Reid muttered.
Whitaker's eyes gleamed with the particular fervor that only appeared when she was about to suggest something brilliantly reckless. "We could control the reunification process. A ritual, conducted at a major ley-line nexus—like Avalon itself—could channel the fragments' energy in a way that would stabilize the ley-lines across both worlds rather than destabilizing them."
"There's a 'but' coming, isn't there?" Reid said, already dreading the answer.
"But," Whitaker confirmed, "we'd need someone with a natural connection to the ley-lines to serve as a conduit for the energy. Someone who could guide the fragments' power toward healing rather than destruction."
Both of them turned to look at Maeve, who met their gaze with resigned understanding.
"Me," she said simply.
"The ritual would be dangerous," Whitaker admitted. "The amount of energy involved... it could potentially be fatal to whoever channels it. But if successful, it would not only stabilize the ley-lines but also create a weapon capable of severing Seraphine's connection to them permanently. And possibly even sealing The Weaver away for good."
Reid studied Maeve's face, seeing the determination there despite her fear. "There has to be another way."
"There isn't," Maeve replied softly. "I've done this before, Captain. Or at least, I tried to. My past failure is what led to my capture, to the loss of my memories. But now I have a chance to complete what I started centuries ago."
"At the cost of your life?" Reid challenged.
"Some prices must be paid," Maeve said with quiet dignity. "The ley-lines are the lifeblood of both our worlds. If my sacrifice can heal them, can stop Seraphine and The Weaver from corrupting them further... then it is a price I am willing to pay."
The tent fell silent as Reid weighed their options. Every path seemed to lead to more sacrifice, more loss. But the alternative—allowing Seraphine to continue corrupting the ley-lines, potentially awakening The Weaver—was unthinkable.
"How long would it take to prepare this ritual?" he finally asked Whitaker.
"Three days, minimum," she replied. "We'd need to align the ritual with the twin moons' convergence to maximize its effectiveness. And we'd need to ensure that neither Caedmon nor Seraphine interferes."
"And Crowe's spies?"
"A complication," Whitaker admitted. "If they report our plans back to London, Crowe might send forces to seize the fragments before we can complete the ritual."
Reid's jaw tightened as he made his decision. "Then we don't give them the chance. Singh will handle Crowe's people. I'll deal with Caedmon. And you, Doctor, will prepare this ritual with every precaution possible to ensure Maeve survives it."
"I'll do my best, Captain, but I can't promise—"
"That wasn't a request," Reid cut her off. "Find a way."
As he left the tent, Reid felt the weight of command settling more heavily on his shoulders. They were caught between Seraphine's corrupted forces, Caedmon's Eternal Court, and now Crowe's political machinations. Every path forward was fraught with danger, every choice carried potentially catastrophic consequences.
But one thing was certain: he would not sacrifice Maeve or anyone else if there was any other option. Too many had already died in this interdimensional war. If there was a way to unite Excalibur's fragments without adding to that toll, he would find it—even if it meant defying Crowe, Caedmon, and Seraphine herself.
The twin moons of Aeltheria were drawing closer to alignment, their light casting strange shadows across Avalon's ley-line patterns. Three days until the ritual. Three days to prepare for what might be their final stand against forces that threatened both worlds.