“Uggghhhh, fuck me.”
“Later,” Sören quipped.
Anthony snickered despite the fierce headache coming on. The reason why they’d taken a plane from Oslo to Heathrow Airport even though they had access to a portal was because every time they portalled somewhere long-distance - like across an ocean - Anthony always had a terrible headache afterwards, and Sören felt nauseated. But Jonas Hagen had insisted they return to Oslo immediately, so they didn’t really have a choice.
They had materialized right outside the office of the Nordic division of the International Mage Police, its sleek glass and steel structure gleaming in the pale December dawn. The building seemed to shimmer and shift, as if it couldn't quite decide whether to blend in with its surroundings or stand out as a beacon of magical authority.
Frost clung to the edges of the windows, forming intricate designs that seemed to move and shift when viewed from different angles. The air was crisp and biting, their breath forming small clouds that dissipated quickly in the chilly morning air. A light dusting of snow covered the ground, giving the scene an almost ethereal quality.
Runes etched into the steel framework pulsed with a faint blue glow, a subtle reminder of the magical protections woven into the very structure. In the walkway towards the entrance there was a fountain flanked by two towering statues of Odin and Freya, their stone eyes seeming to follow visitors as they arrived. There were also four Valkyrie statues, two on either side of the ancient gods, one Valkyrie representing each element. The Valkyrie of Fire wore a cloak of phoenix feathers, the Valkyrie of Air wore butterfly wings, the Valkyrie of Water had a kraken helmet, and the Valkyrie of Earth wore a crown of flowers and a dress of leaves under her armor.
As they stepped into the bustling IMP headquarters, Anthony squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights, exacerbating his headache. Sören placed a comforting hand on the small of his back, guiding him through the maze of desks and chattering mages.
"Ah, there you are," boomed Chief Hagen's voice from across the room. "My office, now."
Anthony and Sören exchanged a weary glance before following the burly Norwegian into his cluttered office. The walls were covered in magical maps, shimmering with real-time updates of elemental disturbances across Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, and the Faroe Islands.
"So," Hagen began, settling into his creaking chair, "care to explain why you were in London?"
Sören bristled. "With all due respect, Chief, we're not prisoners. And we have lives. We had some personal days we hadn’t taken yet and it’s nearing the end of the year.”
“What’s the urgent situation that demanded our immediate return to Oslo?” Anthony folded his arms, hoping it wasn’t just Hagen trying to lord it over them.
“Well, I’m glad you asked.” Hagen waved his hand and the magical screen on his wall shimmered to reveal a set of images.
One of Oslo's waste-to-energy plants had distinct 260-foot smokestack, and there was a man clinging for dear life to the very top of it. As the camera zoomed in, Anthony observed that he appeared to be around the same age as him and Sören - likely in his early to mid-thirties. He had blond hair in a fauxhawk, blue eyes, and a tanned complexion, wearing a checkered Burberry outfit that stood out against the industrial background.
When the screen zoomed in on the face, Sören’s mouth opened.
“You know this man,” Hagen said - a statement, not a question.
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath in Icelandic, then he nodded slowly, his accent thicker as he replied. “Jæja. That’s… that’s my ex, Justin Roberts.”
According to Sören, Anthony learned that their past relationship had ended six years ago. This was two years before Sören and Anthony got together. Justin, a British man, had been in a relationship with Sören for almost two years before they broke up because of his abusive and bigoted behavior. In fact, Justin was such a bigot that he was involved in a far-right neo-Nazi group in Europe. "He even started talking about my 'pure Aryan blood'," Sören had mentioned with a roll of his eyes at the beginning of their relationship. "He would probably lose his shit if he knew I was dating someone Jewish."
While most employers did not interfere with their employees' personal lives, background checks were standard procedure at the IMP due to the nature of their work. Therefore, the IMP was aware of Sören's previous relationship with Justin.
Hagen's eyes narrowed. "And you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this?"
"I was in London," Sören said, his voice tight. "You can check the flight records, the CCTV footage at—"
"Oh, I intend to," Hagen interrupted. "But let's not pretend that distance is much of an obstacle for a mage of your... caliber."
Anthony felt a flare of indignation on Sören's behalf. "Chief, with all due respect, you're bordering on harassment. Sören has provided his alibi, and there are witnesses who will attest that he was in the UK, including my own mother. Unless you have concrete evidence linking him to this incident, I suggest we move on to more productive lines of inquiry."
Hagen's jaw clenched, but he nodded curtly. "Very well. Mr. Roberts was found atop that smokestack at 3 AM this morning. He was unable to get down and had to be rescued by the fire department. He was disoriented, dehydrated, and suffering from mild hypothermia. Initial reports suggest he had been there for at least 12 hours. He claims he was transported there against his will by magical means."
Anthony frowned. "And you suspect Sören because...?"
"Because, Inqusitor Hewlett-Johnson, Mr. Roberts specifically named Sören as the one responsible," Hagen said, his eyes never leaving Sören's face. "He claims you used your elemental powers to lift him to the top of that smokestack and leave him there to freeze."
Sören's face paled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "That's ridiculous. I haven't seen Justin in years, and I certainly wouldn't risk my career over a man I left…” Sören's voice trailed off, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. Anthony placed a steadying hand on his partner's shoulder, feeling the tension radiating through his body.
"Chief Hagen," Anthony said, his tone measured but firm, "surely you understand the gravity of these accusations. Sören is one of your most dedicated and skilled Inquisitors. His record speaks for itself. To even entertain such outlandish claims without substantial evidence is—"
"I'm well aware of Inquisitor Sigurðsson's record," Hagen interrupted, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. "But I'm also aware of the potential for abuse of power among mages. Especially those with... personal grievances."
Sören took a deep breath, visibly struggling to maintain his composure. "I understand you have to investigate all claims, Chief. But I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this. Justin and I have been over for years. I've moved on." He glanced at Anthony, their eyes meeting briefly.
Hagen leaned back in his chair, regarding them both with a critical eye. "Be that as it may, we can't ignore a direct accusation. You'll both be placed on administrative leave pending a full investigation."
"What?" Anthony exclaimed, his headache momentarily forgotten. "Chief, that's completely unnecessary. We're in the middle of several ongoing cases—"
"Which will be reassigned," Hagen cut in firmly. "This is non-negotiable, Inquisitors. Hand over your badges.”
With reluctance, Anthony and Sören complied.
As they exited Chief Hagen's office, Anthony felt a mixture of anger and disbelief coursing through him. He glanced at Sören, whose face was a mask of carefully controlled emotion.
"This is bollocks," Anthony muttered under his breath as they made their way through the bustling office. Colleagues cast curious glances their way, no doubt wondering why two of the IMP's top Inquisitors were leaving in the middle of the day. “Absolute sodding, bloody bollocks.”
Once outside, the crisp Oslo air hit them like a slap to the face. Sören let out a long, shaky breath, his composure finally cracking.
"I can't believe this," he said, running a hand through his curly hair. "After everything we've done for the IMP, Hagen just... He actually thinks I'd..."
Anthony pulled Sören into a tight embrace, feeling the tension in his partner's body. "I know, love. I know." He pressed a kiss to Sören's temple. "We'll sort this out. Justin's accusations won't hold up under scrutiny."
