Page 16 of To Love a Dark Lord

“I don’t know who that is.”

Gwen slapped a hand over her face. Right. She forgot about that. “I’m not your savior. I’m not some holy blessed warrior of God.”

“No, but you were chosen by Avalon. You can’t deny that. You talked to the island itself.”

“Sort of?” She scrunched her nose a little. “Insomuch as you can talk to a thing like that.”

“You know who was the last person to talk to the island? Your wizard friend.” Bert sounded so proud. So certain. “And he saved this world once before. Now, it’s your turn, and they all know that.”

“Wait, what?” She blinked. “Doc saved the world? When?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Bert tilted his pumpkin head to the side slightly. “Huh. I wonder why.” He shrugged it off. “It was when the demons arrived. When hell collided with Avalon for that brief moment.”

“I know about that part—that’s when Grinn and the others got stranded here, and everyone but Grinn was killed.”

“Yeah. But do you really think a bunch of scattered, warring, unprepared elementals could murder a legion of demons? Especially demons in service to Astaroth, the Great Duke of War?”

“I…didn’t think about that.” Gwen frowned. She really hadn’t, and now she felt like a moron for not having put that together.

“The wizard warned everyone. Got everyone together to fight them. Without him, we all might have been overrun. But because he did, well…” Bert trailed off.

“Because he got involved, all those demons died. At least—at least they go back to hell, though, right?”

“Some do. But not all of them. Or, at least, that’s what Grinn said during his trial. That the newer the soul, the less likely it was that they’d go back. And that they only get so many times, also. There was no telling how many of the demons died for good.” Bert’s shoulders slumped. “Which, I know it sounds weird to feel bad about demons, but…”

“They can love and have families. That means they’re not all bad. It means they’re worth caring about too.” Gwen stared ahead at the dirt road that stretched into the woods in front of them. “And Doc must have blamed himself. Especially for what happened with Grinn afterwards.”

Bert nodded. “He felt responsible for Grinn’s rampage. He vowed that was the last time he’d ever get involved.”

That made so much sense. She shut her eyes and let out a sigh. “Now, I feel like such an asshole for pestering him for answers all the time.”

“But if he hadn’t gotten involved that day and saved us, we’d all be dead instead. I don’t know how many lives have to go on the scales before it evens out. But I know what feels like justice and what doesn’t. That felt terrible but unavoidable. But this? This feels like justice.”

“Fighting Thorn and the elementals?”

Bert nodded. “I don’t want them to die. I just want them to stop. And if that means war? It means war. Sometimes, you have to fight for the people you care about. Sometimes, you have to fight for the things you believe in.”

“Yeah. I suppose you do.” She just hoped things went differently for her than they had for Doc. She couldn’t say that she wouldn’t have done the same thing he had so long ago. And even if the choice was maybe not the wrong one, the deaths still would have haunted her too. The not knowing how many souls went back to hell or were gone for good. Or if Grinn’s family was alive or dead. “War is messy.”

“Even when you’re on the right side of it, it’s always messy.”

“Isn’t that the thing, though? Everybody thinks they’re on the right side of the war.” She paused. “Except maybe Mordred. He knew he was being a jerk.”

Bert laughed. “That’s fair.”

“I think we’re doing the right thing, though. We have to stop Thorn from taking over. We have to stop the elementals from tearing this world apart. And we have to free Mordred.”

“How selfish is that last bit?”

She took a moment to think about it. “Honestly? Probably more than it should be. But we’re going to need him. I’m sorry, but a bunch of pitchfork-wielding villagers and one idiot witch who doesn’t know what she’s doing? We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t sell us short!” Bert tutted. “We have better weapons than pitchforks.”

It was her turn to laugh. Despite the stress of what was to come, she was smiling. “Thanks for being a friend, Bert.”

“Thanks for being our savior, Gwen.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I’m not your savior.” But she had made a promise to Avalon to protect it. One way or another. “But, fine. On one condition—no speeches. I refuse.”

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