“What was the point?” she asked.
“Your music box,” Duke said.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“The music box is from the past. It is special.”
“Why do they want it?”
“Because it’s an answer,” Duke said. “An answer to the place where I am.”
“Where are you? You’re dead, right? Is it the afterlife?”
Duke grinned. He had a boyish grin, one that spelled trouble. “Not quite. For that is my goal—the afterlife. However, I’ve fallen into a place we on Oriceran call ‘the world in between’. A place where the living and dead roam, never aging, never living.”
“So, purgatory?”
“I do not understand,” Duke said.
“A limbo. A world between two states of being: living and dead.”
Duke nodded. “You are quite smart,” he said again.
From the bottom of the steps came soft growling. Pictures of the horrid Arachnids flooded Maria’s mind.
“It is only your dog,” Duke said. “Invite him up, for I do not bite.”
“Sherlock, come here, boy.” She made kissing sounds. “Come here.”
Sheepishly, Sherlock climbed the steps, his eyes never leaving the ghostly figure of the dead boy soldier. Once he reached the top of the steps, he growled, slinking between Maria’s legs.
“It’s okay, boy,” Maria said.
It is not okay. This boy is dead. D-E-A-D, Sherlock’s voice said in her head.
“Oh, my God, you can spell?” Maria said.
Dogs are smarter than humans.
“I wouldn’t go that far, Sherlock.”
“He’s a nice dog,” Duke said. He bent down and reached a hand out to Sherlock, but his hand passed through the dog.
“So back to the music box. Why are you showing me this?”
“Because a portal has been opened. The Arachnids desire that box, and they desire vengeance.”
“Vengeance for what?”
“For this,” Duke said, and he waved his hand again.
The image showed the throne room. The lead Arachnid hugged Malakai with all six of his upper arms. “I knew you’d come through.”
“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” one of the other Arachnids said.
“Quiet,” Korrion hissed. The other Arachnids slunk back into the dark, their red eyes glowing. “Now, let’s get this started.”
Quick footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a shadow on the wall grew taller and taller until it disappeared.
“Oh, my God,” Maria said, covering her mouth. “Is that—?”
“It is,” Duke said.
She returned her gaze to the blurry silver screen. She stumbled backward, hit the hallway wall and fell to the carpet.
Hey, I know him! Sherlock said.
Maria just watched with her mouth gaping.
The man who ran into the throne room dressed in the same garb as Duke, yet wearing armor over his sternum like a medieval knight, was Ignatius Apple, Maria’s grandfather.
“Unhand the box, Korion, and I promise to only chop off four of your arms.”
Korion smiled, then his mouth parted in a hiss, spraying hot saliva onto the floor.
“Never,” he said.
“You asked for it,” Ignatius said.
He charged forward.
“This is not how I’d pictured my grandpa,” Maria managed to say.
“It gets better, watch,” Duke promised.
Gramps stopped about five feet short. He said a word Maria didn’t understand, something like ‘Somedoi,’ and he thrust his sword into the carpet. A loud clink came, as a result from brick clashing with steel, but the sword burrowed into the stone, dimpling its surface.
The Arachnids brought their arms up to cover their faces, but they were too late.
An explosion of white light erupted into the hall, so bright Maria had to cover her face, worlds and years away.
When the chaos settled, the Arachnids were nothing but piles of ash. Maria counted three of them.
“Wait, where’s Malakai?” she asked.
The answer came in the form of a harsh scream.
Malakai sprang forward from out of the picture’s view. His soldier’s outfit was singed and hanging from his body in tatters. All six arms were exposed.
“Gramps, no!”
But Ignatius was fast. As if he’d heard her, he pulled his sword free from the brick and swung up to deflect Malakai’s. The sound their blades made upon meeting was painful to Maria’s ears.
Ignatius fell backward, rolling out of the way of Malakai’s strikes. Then he grabbed another sword and threw it. It sailed through the air and buried into Malakai’s thigh. It quivered like an arrow.
Malakai yanked it free then let a growl loose—one that sent goosebumps up Maria’s arms.
Gramps was up now, and charging at Malakai.
Their blades met again.
They sliced and diced at each other, hitting nothing but the other’s sword. This kept going until Gramps was backed up against the wall.
“You’re not one of them, Malakai!” Ignatius said.
Gramps, be careful! But it’s not ‘Gramps’—not yet. It’s Ignatius, Maria thought.
“I cannot deny my blood, but…” Malakai paused, looking toward the piles of ash scattered across the throne room. “I am bound by no species. All I crave is the power.”
“No mortal can control the world in between. Many have tried and many have died. You are no different,” Ignatius said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I know the one. She will do it.” He stuck out his hand, wet with blood. “Now hand it over.”
Duke crept up, holding his ribs. Maria gasped.
Ignatius’s eyes wavered, but not for long. Not long enough for Malakai to realize the boy soldier was sneaking up behind him.
Duke jumped, screaming. He grappled Malakai’s neck and hung on like a cape.
Ignatius charged again. He sliced once, and the flesh of one of Malakai’s arms opened. Malakai yelled at the top of his lungs, causing Maria to shrink back.
Then Duke, already dying, let go.
As Ignatius raised his blade to put an end to the traitorous Malakai, the Arachnid rolled out of the way and grabbed Duke by the throat.
Duke cried out.
Maria was covering her eyes now.
“Why?” Duke wheezed. “Why?”
“NO!” Ignatius said.
The rage, the fury overtook him. He aimed the blade and swung again. This time he did not miss. He struck Malakai in the shoulder, and a burst of blood escaped the wound. Malakai shrank back and fell to the floor screaming.
He didn’t scream for long.
Ignatius made sure of that. He killed the turncoat Arachnid.
He then turned to Duke, and saw the extent of the