Sören nodded against Anthony's shoulder, then pulled back slightly. "But what if... what if someone actually did use magic to put Justin up there? Someone who knew about our history?"
Anthony's brow furrowed. "You think someone's trying to frame you?"
"I don't know. Maybe?" Sören shook his head. "It just seems too convenient. Justin shows up after all these years, makes this wild accusation..."
"You're right," Anthony said, his analytical mind kicking into gear despite the lingering headache. "This reeks of a setup. But who would want to discredit you? And why?”
“Well, remember what Maglor and Nicholas told us yesterday. We’ve been kept out of the loop - seemingly deliberately - about the suspicious activity going on. And Justin, like I told you a long time ago, is a fucking neo-Nazi.” Sören folded his arms and looked down, tapping his foot with indignance.
“Definitely not kosher,” Anthony said.
Sören snorted at Anthony's pun, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Seriously, though," he said, his expression sobering. "What if this is connected to those strange elemental disturbances we've been tracking? The ones that seem to be following no discernible pattern?"
Anthony nodded, his mind racing. "It's possible. We've been making progress on that case, maybe someone wants us out of the way." He glanced around, suddenly aware of how exposed they were. "We should continue this conversation somewhere more private. Our house?"
"Já," Sören agreed, his Icelandic accent thickening with stress. "But first, I need a bloody drink."
They made their way to a nearby pub, a cozy establishment frequented by off-duty IMP agents. As they settled into a dimly lit corner booth, Anthony couldn't help but notice the tension in Sören's shoulders, the way his fingers drummed restlessly against the worn wooden table. A waitress approached, and Sören ordered a double whiskey without hesitation. Anthony opted for a pint of stout, figuring he should keep a clearer head.
"So," Anthony said in a low voice once their drinks arrived, "let's think this through logically. Who would benefit from discrediting you? And why use Justin, of all people?"
Sören took a long sip of his whiskey, wincing slightly at the burn. "I've been wracking my brain, and I keep coming back to those elemental disturbances. We were getting close to something, weren't we?"
Anthony nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The pattern was starting to emerge. Seemingly random elemental events, but when mapped out over time, they formed a complex sigil. A sigil that looked eerily similar to some of the ancient runes we've encountered in our research."
Sören leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "And don't forget the timing. These disturbances started ramping up right around the time we began investigating that smuggling ring. The one dealing in illegal magical artifacts."
Anthony's eyes widened as the pieces started to click into place. "You don't think... could Justin be involved with that somehow? His far-right connections might have put him in touch with some unsavory characters in the magical world."
Sören drained the last of his whiskey, signaling for another. "It's possible. Justin was always drawn to power, and he had no qualms about using people to get what he wanted." A shadow passed over his face.
Anthony reached across the table and squeezed Sören's hand reassuringly. "Hey, you don't have to go there. We're focused on the present, alright?"
Sören nodded gratefully, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "You're right. So, if Justin is involved with this smuggling ring, and they're connected to these elemental disturbances..."
"Then framing you kills two birds with one stone," Anthony finished. "It discredits one of the IMP's top investigators and creates a convenient scapegoat for their activities."
"But how did they know about my history with Justin?" Sören mused, absently tracing patterns on the condensation of his fresh whiskey glass. "That's not exactly public knowledge."
Anthony's eyes narrowed. "Someone with access to IMP personnel files, perhaps? Or..."
"Or someone from my past.”
Sören's eyes widened at Anthony's suggestion. "You don't think...?" He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Anthony leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "We have to consider all possibilities, love. If someone from your past is involved, it could explain how they knew about Justin."
Sören ran a hand through his curls, his mind racing. "But who? Most of the people who knew about Justin and me back then were fellow mages at university. I can't imagine any of them getting mixed up in something like this."
"What about family?" Anthony asked gently, knowing it was a sensitive subject for Sören.
Sören's jaw clenched. "My brother Dag is the only one who knew details about Justin, and he's... well, you know."
Anthony nodded, remembering the stories Sören had shared about his estranged older brother Dag, who’d gotten expelled from Wemblefrrf and was known to dabble in darker magical practices and kept questionable company.
"I hate to even suggest it," Anthony said carefully, "but could Dag potentially be involved in something like this?"
Sören's face darkened. "I... I don't know. We haven't spoken in years, but last I heard, he was still hanging around with some nasty fuckers. It's not outside the realm of possibility."
Just then, Anthony's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "It's my mother. She's asking if we're alright - apparently, there's already been some chatter in the magical community about us being suspended - like Hagen was planning on doing it before we arrived - and it managed to get back to her through one of her magic-using friends."
Sören groaned. "Fantastic. So much for keeping this quiet."
Anthony quickly typed out a reassuring message to his mother, promising to call her later with more details. As he pocketed his phone, he noticed Sören's gaze had drifted to the pub's entrance, his body suddenly tense.
"Don't look now," Sören whispered, "but I think we're being watched."
Anthony casually glanced over his shoulder, spotting a tall figure in a dark coat lingering by the door. The stranger's face was partially obscured by a scarf, but their eyes were fixed intently on their table.
"Think it's one of Hagen's people?" Anthony asked under his breath.
Sören shook his head slightly. "No, the energy feels... different. Darker."
As if sensing their attention, the figure abruptly turned and exited the pub. Sören was on his feet in an instant, tossing some kroner on the table to cover their drinks. "Come on," he said urgently to Anthony. "We need to follow them."
Anthony nodded, quickly downing the last of his stout before hurrying after Sören. They burst out of the pub into the chilly Oslo afternoon, scanning the street for any sign of the mysterious figure.
"There!" Sören pointed to a dark shape turning down an alley about half a block away.
They set off at a brisk pace, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. As they neared the alley, Sören held up a hand, signaling Anthony to slow down. They crept forward cautiously, peering around the corner.
The alley was empty.
"Shit," Sören muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Where did they go?" Anthony whispered, scanning the narrow alley. His eyes darted between dumpsters and doorways, searching for any sign of movement.
Sören's brow furrowed in concentration. He closed his eyes, and Anthony felt him extending his magical senses outward. A faint ripple of energy caught his attention, emanating from further down the alley.
"This way," Sören said, grabbing Anthony's hand and pulling him deeper into the shadows.
They moved silently, years of training allowing them to step lightly despite the scattered debris underfoot. As they neared the end of the alley, Anthony felt the magical energy intensify. He raised his free hand, ready to cast a defensive spell if needed.
Suddenly, the air shimmered before them. The mysterious figure materialized out of thin air, their dark coat billowing as if caught in an unseen wind.
Anthony and Sören froze, instinctively shifting into defensive stances. The figure's scarf had fallen away, revealing a face that made Sören gasp.
"Dag?" Sören whispered, his voice a mixture of shock and wariness.
The man - Sören's estranged brother - gave a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hello, little brother. It's been a while."
Anthony tensed, ready to cast a shield charm at a moment's notice. He'd heard enough about Dag to know he was dangerous and unpredictable.
"What are you doing here, Dag?" Sören demanded, his accent thickening with emotion. "Are you involved in this somehow?"
Dag's smile widened, taking on a predatory edge. "Always so quick to accuse, aren't you, Sören.” Dag's grey eyes flickered between Sören and Anthony, a calculating look on his face. "I'm hurt, little brother. Can't I simply want to catch up with my estranged sibling?"
