Chapter 56 THE GRAVITY OF THE SOUL
"Bullshit." Dorian’s voice was sharp, but a tremor of raw fear ran beneath it. He clutched Atlas tighter to his chest, muscles rigid under his shirt, as if his physical strength alone could anchor the boy to the earth. "He is a baby. He doesn't need a mate; he needs his mother and father. Get out of this room, witch."
The old woman was unmoved by Dorian's anger. She stared at the ceiling with her blind eyes, sniffing the air like a wolf tracking a scent. "Gravity doesn't work on stubbornness, Alpha. It works on physics. And your son's soul... is lighter than helium. He rejects the density of this world."
Serra moved to Dorian’s side. She placed a hand on Atlas’s back. The skin... it was wrong. It wasn't cold or hot; it was vibrating. It tingled under her palm as if he weren't fully there, like a static image on a broken screen fading in and out. Her stomach churned.
"Dorian," Serra whispered, her voice trembling. "Do you feel that? He's... he's getting lighter. His bones... it feels like he's becoming hollow."
Dorian looked down. Atlas was smiling, but it wasn't a peaceful smile; it was distant. As if he were listening to a joke told from another dimension. The silvery halo around the baby intensified, washing the room in a cold light. And then, the horror happened.
Atlas began to rise from Dorian's arms.
It wasn't a jump. Gravity was vomiting him out. His swaddle unraveled, and his tiny body floated up from Dorian’s embrace like cigarette smoke.
"No!" Dorian lunged, grabbing the baby by the ankle.
But he couldn't hold him. Atlas’s skin was slippery, losing its solidity. Dorian’s fingers passed through his son’s body, through the thick mist, grasping nothing but cold air.
"I can't hold him!" Dorian shouted, his voice cracking with terror. "Serra! I can't hold him! He's going! God, he's going!"
Atlas was drifting toward the ceiling. The plaster above him began to turn transparent, revealing the night sky and the stars beyond. The universe was calling him back.
(THE ANCHOR AND THE CHAIN)
Serra screamed, climbing onto the bed and reaching up toward the unreachable distance. "Kael! Close the windows! Seal everything! Keep him in!"
Kael and Valeria rushed to the windows in panic, drawing the heavy velvet curtains, but Atlas was transcending matter. He was going to pass right through the stone and steel of the roof. He didn't obey the rules.
"Bind him!" the old seer said, slamming her staff on the floor. Her voice was like thunder, cutting through the chaos. "Give him earthly weight! Gold, silver, iron... they are useless! Give him the weight of blood! Give him the weight of a sin that will pull him down to the dirt!"
Dorian looked up at his son, who was hovering in mid-air, slowly fading. Atlas was now translucent; the light of the chandelier passed right through him.
"Blood," Dorian said, his eyes wild. "Take my blood!"
He grabbed his silver knife from the nightstand and slashed his wrist. Blood dripped onto the carpet, hot and red. But Atlas didn't stop.
"Your blood isn't enough, Alpha!" the seer shouted. "He is your blood. Your blood is what makes him fly. He needs a foreign weight. He needs a soul that needs him, an ordinary, mundane soul to tether him to the world."
Serra scanned the room frantically. A foreign soul. An anchor. Someone... ordinary.
Her eyes landed on Lukas, who was cowering in the corner, clutching his tablet to his chest.
"Lukas!" Serra shouted. "Come here! Now!"
Lukas was frozen. His eyes were wide with panic. "Me? What can I do, Luna? I'm just a tech guy! I'm not a warrior!"
"You are a Beta!" Serra said, grabbing Lukas by the arm and dragging him onto the bed, directly underneath where Atlas was floating. "Your soul... your soul is tied to the earth. No ambition, no magic. You are pure ground. You are gravity, Lukas! Give me your hand!"
Serra took Lukas’s hand and slashed it with Dorian’s knife. Lukas groaned in pain, but he didn't pull away.
"Reach up!" she commanded. "Try to touch him! Give him your blood!"
Trembling, Lukas reached his bleeding hand up toward the floating baby. A drop of blood defied gravity, floating upward from his fingertips and touching Atlas’s translucent skin.
The moment the blood connected, a sound like an anchor dropping—a heavy, metallic thud of a rusty chain hitting the ocean floor—echoed in the room.
Atlas shuddered. His transparency vanished. His color, that vibrant pink, returned. And then, heavy as a stone, he fell from the air, right into Lukas’s arms.
Lukas collapsed onto the mattress under the weight of the baby. His breath hitched. "Heavy," Lukas whispered. "God... he is so heavy."
Atlas grabbed Lukas’s shirt tightly. He didn't cry. He just looked at Lukas and took deep, relieved breaths. Lukas’s ordinary, mundane, anxious presence had grounded him.
(THE TEMPORARY FIX AND THE MAP OF THE PROPHECY)
Dorian and Serra slumped onto the edge of the bed, gasping for air. The room's atmosphere returned to normal.
"This is temporary," the seer said from the shadows. Her voice was tired now, not angry. "That boy (Lukas) is a good weight. But he isn't strong enough. As Atlas grows, he will consume Lukas’s soul. Lukas will wither away. You must find his true mate."
Dorian looked at his son sleeping in Lukas’s arms. Lukas held the baby with a mix of terror and awe, afraid to move.
"Where?" Dorian asked, his voice hoarse. "Where is this mate?"
The seer walked to the window. She pointed her blind eyes north, toward the endless ice.
"Where the ash ends and the ice begins. In the lands of the Crystal Wolves. A girl was born there. Her soul is incomplete. Atlas’s excess will fill her void. They are puzzle pieces."
"Crystal Wolves?" Valeria stepped forward, pure fear on her face. "They are a myth, old woman. And if they are real... they are completely isolated from the outside world. No one enters their territory and lives. Their blood is colder than ice."
"You will enter if you want your son," the seer said, opening the door. The wind rushed in. "But hurry, Alpha. Lukas’s soul can hold Atlas for a month, maybe less. Then the boy will fly again. And this time, you won't be able to pull him back from the stars. He will belong there."
The seer left.
Dorian turned to Serra. There was the fire of a new war in his eyes. The Void Weavers were gone. Now they would fight nature, gravity, and forgotten legends.
Dorian stood up. "Gear up," he said. "We are going to the Arctic."