Sören's jaw clenched. "Cut the bullshit, Dag. You show up right when I'm being framed for a crime I didn't commit? That's one hell of a coincidence."
"Framed?" Dag's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "My, my. You have been busy, haven't you? And here I thought you were just playing detective with your little boyfriend." His gaze settled on Anthony, eyes narrowing slightly.
Anthony met Dag's stare evenly, refusing to be intimidated. "We're Inquisitors with the IMP, as I'm sure you're well aware. And we have some questions for you."
Dag chuckled darkly. "Questions? How delightful. But I'm afraid I don't have time for an interrogation today, gentlemen." He raised his hand, and Anthony felt a surge of magical energy building around them.
Sören reacted instinctively, throwing up a shimmering barrier of fire energy just as Dag unleashed a blast of dark magic. The two forces collided with a thunderous crack, sending sparks of wild magic ricocheting off the alley walls.
"Anthony, watch out!" Sören shouted, pushing his partner aside as a stray bolt of energy sizzled past them, leaving a scorched mark on the brick wall.
Anthony recovered quickly, calling upon his own magical reserves. With a series of precise gestures, he conjured a net of Hebrew letters glowing in blue, aiming to ensnare Dag and neutralize his powers.
But Dag was too quick. With a fluid motion, he sliced through Anthony's binding spell, the Hebrew letters dissipating into wisps of blue smoke. A cruel smile played on his lips as he advanced, dark energy crackling at his fingertips.
"You'll have to do better than that, Jew boy," Dag sneered. "My brother always did have a weakness for damaged goods."
Rage flashed in Sören's eyes at the slur. With a guttural roar, he summoned a whirlwind of fire, the flames taking on the shape of a massive phoenix. The fiery bird screeched as it dive-bombed Dag, forcing him to throw up a hasty shield of dark energy.
Anthony, pushing aside the sting of Dag's words, focused his energy on reinforcing Sören's attack. He wove a complex pattern in the air based on the Tree of Life, channeling protective energy into Sören's fiery phoenix. The flames took on an iridescent sheen, burning even brighter as they battered against Dag's shield.
Dag snarled, his face contorting with effort as he struggled to maintain his defenses against the combined assault. "You've gotten stronger, little brother," he spat. "But you're still no match for me!"
With a violent gesture, Dag released a pulse of dark energy that shattered his own shield and dispersed Sören's phoenix. The backlash sent all three men stumbling backward.
Anthony recovered first, quickly casting a shield charm around himself and Sören. "We need to end this before someone gets hurt," he said urgently.
Sören nodded, his eyes never leaving his brother. "Dag, stop this madness! Whatever you're involved in, whatever you've done - it's -”
Sören's plea was cut short as Dag unleashed another barrage of dark magic. The air crackled with malevolent energy as shadows seemed to coalesce around him, writhing and lashing out like tentacles.
"You have no idea what's coming, little brother," Dag snarled, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light. "The old order is crumbling. Power is shifting. And you and your precious IMP will be swept away in the tide of change."
Anthony reinforced their shield, the Hebrew letters glowing brighter as they absorbed the brunt of Dag's assault. But he could feel the strain, the dark magic eating away at their defenses.
"Sören," he gasped, "we can't keep this up much longer."
Sören nodded grimly, his face set with determination. "Then let's end this."
With a synchronized movement, Sören and Anthony dropped their defensive shield and unleashed a combined attack. Sören summoned a torrent of white-hot flames, while Anthony's skilled hands moved in a mesmerizing dance as he conjured intricate patterns of light. The shimmering chains of energy swirled and coalesced, gradually building into a powerful force that resembled a cascading waterfall.
As the dazzling helix of fire and water-light surged towards Dag, the two forces intertwined in a magnificent display of power. Sparks flew and colors exploded, creating a breathtaking symphony of light and magic. Anthony's concentration was unbreakable as he controlled the torrent of energy with precise movements, like a master conductor directing an orchestra.
For a moment, shock registered on Dag's face as he realized the power of their combined assault. But at the last second, Dag's lips curled into a sneer. He raised both hands, dark energy swirling around him like a malevolent storm. Just as Sören and Anthony's attack was about to make contact, Dag vanished in a swirl of shadows.
The alley erupted in a blinding flash as their magic collided with the brick wall where Dag had been standing moments before. When the light faded, Sören and Anthony were left staring at a scorched, crumbling wall, their chests heaving from exertion.
"Fuck," Sören spat, his accent thick with frustration. He ran a hand through his curls, which were standing on end from the magical discharge. "He got away."
Anthony lowered his arms slowly, his muscles aching from channeling such intense magic. "At least we confirmed he's involved somehow," he said, trying to find a silver lining. "And we know he's not working alone."
Sören nodded grimly. "The old order crumbling, power shifting... it sounds like he's part of something big." He turned to Anthony, his brown eyes filled with worry.
Anthony nodded in agreement. "Whatever Dag's involved in, it's clear we've stumbled onto something much bigger than we realized."
Sören leaned against the alley wall, suddenly looking exhausted. "I can't believe he's mixed up in all this. I mean, I knew he was into some dark stuff, but this..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
Anthony moved closer, placing a comforting hand on Sören's shoulder. "Hey, this isn't your fault. You're not responsible for your brother's choices."
Sören gave a weak smile. "I know. It's just... he's still my brother, you know? Part of me still remembers the kid who used to protect me from my aunt and uncle and from bullies when we were little."
A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the city.
"We should get out of here," Anthony said. “We should go home.”
Sören nodded, pushing himself off the wall. "You're right. Let's go home."
As they made their way out of the alley, Anthony kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, half-expecting Dag or some other threat to materialize out of the shadows. The adrenaline was slowly fading, leaving him feeling drained and on edge.
They walked in tense silence, both lost in their own thoughts about the encounter with Dag and its implications. The streets of Oslo seemed unnaturally quiet, as if the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.
When they finally reached their little red house, Sören fumbled with the keys, his hands still shaking slightly from the magical exertion and emotional turmoil. Anthony gently took the keys from him, unlocking the door and ushering them inside.
As soon as they shut the door behind them, their three feline friends - Snúður, Solly, and Shmuel - trotted right up to them with excitement. During their trip to the UK, a neighbor had been coming by to take care of the cats and give them food and water - Anthony had received a text update about the cats yesterday afternoon - but that was no longer necessary due to their early return.
Once the cats got some loving attention, Sören sagged against the wall, the weight of the day's events finally hitting him. Anthony wrapped his arms around his partner, pulling him close.
"I've got you," Anthony said, pressing a kiss to Sören's temple. "We're home. We're safe."
Sören nodded against Anthony's chest, his breath coming in shaky gasps. "I just... I can't believe Dag is involved in all this. What the hell have we stumbled into, Anthony?"
Before Anthony could respond, a loud meow interrupted them. They looked down to see Snúður, their tuxedo cat, winding himself around their legs, demanding yet more attention. Solly, the elderly brown tabby, and Shmuel, the grey ticked tabby, weren't far behind.
Despite the tension, Anthony couldn't help but chuckle.
"I think someone's trying to tell us it's dinnertime," Anthony said with a small smile, reaching down to scratch Snúður behind the ears.
Sören managed a weak laugh. "They always know how to cut through the drama, don't they?"
As they moved to the kitchen to feed the cats, Anthony kept a protective arm around Sören's waist. He could feel the tension still thrumming through his partner's body, the slight tremor in his hands as he opened a can of cat food.
Once the felines were happily munching away, Anthony guided Sören to the living room couch. They sank down together, Sören immediately curling into Anthony's side.
"We need to figure out our next move," Anthony said softly, running his fingers through Sören's curls. "With Dag involved and the IMP suspending us, we're at a severe disadvantage. We can't exactly waltz into IMP headquarters and demand access to case files anymore."
Sören nodded against Anthony's chest. "We're on our own now. Well, mostly on our own. We still have some allies we can trust."
"True," Anthony mused. "Maglor and Nicholas have been keeping us in the loop about some of the strange goings-on lately. And my mother has connections in both the magical and non-magical worlds that could prove useful."
Sören sat up slightly, a determined glint in his eyes. "We need to start our own investigation. Off the books. If Dag and whoever he's working with are trying to frame me, they must have left some trace evidence behind."
Anthony nodded, his analytical mind already racing. "We should start with Justin. He's the key to all of this. If we can prove he's lying about you attacking him, it could unravel their whole scheme."
Sören tensed at the mention of Justin's name, but nodded in agreement. "You're right. But how do we get to him? He's probably under IMP protection now."
Anthony's brow furrowed in thought. "We might not be able to approach him directly, but we could try to trace his movements leading up to the incident. If he was transported magically to that smokestack, there might be residual energy signatures we could detect."
"Good thinking," Sören said, sitting up straighter. "We'd need to get close to the site without arousing suspicion, though. The IMP has probably already combed the area."
Anthony's eyes lit up. "What if we didn't have to get close? Remember that detection spell we've been working on? The one that can pick up traces of elemental magic from a distance?"
Sören nodded, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "The one we based on the principles of quantum entanglement? That could work. We'd need to calibrate it specifically for transportation magic, but it's worth a shot."
"Exactly," Anthony said, his mind racing with possibilities. "We could set up a perimeter around the smokestack, far enough away to avoid detection but close enough for the spell to work. If we can pinpoint the exact location where Justin was transported from, it might give us a lead on who's behind this."
Sören leaned in, his expression more animated, his earlier exhaustion forgotten in the face of a potential breakthrough. "We'd need to act fast, though. The magical residue will fade quickly, especially if it's been a few days already."
Anthony nodded, already reaching for the elven communication devices Maglor had given them at Wemblefrrf. "I'll contact Maglor and Nicholas. They might be able to help us set up the detection grid without arousing suspicion. And then I’ll call my mother - she might be able to pull some strings to get us access to areas near the smokestack without raising alarms."
As Anthony made his calls, his mind whirling with possibilities and potential pitfalls, Sören got up and paced the living room. The cats, sensing his agitation, followed him back and forth, meowing occasionally as if offering their own suggestions.
"Okay," Anthony said, hitting “End” on his cell phone after his final call. "Maglor and Nicholas are on board. You and I will set up the detection grid tonight, under the cover of darkness. Nicholas has some contacts in the Oslo police department who can help divert attention away from the area, and Maglor will do some remote magic to conjure an illusion to set up a distraction."
Sören ran a hand through his curls, his mind racing. "And your mother?"
Anthony couldn't help but smile. "She's already working her magic, so to speak. She's reaching out to some old friends in the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. With any luck, we'll have unofficial clearance to be in the vicinity of the smokestack by nightfall."
"Brilliant," Sören said, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on Anthony's lips. "You and your mother are a formidable team."
"Don't sell yourself short," Anthony replied, cupping Sören's face in his hands. "Your fire magic and quick thinking are what's going to make this plan work."
Sören rubbed his face and made a noise. “Well first, I need a fucking shower. This feels like the longest day of my life and it’s not even done yet.” Sören cocked his head to one side. “Want to join me?”
"That sounds good,” Anthony said.
Anthony and Sören made their way to the bathroom, shedding clothes as they went. The hot water felt heavenly as it cascaded over their tired bodies. Sören let out a contented sigh as Anthony began massaging shampoo into his curls.
"That feels amazing," Sören sighed, leaning back into Anthony's touch.
Anthony pressed a soft kiss to Sören's shoulder. "You're carrying so much tension, love. Try to relax a bit."
Sören nodded, closing his eyes. Anthony put a small amount of healing magic into the fingers working through Sören’s hair to try to melt away some of the day’s stress.
Enough that it made Sören cry a little.
“Justin?” Anthony asked. “Dag?”
“Dag and Justin.” Sören's voice shook.
Across their telepathic bond, Anthony had a brief series of mental images from Sören’s mind’s eye - memories of Justin’s verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. Anthony's heart ached at the pain in Sören's voice and the flashes of traumatic memories. He gently turned Sören to face him, cupping his face in his hands.
"You're safe now," Anthony said softly, pressing his forehead to Sören's. "I've got you. Justin can't hurt you anymore, and we'll figure out what Dag is up to together."
Sören nodded, tears mingling with the shower spray on his face. He wrapped his arms around Anthony, clinging to him like a lifeline. Anthony held him close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on Sören's back while the other cradled the back of his head.
They stood like that for a long moment, the hot water cascading over them, washing away the stress and fear of the day. Gradually, Sören's breathing steadied, and Anthony felt some of the tension drain from his partner's body.
"Thank you," Sören whispered against Anthony's neck. "For everything."
Anthony pressed a kiss to Sören's temple. "Always, love. We're in this together."
As they finished washing up, the mood shifted subtly. Their touches lingered, became more sensual. Sören's hands trailed down Anthony's chest, mapping the familiar planes of his body. Anthony's breath hitched as Sören's fingers dipped lower, teasing along his hipbones.
"Sören," Anthony breathed, his voice husky with desire.
Sören captured Anthony's lips in a passionate kiss, pressing him against the cool tile wall. Anthony moaned into the kiss, his hands roaming over Sören's wet skin, tracing the lines of his tattoos. Their cocks hardened and began to rub together, slowly, teasingly.
Sören broke the kiss, his brown eyes dark with desire. "I need you," he pleaded, his accent thick with arousal.
Anthony nodded, understanding Sören's need for connection, for reassurance after the emotional turmoil of the day. He turned Sören gently, pressing him against the shower wall.
"I've got you, love," Anthony whispered, pressing kisses along Sören's shoulders and back. He reached for the bottle of silicone lube they kept in the shower, coating his fingers generously.
Sören gasped as Anthony's slick fingers circled his entrance, teasing before slowly pressing inside. Anthony took his time, working Sören open with gentle, insistent strokes. He curled his fingers, finding that spot that made Sören cry out in pleasure.
"Anthony, please," Sören moaned, pushing back against Anthony's fingers. "I need you inside me."
Anthony pressed a kiss to the nape of Sören's neck as he withdrew his fingers. He slicked his cock with more lube, then lined himself up with Sören's entrance. Slowly, reverently, he pushed inside, both men groaning at the sensation.
"Fuck," Sören breathed, his forehead pressed against the cool tile. "You feel so good."
Anthony began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm. One hand gripped Sören's hip while the other wrapped around his chest, holding him close. Sören reached back, tangling his fingers in Anthony's wet hair.
"I love you," Anthony whispered.
Anthony and Sören's lovemaking grew more passionate and intense, their bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity, both men pouring their emotions into every touch, every thrust. The sound of skin on skin mingled with their moans and the steady patter of the shower. The steam from the hot shower swirled around them, creating an intimate cocoon.
Sören braced himself against the tile wall, pushing back to meet each of Anthony's deep thrusts. "Harder," he gasped. "Please, Anthony."
Anthony obliged, tightening his grip on Sören's hips and increasing his pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the bathroom walls, mingling with their moans of pleasure.
"You feel so good," Anthony panted, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Sören's shoulders and neck. "So tight, so perfect for me."
Sören let out a deep groan as Anthony knew he’d hit that spot inside him that made sparks dance behind his eyelids. "Right there," he urged.
Anthony angled his hips to hit that spot with each thrust, reveling in the way Sören's body trembled and clenched around him. He slid one hand around to grasp Sören's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
"Oh fuck," Sören moaned, his accent thickening with pleasure. "I'm close, Anthony. So close."
"Come for me, love," Anthony said, his lips brushing Sören's ear. "Let go. I've got you."
With a cry of ecstasy, Sören came, his release painting the shower wall. Anthony groaned as Sören's body tightened around him, pushing him over the edge. He buried himself deep inside Sören as his own orgasm washed over him.
For a long moment, they stood there panting, Anthony's forehead resting against Sören's shoulder blade. The hot water continued to cascade over them, soothing their trembling muscles.
Slowly, Anthony eased out of Sören, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. Sören turned in his arms, capturing Anthony's lips in a tender kiss.
"I love you," Sören husked. "So much."
Anthony smiled, running his fingers through Sören's wet curls. "I love you too, darling. Always."
They finished washing up, exchanging soft touches and gentle kisses. As they stepped out of the shower and began toweling off, a comfortable silence settled between them.
Sören broke the quiet first, his voice thoughtful. "You know, as terrifying as this whole situation is, I'm glad you're here with me. I don't think I could face this alone."
Anthony wrapped his arms around Sören, pulling him close. "You don't have to. We're in this together, love. Whatever comes next, we'll face it side by side."
Sören nodded against Anthony's chest, letting out a contented sigh. "Together."
They finished drying off and got dressed in comfortable clothes - Sören in a pair of worn jeans and one of Anthony's old yeshiva sweatshirts, Anthony in lounge pants and a soft t-shirt. As they made their way back to the living room, the cats immediately swarmed around their feet, demanding attention.
As they settled on the couch, Snúður leapt into Sören's lap, purring loudly. Solly curled up at Anthony's feet, while Shmuel perched on the back of the couch, keeping a watchful eye on his humans.
"So," Sören said, absently scratching behind Snúður's ears, "we have a few hours before we need to set up the detection grid. What's our game plan?"
Anthony leaned back, his brow furrowed in thought. "We should review everything we know so far. Maybe we'll spot a connection we've missed."
Sören nodded, reaching for the notebook they kept hidden in a hollowed-out book on their shelf. As an extra precaution, the pages were enchanted to appear blank to anyone but them.
"Okay," Sören said, flipping through the notebook. "Let's start with the elemental disturbances we've been tracking. They seemed random at first, but when mapped out..."
"They formed that complex sigil," Anthony finished, leaning in to look at Sören's sketches. "Similar to some ancient runes we've encountered in our research."
Sören nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "And the timing of these disturbances coincided with our investigation into that smuggling ring dealing in illegal magical artifacts."
Anthony's eyes widened as a thought struck him. "What if the disturbances and the smuggling are connected? Maybe they're using the elemental events as cover to move artifacts."
"Or," Sören added, his voice low, "what if the artifacts themselves are causing the disturbances?"
They exchanged a look, the implications hanging.
As Anthony and Sören sat on the couch reviewing their notes, a sudden chill ran through the room. The cats' ears perked up, their eyes wide as they stared intently at a spot near the front door.
"Did you feel that?" Sören asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Anthony nodded, slowly rising to his feet. "Something's not right."
Before either of them could move, the air near the door shimmered and warped. A figure began to materialize, dark energy crackling around them.
"Dag," Sören growled, jumping up and positioning himself protectively in front of Anthony.
But as the figure fully appeared, they realized it wasn't Dag at all. It was a woman, tall and imposing, with long dark hair and piercing green eyes. She wore a black cloak adorned with intricate runes that pulsed.
The woman's eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as she regarded Anthony and Sören. A cruel smile played on her lips.
"Well, well," she purred, her voice low and melodious. "The prodigal son and his little Jewish toy. How... quaint."
Sören tensed, fire flickering at his fingertips. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "And how did you get past our wards?"
The woman laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Oh, Sören. Always so quick to anger. You truly are your mother's son." Her gaze flickered to Anthony. "Though your taste in partners leaves much to be desired."
Anthony stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Sören's arm. "You know Sören's mother?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Know her?" The woman's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp. "Oh, I knew her quite well. Your dear mother and I go way back, Sören."
Sören's eyes narrowed, his stance tense and ready for a fight. "You still haven't answered my question. Who are you?"
The woman tsked, shaking her head. "So impatient. But I suppose introductions are in order." She swept into a mocking bow. "You may call me Hel. And as for how I got past your wards..." She gestured at the runes on her cloak, which pulsed with dark energy. "Let's just say I have my ways."
Anthony felt a chill run down his spine at the name. In Norse mythology, Hel was the goddess of the underworld. Surely this woman couldn't be...
"What do you want?" Anthony asked, his voice steady despite the fear coiling in his gut. He subtly shifted his stance, ready to cast a protective spell at a moment's notice.
Hel's piercing gaze settled on Anthony, her lips curling into a smirk. "Want? Oh, my dear boy, it's not about what I want. It's about what's coming." She took a step forward, the air around her shimmering with dark energy. "The old order is crumbling, just as Dag told you. But he's merely a pawn in a much larger game."
Sören's hands clenched into fists, flames dancing between his fingers. "If you've hurt my brother—"
"Hurt him?" Hel laughed, the sound sending shivers down Anthony's spine. "Oh no, dear Sören. Your brother came to us willingly. He saw the truth of what's coming and chose to align himself with the winning side."
Anthony's mind raced, trying to piece together the implications of Hel's words. "The winning side?" he asked cautiously. "What exactly is coming?"
Hel's eyes gleamed with malevolent delight. "A reckoning, little mage. The veil between worlds is thinning, and soon the old powers will rise again. Your precious IMP, your rules and regulations - they'll be swept away in the tide of change."
Sören took a step forward, his voice tight with anger. "Is that why you framed me? To get us out of the way?"
Hel threw back her head and laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally in the small room. "Oh, Sören. Always thinking you're at the center of everything. Such a narcissist. Your... inconvenience... was merely a pleasant side effect. No, we have much grander plans in motion."
“I am not a fucking narcissist,” Sören spat.
Hel's eyes flashed with amusement at Sören's outburst. "Such fire," she purred. "Your mother had that same spark, that same defiance in the face of powers beyond her comprehension."
Anthony felt Sören tense beside him, could practically feel the rage radiating off his partner in waves. He placed a steadying hand on Sören's arm, trying to project calm through their bond.
"What do you know about my mother?" Sören demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Hel's smile widened, revealing those unnaturally sharp teeth once more. "Oh, I know many things about Brynhildur. We were... close, once upon a time. Before she made her choice."
"What choice?" Anthony asked, hoping to keep Hel talking while he frantically tried to think of a way to get out of this mess - perhaps a banishing.
Hel's eyes gleamed with malicious delight as she regarded Sören and Anthony. "The choice to turn her back on her true nature, of course. To deny the ancient powers flowing through her veins." She took a step closer, the air around her shimmering with dark energy. "Just as you have, Sören. You've barely scratched the surface of what you're capable of."
Sören's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I know exactly what I'm capable of," he growled. "And I choose to use my powers for good, not whatever twisted scheme you're cooking up."
Hel laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Good? Evil? Such quaint, human concepts. The old powers don't concern themselves with morality, Sören. They simply are."
Anthony's mind raced, trying to process the implications of Hel's words. He felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the true scope of what they were facing. This wasn't just about smuggled artifacts or elemental disturbances - this was something far more ancient and dangerous.
"These old powers," Anthony said carefully, "what exactly are they? And why now?"
Hel's gaze shifted to Anthony, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, the scholar speaks. Always seeking knowledge, aren't you?" She took another step forward, and Anthony had to resist the urge to back away. "The old powers are the very fabric of reality, little mage. The primal forces that shaped the world long before your kind learned to harness a fraction of their might."
Sören tensed beside Anthony, fire flickering at his fingertips. "And you think you can?”
Hel's eyes gleamed with malevolent delight as she regarded Sören and Anthony. "Control them? Oh no, dear Sören. One does not control the old powers. One serves them, channels them, becomes a vessel for their will."
"And that's what you're offering?" Anthony asked, his voice tight. "To make us vessels for these... primal forces?"
Hel's smile widened, revealing those unnaturally sharp teeth once more. "Offer? Oh no, little mage. This isn't an offer. It's an inevitability. The veil is thinning, and soon the old powers will pour through, seeking vessels worthy of their might." Her gaze settled on Sören. "And you, my dear, have quite the lineage for such a role."
Sören took a step forward, his eyes blazing with anger. "I don't give a single flying fuck about lineage or ancient powers or any of that bullshit. You threatened my family, framed me, and now you're standing here in my home spouting cryptic nonsense. Get out before I make you leave."
Hel's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Such fire. Such defiance. You truly are your mother's son." She took another step closer, the air around her crackling with dark energy. "But you're fighting against forces far beyond your comprehension, little mage. The old powers are returning whether you will it or not. The only choice you have is whether to embrace your true nature or be swept away by the tide."
Anthony moved to stand beside Sören, his hand raised and ready to cast a protective spell. "We've made our choice," he said firmly.
Hel's eyes gleamed with malicious delight as she regarded Sören and Anthony. "Such bravado," she purred. "But you have no idea what you're up against."
With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of dark energy shot out from her cloak, snaking towards Sören and Anthony. Anthony reacted instantly, throwing up a shimmering barrier of Hebrew letters that crackled as Hel's magic collided with it.
Sören unleashed a torrent of flame, the fire taking the shape of a massive phoenix as it swooped towards Hel. But the dark-haired woman merely laughed, the flames dissipating harmlessly against an invisible shield.
"Is that the best you can do?" Hel taunted. "Your mother would be disappointed, Sören."
Rage flashed in Sören's eyes at the mention of his mother. With a guttural roar, he summoned a whirlwind of fire that swirled around him and Anthony, the flames taking on an iridescent sheen as Anthony wove protective Hebrew letters into the inferno.
"You know nothing of my mother," Sören snarled, his accent thick with emotion. "And you have no right to speak her name."
Hel's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face as the combined power of Sören and Anthony's magic pushed against her dark energy. "Interesting," she mused. "Perhaps there's more of her in you than I thought."
Anthony could feel the strain of maintaining their defenses, sweat beading on his brow as he poured more power into the protective barrier. But he could also sense something shifting in the air around them, a building pressure that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Suddenly, the room erupted in a blinding flash of white light. Anthony instinctively threw an arm over his eyes, his other hand reaching out to grab Sören. When the light faded and he blinked away the spots in his vision, he saw Hel stumbling backward, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and fury.
"Impossible," she hissed, her eyes darting between Sören and Anthony. "How did you—"
But before she could finish, another pulse of energy rippled through the room. This time, Anthony felt it emanate from Sören. Anthony turned to see Sören's eyes glowing with an intense white light, his curly hair whipping around his face as if caught in an unseen wind. The air crackled with raw power, and Anthony could feel the surge of energy through their bond.
"Get. Thee. Gone." Sören's voice reverberated with a force that shook the very foundations of the house.
Hel's eyes widened in genuine fear as she stumbled back. "This isn't over," she hissed, her form already beginning to fade. "The old powers will rise, with or without you."
With a final crack of dark energy, Hel vanished, leaving Anthony and Sören alone in their suddenly quiet living room.
The glow faded from Sören's eyes, and he swayed on his feet. Anthony quickly moved to support him, guiding them both to sit on the couch. The cats, who had been hiding during the confrontation, cautiously emerged from their hiding spots.
"Sören? Are you alright?" Anthony asked, his voice laced with concern as he cupped Sören's face in his hands.
Sören blinked slowly, looking dazed. "I... I think so. What the hell just happened?"
Anthony shook his head, still trying to process the events of the last few minutes. "I'm not entirely sure. That power... I've never felt anything like it before."
Sören ran a shaky hand through his curls. "It felt like... like something inside me just snapped into place. Like I was tapping into something I didn't even know was there."
Anthony nodded, his analytical mind already racing to make sense of what had just occurred. "It seems Hel wasn't entirely wrong about your potential, love. That power... it was unlike anything I've ever encountered."
Sören shuddered, leaning into Anthony's embrace. "I don't know if I like that. It felt... wild. Uncontrollable."
Anthony pressed a kiss to Sören's temple, trying to project calm and reassurance through their bond. "We'll figure it out together, darling. But right now, we need to focus on what Hel revealed."
Sören nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration. "The old powers rising. The veil thinning. And somehow, my mother is connected to all of this."
"And your brother," Anthony added softly, knowing how much the thought of Dag's involvement pained Sören.
Sören nodded grimly, his jaw clenching at the mention of Dag. "Right. My dear brother, aligning himself with forces he doesn't understand." He sighed heavily, leaning back against the couch. "What a fucking mess."
Anthony rubbed soothing circles on Sören's back, his mind racing. "We need to regroup, love. Figure out our next move." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "We still have a few hours before we need to set up the detection grid. Maybe we should call Maglor and Nicholas, see if they have any insight into these 'old powers' Hel was talking about."
Sören nodded; Anthony handed over the elven communication device. "Good idea. If anyone would know about ancient, world-altering magic, it'd be those two."
As Sören talked to Maglor, Anthony pulled out his laptop and began researching Norse mythology, focusing on references to Hel and ancient powers. The cats, sensing the tension in the room, curled up close to their humans, offering silent comfort.
"Okay," Sören said, ending the call with Maglor. "He and Nicholas are on their way over. They said this is too sensitive to discuss over any kind of communication device, even magical ones."
Anthony nodded, looking up from his research. "Probably wise. I've been digging into Norse mythology, and if even half of what I'm reading is true, we're dealing with forces far beyond our usual scope."
Sören ran a hand through his curls, his expression troubled. "Maglor sounded... scared, Anthony. I've never heard him like that before."
Before Anthony could respond, there was a subtle shift in the air, and suddenly Maglor and Nicholas were standing in their living room. The cats yowled in surprise, darting under the couch.
Maglor's beautiful face was drawn with worry, his dark eyes scanning the room as if expecting another attack. Nicholas, ever the picture of composure, looked only slightly ruffled, though his hand rested on the hilt of a sword that hadn't been visible a moment ago.
"Are you both alright?" Maglor asked, his melodious voice tight with concern.
Sören nodded, gesturing for their unexpected guests to sit. "We're fine, thanks to... well, I'm not entirely sure what happened, to be honest."
As Maglor and Nicholas settled onto the loveseat across from them, Anthony quickly recounted their encounter with Hel and the surge of power that had driven her away. With each detail, Maglor's expression grew more troubled, while Nicholas listened intently, occasionally exchanging glances with his elven partner.
When Anthony finished, a heavy silence fell over the room. Maglor leaned forward, his ageless face etched with concern. "This is graver than we feared," he said, his melodious voice low and serious. "The old powers stirring, the veil between worlds thinning... these are not mere legends or myths. They are ancient forces that have slumbered for millennia."
Nicholas nodded, his hand still resting on the hilt of his concealed sword. "We've been tracking disturbances in the magical fabric of reality for some time now, but this...”
Maglor pursed his lips, and glanced over at Nicholas. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, as if communicating something privately between them. Then Maglor said, “I think you should abandon your plans to set up the grid and trace the magical signature, and come stay with us for awhile. We'll begin our holiday early."
“It’s too dangerous here,” Nicholas added. “As you know, Hel got through your wards.”
Sören and Anthony exchanged a worried glance. The idea of abandoning their investigation and going into hiding didn't sit well with either of them, but they couldn't deny the gravity of the situation.
"I appreciate the offer," Sören said slowly, "but we can't just run away. There's too much at stake here."
Maglor leaned forward, his dark eyes intense. "Sören, you don't understand. The forces at play here are beyond anything you've encountered before. If Hel is involved, and the veil between worlds is truly thinning, then we are all in grave danger."
"But that's exactly why we can't hide," Anthony argued. "If these old powers are rising, someone needs to stop them. And right now, we seem to be the only ones with any leads."
Nicholas sighed, exchanging another look with Maglor. "Your bravery is admirable, but this isn't a fight you can win on your own. The old powers are not something to be trifled with."
Maglor nodded gravely. "They are primordial forces, older than the world itself. In the ancient days, they shaped reality according to their whims. If they are truly awakening..."
"Then we need to find a way to stop them," Sören interrupted, his jaw set with determination. "Running and hiding won't solve anything."
Anthony squeezed Sören's hand, offering silent support. "What if we came to stay with you, but continued our investigation from there? Your home would be safer, and we could pool our resources."
Maglor and Nicholas exchanged another long look before Nicholas nodded slowly. "That could work. Our home has protections far beyond what you have here. And we do have extensive libraries and magical resources that could aid in your investigation."
Maglor still looked troubled, but he nodded in agreement. "Very well. But we must move quickly. If Hel has already breached your wards once, she may try again."
"How soon can you be ready to leave?" Nicholas asked, his tone businesslike.
Sören and Anthony exchanged a glance. "Give us an hour to pack essentials and secure the house," Anthony said.
"We'll need to make arrangements for the cats too," Sören added, reaching down to scratch behind Snúður's ears as the feline cautiously emerged from under the couch.
"Bring them," Maglor said with a small smile. "Our home has plenty of space, and I'm rather fond of cats myself. Tora will be happy to make new friends.”
Sören visibly relaxed at that, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Thank you. They're family."
“They’re like our children,” Anthony said.
Nicholas stood, his hand still resting on the hilt of his concealed sword. "We'll give you some privacy to pack. Meet us outside in one hour. We'll transport us all directly to our home from there."
As Maglor and Nicholas shimmered out of existence, Sören let out a long breath. "Well, shit. This is really happening, isn't it?"
Anthony pulled Sören into a tight embrace. "It is. But we're in this together, love. We'll figure it out."
They spent the next hour in a flurry of activity, packing clothes, toiletries, and essential magical items. They gathered the cats' supplies as well, making sure to pack plenty of food, litter, and their favorite toys.
As Anthony was zipping up the last suitcase, Sören paused in the middle of the living room, his eyes sweeping over their cozy home. "I can't believe we're just... leaving," he said softly, his accent thicker with emotion.
Anthony set down the suitcase and wrapped his arms around Sören from behind, resting his chin on his partner's shoulder. "It's not forever, love. We'll be back once we've figured this out."
Sören leaned back into Anthony's embrace, letting out a shaky breath. "I know. It's just... this is our home. Our sanctuary.”
Anthony hugged Sören tighter, understanding the weight of what they were leaving behind. This little red house had been their safe haven, the place where they'd built a life together away from the pressures of work and the outside world.
"I know, love," Anthony said, pressing a kiss to Sören's temple. "But home isn't just a place. It's wherever we're together."
Sören turned in Anthony's arms, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the worry in his eyes. "When did you get so sappy?"
"I blame you entirely," Anthony replied, leaning in to capture Sören's lips in a tender kiss.
They were interrupted by an impatient meow from Snúður, who was sitting by the front door with his tail twitching.
"I think someone's ready to go," Sören chuckled.
As Anthony and Sören gathered their luggage and cat carriers, a somber mood settled over them. The reality of leaving their home, even temporarily, was sinking in.
"Ready?" Anthony asked softly, his hand on the doorknob.
Sören nodded, taking one last look around their cozy living room. "As ready as I'll ever be."
They stepped outside into the chilly Oslo evening. Maglor and Nicholas were waiting for them, their faces grave.
"Quickly now," Nicholas urged, helping them with their bags. "We don't want to linger."
Maglor raised his hands, beginning to weave an intricate spell. The air around them shimmered and warped.
Just as the transportation magic was taking hold, Anthony caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. A dark figure materialized at the end of their street, moving towards them with inhuman speed.
"Maglor!" Anthony shouted in warning, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of magic enveloping them.
The world twisted and blurred around them, colors and shapes melting together in a dizzying kaleidoscope. Anthony felt Sören's hand gripping his tightly, anchoring him as reality itself seemed to bend and warp.
With a sudden lurch, they materialized in a vast, elegantly appointed foyer. Polished marble floors stretched out before them, and a grand staircase curved upwards, its bannister intricately carved with flowing designs that seemed to move when viewed from the corner of one's eye.
Anthony stumbled slightly, his head spinning from the intense transportation magic. He felt Sören's steadying hand on his arm as they all regained their bearings.
"Is everyone alright?" Maglor asked, his melodious voice tinged with concern.
Sören nodded, though his face was pale. "We're fine. But I think I saw someone - or something - just before we left. A dark figure moving towards us."
Nicholas's hand immediately went to the hilt of his concealed sword. "Describe it," he said tersely.
As Sören recounted what he'd seen, Anthony took in their new surroundings. The foyer they'd landed in was breathtaking, with soaring ceilings and walls adorned with tapestries that seemed to shimmer and move in the periphery of his vision. Ancient artifacts and curious magical devices lined ornate shelves, and soft golden light emanated from ornate sconces.
As Sören finished describing the dark figure he'd glimpsed, Maglor and Nicholas exchanged a worried glance.
"It seems Hel is not giving up so easily," Maglor said gravely. "We must strengthen the wards immediately."
Nicholas nodded, already moving towards an intricately carved door. "I'll see to it. Maglor, perhaps you could show our guests to their rooms and help them get settled?"
As Nicholas disappeared through the door, Maglor turned to Anthony and Sören with a gentle smile. "Come, let's get you two settled in. I'm sure you're both exhausted after everything that's happened."
Maglor led them up the grand staircase, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet runner. As they ascended, Anthony couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale of the place. What had appeared to be a modest cottage from the outside - and when they’d visited yesterday - was clearly much larger and more elaborate within.
"This place is incredible," Sören said, his eyes wide as he took in the ornate details of their surroundings.
Maglor's smile widened slightly. "Thank you. I’ve called this place home for... well, a very long time. It's seen me through many ages and many changes in the world outside. And Nicholas, these last two decades, has made it even more of a home.”
They reached the top of the stairs and Maglor guided them down a long hallway lined with doors. As Maglor led them down the hallway, Anthony couldn't help but notice the intricate carvings on each door they passed. No two were alike - one depicted a forest scene with trees that seemed to sway in an unseen breeze, while another showed constellations that twinkled like real stars.
"Here we are," Maglor said, stopping before a door adorned with swirling patterns of fire and water intertwined. "I thought this room might suit you both."
He pushed open the door, revealing a spacious bedroom that took Anthony's breath away. A large four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, its frame carved with the same intertwining fire and water motifs as the door. Plush rugs covered the polished wood floor, and a cozy sitting area with overstuffed armchairs was arranged near a fireplace that crackled with blue flames.
"This is... wow," Sören breathed, his eyes wide as he took in the room.
Anthony nodded in agreement, still trying to process the sheer opulence of their surroundings. "It's incredible, Maglor. Thank you."
Maglor smiled warmly. "I'm glad you like it. The bathroom is through that door," he gestured to a door on the left, "and there's a small study through there if you need a quiet place to work," he indicated another door on the right. "Please, make yourselves at home."
As they set down their bags, Snúður let out an impatient meow from his carrier.
"Ah, yes," Maglor said, his eyes twinkling. "Let's get your feline friends settled, shall we?"
As they set up the cats' litterboxes, food and water bowls, Maglor watched with amusement as Snúður, Solly, and Shmuel cautiously explored their new surroundings.
"They seem to be adjusting well," Maglor observed as Snúður leapt onto the bed and began kneading the plush comforter.
Sören chuckled. "They're pretty adaptable. As long as they have us and their favorite toys, they're usually content."
Anthony finished setting up the last litterbox in the bathroom and rejoined them. "Everything's set up in there. I have to say, Maglor, this room is incredible. The attention to detail is astounding."
Maglor's eyes twinkled. "I'm glad you appreciate it. I've had a long time to perfect the art of creating welcoming spaces."
As if on cue, a soft chime echoed through the room. Maglor's expression turned serious. "Ah, that would be Nicholas. The wards are set." He turned to Anthony and Sören. "I know you both must be exhausted, but perhaps you'd join us for a light meal? We have much to discuss."
Sören and Anthony exchanged a glance before nodding. Despite their fatigue, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on them.
"Lead the way," Anthony said.
Maglor guided them back downstairs and through a series of elegantly appointed rooms until they reached a cozy dining area. A table was already set with steaming bowls of soup, fresh bread, and a fresh garden salad full of colorful vegetables.
As Maglor led them into the dining room, Anthony was struck by the warmth and intimacy of the space. Despite the grandeur of the rest of the house, this room felt cozy and inviting. A fire crackled in a large stone hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The table was made of rich, dark wood, worn smooth by centuries of use. Comfortable chairs upholstered in deep burgundy fabric were arranged around it.
Nicholas was already seated at the table, his face grave as he looked up at their arrival. "The wards are set," he said without preamble. "We should be safe here, at least for now."
Sören and Anthony took seats across from Nicholas, while Maglor settled at the head of the table. For a moment, there was silence as they all contemplated the gravity of the situation.
"Please, eat," Maglor said.
Nicholas raised a glass of wine.
As they began to eat, Anthony couldn't help but notice the tension in the room. Sören was uncharacteristically quiet, picking at his food with a distracted air. Nicholas's brow was furrowed in thought, and even Maglor's gorgeous face was etched with worry.
"So," Anthony said, breaking the heavy silence, "what exactly are we dealing with here? You mentioned old powers and the veil thinning..."
Maglor set down his spoon, his silver eyes darker, serious. "What we're facing is nothing less than a potential unraveling of reality as we know it. The old powers that Hel spoke of... they are primordial forces that existed long before the world as we know it took shape."
"In the ancient days," Nicholas continued, his voice low, "these powers roamed freely, shaping reality according to their whims. The world may seem full of magic now, but it was much moreso, back then. Back before the non-magic world pushed back and put restraints on how those with magic could conduct their affairs. Even to the point of death.”
“And now that there’s more acceptance of people like us, and we’re allowed to co-exist…” Maglor tilted his head to one side, seeming to collect his words. “That may seem like a good thing on the surface, and it is a good thing, but it is also complicated... a mixed blessing of sorts.”
Sören leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "So you're saying that the increased acceptance of magic in society is... weakening the barriers between our world and theirs?"
Maglor nodded solemnly. "In a sense, yes. The veil between worlds has always been thin in places where magic flows strongly. But as magic becomes more commonplace, more accepted in everyday life..."
"The veil thins everywhere," Anthony finished, his eyes widening as the implications sank in.
Nicholas took a sip of his wine before speaking. "Exactly. And there are those who would seek to exploit this weakening for their own gain."
"Like Hel," Sören said, his jaw clenching at the memory of their encounter.
Maglor's face was grave as he nodded. "Hel is but one of many ancient beings who would love to see chaos and destruction.”
“We knew things were perilous, but it seems they are accelerating faster than we’d feared.” Nicholas frowned.
Anthony and Sören looked at each other; Anthony swallowed hard, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the room. He remembered the story of Alice falling down the rabbit hole into Wonderland; he thought about the movie The Matrix where Neo learned the true nature of his reality.
“We will do our best to keep you safe here,” Nicholas said; Maglor nodded agreement. “But there are dark times ahead. We must keep our wits about us.”
“My people have a saying, which has been used as a battle cry,” Maglor said. “Aurë entuluva - day will come again. The night is upon us, but we must believe the light will return.” Maglor swirled the wine in his glass, his eyes far away.
Anthony raised his glass. “Aurë entuluva,” he said, and then a prayer of, “Y'hi ratzon mil'fanekha Adonai eloheinu veilohei avoteinu, she-toli-kheinu l'shalom, v'tatz'ideinu l'shalom.” May it be Your will, O Lord our G-d and G-d of our fathers, that You lead us to peace and guide us to peace.
“Amein,” Maglor said.
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